Novel Hearts

by Rebecca Boucher

  Those are some of the couples blessed here over the years,” the sister informed us in a thick Irish borough. “Like you, they came from near and far to see the relics of St. Valentine. It is a draw of old Dublin.”

  Daemon called out to me. “Lilly, look at this! It couldn’t be him, could it?”

  I walked across the room to stand next to him. He was pointing to a picture of a middle aged couple, prominently displayed in the middle of the collage. It was unmistakably them. “It’s him, and that’s Deirdre. There’s no mistaking her. She looks just the same as she did when she came to me the other night.”

  The nun stepped closer. “You knew the Callaghans?”

  I turned to face her. “Not really. Mr. Callaghan was our cab driver when we arrived. Then, we ran into him again on the Halfpenny Bridge yesterday and he told us about his wife.”

  Her face went pale. “That’s impossible. Mr. Callaghan passed on two nights ago. He was a huge benefactor of the church. I never met his wife, as she passed on some time ago.” Just then, another contraction hit me. The pain radiated across my lower belly and I stifled a sharp intake of breath.

  Daemon jumped a mile. “Are you ok? What the hell was that? Oh, sorry sister.”

  I shot a sheepish look to the nun, then back at Daemon. “I’m fine; I just need to sit down. Let’s go to the chapel, hon,” I said, pulling him away, leaving the stunned nun standing in the hallway.

  “Lilly, please tell me you just didn’t have a contraction,” he asked, concerned.

  I stopped and lowered myself down into the nearest pew, suddenly very tired. “Well, I might have, but it was a quick one.”

  Daemon ran his hand through his hair and sat next to me in the pew. “And how many have you had?” he asked, going into his doctor mode.

  I steadied myself for the scolding I knew he would give me. “This is only the second one. The first one was when I was in bed, so that was like two hours ago. I mean, there’s nothing to worry about, right?” I asked. As I leaned back against the pew and closed my eyes, another round of pain gripped my belly and lower back. Even though I tried my best to hide it, Daemon knew what was going on.

  He took my hand in both of his before he spoke. “Lilly, my sweet, please tell me that was not a contraction.”

  I opened my eyes and smiled at him the best I could. “Nope, no contraction here.” The organ started to play and I smelled the incense as the altar boys lit the candles on the altar. The sudden surge of spicy sweet smell caused my stomach to lurch and I placed my hand over my mouth. Please God, don’t let me be sick in a church.

  Daemon took one look at my face and stood up. “That’s it! We are getting out of here and high tailing it to the nearest hospital.” He put his arm around my waist and helped me stand. I tried to protest, but was afraid that if I spoke, I would lose it as my stomach lurched.

  As he led me from the chapel, we ran into the nun who met us in the foyer. “Sir, I beg your pardon, but the mass will be starting and his holiest the monsignor will …”

  “My wife is going into labor. I need to know the nearest hospital,” Daemon said, cutting her off.

  The sister took one look at my face and turned pale herself. “Rotunda Hospital is back across the Liffey. You’ll need a cab. Please, sit down and I’ll call one for you.” She pointed to a bench and I gratefully lowered myself onto it.

  “Daemon, can you please find me some water?”

  He took one look at me and tried not to laugh. “Cab first, then water. That was two contractions in ten minutes. Are you sure you didn’t have any others?” I tried to think back, and I didn’t think so. Just then, another contraction hit, but this time my water broke right in the sacristy of the eighteenth century church in front of the poor unsuspecting nun.

  I tried to answer him through my gritted teeth. “We have plenty of time for a first baby, right?”

  Daemon tossed off his coat. I screamed out loud as another contraction hit me, and several things started to happen at once. The young nun produced a cell phone and called for an ambulance, and then her mother superior suddenly appeared, another couple entering the church stopped and made a makeshift wall around me, two other nuns came down and said that they were nurses, and the contractions wouldn’t stop coming. It was then that I realized that my baby would be born in Ireland in the Whitefriar Street Church.

  A lot of things started running through my mind. What will my baby look like? Will the pain ever stop? Wow, I hope people don’t remember how loud I’m screaming, I thought. But I also had the feeling that someone was watching over me, besides the people clustered around me. It felt like a gentle hand was hovering just above me, whispering encouragement into my ear. I barely remembered the ambulance arriving, or the jarring ride through Dublin’s narrow streets, but I do remember the soft voice singing. I remembered Daemon’s feather soft kisses on my cheek, and I remembered the clouds parting and the sun shining on a cold February day in Ireland. And as my baby girl was laid on my chest and my husband held my hand, I saw my best friend Kat walk into the sun kissed part in the clouds, hand in hand, along with the last regrets of my past.

  A few weeks later, we sat in the plane waiting for takeoff. My hand rested on Daemon’s leg as he cradled little Deirdre Katherine in his arms. It was a little disconcerting flying with a three week old infant, but we stayed in Dublin as long as we could. The sister’s from the church were amazing, arranging for her baptism before we left and taking us under their wings. We had plenty of baby clothes and formula for the long trip home stashed in the tote under my seat. Deirdre’s locket rested around my neck, waiting until she was old enough to wear it. Late the night before, I took one last walk across the Halfpenny Bridge and reflected next to the river Liffey. The bittersweet act of closure that had brought me to Dublin was nothing compared to the gift I was leaving with. As the cold water swirled below me, I said my final goodbyes to Kat and Aaron. Their own name stone was firmly planted at the bottom of that deep sea, as Daemon and I had placed it there.

  Daemon’s voice brought me back to the present. “Are you sad to be leaving?”

  I felt the plane lift into the air and saw Dublin fade away beneath me. “No, I’m happy. Everything is as it should be.”

  The Twistedly True Nightmare of Ruby Hood

  By: Stephanie Greenhalgh

  The characters in this story are based on the book:

  The Twistedly True Tale of Ruby Hood

  By: Stephanie Greenhalgh

  The young woman pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She stood behind an antique wooden vanity in her new room at her grandmother’s house. The white cotton linen curtains bustled in the warm, September breeze, distracting her. Lost in thought, her eyes wandered, surveying her surroundings in the mirror. It was a little too pink and pretty for her taste. The girlieness of the room instinctually curled her lip, Elvis style. She caught the reflection of her grimace and laughed out loud before returning to her morning routine.

  She pulled her long sun-streaked mane up into a ponytail, scowled, then let it down again. She ran her fingers through her blonde tresses to smooth them out. Finally, she pushed the sides behind her ears and scrutinized her own reflection. Her almond eyes focused on her scar. Most days she barely even noticed the slight scar under her left eye, but it caught her attention today. Was it her imagination or had her scar become more prominent since her arrival in Woodsville? She had been told it was a silly accident, but since returning home, things seemed off. Like all the stories she’d been told, this one held only a ring of truth, but she didn’t have time to think about this now. She needed to get ready for the first day of her senior year at Woodsville High.

  She noticed that she had her father’s eyes, deep and dark, as she highlighted them expertly with a coat of mascara. Then, with a swoosh of the brush, she swept some bronzer across her high cheek bones, the perfect touch to compliment her chiseled face and narrow chin. She pouted her plump lip
s and colored them a deep red. Her name was Ruby, after all.

  It had been over eight years since she had been in Woodsville. She barely remembered her life here. When she lived here, she’d had a mom. Since her mom died, it was just her and her dad. After the gruesome death of her mother, Ruby and Tyler Hood fled Woodsville, but Ruby’s grandmother was here and that had been the reason for the return. Her father wanted to mend fences with his mother before it was too late. Eight years was too long to harbor resentment. Ruby had no idea what the turmoil revolved around, but she had a sneaking suspicion it had been her mother’s death. She didn’t even know much about the death of her mom. Ruby didn’t like surprises and her father was suspiciously closed lipped about what happened in Woodsville eight years ago, so she did a little research before they got here.

  According to the articles in the Woodsville Word—the local newspaper—only pieces of her mom had been found. After a police investigation headed up by Detective Kevin Wolf, it was concluded that a satanic biker gang that had been passing through town was responsible for the death of Kristine Hood. In fact, they were responsible for four deaths right around the same time. With the full force of the police and the community, Woodsville had banned together to avenge the deaths of the innocents. The majority of the female and children members of the gang had been run out of town. Most of them had put up a fight and a few had been arrested and incarcerated. Detective Wolf had quickly moved up the ranks in Woodsville, and still held the honor of serving as Police Chief.

  Ruby’s head twitched slightly. She brought her hand up to her nose, which wrinkled as an unusual scent wafted to her nostrils, as a slight breeze ruffled the cotton white curtains behind her. There was something familiar about the smell, and she couldn’t help but follow it. For some reason, she found herself drawn to the window. She sat gracefully on the window sill and pushed the linen curtains out of the way, but still hid behind them. She gazed out and when she did, he turned around and their eyes locked. Ruby gasped as his name escaped her lips in a whisper, “Kent.” She pulled away from the window, out of his sight, continuing to watch from the window as memories muddled her brain. She tried to make sense of them, but they were just too convoluted. Ruby peeked cautiously through a sliver in the curtain. The boy looked up, his eyebrows drawn together after finding the window empty. After a few moments, he shrugged, turned away and continued walking.

  “Ruby, breakfast is ready,” her grandmother’s voice called from downstairs.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Ruby muttered to herself as she grabbed her bag off the chaise lounge, slid her sunglasses atop her head and hurried down the winding staircase. The graceful young woman lifted herself easily onto a wrought iron barstool at the breakfast nook off the counter of the kitchen, depositing her things on the stool next to her. She picked up a slice of bacon and began to munch.

  “Good morning,” said Grams, a short, white-haired lady with Ruby’s eyes.

  “Morning, Grams,” Ruby said softly between chews. “Where’s Dad?”

  “He left early. He wanted to see some old friends about some work,” Grams said, shuffling through the kitchen to place more bacon in the sizzling pan.

  Ruby narrowed her eyes and stared at her grandmother until the elder woman’s gaze met hers. “I want to know, Grams,” Ruby said in a steely voice.

  “Dear, you don’t know what you’re talking about. It was a tragic accident, nothing more. Don’t listen to your father’s conspiracy theories,” the elder woman pleaded.

  Ruby sat back, thinking about this new information. “Hmmm, that’s interesting. Dad barely says boo about Mom … ever. I’ve always had a feeling there was something off about that, about why we left Woodsville and, most importantly, why we’re back,” Ruby said evenly. Grams staggered back slightly and steadied herself, grabbing the countertop.

  “Look, I can hold my own. I know my father is hiding shit from me. At the very least, he’s not being honest. I’ll find out the truth. I’ve heard the stories about you, Grams,” Ruby said mockingly. She hopped off the chair, smirking at the old woman.

  Grams’ hands fell from her mouth and her eyes hardened. In an instant, she grabbed Ruby by the wrist across the counter and held her granddaughter’s gaze. “Ruby, I’m warning you to stay out of it. Enjoy being a teenager and don’t get yourself wrapped up in old vengeance. No good will come of it.”

  Ruby stiffened briefly at the warning then she broke into a throaty laugh, tossing her head back. She grabbed her gear and stalked out of the kitchen. “You’d be surprised about what I’ve seen, Grams. Like I said, I can hold my own. Have a good day,” Ruby said, pulling her large, round sunglasses over her dancing eyes, chuckling to herself. Maybe Woodsville wouldn’t be so lame after all.

  ***

  Ruby surveyed her new school, as a sea of students milled around in the large parking lot in the center of the sprawling campus. Three large, brick buildings surrounded the parking lot, or ‘the pit’ as the kids called it. Ruby sauntered into the office of the largest building and walked into the office. Flashing a sweet childlike smile at the woman behind the counter, Ruby spoke softly, “Good Morning. My name is Ruby Hood. I believe my father enrolled me on Friday. Unfortunately, he misplaced my schedule over the weekend. The house is a mess with the move.”

  “That’s completely understandable,” the receptionist responded. “I’d be happy to print you another. Welcome to Woodsville High, Miss Hood.” The plump, little receptionist clicked a few things on a computer in front of her, then the printer beeped and spit out a piece of paper. The squat woman jumped up happily, grabbed the documents and smiled at Ruby.

  “Thanks so much.” She said genuinely. Ruby might be tough and a little bit wicked, but her father taught her manners. She leaned in while the woman explained the documents.

  “Here is your schedule and a map of the campus. And here is your enrollment form. Please show this to each teacher, since you aren’t on the roster yet.” Then, a bell chimed from every speaker in the school. Ruby marveled as the school instantly jumped to attention. Doors opened, noise levels increased, students and staff hustled and bustled to and fro as the day officially began.

  “If you hurry, you can make it before the tardy bell rings. Head right out of this door. Exit the building and head across the quad. Your first class is in Building B, room 104. Good luck,” the woman replied.

  “Thank you. Have a good day.” Ruby smiled, then turned to follow the directions the receptionist gave her. As kids scuttled through the hallway, Ruby walked casually and made a detour into the bathroom, needing to check her appearance and buy herself some time. Ruby stared at herself in the full length mirror in the girls’ room. Some random girls’ looked her over critically, but she barely noticed. She checked out her waifish figure in the mirror. Her skinny jeans and ballet flats showed off her lean legs, a red tank peeked out from underneath a black, off-the-shoulder sheer blouse. She freshened up her red lips, smoothed her blond streaks, then tucked her hair behind her ears.

  The last bell chimed just as Ruby exited the building to walk across the quad. She was officially late, but that was all part of the plan. Fading into the background was never an option. She liked people to know right up front where they stood. To do that, one had to draw attention to oneself and exude confidence from the get go. Confidence was not something Ruby had in short supply.

  She pulled the door open to her classroom. The room froze and all eyes turned to face her, just the way she wanted. “Excuse me, I’m so sorry to interrupt. My name is Ruby Hood. I’m new and I got lost on the way to class,” Ruby lied, meeting the teacher’s gaze, holding out her enrollment form.

  Mrs. Armstrong pushed her glasses up her nose and reached out to grab the form. “Welcome, Ruby. Please find a seat.”

  Ruby scanned the room. Right in front of her sat a beautiful young woman, with mesmerizing gray eyes and a long, black mane of gorgeous hair. She smiled genuinely to Ruby and nodded to the empty chair next to her. Ruby fak
ed a smile toward the overzealous young woman, but walked right past her to the back. She slid into a seat across from a girl with her nose buried in a book. Ruby was surprised that the girl hadn’t even glanced up.

  Ruby leaned across, held out her hand and whispered, “Hey, I’m Ruby. Nice to meet you.”

  The girl looked up and glared at the rude blonde through her rectangular, yet quite hip purple glasses. She ran her fingers through her thick curly hair and gave Ruby the once over. “Lilly,” She said, shaking Ruby’s hand, then turned back to her book.

  “What are you reading?” Ruby asked with a smile. She liked this girl.

  Lilly looked up again, narrowed her eyes and closed the book, then pointed to the cover to show the title.

  “Gone With the Wind. Impressive. It’s one of my faves,” Ruby said, then turned to pay attention to the teacher, but caught Lilly’s amused grin in her peripheral vision. Ruby decided she and Lilly would be friends, but now she wanted to see what Ms. Armstrong was all about. Literature was her favorite class. Ruby hated to brag, but she was somewhat of a literary genius and a huge book worm.

  ***

  Ruby walked up the five stone steps of the front porch and paused. Of course, she could walk right into her Grams’ large, two-story brick house, but she didn’t. After all, it was her home, too … for now. Instead, she leaned toward the door with her hand on the handle and listened. They were arguing. She could hear their muffled voices through the door, then suddenly everything went silent. Ruby leaned in closer and pressed her ear to the door, straining to hear. The door flung open and Ruby almost tumbled into the living room, but caught herself with animal-like precision.

  There stood her dad, grinning. Tyler Hood looked nothing like his daughter except for the eyes. They both had the same deep, onyx Hood eyes. Mr. Hood was short and stocky and kept his gray-flecked, short hair neatly styled. His large, Roman nose didn’t really compliment his round face, but his wide chin with a slight cleft pulled it all together. His eyes danced like a teenager. “Eat anyone alive today?” her father joked.