Echoes Through the Mist: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 1) by K. Francis Ryan Page A
Authors: K. Francis Ryan
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fault…
He had heard nothing, seen nothing. He had no reason to feel he was anything but alone, but Julian felt a presence nearby. Consternation twisted his features as he tried to stop himself from saying, “Reading minds, Father?” Julian said it softly. This church inspired a soft tone. He turned and found an old, wizened priest looking at him with a knowing smile.
“Ach, nothin’ of the sort. A stranger sitting in church with a smile so serene as to make the angels envious – ah, now there is a man who is remembering a part of his past with fondness.”
“It’s true. I was remembering and it was with fondness and, yes, it was a very long time ago,” Julian said. “It was not my intention to intrude.”
“Intrude in the house of God is it? Nothing could be less likely.”
Julian rose and with an outstretched hand approached the priest. “My name is Julian Blessing.”
The old priest took the offered hand in his and with remarkable strength greeted Julian. “Oi don’t recall a family of Blessings around here, but then Oi am a relative newcomer. Oi only arrived in 1960.”
“My people aren’t Irish, Father.”
“It is none of my business, and feel free to tell me if Oi’m being meddlesome, but what brings you to our village? It can’t be the wonders that are St. Michael’s Church.”
“Oh, I’m just taking a walking tour of this part of Ireland.” Julian knew the priest saw that for the lie it was. Julian tried to recover by handing the priest his map. “I’m headed here,” indicating a spot.
The priest’s smile started at the eyes and infected his entire face. “Walkin’ tour of Ireland, is it? Is that a fact? If you are headed for that wee ink spot on your map, then Oi welcome you to Cappel Vale and to St. Michael’s. My name is Father Fahey. You have arrived, son.”
“Are you sure, Father? This is it?” Julian didn’t mean to sound incredulous.
“Mr. Blessing, is it Glocca Morra you were expectin’? In that case, Oi would suggest you get your good self a new map or some strong drink. Sadly, we are all that you’ll find under that little fly speck for miles in every direction.”
“Father, honestly…”
“Honesty, is it? Now wouldn’t that be a grand place to start – for a change.” The old priest’s eyes were alive with mischief, he had Julian on the ropes, and both men knew it.
“No really Father, I wasn’t looking for anything in particular. I just had that map and that spot. I had no idea what I would find here.”
“Ah, well then, you’ll be a happy man indeed because you have found nothing in particular. We pride ourselves on that actually. We have an overabundance of nothing. In fact we’re thinking about exporting it to the wider world.”
Julian determined this was a line of conversation that was going to lead him nowhere worthwhile. He changed the subject. “There are very few people on the street, Father. In fact I didn’t see anyone except the children.”
“Most of the men are off to the fields,” the priest continued smoothly. “The women are making themselves busy inside before noon Mass and the little ones are nearly always left to their own devices to cause what devilment they may.
“Have no fear though. The entire village knows you’re here. Jungle drums, you know,” and the priest winked conspiratorially.
“Father, I was wondering if you would know of a boarding house or someone who would rent me a room for a few days. The ladies at the pharmacy, sorry, apothecary, said I should find the Lord Mayor, but I thought you might know of something.”
“Lord Mayor is it! That’s rich. No one can say the Hackett sisters don’t have a sense of humor for all their craziness. Lord Mayor! Now that is choice.
“Thomas Cahill is marginally the mayor of our little village. He has the job because no one else would do it and now he can’t get rid of it. He votes against himself every election, but it does him little good so he has
He had heard nothing, seen nothing. He had no reason to feel he was anything but alone, but Julian felt a presence nearby. Consternation twisted his features as he tried to stop himself from saying, “Reading minds, Father?” Julian said it softly. This church inspired a soft tone. He turned and found an old, wizened priest looking at him with a knowing smile.
“Ach, nothin’ of the sort. A stranger sitting in church with a smile so serene as to make the angels envious – ah, now there is a man who is remembering a part of his past with fondness.”
“It’s true. I was remembering and it was with fondness and, yes, it was a very long time ago,” Julian said. “It was not my intention to intrude.”
“Intrude in the house of God is it? Nothing could be less likely.”
Julian rose and with an outstretched hand approached the priest. “My name is Julian Blessing.”
The old priest took the offered hand in his and with remarkable strength greeted Julian. “Oi don’t recall a family of Blessings around here, but then Oi am a relative newcomer. Oi only arrived in 1960.”
“My people aren’t Irish, Father.”
“It is none of my business, and feel free to tell me if Oi’m being meddlesome, but what brings you to our village? It can’t be the wonders that are St. Michael’s Church.”
“Oh, I’m just taking a walking tour of this part of Ireland.” Julian knew the priest saw that for the lie it was. Julian tried to recover by handing the priest his map. “I’m headed here,” indicating a spot.
The priest’s smile started at the eyes and infected his entire face. “Walkin’ tour of Ireland, is it? Is that a fact? If you are headed for that wee ink spot on your map, then Oi welcome you to Cappel Vale and to St. Michael’s. My name is Father Fahey. You have arrived, son.”
“Are you sure, Father? This is it?” Julian didn’t mean to sound incredulous.
“Mr. Blessing, is it Glocca Morra you were expectin’? In that case, Oi would suggest you get your good self a new map or some strong drink. Sadly, we are all that you’ll find under that little fly speck for miles in every direction.”
“Father, honestly…”
“Honesty, is it? Now wouldn’t that be a grand place to start – for a change.” The old priest’s eyes were alive with mischief, he had Julian on the ropes, and both men knew it.
“No really Father, I wasn’t looking for anything in particular. I just had that map and that spot. I had no idea what I would find here.”
“Ah, well then, you’ll be a happy man indeed because you have found nothing in particular. We pride ourselves on that actually. We have an overabundance of nothing. In fact we’re thinking about exporting it to the wider world.”
Julian determined this was a line of conversation that was going to lead him nowhere worthwhile. He changed the subject. “There are very few people on the street, Father. In fact I didn’t see anyone except the children.”
“Most of the men are off to the fields,” the priest continued smoothly. “The women are making themselves busy inside before noon Mass and the little ones are nearly always left to their own devices to cause what devilment they may.
“Have no fear though. The entire village knows you’re here. Jungle drums, you know,” and the priest winked conspiratorially.
“Father, I was wondering if you would know of a boarding house or someone who would rent me a room for a few days. The ladies at the pharmacy, sorry, apothecary, said I should find the Lord Mayor, but I thought you might know of something.”
“Lord Mayor is it! That’s rich. No one can say the Hackett sisters don’t have a sense of humor for all their craziness. Lord Mayor! Now that is choice.
“Thomas Cahill is marginally the mayor of our little village. He has the job because no one else would do it and now he can’t get rid of it. He votes against himself every election, but it does him little good so he has
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