"Turn left, left here!" Estelle said, mouth full of a particularly dry portion of bread. She swallowed heavily. There was a wide, cleared plantation, full of plants that had died due to the cold. Connor laughed, mostly attributed to her excitement. "There's the lake! It runs into the ocean so a lot of the ships set up dock here, or so I've heard." She thought about the idea of living in a fishing town which turned into a ghost town come winter. Estelle's face contorted in slight amazement as they pulled up to the cobblestone fixtures, "I don't see Gallagher's car. Maybe he didn't have time to stop by today." "Well, maybe he wasn't expecting us to come by so early. He might be here later to say hello." They hadn't seen him since they'd met him in Galway, which was nearly two months before. It wouldn't have been unheard of if he'd already moved in with his son as was planned. "Or he might not, he's like a hundred years old." Connor was already pulling luggage from the back. "Will you look for the keys if I grab one of your totes?" Estelle bargained over the backside of the car. Connor nodded, propping open the door with her foot and searching through the glove compartment. She found a set of keys with a worn leather lanyard hanging from the hard metal chains. She held them in the air and waved them at her friend, signaling that she'd found them before hopping up the stone stairs. "Wait!" Estelle called from behind her, struggling up the bannister with a large navy suitcase. "We have to see it together." Estelle dropped the suitcase at the door, clasping her hands in excitement as Connor twisted the keys in the lock. It propped open slowly, creaking all the way. Estelle shook off her house shoes, now muddled with the slush from the yard. "Should we just bring the suitcases inside and figure out the rest later?" "That would probably be best, especially if it rains here as much as it does in Galway." Estelle headed out the door once again without further inspection of the house. Connor almost followed after her before a white piece of paper caught her eye from the kitchen's island countertop. She could not escape her own curiosity, dropping the keys on the bar stool as she passed it. It was folded haphazardly like it held little importance. She wondered if it was just a leftover grocery list that he'd missed on the way out. She grabbed it, opening it to reveal its contents. It was scribbled down, the letters scratchy but well-intended.Killian,I'm leaving today, but I haven't seen youI'd like you to know what a great help you've been to me, and how very dear to my heart you areI'd hope that in my absence you keep in touch, even though I know you hate technology so, I've left you with a number to reach me atI hope that you can help these two girls in the same way you've helped me all these years. We love you very muchI hope to hear from you soon,Brew Estelle reentered with the last of the bags, just as Connor was folding the paper away, tucking it into her pocket absentmindedly. "Gallagher has a son, right?" she asked, biting her lip. "Yeah, he does. Why?" Estelle was pulling out sheets, happy that the house was furnished. "Did he call or something?" "Oh, I just found a note, to Killian. I was wondering if it was for his son." "Well, his son's name isn't Killian." Estelle reached out, and Connor handed her the note from her pocket. Estelle read it, leaning back on the counter. She returned with a smile. "Sounds like he just had someone around town helping him, what a sweetheart." Connor hummed in agreement. "I'm kind of bummed," she continued, pulling at the faucet's handle with an empty, leftover glass in hand, "I was actually sort of excited to see him. Too bad he wasn't here when we got here." She paused, flipping the handle to the faucet once more with more force. "What's going on?" Connor asked, raising her eyebrow and adjusting her glasses. "This faucet isn't working," Estelle groaned, raising up her hands in annoyance. "Pipes, I swear. Indoor plumbing hates me today." Connor laughed and shook her head at Estelle's defeated mumbling. "Well, we can explore and then go grab some food from the store. We're gonna have to anyway." "Well, we can do that. I have to be in bed by at least six or seven, my shift starts at four tomorrow morning at the Coffee Dock." Estelle frowned at Connor's pout. "I swear that we'll have plenty of time to explore." Estelle placed the cups back into the cupboard. "We should start with the house, though, all I've seen are pictures." Connor looked around the living room, "It's so beautiful." "Yeah, it is!" Estelle's voice sounded from the stairs, smiling over her shoulder as she sprinted upwards without her friend. "Estelle, wait!" Connor laughed, running after her. "C'mon," she urged, taking hold of the railing, scanning the three open doors with interest. "No way, you called the library. You have to live there now." Connor was smirking, making her way into the first open room to the left. Estelle followed her, excitement still thrumming through them both. The floor looked as if it had been mopped and buffed, singlet mattress lying on the floor next to the first window. There was an extra set of linens folded neatly next to the walk-in closet, walls painted a light brown. "I hope he didn't do all this himself, it's so clean." Estelle was running her hands against the window sill, surprised that she couldn't find even a smudge of dust. "I know. Maybe he had help from that guy in the note," Connor mumbled, plopping down on the mattress. She stretched her tired legs slowly. "He left a lot of extras behind for us." "Maybe it was the way he was taught," Estelle mused, laying beside her blonde companion. "Oh, wow, look at that." "What?" Connor's expression was puzzled before she noticed the lines in the ceiling. "Oh, an attic." "We should check it out!" Estelle made a face at Connor's suggestion, shaking her head. "Two girls, lake house, attic; sounds a lot like a tragic ending. I'm going to have to pass," she waved her hand, returning to her feet, "and there's usually a string hanging to pull those things open, there isn't one here." Her voice sounded more curious at that. Connor raised her brows, a smile forming as she walked from the room. "Where are you going, Connor?" "I'm looking for a stool, we need to see what's in that attic!" Estelle peeked around the door frame to see Connor disappear. The bathroom was small, with a sink that fit into a short counter. An engraved wooden medicine cabinet with a forward facing mirror was above it and a tub next to a small porcelain toilet. "There's a stool in here!" she shouted, victorious as she lifted the stool from beside the towel rail. Connor grunted, picking at the sides of the attic door. "I swear this thing is glued shut." She tried once more before huffing frustratedly and removing herself from the stool. "I'll pick up something to get it open while we're out," she concluded, setting the stool in the corner of her room for later. "Well, did you like this room?" Estelle questioned, trailing after her, hands tucked together in front of her pelvis. Connor glanced at her suspiciously. "Yes, " she eyed the room towards the back of the hall. "Why do you ask?" She was already sauntering towards the cracked door, pushing it open with a creak. "Could it be the window?" she inquired, snickering. The window faced the lake, wide and open like it was composed of two doors. It was white, a stark contrast to the grey of the walls surrounding it. It led onto a deck that they hadn't remembered seeing from outside, one that wrapped its way around the top floor of the house for easy viewing. "That's going to be awesome during the summer." "We could pick up some lawn chairs once it gets closer; drag them out there." "Talking about summer is making me even more dehydrated. Can we please pause the exploring and go grab something to drink until our faucet decides to work?" Connor whined. Estelle nodded, pulling the door shut behind her and descending the stairs. "Let me grab my keys and we can head out."
The air was frigid against her bare arms as she pushed through the screen door with her knee, hands preoccupied with both her purse and a reheated coffee from their trip the day before. She'd slept relatively well, opting to sleep downstairs in the recliner where she'd fallen asleep reading one of Gallagher's left behind books. Estelle placed her coffee on top of the car, propping open her door with her freed hand. She pulled out a can of bear spray from her purse and tucked it into the glove compartment, setting her purse down in the passenger seat. Just in case, she thought. She'd always been mildly guarded, thinking it best to be mistrustful than end up on the six o'clock news. Estelle grabbed her coffee, pulling the door shut and placing it into the drink holder. She started the car, dashboard emitting a dim light to notify her of the time: 3:32 a.m. The blonde always managed to over estimate the length of her drives to work, today being one of those days. With a vendetta against being late, she cherished her work ethic. As she backed up with relative difficulty, she was suddenly irritated with the lack of street lamps down by their area. She reached for her coffee, warming her hand with it as she took a sharp right into town. The cup tipped back as she lifted it to her lips, barely graceful enough to drink and drive at the same time. She managed to look over the rim but was surprised to find that her heavy container of coffee didn't budge from the bottom of its paper confinement. The liquid seemed solidified, like packed dirt. The petite blonde parked outside of the cafe, with fifteen minutes to spare. She eyed her drink woefully, grey eyes barely open with the adjustment to a morning schedule. Another attempt to tilt the cup even further back and still nothing. Estelle pulled off its lid, inspecting the contents to find her coffee sloshing back and forth in the cup. She lifted it again, wrapping her lips along the rim. In one last attempt and a glance at the coffee shop, she was rewarded with the contents of the coffee spewing forward in a sudden rush of fluid, coating her front and lap. "What the hell," she groaned, pulling a shirt from the backseat and attempting to rub away the coffee. Seriously, she thought, how did that even happen? She'd always had relatively awful luck and chalked it up to that, grabbing her purse and locking the door. She took the back entrance into Coffee Dock, a pudgy dark haired man greeting her with a warm smile. Estelle motioned to her coffee soaked t-shirt, "I know this is probably an awful first impression," she chortled, running her hands down her side and shifting her purse in embarrassment. He laughed from deep down in his belly. "That's exactly why we buy you work shirts." He smiled and held out a monogrammed t-shirt with the Coffee Dock logo. She grinned, thanking him.
YOU ARE READING
Water In My Lungs
Fantasikel·pie [ kélpee ] in Celtic folklore, a malicious water spirit that takes the form of a horse or handsome young man and lures humans, generally young women, to death by drowning and then devouring them. doppelgänger [ˈdɒpəlˌɡæŋər] in folklore...
