Luck of the Irish: Complete Edition by Liz Gavin Page A

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    The trip from Wicklow to Wexford was quite an easy one. She did a little sightseeing around town before finding a nice pub to have lunch. Her grandfather used to talk about Wexford all the time because her great-grandmother was born somewhere near it, in a small village called Kilmore. Keira found the little town and drove around its narrow streets, trying to picture what it looked like over a hundred years ago.
    Leaving Kilmore, she headed towards Waterford. The trip shouldn’t have taken much more than one hour; but, the car broke down. She was barely able to pull over, by the side of the road, before the car stopped moving. Calling the rental company was impossible because there was no cell phone service. There were no houses or stores nearby, either.
    She got out of the car, trying to see further up or down the road, to find out there wasn’t much around her for miles. She worried when she couldn’t remember when she had last seen any sign of civilization along the way. She didn’t know if she would find help walking back and she had no idea what lay ahead. A couple of cars passed by, but she was afraid of hailing one. She had watched too many scary films to trust strangers driving on semi-remote roads.
    For lack of a better alternative, she decided to walk up the road, try to find a spot where her phone would have service, and call the rental car company’s emergency number. After walking for over ten minutes, her phone was still dead and the sun hid behind heavy clouds. Afternoon was slowly turning into evening. In no time, thin tendrils of fog appeared around her, enveloping her and hiding the landscape behind white curtains. She felt the first signs of panic kicking in, when a car pulled over behind her.
    When the driver turned it off, she glanced over her shoulder and saw a couple inside a dark pickup truck. She stopped walking and turned around when the door opened. The woman, in her mid-fifties, climbed out from the passenger seat and stopped beside the car, as if she were afraid of Keira, as well.
    That should be a good sign. If they meant to hurt me, she would be more forward. Right?
    “Is the white car back there yours, child? Do you need a lift somewhere?”
    “It broke down, but it’s a rental. I meant to call the company’s emergency number,” she pointed to her cell phone. “But I can’t get service. I was walking up the road trying to find a better spot to make the call.”
    The woman smiled and her features relaxed, “I’m afraid you won’t get cell service for the next ten miles or so. I’m Mary Wilkinson, by the way. That’s Ted, my husband. We can give you a ride to our farm, if you’d like. It isn’t far. You can use the landline there to call the rental company.”
    Keira hesitated thinking that it might not be a good idea to get inside a stranger’s car in the middle of nowhere when evening was coming down fast. On the other hand, walking aimlessly in the dark seemed a much worse option.
    “Thank you, Mrs. Wilkinson,” she sighed in relief, and walked towards the truck.
    She climbed inside it after the woman. In less than five minutes, they arrived at the farm. She was impressed by the big stone building that seemed to have endured centuries of bad weather. It was a very beautiful house and she finally relaxed when she saw the place was in good shape and there were other people working there.
    They entered the house through the backdoor, which opened to the kitchen, and Mary took her to a small den. A roaring fire blazed in the fireplace and an old-fashioned telephone sat on a side table, by a large window, overlooking a beautifully designed rose garden.
    “You have a wonderful home, Mrs. Wilkinson.”
    “Thank you. There’s the phone, Keira. I’ll give me some privacy,” she turned away and went out leaving the door ajar.
    Not wanting to abuse the Wilkinsons’ hospitality, Keira phoned the rental company, told them what had happened, and gave them the