Teagan’s Treasure - Chapter One

Chapter One

Three Years Later

Certain moments in life change everything, and nothing will ever be the same again. Moments when, in an instant, past years drift away in a swirl of memories, like a fractured prelude to the life you were meant to live. Those moments come like a whisper but the story shouts for an eternity.

My moment comes one Saturday morning, a month before my high school graduation. I swallow a scream as I examine the well-worn and -traveled package in the mailbox. The antique Dublin postmark in the upper right corner confirms my hopes that the package holds the answer to an unspoken prayer deep in my heart, one I’ve held tightly for the past three years.

My heart races as I carry the package to my bedroom and quickly close the door behind me. Laying it on my bed with the same care I might give a priceless gem, I delicately loosen each strip of tape. Lifting the lid, I find a business envelope perched triumphantly on top of a collection of items wrapped in brown paper and held together with the embossed Emerald Isle University sticker…proof not only that I’ve been accepted, but that everything is about to change.

Last fall when I applied for the Emerald Isle Science Research Internship, a prestigious program for graduating seniors pursuing a career in the life sciences, I’d cast my net far and wide in hopes of catching a golden, faraway dream—a dream that included studying at Emerald Isle University in Dublin, Ireland. Students lucky enough to be selected for the summer program will get a chance to go to Ireland and compete for a spot in their coveted science research program. The team that comes up with the best research proposal will not only be awarded spots in the program, but will also receive a grant to fund their independent research with a mentor. My dream is to be one of those students, a dream that began three years earlier as I listened to Mr. Fitzpatrick talk about Emerald Isle University during freshman biology, and everything else faded away in comparison.

Mr. Fitzpatrick’s presentation wasn’t the first time I’d heard of Emerald Isle though. My parents attended Emerald Isle together, and as they’d said so many times over the years, it forever changed their lives. It’s where their fairytale began and I hope mine will too.

Four weeks later, sunlight sends green sparkles dancing around the room as I clip my gold and emerald claddagh necklace, a graduation gift from my parents. Emeralds have a special meaning for me, not just because they’re my birthstone, but because I feel connected to them in an inexplicable way. The stone represents loyalty, friendship, and faithfulness, which are values I’ve always held close to my heart. I also love that it’s a youthful stone, green and hopeful. As I rub the smooth surface, all the hopes I’ve been holding inside begin to release and spring to life.

The airline ticket and summer itinerary on my desk serve as reminders that this was actually happening. No longer a distant dream, it’s a reality that begins today. I will spend the next eight weeks in Ireland. I slip the ticket and program packet into my leather tote and secure the lock. I fold my white cardigan sweater and place it neatly inside before snapping the gold buckle, well aware of how chilly flights can get,

Laughter drifts up the stairs, filling my room with the sounds of home. The farewell lunch my parents planned is already underway. Walking out of my bedroom is like stepping into the future—a contrast to the actual steps, which are more reminiscent of the past with each creaking groan. We live in an 1800s-style farmhouse in northern Maryland, which is like being back in time, but with modern enhancements of electricity, running water, and indoor bathrooms. I stop on the landing and glance out the window at the horses grazing in the pasture. Turning, I run my fingers over the framed article from Equine Veterinary Medicine featuring my parents smiling brightly, our farmhouse standing strong in the background.

My parents bought this house just before they married, twenty-five years ago, and remodeled it room by room. They’d met while students studying abroad at Emerald Isle University in a grant-based program with Roisin University for Veterinary Medicine. They spent the first four years in Dublin and then the next four years in Ithaca, New York. They not only fell in love with equine medicine but with each other, dreaming of one day opening their own practice and raising a family in the country.

After graduating with DVMs and receiving job offers in California and Tennessee, my parents spent the next few years traveling across the country to see each other. The distance never decreased their love or dream for the future. When the time was right, they left their positions with excellent references and much-needed experience and invested in our 100-acre farm. They married one week after settling on the farm, at the local town chapel of Berryville. Afterward, they celebrated with family and friends at the farm, while feasting on steamed crabs and sweet corn.

They started O’Reilly Equine Veterinary shortly after, and never looked back. My parents are pretty much famous around here as a dynamic duo of vets. I wish I had known them when they first met, but seeing them together has always inspired me to find that kind of love and make my own dreams come true.

My sister, Kayleigh, approaches with a sullen expression. “What are we going to do?” she asks, wiping a tear from her cheek.

Kayleigh’s always been the most dramatic of the three of us. And definitely the biggest hugger. She’s only a year younger than me, and even at seventeen she has an innocence that makes her seem years younger. Her eyes, the same sky blue as mine, brim with tears. People sometimes confuse us for twins, and I can see why. At five foot six, with the same fair skin and long, dark hair, we look as close to twins as you can get.

“I’m gonna miss you so much!” Kayleigh wraps me in the biggest bear hug.

“Me too. But it’s only for the summer,” I remind her.

“Unless you win, which of course you will, and then you’ll be in Ireland for years.”

“She’s leaving for two months, not two decades.” Our youngest sister, Ashling, rolls her eyes as she walks by. “I’ll miss you too, Teag, but can we at least get some food before the blubbering begins?”

Sixteen-year-old Ashling, with her shiny auburn hair and bright green eyes, acts like she’s thirty-four with her worldly exasperation for all things overly emotional or dramatic, which basically means that she and Kayleigh rarely see eye to eye. Luckily, Kayleigh is so good-natured that she only sees the best in everyone, looking past Ashling’s pointed remarks.

As much as Kayleigh and I look alike, Ashling looks like the odd one out—something I believe she takes to heart. While she has the same fair skin as us, her green eyes always appear to sparkle with a secret.

My stomach grumbles, reminding me that even though Ashling’s just pushing Kayleigh’s buttons, she does have a point. I gently pull Kayleigh along to our large wrap-around porch, the scent of grilling burgers and hotdogs wafting through the air. At least fifty people are gathered in the yard, and even more mill around the stables and land.

Mom is talking by the outdoor arena with Mrs. Miller as little Abby kisses Wilbur, our chestnut gelding, on the nose. Born with cerebral palsy, Abby has grown so much the past few months and mom believes she will begin to walk stronger soon. No doubt they will stay for the party too. Our farm is home to many in our small town.

The land, home to horses, goats, sheep, donkeys, chickens, and one spirited potbelly pig, is a sanctuary to many. The Claddagh Farm and Animal Rescue sign hangs at the entrance, its boldly carved letters contrasting with the natural wood, reminding everyone that this is a place of refuge for the unwanted and downtrodden. A new beginning. What started as a run-down farmhouse and overgrown land is now one of the most beautiful and welcoming farms in all of Maryland.

A green claddagh is painted in the center of the sign—two hands holding a heart with a crown on top, and symbolizing the place where my parents fell in love—a place I will be in less than twenty-four hours. Friendship, Loyalty, and Love is carved below the name, and I’ve never known a motto to be more appropriate. I join my family and friends, knowing I’m about to leave a very special home.

“OK, enough of the tears already. Open mine,” Ashling says with a teasing smile.

I laugh at the superhero wrapping paper, one of our shared loves.

“Are you sure it’s safe to open?” I ask hesitantly. I can only imagine what Ashling has in this box. It could be anything from a book on how to snag a cute Irish guy to a living, breathing frog.

Ashling rolls her eyes. “Come on, Teag. You know me.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda the problem.”

Laughter sounds around us as Ashling narrows her eyes, giving a playful flip of her hair.

I slowly open the box, fully on alert to catch something if it jumps out.

“Crabby Spice!” I exclaim, holding up one of the tiny packets of seafood seasoning.

“Oh, yeah,” Dad cheers. “You won’t find that over in Ireland.”

I remove four travel-size packs of spices, a staple in our family. We’ve been putting Crabby Spice on everything for as long as I can remember. We often joke that our family could solely keep the company running.

Ashling looks pleased with herself. “We can’t have you going all crazy over there when you order fries, or should I say ‘chips,’ and they don’t have Crabby Spice. I mean, can you imagine?”

“Teagan without Crabby Spice? Nope, can’t imagine that,” Scott says.

“Come on, I’m not that predictable!” I push Scott’s shoulder. Over the years, our friendship has grown despite our failed attempt at a romantic relationship. I find myself thankful for our shared history, and the way we were able to transition back to friends.

“Ah, yeah, you are. I bet if I opened your bag, you would have an old lady cardigan folded in a perfect square, arms at right angles, waiting right on top in case of an emergency on the plane, like a threatening breeze or worse—air conditioning.”

“Well…that’s only good sense,” I grumble among the murmur of laughter and head nods. How everyone seems to think they know me is as annoying as it is comforting. Could I really be that predictable?

I’m about to put the containers back in the box when I notice something under the last of the tissue paper. Pulling out the rest of the paper reveals an eight-by-ten canvas painting at the bottom of the box.

“Oh, Assateague Island!” I hold the canvas closer to examine the paint strokes. “That was the best day!”

I gaze at the painting of the three of us sitting side by side on the beach at sunrise, gazing out to the ocean while the native horses cool off by the ocean.

Assateague Island, a small barrier island off the east coast of Maryland, is a favorite vacation spot for us. Herds of feral horses live there and some of my favorite memories are camping on the island with my sisters. We have always enjoyed our time together. Ashling painted us from the back. Our heads are turned toward each other, me laughing carefree and utterly happy. Kayleigh’s warmth radiates in her smile, while Ashling’s mouth is open as if in the middle of a joke. It’s perfect—she captured us. And that’s Ashling. A joke one moment, then touching your heart the next.

Reliving the memory may have been too much for Kayleigh though. She is quivering with emotion. Chris, her boyfriend, wraps a supportive arm around her shoulders. I catch Ashling rolling her eyes at them, and I wonder for the hundredth time how my sisters are going to survive the summer together.

“You know how much I’m going to miss you.” Kayleigh’s lips tremble and she pauses to still them. “I know we won’t be able to talk every day, so I want you to have this.” She barely gets out the last word before handing me a small box wrapped in delicate pink fabric and an olive-green bow.

The fabric falls away to reveal a brown leather journal. Neatly tucked into the front tie strap, a Micron 01 black pen awaits its first ink flow. After loosening the knot holding the journal shut, I open the cover to Kayleigh’s neat handwriting on the first page.

Teagan,

It’s the beginning of an unforgettable journey.

I hope you fill this journal with the most amazing memories!

xoxo

Kayleigh

The beginning of an unforgettable journey. I keep those words in mind as I say goodbye to everyone and leave with my parents for the airport. Even though we’re leaving, the others will stay behind at the farm. They’ll finish their food and conversations, then help with the clean-up before heading home themselves. Abby’s eyes shine with wonder as she leans against her mom, fingers twisting the discarded ribbon from Kayleigh’s gift to me. Our town is a family, one I can’t imagine finding anywhere else.

The airport is bustling when we walk through the sliding doors.

“Watch it!” A man barks before barely missing us with a metal trolley loaded with suitcases. One bag hangs haphazardly to the side, threatening to escape its strap.

Dad’s glasses slide down his nose. He shakes his head and looks at me with lips pursed. “Well, Teagan, this is as far as we can go.”

“But we’ll watch your plane take off,” Mom promises.

She smiles up at Dad as he puts an arm around her shoulders. I’m sure this brings back memories from their own post-graduation flights to Ireland. Their experience at Emerald Isle University, meeting each other, falling in love, all leading to this life they’ve built. How many times have I heard them say that it was meant to be and how they may never have met each other if not for Ireland? I can’t help but want to live that dream too.

“It’s only eight weeks,” I tell them. This has become a tagline for me recently.

A surreal feeling swirls around me as I watch my bags slide away on the conveyor belt with the bright yellow DUB tags. The next time I see them will be in Dublin Airport.

Dad checks his watch. “Right. But first, it’s a seven-and-a-half-hour flight. Be sure to get some sleep.”

“Enjoy every moment.” As always, Mom balances Dad’s practicality.

I return her smile and give her one last hug.

“And you are good with the currency transfer?”

“Yes, Dad. I have everything I need.”

“Your jacket?”

“Dad! Yes, I have my jacket packed away.” My blue all-weather rain jacket was a gift from my parents after being accepted into the program. “Always be prepared,” Dad has always said, a true Boy Scout for life.

“Always be prepared for the rain.” He points his finger towards the sky.

I suppress a laugh. “I know.”

“Of course, she has her jacket, Patrick. I’m sure it’s folded neatly in the bottom of her tote.”

Seriously, am I really this predictable?

“It’s actually on the side so—”

“So it’ll be easier to get when you need it!” Mom taps her head with appreciation.

“Yeah,” I murmur. “I should be prepared for anything.”

I wave once more before entering the security check point. I’ve barely collected my carry-on bag when a woman’s voice rings out.

“Teagan O’Reilly?”

A tall, slender woman in a sleek black suit and pale green blouse waves to me from a few feet away, her black high heels clicking. Long crimson curls bounce over her shoulders as her red lips part into a wide grin. Warm hazel eyes greet me as she extends a slender hand. “I’m Fiona Kelly, the US student ambassador for the Emerald Isle Scholars program. ’Tis so nice to officially meet you.” Her English has an Irish tone creating both a comforting and exotic manner. The splash of tan freckles scattered across her rosebud nose and fair cheeks give her a youthful glow.

“Nice to finally meet you too.”

“Grand! It will be the best summer. The other student went to grab a fizzy drink, but he should be right back. Then we’ll be off!”

She shuffles through a stack of papers in a substantial portfolio.

“Oomph!” Fiona sways on her heels.

“Sorry, ma’am.” A large man with two big suitcases and a small dog carrier gives an apologetic wave as the portfolio falls from Fiona’s hands, sending a cascade of papers floating around the passing crowd.

I’m scooping sheets off the floor when I spot the student list. Students from all over the world fill the ten program slots, and three are from the US. In one of our phone conversations, Fiona mentioned that one of the US students is meeting us in Dublin since his family decided to make a vacation out of it. Which leaves two of us on this flight.

I pause on a familiar name: Finn Connolly.

My breath catches. No, it can’t be. That would be crazy.

Just to be sure, I run my finger down the column next to his name. Butterflies are already fluttering circles in my stomach. St. Joseph’s, Bethesda, MD.

The memories come flooding back before I can stop them. The middle of junior year—one day he was here and the next gone. The rumors and gossip around school said that Finn transferred to be closer to his dad’s job at NIH in Bethesda. I don’t know how many Finn Connolly’s there are in Bethesda, Maryland, but there can’t be many.

Just as this realization is settling in, Fiona interrupts my thoughts.

“Teagan, I’d like ya to meet Finn Connolly.”

As I turn, stomach somersaulting, my eyes lock with the same deep caramel eyes that used to haunt my dreams.

He’s the one thing I’m not prepared for.