The Dagda's Cauldron

by M. C. Cairns

  She took one more look at the painting before grabbing her clothes and heading for the bathroom. Although she tried, Alayna found it impossible to think of anything other than the place in her dream. Her mother was right, it had felt real to her. So, real that she almost believed she had memories there, in that place, with that girl, but she couldn't put her finger on any of them. Her head was beginning to hurt from trying to recall anything she could that would help her figure it out.

  Once she was under the steaming hot spray of water, she did feel better. The water always helped rejuvenate her, clearing her mind and brightening her mood. Just like that time I fell trying to climb a tree when I was eight, or seven, something like that. Mom wiped my eyes, held my hand, and walked me down to the stream behind the house. She kept smiling and telling me everything was going to be okay. The water was so cold, but it made my knee feel better instantly, and I kept splashing in it. I remember mom laughing and... Alayna froze. That memory wasn't real. It never happened. And the woman she had seen in her mind looked like an older version of herself. The woman sported shorter hair than her, and her eyes were green instead of the signature ice-blue Alayna was known for, but other than that, she looked more like Alayna than her own mother did.

  Stepping out of the shower, she swiped the corner of her towel across the mirror before wrapping it around herself. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, trying to figure out what just happened. Logically, she knew that what she 'remembered' wasn't real. Her mind had created a false memory. She tried to convince herself that this was part of her injury. Maybe when she hit her head she bruised some part of her brain that messed with her memories and made her make things up. But, deep down, she didn't believe it. Something told her that the memory and the woman in it were real. And they had something to do with the place in her painting.

  8

  The Visitor

  B

  Y THE TIME SHE FINISHED GETTING dressed and making her way to breakfast, Alayna decided not to share her memory with her parents. She didn't need them thinking she was hallucinating because they might cancel her trip.

  "Good morning, Allie," her father said. "How's the noggin feeling today?"

  Alayna hugged her father and busied herself pouring some orange juice. "I had a slight headache when I woke up, but other than that everything seems to be normal. I'm ready to forget about the fall and focus on the trip to Michigan. I can't believe I get to have my stuff hanging in a fancy restaurant. Wouldn't it be cool if I won some of the prize money? That would be a great birthday present! I mean, getting to go is an amazing present already, but if I won something that would be even better. Don't you think?"

  Her father sipped his coffee and handed her the basket of biscuits. "Okay, chatty Cathy, what are you hiding?"

  "Hiding? I'm not hiding anything. What do you mean?" She grabbed the basket and looked through it for the best one.

  "You are the worst liar in the world, Allie. Anytime you have something to hide, you talk too much and too fast. What is it?"

  "Really, I'm not hiding anything." She chose a biscuit and focused on breaking it into pieces, then drizzling gravy over it, so she wouldn't have to look at him.

  Setting his silverware on his plate, he linked his fingers together and rested his chin on his hands. He stared at her until she looked up.

  "Don't give me the dad look! That's not fair."

  He continued to stare.

  "Seriously? I’m fine, Dad."

  He didn't move. Didn't even blink.

  "Fine! I’m just worried that my drawings are not going to be good enough. I'm not even sixteen yet and I am entering an international art contest. People are going to laugh at me for thinking I even have a chance." She didn't even have to lie to him. She really was worried about that.

  He reached over and wrapped his big, comforting hand around her dainty fingers. "Oh, Allie Bug, you are very talented. You have nothing to worry about. Don't even look at it as a competition. This is your chance to get some experience and gain contacts in the art world. View it as a stepping stone for your future, not as the end all. You’re just getting started in life and are on your way up the ladder. Enjoy the climb."

  "We are very proud of you, Alayna," her mother said, placing her hand over her daughter's. She had not said a word the entire breakfast until now, barely touched her food, and sipped her coffee so slowly that it had gotten cold. "No matter what happens in the future, always remember that we love you and are proud of you." Her mother told her she was proud of her all the time, but this time it sounded more like a goodbye.

  "Mom? What's wrong?"

  Her mother opened her mouth to answer just as the doorbell rang. "Nothing, sweetie. I’m just so proud of my amazingly talented daughter. Now, finish your breakfast while I get the door."

  Thinking about the painting waiting for her in her room, she stuffed a big bite of biscuits and gravy into her mouth, barely chewing before she gulped down half of her orange juice. Finishing off the biscuits on her way out of the kitchen, she dropped her plate into the sink and started for the door.

  "You know better than that," her father said from behind the newspaper.

  "I know, sorry," She rinsed her plate and threw it in the dishwasher.

  Her father folded his paper and laid it on the table. "Good luck on the new painting. Your mother said it was, what was the word she used? Oh yeah, 'magical.' Go create some magic."

  Her mother appeared in the doorway before she could leave. "Paul, could you come in here, please? A, um, former client of yours is here to see us, I mean, you."

  "It's okay. I'll clean up in here before I head back to my room." Alayna shooed him out of the kitchen. She had never seen her mother flustered like that before and her dad looked bewildered. She headed back to the table and picked up her father's plate and cup, rinsing them and placing them in the dishwasher. It wasn't quite full, but she started it anyway, hoping it would cover the sound of her footsteps.

  She peeked around the door frame and caught a glimpse of a short man with shaggy brown hair walking into the library. He glanced up as he closed the door and locked eyes with her for a moment, giving her a chance to take a mental picture. His beige and brown three-piece suit was tailored to fit him perfectly, which couldn't have been easy because he was barely over four-feet tall but had the features and proportions of a grown man. He looked like he had been shrunk in the dryer. Looking into his eyes, Alayna got the same feeling she had with the painting and the memory — she felt like she knew him, but couldn't quite put her finger on who he was. The sound of the door clicking shut snapped her out of her thoughts and she snuck over to listen.

  "Ian, how have you been? It has been a long time," her father's voice was professional. "What can I do for you today?"

  The stranger’s voice sounded compressed, just like his body. "Hello, Paul. You are correct, it has been a long time and things have been peaceful. Until now. That is why I have come today, to discuss the contract we drew up all those years ago."

  "That contract is still valid," her father sounded almost angry and his voice got louder and softer as if he were pacing. She pressed her ear to the door, trying not to miss anything.

  "Again, you are correct. The contract is valid, but there were some conditions that must be met if it is to remain binding. Those conditions are what I am here to discuss."

  Alayna could hear a drawer opening, papers shuffling, and the chairs squeaking a little as the two men took their seats. If I know dad, this is going to take forever, Alayna thought. Dad sounds like he is ready to fight for this contract, whatever it is, and that guy doesn’t have a chance against him. Guess my mind is still messing with me, because he is obviously a client. She tiptoed away from the door and headed toward her room. As she walked by the family room, she glanced up and there was her mother, snuggled up on the couch, surrounded by photo albums. She was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue and smiling sadly as she turned the pages.

  "What are you lo
oking at?" She stood behind the couch, looking over her mother's shoulder. "Oh, wow. I was so little. Why are you going through all these old pictures?"

  Her mother patted the couch next to her. "Your birthday is next week and I guess I was feeling nostalgic. I miss the days when you depended on me for everything and I was your 'betht fwend,'" she teased, wrapping her arm around Alayna's shoulders and squeezing. "I used to love to hear you mispronounce words. You were so adorable I couldn't help but smile. It drove your father crazy and I would always tell him you wouldn’t be around forever and we needed to enjoy every moment we were blessed to have with you."

  "You really are getting emotional. I'm only turning sixteen, not eighteen. We still have two more years of high school to get through before you have to worry about me going anywhere. Even then, you know I don't want to go to some big school away from here. You will never get rid of me. I'm going to live here rent free for the rest of my life." Her eyes twinkled with mischief before she returned her attention to the photo album. She flipped back a couple of pages looking for her baby pictures. Not finding them in that book, she picked up a green and gold one that looked older than the rest and turned to the first page.

  Unable to breathe and unwilling to look away from the photo staring back at her, she grabbed her mother's arm. Swallowing hard a couple of times, she regained her breath and managed to ask, "Who...who is that?"

  "Who is what, dear?" Her mother continued to flip through the album in her lap.

  Alayna held up the album in her hand. "Who is the lady holding me on her lap in this picture?"

  Her mother turned her attention to the photo album and the color immediately drained from her cheeks. "Where did you get that?"

  "It was right there with the other ones. Who is it?"

  "I have no idea," her mother stammered as she grabbed the book and slammed it shut. "We will have to ask your father when he is done with his meeting."

  Alayna started to protest, but chose to remain quiet because she could see the toll the picture took on her mother. She knew her mother was hiding something from her and she suspected her mother knew exactly who that woman was. One thing was for sure, the woman in the picture and the woman in her memory were the same person.

  9

  The Dress

  A

  LAYNA'S NOSE WAS ALMOST TOUCHING the mirror. She tilted her head to the right. Then to the left. Then turned to each side, making sure everything matched. Everything must be perfect, including her makeup. Satisfied that her eyeliner was identical on both sides, she hopped off the bathroom sink and grabbed her dress from the hanger. She held it against her body and twirled once, watching the skirt flare and change colors as the light bounced off it. The dress was the most beautiful thing she had ever owned. It was also the most expensive thing she had ever owned, and she felt a little guilty about that, but her parents insisted she get whatever she wanted. They said it was because it was her sixteenth birthday, but Alayna knew it was because they felt guilty for not being honest with her about who she was.

  After she found the picture of her and the mystery woman in the photo album, Alayna tried to wait for her father to finish his meeting, but the longer she waited, the more anxious she got. Eventually, she couldn't take it anymore so she stormed into the library, held up the picture and demanded to know who it was.

  Surprisingly, it was Ian who spoke first, "Well, it looks as if our discussion has been rendered unnecessary, Mr. Davis. I will take my leave. Nice to see you again, Alayna."

  What does he mean ‘again?’ Alayna thought as she watched Ian quickly gather his things and scamper out the door. She shook her head and turned her attention back to her father, "Well?"

  He dropped into his chair and indicated that she should sit in the other chair. When she was settled, he looked up at her, eyes glistening with tears, and told her about her mother - the one in the picture and her memory, not the one she had known her entire life.

  "Allie Bug, before I begin, I want you to know how very much your mother and I love you. You are the only thing that really matters in our life, and we would, will, do anything to keep you safe and happy."

  Sinking further into the chair, she knew this was going to be a long, hard conversation. No good story ever started with someone saying 'remember how much I love you.'

  Her father sat forward and rested his arms on his knees. "The woman in that picture is your birth mother. When you were an infant - less than a month old - Ian, the man who was just here, brought you to me. He wanted me to find you a home where you would be safe. Your mother and her family had dangerous enemies who wanted to punish her for something her mother did. They knew how important you were to both your mother and your grandmother, so they planned to kidnap and harm you. Your grandmother learned of their plot and forced her daughter to put you up for adoption to protect you.

  “I took one look at you and knew that there was no one else I would trust to keep you safe, so I brought you home myself. Your mother instantly fell in love with you and we called Ian the next day to work out the details. We were unable to have children of our own and felt you were a blessing to us. The contract we signed had a lot of rules, most of them were the basics of taking care of a child, but one of the stipulations was that we could never tell you about your adoption unless your grandmother sanctioned it. That was a difficult decision to make because we firmly believe in being completely honest, but we both knew in our hearts that you were our child already, so we agreed without question. We loved you too much to lose you, so we never told you, and hoped we would never have to."

  Alayna could barely see her father through the tears that filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She jumped up out of her chair and fell to the floor in front of her father, laying her head on his lap and sobbing, like she had always done when she cried. "Oh, Daddy. I am so sorry that you had to go through that. It must’ve been so hard to give up everything and know every time you looked at me that I wasn't really your daughter."

  "Don't you dare say that! You have always been, and will always be, my daughter. We chose you. We saw you and chose you to be our daughter. You may not carry my DNA, but you have always carried my heart. Whether we remain your parents or not is now up to you. It's your turn to choose." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

  Alayna sniffed and asked, "What do you mean?"

  "Ian was here because your grandmother wants you to return to her. However, she cannot force you to go back because the contract we signed said if you were ever informed of the situation, it would be your decision whether you returned to them or stayed with us."

  She sat up and squinted her eyes. "My grandmother wants me to return? What about my mother?"

  Her father sighed. "Unfortunately, your mother disappeared several years ago and they have been unable to find her."

  "Did those people take her? Do you think she is still alive?" The concern was evident in Alayna’s voice.

  "No one knows, Allie. They know she initially left of her own will, but haven't had any contact with her since then." He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her into a hug.

  "Well, it doesn't matter anyway. I would never leave you and mom. You are the best parents I could ever have asked for and I love you. Now that it's my turn, I choose you. I'm staying."

  Her parents were so overjoyed with her decision that they began making huge plans for her birthday. First, they booked a room in one of the most prestigious hotels in Grand Rapids, even though the school offered a smaller, less expensive, option. Then, her mother called the restaurant where her art was going to be displayed and made reservations for the night of her birthday, which wasn't easy because it was a Saturday night and they were already booked. Alayna didn’t know what she had said to change their minds, but she got the reservation.

  That's when her mother took her shopping. There weren't any 'boutiques' or 'high class' stores where they lived, so they drove the hour and a half to St. Louis in search of the perfect dress. T
hey found it in a small dress shop along the river.

  "Mom, look at this one. It's gorgeous." Alayna held the dress up for her mother to see.

  Her mother lifted the skirt and let it fall back to Alayna’s knees. "Ooh, look at how it changes from deep green to blue when you move it. Go try it on!"

  Alayna hurried to the changing room. When she pulled it off the hanger, she glanced at the price tag and her heart sank. Almost three hundred dollars. She slipped it over her head and couldn't believe how luxurious the inside felt. It was like silk sliding over her skin. When she looked in the mirror, she knew nothing else they found would ever measure up, but she knew she couldn't let her mom know she liked it.

  "Everything okay? Do you have it on yet?" Her mother was anxious to see her in the dress.

  "Yeah, I'm not sure about it though." She opened the door to the fitting room and watched her mother put her hand over her lips and try not to cry.

  "Oh, Alayna, you look beautiful. How could you not be sure? It's perfect." Her mother twirled her finger in the air, telling Alayna to turn around.

  "I just, I don't know, it's just not, it's not..." Alayna chewed on her thumbnail.

  Her mom put her hands on her shoulders. "What is it, sweetie?"

  Alayna slumped her shoulders and turned to show her mother the price tag. She didn't even blink when she looked at it.

  `"And?"

  "It's way too much, mom."

  "No. It's perfect and you can't put a price on perfection. Now, go change while I pay for it."

  "But..." Her mother turned and walked toward the cashier, not giving Alayna a chance to argue.

  Admiring herself in the hotel mirror now, she knew her mother was right. That dress was perfect and she was positive tonight would be amazing.

  "Alayna, are you ready? Our reservation is at seven and it is already six thirty. If we don't go now, we will never catch a cab in time."