The Cork Contingency Read Online Free

Freak out and walk off.”
    “Did you say something to me, ma’am?” A woman asked as she lifted her carryon to the above compartment.
    “No, just…I’m just thinking out loud.”
    “Oh.” The woman scooted her bag in and walked to an open seat a few rows ahead.
    Get a hold of yourself. Margaret stood up and fished her Bible out of her carry-on. She thumbed through the well-worn pages. She’d discovered it while moving boxes to the attic in her father’s home. He’d begun collecting junk after the death of her mother, and the three bedroom house felt crowded because of it.
    Margaret toiled for close to a month after her father’s stroke just to see the carpet again. Several garage sales and “free piles” later, the house bore some resemblance to what it had looked like during her childhood. Fresh cut flowers replaced the funk of musty boxes, windows once shut tight now opened to fresh air, and even though Margaret missed hospital work, she’d enjoyed organizing her dad’s household.
    She’d found the Bible at the top of the last box bound for the attic. Its pages were etched with outlines and markings and tucked between were tiny keepsakes—pressed flowers and memory verse cards. Her mother must have put it away when she filled it up and started another. Margaret couldn’t think of a better gift than the chance to know her mother through the word of God.
    She finished reading, placed the Bible back in her carry-on, and snagged the packet Janet had assembled. The brochure on Blarney Castle boasted several different kinds of gardens including one called the “poison garden.” She turned the glossy paper over to see a woman lying on her back and kissing the famous Blarney Stone. Margaret stared at the picture. It seemed like the woman had to lean out over an edge to reach the famous stone. Goose bumps prickled across her arms. She refolded the paper and put it back in the packet.
    The jet took a lazy turn in the air as it circled the airport and descended into the thick fog hanging over Cork.
    Her stomach did a flip.
    The plane touched down with a bump and taxied to the gate.
    “You may now unbuckle your seatbelts and gather your things,”
    Margaret stuffed her remaining snacks into her purse, pulled her carry-on from the upper compartment, and waited as the line crept forward.
    “I hope you have a nice visit to Ireland, Meggy.”
    Donnell was standing behind her.
    “I hope you do, too. I mean, I hope you have a nice time, not a nice visit…no, I want you to have a nice visit, it’s just...” Margaret stopped herself. “It was nice to meet you, Donnell.” She gave him a smile, and then glued her hands to her carry-on. No way am I stepping off this plane blushing like a ripe tomato in the sun.
    “To be sure. Maybe we’ll bump into each other while you’re visiting Cork? I am staying with my family in Blarney. Here’s my number.” He held out his card.
    She plucked at the card, making sure not to touch his fingers, and tossed it into her purse.
    The line had moved without her.
    “Goodbye,” She said striding to the exit. Her heel snagged on the uneven surface of the walking portal and she stumbled, catching herself with the handle of her carry-on.
    “Are you OK?” Donnell asked.
    Margaret waved her hand in the air without turning and continued forward. “Burgundy pumps are NOT ideal traveling shoes,” Margaret said aloud, not caring who heard this time. The fall loosened a few strands of unruly dark hair from her tight bun. She approached the frosted sliding glass doors and pulled out her passport. No repeats of yesterday. She held the papers and passport in a death grip.
    The guard said something to Margaret that she couldn’t understand. She scooted her passport and tickets toward the man.
    The guard repeated himself.
    This time Margaret caught more words but still lost the meaning. “Could you please repeat that again?” She leaned in to catch each word.
    He turned the volume up on