The Forest of Aisling: Dream of the Shapeshifter (The Willow Series Book 1)

by D. S. Elstad

  “I can’t right now,” I whispered, feeling like I couldn’t bring myself to share our first kiss at that moment.

  He smiled a half smile. “I understand, no hurry.”

  I kissed the fingers of my left hand and blew him a kiss. He reached up and caught it and pressed it to his heart.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Dad, no!” I rushed onto the balcony and hugged him, tears streaming from my eyes.

  “Calm down, honey, let’s not assume the worst. Eagan said his condition is stabilized and he’s in the best place he can be,” Dad replied, wrapping me up in his arms.

  “I can’t believe this. Poor Grandpa. Can we go see him?” I stretched my arms across his chest and sank my head onto his shoulder.

  Dad pulled me back into the hotel room and grabbed a tissue then wiped my eyes. “Try to relax; it could’ve been much worse. Good thing Eagan was there and got him to the hospital so fast. He’ll be ok. I need to go over to his house and pack a bag for him; then I’ll head to the hospital. You want to come with me to do that?”

  “’Course Dad, anything I can do.” I wiped away the last few tears.

  “Let’s go then.”

  Bram sat waiting in his car as Dad and I came out of the hotel. I hurried over to him and explained that Grandpa had a heart attack and was at the hospital, and that Dad and I would be going to see him. I told him that I’d call him as soon as I could. And in what was becoming typical Bram fashion, he offered his help in any way and asked me to keep him updated.

  When we arrived at Grandpa’s house a chill ran down my spine. Momentarily I was transported back to the car and the dark figure perched on top of it. The chill was quickly replaced with deep concern for Grandpa. When we stepped inside his little house, we found the TV on, as were the lights and the oven with a well-done meatloaf roasting inside. Dad hurriedly went through the house turning things off while I placed the incinerated meatloaf in the sink.

  “I’ll go get a bag together, be right back,” he yelled as he ascended the stairs.

  I thought I smelled a burning candle so I began to hunt where the aroma might be coming from. I pinpointed the scent to Grandpa’s study…the room where he and I sat together and had that first conversation. The room where I promised him I’d come back for a visit; and here I was, but Grandpa wasn’t. I blew out the vanilla-scented flame and let my eyes search the area, rich with faded pictures and memories.

  I looked over at his roll-top desk in hopes of seeing the torn picture that was there before, the one that must’ve been a family portrait. The whole stack of photographs was now gone and the desk itself had been tidied up. I sat down on the chair and gave in to the impulse to open the top drawer which was already pulled out a few inches. I caught sight of an old wooden box. The top was inlaid with different types of wood made into a picture of a hillside and a full moon. Standing alone on the hilltop was a wolf. I opened it and was surprised by the tinkling sound of a music box. But different than any music box I’d ever heard; instead of a pinging sound, this one had a clear, rich, flute-like quality. I turned the box over, trying to see where the music came from, but nothing was visible. Whatever produced the sound was built squarely into the box. I couldn’t imagine how the tone was so clear and rich. I once again opened the box and noticed papers tucked carefully inside. After wrestling with my conscience for a few seconds, my curiosity won out and I removed the papers.

  The first one was a letter that had been folded. I carefully opened it and was surprised to see my own name neatly written on the envelope. The name on the return address was Shannah Whelan…Grandma. She had written to me. But why hadn’t I received it? I looked at the postmark and made out the faint stamp dating back three years ago. It had been mailed to our old address. We hadn’t lived there for at least five years. I guess Dad never sent the new address to Grandma.

  I studied her handwriting; the easy flow of the letters, the slight slant to the right was much like Dad’s, only more refined, prettier. I held it there in my hand, trying to decide if I should open it. The urge was strong but I knew Dad would be coming back any second, ready to go to the hospital. I didn’t want to rush through this moment. I wanted to be able to slowly and carefully open the letter and take in each and every word without distraction. I hushed the voice in my head that said this wasn’t the right thing to do and I quickly tucked the envelope in my pocket. It is addressed to me, after all, I decided.

  The sound of Dad’s boots echoed on the stairs and found their way into the study where I waited. “I’ve got the bags packed, we should get going,” he said, handing me a second, smaller bag. “Not sure how long he’s going to be there so I just packed enough for a couple of days. We can always come back to get more if –” Dad’s voice trailed off as he began looking around the small room.

  He stood quietly, motionless with the exception of a few turns of his head. It seemed as though he was taking in all the subtle nuances of the room. The walls covered with the history of his alienated family along with the sweet smell of tobacco rising from the pipe sitting on the square wooden ash tray. I wondered how long it’d been since he was in this room and what it was like…the last time he was here. His eyes stayed frozen on the worn pair of plaid slippers lying on the floor. A low exhale sounded from his chest while he reached down and grabbed the slippers. After studying them for a few seconds he unzipped the bag he was carrying and tucked them inside.

  “He may want these,” he mumbled, inching out of the room.

  Once we arrived at the hospital Eagan began giving out instructions on how to proceed with Grandpas care. According to him the heart attack was a mild one, but the doctors were very concerned about his state of mind and the fact that he’d yet to respond to anyone. Even though his condition was stable they wanted to keep him in the E.R. Eagan suggested that Dad get over to the hospital administration and help them get all the paperwork in order. I could tell from Dad’s expression that he was less than thrilled with the idea. Mom was the one who would keep track of everything. He’d call her “The Organizer” because of her knack at keeping things together. But he agreed, as Eagan suggested, asking me to come along.

  “Do you mind, Jack, m’boy,” Eagan began, his voice sounding tired; “I’d welcome a chance to have Willow keep me company until the doctor comes.”

  Dad’s face flushed as he shrugged and nodded ok. He grabbed the stack of papers from the table and left the room, glancing back for a quick look at his father.

  “This is a terrible time for your dad, ain’t it, Willow?” Eagan asked pulling a chair next to himself and patting the seat. I sat down near the foot of the bed where Grandpa lay. It felt weird to see him lying there, hooked up to tubes and machines. Eagan softly touched my hand, bringing me back to his question.

  “Yeah it is, and you too. What are they saying, Uncle Eagan…any idea when he can go home?”

  “Ah, well, going home isn’t really the topic of conversation just yet. He needs to be stabilized and he also needs to be communicating. He still isn’t talking.” Eagan rubbed his chin as he spoke, eyes focused completely on Grandpa.

  As we spoke, I noticed that Grandpa’s foot would twitch occasionally. It seemed to have missed Eagan’s attention and I didn’t point it out to him. It made me aware of the fact that he could hear us so I chose my words carefully as we talked.

  As a rule, hospitals freaked me out and I could count on one hand the number of times I had actually ever visited one, but for some reason, sitting here with my grandfather, I wasn’t uncomfortable. Concerned, yes, but able to deal with the situation. I guess with everything else that had been going on, a trip to a hospital verged more on normalcy than my other recent experiences.

  A nurse soon came into the room to record Grandpa’s condition, which gave Eagan a chance to step out to get a cup of coffee. After the nurse left I was alone with my grandfather. I pulled my chair over to the side of the bed and sat closer, hoping to see some sign of consciousness returning. I leaned
in slightly, whispering “Hi Grandpa, it’s me, Willow.”

  About twenty seconds after I spoke he started moving his legs under the sheets. His expression was unchanged but he definitely was moving about more now than when we first arrived. “Grandpa, can I do anything for you?” I reached over and held his hand as I spoke. Surprisingly I felt a grip in response to mine. “Hi, Grandpa, it’s Willow.”

  He slowly began stirring again and moving his head. His eyelids twitched and his lips pursed. Within a few seconds he started blinking rapidly. He quickly turned his head to my direction then stared as if trying to recognize me. I smiled and held onto his hand.

  He began to look around the room, jerking his head from side to side. A frightened look took over his face as he grabbed hold of one of the tubes inserted into his arm. He tugged at it, which triggered an alarm, causing him to panic even more. I took hold of his hand and pried it off of the IV tube. “Grandpa, you’re in the hospital,” I said, “but everything is ok…you’re ok.”

  He tried to speak but only produced low grunts and groans. He continued searching the room with his eyes. The nervous expression on his face grew in intensity as he scoped out his surroundings. I realized that he must be wondering where he was and what was happening.

  “Grandpa, you’re in the hospital but everything is ok,” I repeated in an effort to ease his worried mind. “Dad is here. He’ll be back in a few minutes, ok?” I held tight onto his hand; his agitation lessened with the mention of Dad. He narrowed his eyes as he studied me. Then a small smile crept across his face as his head once again nestled into the pillow. He mumbled something incomprehensible and blinked his eyes heavily before slipping off into a deep slumber.

  The frantic beeping of the machines quickly slowed down just as the nurse stepped into the room. “What’s all this…the panel was lit up like a Christmas tree,” she exclaimed with a thick Irish accent, checking his pulse. “Yet here I find him fast asleep!”

  “He woke up, started looking around, and panicked. I told him everything was ok and that my Dad was here. He relaxed after that and fell asleep again.” I held onto Grandpas wrist and sat back down.

  “Good girl,” she answered, straightening the bedding and adjusting the tubes feeding into Grandpas’ arm. “You’d make a charming nurse, you would,” she smiled, winking at me.

  “What’s going on here, Claire?” Eagan asked, spilling coffee on his shirt and the polished linoleum floor. He sat the Styrofoam cup down on the nightstand and wiped himself off.

  “Oh, look at you, Mr. Whelan; you are a mess, aren’t you?” Claire spun around and before he even had time to respond had Eagan wiped off and dry. “Your brother’s granddaughter here calmed him down and had him fast asleep before I even had a chance to get into the room. I told her she’d make a great nurse.”

  “That she would, Claire; too bad she has to come in and do your job for you, lass,” joked Eagan.

  “Arghh,” growled Claire, shaking a fist in the air. “You’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood today, young man,” she reached into her pocket to silence the pager that had just gone off. “Saved by the bell you are!”

  Eagan’s charm was apparent wherever he went. He had an uncanny ability to make people comfortable and at ease, no matter the situation. I still couldn’t imagine that he and Grandpa were brothers. Grandpa was so melancholy and serious, and Eagan, so outgoing, the life of the party. Of course, all I had to go on was what I’d been told about Grandpa and my own brief experience with him. How could he be anything but melancholy…I mean, the first time I met him was the day of his wife’s funeral.

  But even with that, I couldn’t picture Eagan getting down about anything. The only time I’d seen any trace of emotion or worry on him was when he lost Cryer that night at the park. And even then he was irrepressible, making jokes, telling stories.

  Where did he get his inner strength, I wondered while I watched him lean over his brother, untangling a tube that was caught up in the equipment. He wasn’t a young man himself, yet he carried himself that way. I realized I didn’t know much about him. What about his wife? I knew about his sons, but no mention was ever made about their mother. Something I’d have to ask Dad about when things settled down. When will that be? I asked myself, feeling a lot more relaxed now that Grandpa had at least roused for a short time and seemed to understand what I was saying to him.

  “Did Conor say anything to you, Willow?” Eagan asked, lowering himself into the chair next to the bed.

  “He tried to but I couldn’t understand him. He seemed scared at first, when he started looking around the room. I guess he realized he was in a hospital. So I told him everything was ok and he was going to be all right. Once I mentioned that Dad was here and would be right back, he relaxed.”

  “That’s great, darlin’,” he replied, slowly sipping his coffee, his gaze riveted on his older sibling.

  I wondered what was going in his mind. It must be hard to see your brother suffering like that. And yet there he was, unaffected by anything, able to transmit an air of peacefulness throughout the entire room. It felt like as long as Eagan was around everything would be ok. We sat quietly for several minutes before Dad returned with more papers.

  “I can’t believe all this is necessary,” he grumbled, tossing the stack to the small nightstand near the bed. “How’s he doing?” He moved to the opposite of the bed and began looking at all the equipment hooked up to Grandpa.

  “Good; why don’t you tell him, Willow? More coffee for me,” Eagan smiled and stepped out of the room.

  Dad motioned for me to follow him into the hall where I told him about Conor’s wakening. He released a deep sigh and pulled me in close for a hug after I let him know that Grandpa smiled when I said he was here. “Glad he had you to wake up to,” he whispered into my ear.

  I stood there with my dad, who had always been my rock. But now I felt like it was my turn to take over that job. I became aware of nervous trembling from his body as he hugged me and realized how much he needed me at that moment. It’s weird when you recognize that your parents are only human and can share the same feelings as you. Another loss of innocence.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Why is it, that when you’re so exhausted and sleep should come easily, it doesn’t. I couldn’t stay awake on the drive back from the hospital, but once I was in bed, relaxed and comfortable, all I was able to do was lay there and stare at the ceiling. Dad wasn’t having the same problem, fortunately. His deep snores pounded against the loose headboard, making a rattling sound that reminded me of a stalled engine.

  The glints of moonlight that found their way into our dark room created odd-looking patterns of black and gray on the ceiling and wall. I lost myself for a moment staring at one particular shape that moved infinitesimally, yet enough that I could make out its changes. I looked to the window to try and distinguish what was causing that particular shadow and decided that the nearly full moon was responsible along with a barren tree branch reaching high into the evening sky.

  A sense of panic overtook me as my brain betrayed my ease with the sudden playback of the incident in the hall and the shadowy mist there. I no longer felt certain that the odd shape was merely the moon and a lone tree branch playing tricks. I pulled the covers up close to my face and concentrated completely on the shadow dancing on the wall. The microscopic movement was growing, only minutely, yet enough that I could make it out. It began on a small area of the ceiling, then stretched down, growing in width and darkness. It seemed to be pulsating more than actually moving. Once again I looked over to the window, hoping, praying to see some explanation for the peculiar activity. Nothing. Just the solitary branch reaching high and the moon partially covered by some passing clouds, along with the glow from a nearby streetlight.

  Closing my eyes, I said a quick prayer in hopes that it was just my overactive imagination rearing its ugly head instead of anything else…rearing its ugly head. I slowly opened my eyes, holding on to the squint that might
shield me from an anomaly that I wasn’t quite prepared to deal with. At first I was unable to make out the strange shape. It no longer held itself on the wall directly in front of me. I opened my eyes fully, feeling much relief, thinking that exhaustion was really beginning to catch up. I drew comfort from the low racket coming from Dad across the room and snuggled into the bed, rolling over on my side and closed my eyes. A quick thought of Bram brought a smile to my face and made me feel relaxed enough to finally doze off. With a deep breath I felt myself drift off to sleep, yet I still felt uncomfortably aware of…something.

  A choked-off throttle sound rattled the room, waking me up. When I finally realized it was nothing other than Dad’s deviated septum acting up, I relaxed and sank back into the warm, cozy mattress. A glance at the clock read 2:38 a.m. I felt refreshed but still in need of a few more hours’ sleep. I rolled over onto my left side so as to face my view out the window a few feet away. The moon had continued its journey across the night sky, creating more patterns on the walls and ceiling. I tried to ignore them but once again found the same oddly shaped apparition pulsating on the wall directly in front of me. I reminded myself that it was the same as before, just in a different spot due to the movement of the moon.

  I locked my gaze on it for several minutes before the terrifying realization hit me. There was no way this shadow could be a product of the tree branch and moonlight from outside. The wall that it anchored itself on was the window wall. That wall was in darkness with the exception of the even-darker shape, which grew now with my sudden revelation. Panic took over when I became aware of the absence of the sleep sounds coming from Dad. The room was quiet…disturbingly quiet, with the exception of the pounding of my heart.

  Slowly I turned my head in an attempt to look over to my father’s bed. I stopped when I realized that any movement I made caused the dark mass to enlarge… it even appeared to take on transparency and to be pulling itself off of the wall. The deepest fear I’d ever experienced seized me and plunged me into paralysis. A bizarre thought raced through my mind…Now I get why the victim just stands there when the monster gets ready to attack.