As my story continues, my first stop is in Fulda. There I will meet with others, friends from my past, whose lives have become once again intertwined with mine during my search. There is Claudia, a dark-haired intense woman, now practicing law in Frankfurt, and Celeste, (or Ces as we called her) now employed for her expertise by the Galleria Degli Uffizi in Florence. Then there’s Maria, (link to Maria) a friend whose studies have led her to the field of genealogy research.
Years ago our undergraduate studies at Oxford had brought our very different personalities together in a curious friendship that we have maintained via email as each of us has continued down our separate paths. During the weekly excursions to the surrounding museums that we had made with our fellow students as part of our art interpretation courses, we had solved the world’s problems, never considering that soon we would have our own secrets with which to concern ourselves.
And we had never dreamed that the same medium – art – that originally drew us together would once again connect us as it had. Because they too had received letters from Ireland – and now I knew why the name had sounded so familiar. Brian O’Donnell had been one of the many guest lecturers to whom we had listened with rapt attention – but in his case, I think we were caught more by his rolling Irish brogue than by his actual words.
And now we are all going to Ireland – for similar purposes, but with entirely
different reasons. Ces has been called in to assist in verifying
the validity and authorship of the found paintings, Maria is planning to
work on the relationship trail there, hopefully helping me in my search,
and dear Claudia is coming along to keep us all legal.
We
will travel together, leaving Fulda on the Friday before the arranged auction.
Personally, I wonder if this is all a practical
joke. It is too unusual to be so perfectly arranged purely at
random.
Well, it was certainly good to see everyone again. It’s odd – in some ways we’ve each changed so much , and in others, not at all. But now we must continue on our way. Our destination: Achill Island. Will any of us see our search fulfilled? I wonder.
Claudia is quiet beside me in the seat, lost in thoughts of her own, perhaps planning her next eloquent defense, hands gracefully gesturing to a speech which only she could hear. And the others? The train was full – they’re just down the way, I can hear them speaking occasionally when there is a lull in the hubbub around me. Not only that – every now and then I hear the word ‘Ireland’ and wonder how many of these other travelers share our destination.
Everyone looks so intent and excited. Well, not everyone. I've noticed one man -- tall and dark, whose very weariness makes him stand out from the others. He hasn't slept, only dozed, but every movement around him jerks him from his rest. His haunted eyes seem out of place in a face as young as his as he pans the car, taking in everything. He has the manner of one who knows he must not sleep, must not let down his guard, and I wonder what haunts his dreams.
We’ve been traveling several hours and will be in Brussels soon, where we must catch our flight to Dublin. We’ve agreed to spend some time there, so we can relax and share some moments together, trying to get our own minds straight before we continue on. We are travel weary, although our venture here is nothing compared to the journey of life we have embarked upon. I see those on this train whose journeys look to have been tumultuous and trying, and I see others just starting out, youth, love and innocence shining in their faces, and I wonder what their travels will bring.
But the speaker is announcing our arrival now, and my thoughts disappear in the rush to gather our luggage. With a sigh of brakes, the doors open and the train belches its contents onto the platform alongside. The crowd swirls around us and I almost lose sight of the girls as we push our way on. Amid the chaos I feel lost – it is so different from the usual quiet, peaceful solitude of my night trains. But not to worry: Brussels will soon be behind us.
