The big Jag pulled into an empty parking place at the top of the cliff. The Irish sea roiled under storm clouds beyond the guard rail. A woman emerged from the powerful car and walked hesitantly to the rail, tall and graceful in high heels. She was old now, nearing her fifty-first birthday, but still striking, body lush and curvy, the legs still well toned in their black stockings. Her white silk blouse did little to hide a bust that had been called the highest peaks in county Mayo when she was young. Her face was lined now, but the small wrinkles gave her an air of dignity and elegance, as did the silver crown of hair. Her green eyes were beautiful and vibrant, although today they had a far away quality.
She glanced back at the small park behind her. When she'd left Ireland, the park had been a wood, wild and untamed. Now there were several tourists in loud clothes with cameras strung to their necks. An elderly couple sat on a bench and a young woman with dark hair sat on a blanket on the ground. The young woman seemed to be staring at Katherine, but Katherine decided that the girl was probably staring at the sea.
What did you expect? Katherine asked herself. It was thirty years ago, a promise made by silly young lovers in the heat of passion. Marianne would probably be laughing if she knew you had traveled all the way here to keep that date. Marianne. The image of the small dark girl flashed before her eyes, Marianne dressed in the same dress she had worn that warm summer's eve. Romantic old fool, she thought and turned back to the sea.
Her thoughts came one after the other in a jumble, almost spoken aloud: She should go now. She'd wasted a great deal of her time on this trip and her company would go downhill fast if she didn't look after it. She'd been foolish to come, and she would skip the rest of her stay and fly back tonight; she should just be able to get to Shannon and catch the flight to Heathrow. She would never come back; this was her last time to touch her native soil. Too bad it ended on a sad note, but at least she had a chance to visit her mother's grave and say goodbye.
"Excuse me," a heavily accented voice said, interrupting her thoughts.
"Yes?" Katherine said, turning to find herself staring into Marianne's eyes. Deep green pools, with the distinctive circle of hazel coloring around the pupil. Only these eyes were young and belonged to the dark haired girl who'd been sitting on the blanket.
"Would you be Katherine O'Leary?"
"Barrington. It's Katherine Barrington now. But yes, I was Katherine O'leary once, long ago."
"My name's Heather. Heather Fitzhugh,"
The name meant nothing to Katherine. She had known a few Fitzhughs in her day, but none she had been close to, and certainly none knew she was coming to Ireland. She tried to think, but she could not tear her gaze away from those eyes.
She said: "I'm sorry, but I don't know you."
"No, but you knew my mother, Marianne McQuire," the girl said with a smile.
Katherine was shocked. But she could see it now. The resemblance was uncanny, save for the girl's light complexion.
"She asked me to give you this," the girl continued, handing Katherine a yellowed envelope.
Katherine's hands were shaking as she carefully tore it open. The paper inside had been lilac-colored once, but it too was beginning to show the discoloration of the envelope.
Dearest Katherine, I regret I'll be unable to keep our date. I've never forgotten our date, never forgotten you or those nights of passion on the cliff. I have cancer and the doctors give me only another month to live. I'm entrusting this letter to my youngest daughter. She's devoted and a good child, the only one of my five I can trust, and I hope she finds you on the cliff. I still love you... Marrianne
The letter was dated almost ten years ago. Katherine felt the tears well in her eyes. The world faded into the background as her sorrow rose. Thirty years had not diminished the feelings at all. Mixed with grief was elation that she had not been forgotten.
"Are you all right?" the girl said.
"Yes, child. Thank you," Katherine replied as she wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to compose herself.
The young woman spoke in a soft voice: "I've guarded that letter for over half my life, and at times the temptation to open it was almost more than I could bear. At other times I wanted to throw it into the sea. My mother spent three days writing it, and she passed away the day after it was done. I felt so cheated that that letter was more important to her than I was. I know you owe me nothing, but if you would let me read it, I'd be eternally grateful."
Katherine hesitated, then handed the letter to the girl. Although she wanted to conceal her affair with the girl's mother, she could not resist that soft pleading voice.
The girl read the letter and then looked at Katherine with an unreadable expression.
"You were lovers?"
Katherine nodded. "Yes."
"And you made a date over thirty years ago?"
"Yes."
"And you kept it, and my mother would have if she could have. I never knew."
"I'm sorry, child."
"Please, call me Heather. And don't be sorry, I appreciate this glimpse into my mother more than you can know. I was only nine when she passed away, and afterwards no one would tell me about her. Father remarried immediately and my stepmother was extremely jealous of memories of my mother. No one was allowed to say her name in my stepmother's presence."
"Your mother was a very special woman."
"Would you tell me about her?"