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“I like the idea of my hip. Let’s do that.”
“Good. That way, no one will see it unless you’re wearing a very low-cut bikini. But you’ll see it every day when you get in and out of the shower.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“That gives me a good idea of the size you’re looking for. Give me a few more minutes.”
I nod and get back to leafing through his tattoo book. Such gorgeous work, and so colorful. A phoenix rising from the ashes, a raven with flaming wings, an American flag with starbursts all around it, and then…
Brendan’s sea warrior, dated ten years ago. The colors are still as vibrant now. Cyrus is a true artist.
I continue leafing through the book, and then I grab another, peering out the window.
My jaw drops.
My father…
My father is walking by.
“Cy, I’ll be right back.” I exit the tattoo shop.
“Dad?”
He turns. His cheeks look…hollow almost, and his color is a little off. But those two things aren’t what strikes me the most. It’s his eyes. His gorgeous caramel-colored eyes are…unfocused. Distraught.
“Ava. Shouldn’t you be baking?”
“I’m done for the day. What are you doing here in town?”
“I had an appointment.”
“With whom?”
“With…no one you know.”
I cock my head. “Dad, I know everyone in town. We all do.”
“What are you doing in the tattoo shop?”
“Talking to Cy about getting a tattoo. Why didn’t you answer my question?”
Dad clears his throat. “Ava, what I do is not always your business.”
“You’re my father,” I say. “You look… Are you all right?”
He gazes down at the concrete sidewalk. “I’m fine, Ava.”
“And Mom?”
He looks back up. “She’s fine. She’s not sick again.”
“I know that. But how… Wait… How did you know I was worried about that?”
My father’s cheeks are ruddy. Is it from the brisk fall day? Or have I embarrassed him?
“What’s going on, Dad?”
“Nothing’s going on, Ava. I’ve got to get back to the ranch. See you tomorrow for the big party.” He continues down the street.
I want to run after him. Yank on his arm and force him to tell me what’s going on.
But I don’t. I don’t because his anniversary party is tomorrow and I promised my family I would let everything go until after the celebration.
I won’t ruin this milestone for my mother and father.
But already I know where my father was.
The only other person who knew I was worried about my mother being ill again is Brendan. Why would my father be talking to Brendan? Why would Brendan be talking to my father?
I will find out.
I head back into the tattoo shop.
Cy hands me a piece of paper. “How do these look?”
I widen my eyes. “Wow. These are magnificent.”
Three images. The first is a triquetra in basic black with a lightning bolt poised above it, also in black. In the third, the triquetra is completely cut in half by a jagged line, presumably representing the lightning.
But the second… The second is exactly what I had in mind. The triquetra is severed by the bolt diagonally. Perfect. Just as I saw it in my head.
“I recommend the second one for a tattoo on your hip. It’s a little less intricate, and we can make it smaller.”
“Yeah, I totally agree. All of them are beautiful, but the second image does stand out to me.”
“I can do the triquetra in whatever colors you want. The lightning, of course, should be either black or yellow.”
“I want the triquetra in plain black, with the lightning strike in yellow. I think that will be the most vibrant. The most… I can’t think of the right word, but it’s what I want.”
He smiles. “That’s what matters. Do you want to make an appointment?”
“Can you do it right now?”
“I wish I could, but I have to get home. Lavinia’s making wild rice and turkey soup, and we’re going to eat it this afternoon and watch football together.”
“Okay. Why don’t I stop by after the holiday, and we’ll set up an appointment?”
“Sounds good. See you, Ava.”
“See you, Cy.”
I walk out of the tattoo shop and head straight for Murphy’s bar.
Brendan owes me some answers.
Chapter Four
Brendan
“Can we do this another time?” I say to Pat. “I really have to go up and get showered so I can open the bar.”
Pat shoves his hands in his jeans pockets. “I suppose so.”
“Good, because honestly I don’t know anything about your grandmother. I’m not sure why you’re here, anyway.”
“I’m here because I got this really weird email.”
“Oh, God,” I say.
“Yeah, and it said to ask the Murphys.” He pulls a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and hands it to me.
I scan it quickly. It’s the same cryptic message that came to me through Hardy’s office.
When echoes navigate down yonder, many anchors destroy ideas generated about neglect.
Still clear as mud. “What address did this come from?” I ask.
“Nothing I recognized, and when I tried to email them back, it bounced.”
