by D. S. Elstad
The man took the rope and began leading the horse towards where I stood. I felt happy and excited to meet the joyous family making its way to me. A soft breeze captured the man’s hat and played with it before tossing it to the ground. He bent down and reached for it, but before he grabbed it he lifted his head in my direction. When he looked up, his eyes met mine. He nodded and smiled. I held my hand to my heart. I’d know those eyes anywhere. The blueness in them was visible even from where I stood. And almost like a zoom lense my vision closed in on them, as though they were right in front of me. It was Grandpa Conor, a young Grandpa Conor. He placed his hat back on his head and took hold of the lead rope once more.
I turned to the woman, who was now looking my way as well. Her hat had blown off and was resting against her back, held on by the hat strings. Strands from her long auburn braid were loose and blowing in front of her face. She fingered the loose strands and tucked them behind her ear. A smile spread across her face as she also nodded at me. A quick recollection of the picture of Grandma Shannah shot through my mind and there she was, sitting on her favorite chestnut horse. I wanted to run to her, to run to both of them, but was unable to move. A nod from the woman followed by a tilt of her head told me that I could come no closer. Her eyes pulled me in just as Grandpa’s had done and allowed me to stare deeply into them. I saw once more the eyes of my Grandma as she had appeared to me, the eyes of the gray wolf.
The little boy grabbed hold of the reins and then he, too, looked my way, with a huge grin followed by a wave of his little hand. He spoke excitedly to the adults and motioned for his father to come closer. Conor grabbed his free hand and walked beside the horse as the three slowly turned and headed back down the other side of the hill. I watched until they disappeared then looked back out to the sea, the sounds of their laughter still echoing in my ears.
I opened my eyes and looked around the familiar hotel room. The dream had felt so real; in fact, I knew it was real. Just as Grandma Shannah had sent messages to me before, I felt both she and Grandpa Conor were sending me one now, letting me know that they were ok –better than ok; they were at peace and where they wanted to be. They were together and they also had their little boy back, Joseph.
I rolled over in my bed and looked out the window onto the bright blue sky. A feeling of contentment and peace rose up inside of me. The sound of my father’s hushed voice from the bathroom let me know he was talking to mom, and the thought that I would be seeing her very soon warmed my heart.
I sat up and looked at the clock, which was again working, and wondered if the time was correct. If it was, that meant I’d slept eight hours. I stretched my arms overhead and felt twinges of pain shoot through my body which wasn’t surprising, considering the events of the night before. I momentarily lost myself in the recollections of that night: the Fomorians, the Eye of Balor, the crazy weather, the fear of losing Dad and all the people I’d now come to know and love. My mind raced back and forth, replaying elements from each occurrence, before it finally slowed down and rested on one thought…my grandparents and the beautiful image of them from my dream that I would carry with me forever.
“How are you feeling, Wils?” Dad asked, as he stepped out of the bathroom.
“Not bad, really,” I answered, twisting my neck in an effort to loosen the knots. Considering the hits that we all took, it was amazing that any of us could still walk. I shuddered at the thought of how bad I’d be feeling if we hadn’t been able to shift and bring on healing that much faster. I grabbed hold of the Triquetra hanging from my neck and held it to my lips, kissing it lightly. “Thanks to this.”
Dad smiled and sat down on the bed alongside me, taking hold of my hand. “You know how proud I am of you? Not just because of the whole, saving the world from evil, thing,” he said with a side grin, “but because of all of it. When Conor was passing, he asked for you. I told him about what was happening and he made me promise to tell you how much he loved you.”
I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, resting my chin on top.
“I’m so sorry, Dad. If the power hadn’t been lost completely, he’d still be here with us.”
Dad shook his head. “I don’t know about that, honey. I think he was ready to go. For the most part he was unconscious and the nurses did an amazing job at keeping him comfortable. When he was awake he’d talk about how tired he was and how much he missed mom. In fact, just a few minutes before he died, he had been lying there with his eyes closed; then he opened them and called out Shannah’s name and held his hand out as though he was reaching for her. After that, he smiled at me, told me he loved us, closed his eyes, and was gone.”
I took comfort in the fact that Dad had been able to reconcile with Grandpa before it was too late, and to be there with him when he died. Eight people had died that night at the hospital because all power was lost, even the backup generators, and the life support systems had failed. I hoped that all of them were able to leave this world under the same peaceful circumstances as Grandpa Conor.
Dad then told me about his conversation with Mom, and that he had booked return flights to New Mexico the next day. My heart both leapt and sank at the same time. Even with all the wonderful new relationships I’d gained in Ireland, I was still somewhat homesick. I missed my mom, my friends, my before Ireland life. Thinking back on it, that life was so simple and easy. But at the same time the thought of leaving produced a huge knot in my stomach. How could I possibly say good-bye to these people whom I had shared life-and-death experiences with? How could I just go back to routine as usual? And most importantly, how could I say good-bye to Bram?
I stood in the middle of Grandpa’s study where, days earlier, he and I had sat talking about Grandma and their life together. Amazingly, nothing at Grandpa’s house had been damaged, or impacted at all from the storms that had decimated so much of the area. It was all exactly as he left it, which kind of comforted me.
I sat on the loveseat and smiled as I rubbed my hand over the worn cushion and felt the spot where the spring had stuck me that day. Family pictures still hung on the wall and sat placed throughout the room. I moved to the chair at the roll top desk and opened the top drawer, sifting through the collection of faded color and black-and-white photographs that lay inside. My grandparent’s lives remembered in these faded pieces of paper.
“Eagan says he’ll leave everything just the way it is,” came Dad’s voice from behind me. I spun the swivel chair and faced him as he stood in the doorway of the little room. His face looked much more serene now; the lines that had been so pronounced were relaxed.
“Do you think it’d be ok if I box some of these and take them with us?” I asked, running my fingers over the fading images.
“Sure, they shouldn’t be left lying around anyway,” Dad answered as he joined me at the desk and took a handful of shots, inspecting each one carefully.
“I’ll go find a box,” I said, motioning for Dad to sit.
I left the room and went into the tidy little yellow kitchen. The sweet smell of cinnamon lingered; from what I couldn’t tell. I stood over the stove and pictured Grandma there cooking. She must have made many meals at that stove, considering, according to Dad, that nothing had changed in the past forty years.
I looked around the room and spotted a door. I opened it and found that it led to a basement. To my left hung a string attached to a light bulb. I pulled the string, illuminating the staircase and small cellar below. The wooden slat steps were wobbly and aged. After cautiously maneuvering downstairs I saw an area to my right that had a bench spanning the length of the wall. The bench had tools neatly arranged on a pegboard sitting on top of it. Old tin cans lined the back of the bench, filled with nails and screws and other odds and ends.
Shelves were stacked at the far end of the bench. On the shelves were jars of food. It looked like canned fruits of different kinds, and jams and jellies. I remembered the few times mom and I had canned some peaches and applesauce, and
how delicious they were. I wondered how long ago it had been since Grandma had canned them.
As I looked around the workbench my eye caught sight of a small cardboard box sitting underneath. I bent down and picked up the box, then headed back upstairs. When I neared the top I reached over to turn off the swinging light bulb.
A folded piece of paper tucked into a wooden beam became highlighted by the bulb. I blew away the dust and cobwebs that had ensnared the old paper and pulled it away from the beam. I carefully unfolded it, shaking away the last bits of dust. When I opened it up I saw it was a faded map. I switched off the light and stepped back into the kitchen where I could get a better look. I moved over to the window and held the map up to the light. It looked like the area around Killarney, but I wasn’t sure. Then I noticed a circle drawn with an arrow pointing to handwritten words on the corner of the map. The writing was washed out but still visible. I could make out the words, the forest of my aisling.
The familiar sound of Eagan’s voice floated from the living room to the kitchen. Just hearing him made me feel happy. I hadn’t seen him for days so I raced to greet him.
“Well, here we are, my dear girl, Willow!” he exclaimed reaching his arms out.
I eagerly went in for a hug and basked in the smell of the cherry pipe tobacco that coated his shirt. I breathed in deeply, wanting to store the scent in a special place in my memory. “Hello, Uncle Eagan!” I responded excitedly.
“Hello, darlin’, how are you?” he asked. He looked down at the map in my hand and pulled my wrist up to his face. “What have we here?” he wondered as he tilted his head, studying the old piece of paper.
“I went to get a box from the basement and found this map stuck behind a board near the door. Is this a map of Killarney?”
Uncle Eagan took hold of the paper and held it at arm’s length, narrowing his eyes. “Well, yes, this is Killarney and this area here…this is the park.” Uncle Eagan pointed to the spot with the circle. “What does it say there?” he asked, tapping the faded handwriting.
“It says forest of my aisling. What does that mean Uncle Eagan…aisling?” I leaned in closer looking at the paper still resting in Eagan’s hand.
Eagan raised his eyebrows. “Aisling? Well, that’s usually a name, but it’s also an Irish word meaning… vision or dream. That looks like your grandma’s handwriting. This spot she has circled is the area that my mutt Cryer got lost in. Remember that? It’s also the area you were lost in.” Eagan stared at the map, then shook his head. “Wonder what the old girl meant by that?” He shrugged and handed back the map, then wrapped his arm around my shoulder and turned towards Dad, who was now standing in the living room by the fireplace.
“As I was telling your father, Willow, no need to worry about a thing here at the house. I’ll keep an eye on it until you all get back here next summer and then you can decide what you’re going to do with it. It’d be too much to have to go through this now, after what you’ve all been through,” he said, his voice sounding so much like Grandpas.
“And as far as the funeral, well, your dad wasn’t much for that ya’ know, Jacky –and taking into account the state that much of the town is in, it would take a while to get a proper funeral set up. So I’ve spoken to Father Doyle, and considering everything, he’s agreed to a small ceremony tomorrow before you leave. The funeral home has been notified and Conor will take his place beside Shannah right after the service,” Eagan said, flicking the ashes from his pipe into the fireplace.
“Thank you, Eagan, we appreciate it,” Dad answered as he stepped forward to shake hands.
“Ah, think nothing of it m’boy, like I said, you’re just like the son I never had!”
Dad broke out laughing. “That’s it, I’m going to have to tell John you keep saying that,” he kidded.
“John? Oh, right!! Johnny boy, why in heavens do I keep forgetting that lad?” Eagan winked, scratching his head.
I left the two to iron out the details of Grandpa’s estate and all the legal drudgery that seemed to be a part of it and went back into the study. I scooped up all the pictures that were scattered in the desk and placed them in the box.
While I sat in the study I heard a knock at the front door along with muted voices. Soon the door to the study opened and in walked Kelleigh and Quinn. I jumped to my feet and wrapped an arm around each one of them. I hadn’t seen or spoken to either since yesterday morning and was so happy to be with them. Kelleigh pulled back to wipe a tear from her eye.
“I hear you’re leaving tomorrow.” She sobbed, dabbing a Kleenex to her eyes.
I felt a lump rise in my throat at hearing her words. I nodded and pulled her close, wiping her tears with my sleeve.
“C’mon on, Kell, let’s be a tough little soldier now, shall we?” said Quinn as he joined us wrapping his arms around us both.
“You be a tough little soldier!” Kelleigh blurted out angrily. “I’ll cry if I want to!”
I had to laugh. Leave it to Kelleigh to have me laughing and crying at the same time.
“You do know I’ll be back next summer, right?” I asked, wiping my own tears now.
“I know, but that’s like ten months away.”
Quinn moved over to the loveseat, plopped himself down on it and rested his head against the back of the sofa. He rolled his eyes when I looked his way and moved his hand in a circle motion to the side of his head, signing “cuckoo.”I smiled as I held Kelleigh and listened to her whimpering, all the while cracking up at Quinn.
Uncle Eagan called for Kelleigh to come into the other room, which gave me a small reprieve from comforting her. I joined Quinn on the sofa and took his hand in mine.
“We’re a heck of a team, we three,” I whispered proudly, raising our hands in the air.
“You know it!” he shot back, satisfied.
“It’s pretty unbelievable; I mean the whole thing, isn’t it?” I asked.
“Aye, unbelievable until I reach back here and feel the knot on my head,” Quinn said, laughing.
I felt the lump, which was about the size of a baseball, then showed him the stab wounds on my legs from the Goatmen. After about ten minutes of sharing war injuries, Quinn got more serious.
“Have you talked to Bram?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m going to see him after we’re through here. I still have a lot of questions,” I added, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Questions? For Bram?”
“No, not really, more for Aaron. Like, I’m still not real sure of how this all works when I’m going to be thousands of miles away,” I wondered, looking to Quinn, who met my gaze.
“Wow. Really, how does that work?” Quinn questioned scratching his head.
We both just looked forward and stopped talking, lost in our own thoughts.
“I thought you might like to go back to the park before you head out tomorrow,” Bram said as he looked in the rearview mirror of the blue VW.
I bit my lip, thinking about whether or not I did want to go there, but then decided Bram was right; I needed to be there again before we left.
I had gotten into the habit of going into mindspeak with Bram. It became second nature to simply shoot my thoughts his way. What was funny about it, though, was that he usually answered me in his voice instead of his thoughts.
“Yea, let’s go to the park. Do you think we should check out the sidhe?” I asked.
Bram slowly pulled onto what was left of the road and maneuvered the car around the potholes and fallen tree limbs.
“Sure, if you want to,” he answered. “Gotta admit, I’m curious about how it looks now, whether or not it’s sealed closed.”
We arrived at the entrance, only to find it blocked by a large downed pine tree. Bram parked the car alongside the road and we climbed over the tree making our way into the park. Once over the tree, the road to the visitor’s center looked relatively untouched and the various paths to the parks attractions were in pretty good shape. Workers were busy with chain saws, cut
ting back the downed trees and piling the wood into a large truck. A park official who seemed to be in charge saw us and waved his hand. He rushed over to where we stood.
“Sorry, folks, the park is closed until we get some of these trees out of the way. Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt or anything,” he said with a deep, gravelly voice, then put his hands on his hips, asserting his authority.
Bram and I looked at each other.
“Ok, the park looks better that I thought it would,” Bram offered, turning his head, looking around.
“Aye, not bad here at the entrance, but there’s areas deep inside that are in terrible shape. Plenty of spots will be closed indefinitely,” he puffed, then pulled off his hat and wiped down his damp brow. “Be careful climbing over that tree, ya hear?” He added before turning and bellowing more orders at the waiting crew.
We went back and scaled the fallen pine once more, then stood at the car.
“Well, what do you think?” asked Bram, a slight smile creeping across his face. I was pretty sure I knew what that smile meant.
I turned and walked a few feet up the road then began running; once I was in a good stride, I shifted wolf and took up over the hillside. It was exhilarating to shift mid-run. I hadn’t attempted it before but found it was just as easy as shifting while standing still. My nostrils flared as I took in huge breaths, filling my lungs with copious amounts of oxygen. Instinctively I sprinted through the woods and followed the familiar scents.
Overhead, I heard the eagle’s cry and caught sight of Bram as he lowered, then lifted himself back up above the tree canopy.
“Show off,” I snickered.
Bram’s laughter filled my head as we closed in on the area of the sidhe. I slowed down and inhaled my surroundings. I was a few feet away. I padded my way to the ancient mound and shifted human. When I was fully changed I brushed the dirt from my clothes and looked to the sidhe. There, sitting comfortably on a rock, was Bram, with a very self-satisfied expression.
