by S Lawrence
CELTIC
FIRE
Book One of the Guardian Series
S. Lawrence
Copyright © 2017 S. Lawrence
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
DEDICATION
For Momma,
I didn’t settle!
Linda Jean Troutt
1950-1995
“The moral of the story is that no matter how much we try,
no matter how much we want it...some stories just don’t have a happy ending.”
Jodi Picoult
Chapter One
Feet propped up on my desk, I smile as I gaze lovingly at my gorgeous new Christian Louboutin shoes sparkling in the sunlight. Super high and covered in rhinestones, they aren’t exactly office wear but, they’re so pretty I want to put them on a shelf with their own spotlight or maybe just cuddle them. A splurge for sure, I just had to have them. A commotion outside my office snaps me out of my shoe lust.
"Miss Joy, you know you can't just go in there! You don't have an appointment!"
"I’ll go in there if I want, Sugar!" came the response from my Aunt Joy.
"Abby, let her in. It's alright." I called to my poor assistant. Aunt Joy rarely stops by the office so Abby wasn’t experienced with her determination. She couldn’t be stopped when her mind was set. I can’t remember my life without her in it. She’d even been there the moment I was born. Momma always said friends are the family you choose; she chose Joy and Joy chose her. She and momma had been best friends from the time they had been in elementary school. I have loved her for my entire life. The door flew open, and Aunt Joy came barreling in, a little reminiscent of Kramer from Seinfeld. I smile, Aunt Joy was just that, a joy...a force of nature that could not be denied.
"Hey, Sugar. I brought beignets and coffee!" She threw herself onto the small leather office sofa and then her eyes landed on my feet. "Woohoo! Those are some mighty pretty shoes!"
Pointing my toe out I grin, “Aren’t they just beautiful, a little present for me from me.”
Joining her on the couch, I settle into her outstretched arms laying my head on her shoulder. She hugs me tight and kisses my hair like she has done since I was little. I hug her back then sit up. Reaching for the beignets and coffee, I draw in the dark smoky smell of the chicory coffee and stick the tip of my tongue out to taste the sweetness of the powdered sugar, smiling over at Aunt Joy. "You do know the way to make my day.” My smile falters as I notice the tears in Aunt Joy’s eyes.
"Oh, Auntie! What's wrong?"
Smiling she replies, "I just wish your momma was here to see how beautiful you are."
"I wish she was too. I can't believe she’s been gone fifteen years. I still think about her every day. Hell, there are times when I catch myself thinking that I should call just her to tell her some little something that happened."
I glance at the pictures of her on my desk. One is mom and Aunt Joy on their trip to Europe; it had been a high school graduation present from Grandda. The picture was taken at the airport just before they left on their quest for adventure, self-discovery and freedom. They had their arms around each other, faces shining with unadulterated happiness. In the other photo taken a year later, my mom is holding me. We’re gazing into each other’s eyes. It’s a quiet, private moment of love. Tears begin pooling in my own eyes as I look back at Joy.
I smile, “She loved us both so much."
It’s a statement, but Aunt Joy answers as if it was a question, "Yes, she did. She loved you with a fierceness that gave her the strength to stand up to Moira and walk away from it all."
My momma gave up just about everything for me. I look back at the picture that was taken about three weeks before she got pregnant with me. When my grandmother found out about me, she lost it. Good southern girls did not get pregnant before they were married. She told my mom to get rid of me. Momma wouldn't. So, Grandmother ended up disowning her and kicking her out. Momma went from living in the Saint Charles Street antebellum mansion, complete with its pristine gardens and southern charm, a jewel of the Garden District to a one bedroom trailer with holes in the walls and leaks in the roof. She was no longer surrounded by opulence and beauty. She worked as a waitress and scraped by, living paycheck to paycheck. We had yard sale and sometimes just curb alert furniture, but she would clean and paint it all, making everything pretty. Grandda went against Grandmother's wishes and came to see us when I was little. I suspect he gave Momma money to help us out. He always had butterscotch candies for me when I was a little girl, tucked away in his shirt pocket. Sometimes, when Momma had to work a night shift, he would come over to watch me. Grandmother knew, of course. Grandda had railed against her putting momma out only giving in when mom had told him she didn’t want to be there as I wasn’t welcome anyway. He conceded but made it very clear that he wasn’t writing his girl off.
Through all her highs and lows, Aunt Joy was there by her side. After momma had died, Aunt Joy stuck by me, even through the times when I was distant and angry.
"Enough sadness. Happy Birthday, Aislin Morrigan Flanery! I come bearing gifts!"
Shaking off the melancholy, I laugh, smiling at Aunt Joy "Give them to me...NOW!" Aunt Joy holds a box against her chest grinning at me, then holds it out to me. Just as my fingers begin to close on it she jerks it back laughing at my pout. “Okay Miss Impatient." She thrusts the box towards my hands, “from me.” Snatching it from her, I rip the wrapping paper off and pull the lid off. Inside I find an itinerary of a trip to Scotland laying on top of a bottle of Scottish Whiskey! Two weeks staying in beautiful old hotels and B&B’s in the countryside.
"It’s too much, seriously, I can't possibly take this."
"You can and you will. I want you to see the things your momma, and I saw, to visit and walk the places we did. She fell in love with Scotland, and she told me once ‘you make sure my Aislin sees this land.' The moment she arrived, she felt a connection. I loved the trip myself but not the way your momma did she felt it to her soul. I saw a freeness in her there that went all the way to her soul. You’re going, and that’s final. I made it for the summer; the same time we were there.”
"You win, I relent! I love it, and its a few months away so I can plan the time off from work."
"Like Conall wouldn’t let you have time off. It is one of the perks of having your Granddaddy own the company."
"True," I grinned.
"Next, I have something that I've been keeping for you. Your momma gave me this, right before she died. She made me promise to give it to you when the time was right. I have kept it safe and waited until I knew that you were strong enough to stand up to the infamous Moira McIntosh Flanery. I knew the time had come when you put your foot down and moved out to the farm so, here it is."
She hands me a wooden box covered in carved Celtic symbols. I run my fingers over the symbols and look up at her.
"What’s in it?"
"Jean told me what she was going to put in there, but I have never looked. It is for you and you alone. I do know that she explains about your daddy. I hope it answers some of the questions you have about him. "
"Do you mind if I wait until I get home? I’ve been so angry about her keeping him a secret, I mean, she was dying and she never even told me his name."
"Sugar, I love you, and I know you need to do this your way, just
like she needed to this her way.” She pulls me into another tight hug rubbing my back gently. “Well, I should git on outta here and leave you to your work. I am sure the Dragon Lady will be by today, and you know how much she likes me," she smirks.
I stand up to hug her goodbye, and I whisper in her ear, "Thank you for loving her so much and loving me too."
She hugs me tighter, "Always darlin!" She leaves the same way she entered, in a flurry of movement. My office seems empty without her big personality in it. I pick up the box, setting it on my desk. My heart pounding, I reach for it, just as my office door opens.
Chapter 2
Looking up, I see my Grandmother coming in. She must have passed Joy in the hallway. Of course, Abby would never think to bar Moira McIntosh Flanery from my office. She walks in, exuding the grace and command that caused, even people she didn’t know, to bend to her will. She was and still is, a beautiful woman. After momma died, my Grandmother had decided that it was her duty to make sure that I was finally raised properly, promptly moving me back into the Saint Charles Ave. house. Classes on etiquette and protocol at Miss Monroe’s School for proper Southern Ladies, began within the week. The classes included dining and social guidelines all proper Southern girls needed to follow. Grandmother said she had to make up for ten years of improper influence. I am sure she mostly meant Aunt Joy, who had grown up in the Irish Channel and attended the private school with momma on a scholarship. I began attending Ursuline Academy, just like all the girls of the family.
“Hello, Grandmother.” We had a difficult relationship at best. I often felt her disappointment with my mother was directed at me. She made it her mission to make sure I didn’t fall from grace like momma. Don’t get me wrong, I know she loves me in her way, and I have never wanted for anything financially, but I never felt good enough in her eyes. With Grandda she softens, he says she didn’t used to be so hard. I love her even with her flaws, but I just can’t let her anger towards my mom hurt me anymore. I smile softly, waiting.
“Aislin, darling, I’ve come to take you to lunch for your birthday. The chef, at the club, has a special meal planned for us.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you had made plans. It will just take me a few minutes to have Abby clear my schedule.”
I stand to go out to talk to Abby and have her call my appointments and reschedule as needed. It was then that Grandmother saw my shoes. I recognized the look of disapproval immediately.
“Aislin, don’t you think those are more appropriate for some white trash hanging on a pole?” Disappointment laced her tone.
I take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders and said: “No, I don’t and they are a gift to myself.”
“Really? I was sure Joy had got them for you. They seem to be more her style.”
Please God give me strength. I turn toward her, “Grandmother, I am not going to do this with you again. Aunt Joy loves me, and I love her just like Mom did. She is a wonderful, generous person...”
“SHE is NOT your aunt!”
“...and, she just gave me a trip to Scotland for my birthday.”
I let that bomb drop. Silence follows. I could see that Grandmother wanted to lash out, but proper ladies did NOT throw fits. The only outward sign was her white knuckles, she was gripping her hands so tight; I thought she might break her fingers. I could see her formulating her next words...words that she, of course, considered the law.
“YOU WILL NOT be going to Scotland! I have told you that I will never allow it. That place ruined your mother and caused your Grandfather and me a great deal of embarrassment.”
And there it was, the words that proved no matter how proper I was, how well I did, or what I might accomplish, I would always be the thing that ruined Jean Caroline Flanery’s life, in the eyes of my Grandmother. Moira Flanery would never forgive, my mother or me for causing a scandal and dragging her name through the mud.
“You know Grandmother, I’ve changed my mind about lunch. I’m not hungry. Aunt Joy brought beignets, and I ate way more than I should have. Maybe we can do lunch another time.”
I turn and hold the door for her. As she walks through, she turns to me with the look she uses to intimidate people, but I had grown up with that look turned my way.
“You will return that trip, Aislin.”
“No, I don’t think I will, and I’m sorry if that hurts you. I’m a grown woman and want to see the country that my momma loved so very much and where she met my father.”
I slowly close the door and walk to my chair where I collapse. My hands shake and tears pool in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
I reach for the intercom, “Abby, could you please clear my schedule? I think I need to head home early today.”
“I already did. I started calling the minute your Grandmother arrived.
“Thank you.”
A sad smile curved my lips. How sad is it, that even Abby knew how my Grandmother affected me? I look up, blink away tears and take several deep breaths. My hands make their way to the box from momma; it is so beautiful. The entire thing covered with Celtic knots. In the center of the top, was a triquetra, the symbol for mother, daughter, and sister. I knew this because just like my momma, I love all things Celtic. When I was little, we danced to Irish and Scottish music. She told me tales of the Celtic Gods as we cuddled underneath the covers, her hand stroking absently through my hair. Before she got sick, she had started taking college classes at Tulane, and her favorite one was Celtic Mythology. I often wonder, if she hadn’t gotten sick, would we have one day moved to the country she loved so much.
There was a quiet knock at my door. I really didn’t know if I could take another visitor, but when my Grandda stuck his head in, I smiled, instantly feeling better.
“Hey, Sweet Pea! Just wanted to stop and wish my best girl a Happy Birthday.”
I stand up and rush into his strong arms, burying my face into his neck. I breathe deep, drawing the scent of his aftershave into my lungs, letting it carry me back to when I used to sit on his lap and listen to his Irish brogue tell me stories of his childhood.
“A stór, what’s happened?”
I loved when he called me his treasure. I sigh and hug him a little harder before stepping back, once again tears well in my eyes.
“Grandmother.” That was all I had to say, a look of knowing and understanding filled his eyes.
“Och, she is a hard woman to love sometimes. Tell me what happened this time.”
I explain about the trip that Aunt Joy gave me. When I am done, he takes my hands in his. As I look at his face, he begins to speak.
“I have, all these long years, hoped she would let go of some of her anger but I see now that it will never happen. You need to understand that it’s not directed at you, my darling. I know you don’t see it, mostly because she won’t let you, but I think she regrets her decision to send my Jean away. She regrets not seeing her that last year. What can we do about regrets? Nothing. She’s letting hers turn her into a bitter person. Since she has no one to blame, she turns that anger toward a country. To a place where, in her eyes, it all went wrong.”
“Rationally, I know that Grandda, but my heart doesn’t. My heart still thinks of momma every day. My heart hears that it was me that ruined her life; that if not for me, she would still be here.”
“Never let me hear you say that. My Jean loved you more than anything. You were her proudest accomplishment. She would’ve never traded you for a longer life.”
“I love you, Athair Críonna. Thank you for never abandoning her or me.”
“I love you too, Sweet Pea. Why don’t you go on home, I am sure the horses would love to see you today?”
I smile because he knew how much I loved those horses. They were why I moved out to the farm. It was the reason he had gone against Grandmothers wishes and converted the top of the stable barn, into a beautiful living area, just for me.
“I think I will. Aunt Joy brought me something from momma, and I wanted to open it
at home anyway.”
“Well, my gift is also at the farm. Henri will have put it in your apartment for you.”
“Grandda, you shouldn’t have. But still, I can’t wait to see it.” I say with an impish grin.
I grab my purse and the box, hug him one more time and feel him slip a butterscotch into my jacket pocket.
“I love you!”
“I love you too, A stór.”
Chapter 3
As I turn down the drive heading to the farm, I’m again struck by the beauty of it. Grandda knew what he was doing, buying the run down farm so many years ago. After he’d met and married Grandmother, they lived in the Garden District. Grandda had come from Ireland, where he had worked at a horse stable, as a groom and hot walker. When he got to America, he got a job at a racetrack in New Jersey, working for a family that raced horses. To hear him tell the story, he beguiled the wife of the owner with his lilting Irish brogue. So when the racing season was over, they offered him a job at their farm, outside of New Orleans. It was at a garden party on the farm that he first saw Moira. She had come to the barn to have a look at the horses. He knew she was the one for him as soon as he saw her crystal, green eyes, love at first sight, his people believe in soulmates and she was his. Of course, she took much more convincing. His employer, who also owned a small advertising firm, recognized that Conall Flanery could be helpful to him with his advertising business. Conall was smart, ambitious and had made friends while living in the Irish Channel. He decided to move Conall from the barn to the office, letting him expand into the Irish businesses. Grandda was indeed smart because he learned everything he could while he was there. He made many influential contacts and then opened up his advertising firm. He had already married Moira, and they were expecting their first child that year.
As soon as the business was profitable, he found the little old farm and bought it, much to the dismay of Moira. He then lovingly restored the place. His plan had been for it to be a weekend retreat for the family. Soon, little Jean asked her daddy for a pony. He went that day and found her a good, sturdy, Irish Connemara pony.
