"That's a very astute observation," Fiona said.
"Ah, well, Baird's been helping me, I guess."
"He's a good man," Fiona observed.
"He is. I do feel comfortable with him and I love him and Aislinn together."
"Yes, they make a good team. He's steadfast and logical which makes a good contrast to Aislinn's dreamy, creative side."
"Yes, they balance each other well." Morgan blew on her tea before pouring cream into the cup, watching the swirl of light and dark liquids mix together.
"And how do you think Patrick will balance you?"
Morgan felt a sliver of excitement go through her before panic set in. She gripped the mug and stared down at its contents, unsure of what she thought.
"I don't know. I've never been in a relationship before. I don't know how to," Morgan admitted.
"Why don't you start by making him dinner?" Fiona suggested as she slid a plate with a Full Irish in front of Morgan. Morgan stared down at all of the food in dismay and then looked up at Fiona, her heart in her eyes.
"I…I don't know how to cook."
Fiona stopped and stared at her, her mouth open in surprise. She clenched her hands into fists and placed them on her hips.
"Now that is positively un-Irish. Alright then, I see we have a lot of work to do. Can you stay here today? I'll teach you a meal and one trick for controlling your powers when Patrick kisses you. It will at least start you in the right direction."
Warmth spread through Morgan and she smiled up at Fiona, grateful for her, happy that Aislinn had pushed her into coming out here. It had been the right step for her and Morgan wondered why she had fought it for so many months.
"I'm assuming Flynn doesn't need me today as it's already mid-morning?"
Fiona lifted a hand and waved it in the air.
"I told him that I was stealing you for today. He was fine with it."
For a moment, Morgan felt angry that Fiona had made this decision for her. Then she remembered that she wasn't supposed to take things so seriously, and she let the anger go. Flynn would understand. She'd still be able to work with him next week. It would all be okay. Blowing out a small breath, she smiled at Fiona before digging in to her eggs before they got cold.
"So what do you eat then?" Fiona asked. "You've a lovely figure, but I wonder if you are getting enough nutrition."
Morgan rolled her eyes and laughed, but it felt good, knowing that someone cared about her health.
"I eat fairly simply. Apples, carrots, those kinds of grab-and-go healthy foods. Sandwiches with some meat. That type of stuff. I don't eat a lot so my grocery bill isn't much." Morgan shrugged.
"Do you know how to cook meat?" Fiona asked, her head cocked.
"Not really. In a pan?" Morgan asked and Fiona sighed.
"Okay, let's start simple. Men are fairly easy to please so I am thinking spaghetti and meatballs along with some garlic bread should do the trick. What is your kitchen like? Do you have a stove?"
"I do, though it is tiny. I was surprised though. I just expected a cook top or something of that nature, but I have an oven. Shane outfits his properties well," Morgan said.
"Aye, perfect. Okay, we'll start your lessons when you are finished."
Morgan looked down at her plate, surprised to see that she had eaten her way through two-thirds of the food. Pushing it away, she stood and took the plate to the sink.
"I'm finished. Usually I just have a banana for breakfast." Morgan shrugged and rinsed her plate in the sink, her eyes drawn to the view of the cove. "Sure and this is a lovely spot to cook at. Just look at that view."
Fiona joined her at the sink and looked out of the window with her.
"It is. I once tried to live away from here, and it just never felt right. After my husband passed, it made no sense to try and live in the city anymore. This spot is home. It makes my heart happy and that is all that matters to me."
"Do you miss him?" Morgan asked, turning to look down at Fiona.
"Aye, at times, I miss him so badly that I want to curl up in a ball and die. I don't know if that ever goes away. But, it's been over thirty years since he's been gone. You learn to live with it, even if you don't want to."
"What was he like?"
"Oh, John was just…larger than life. His laughter, his heart, he did everything big. Our house was always full with friends; he was legendary for his stories. I miss him," Fiona said simply and turned to put the dishes on the drying rack. "Alright, enough reminiscing. Which do you want to start with? Cooking or learning to control your powers?"
Morgan straightened, her palms feeling a little sweaty, as she tried to decide which would be the lesser of two evils.
"Powers." She decided.
Fiona nodded and motioned for Morgan to follow her. They reached the door leading outside and Fiona snagged a worn leather book, the same she had been reading the night before, from the table before opening the door and allowing Ronan to dart out into the sunshine. Together, they stepped outside and Morgan followed Fiona around the cottage to where a small table and chairs were set next to the cottage. Morgan smiled as Ronan raced across the fields and then gasped as another dog shot across the ridge behind them and down into the field to meet up with Ronan.
"That's Teagan, Flynn and Keelin's dog. She and Ronan are best friends."
Morgan watched them circle each other and then race across the fields together, their ears streaming back in the wind. It pinched at her heart, just a bit. She wanted to have that freedom and ease with someone in her life.
They settled onto the chairs and Morgan closed her eyes for a bit, reaching out with her power in her mind to allow the energy of nature to pulse at her. If someone had asked what she was doing, she wouldn't have been able to explain it. At best, it was almost like feeling the energy of the natural world. She did this sometimes, usually when she was angry or upset, and it soothed her. There was something so raw and beautiful about nature and the energy that it emitted that it would inevitably calm her down and show her how petty her anger was.
"What are you doing?" Fiona asked.
Morgan opened her eyes and smiled at Fiona and shrugged. "Just, uh, feeling the energy here, I guess."
"Like Aislinn then? You know that is part of how she paints, right?"
"Yes, I suppose that it is the same. Though I'm not creative like she is." Morgan shrugged.
"I find it fascinating that you have a touch of what each of my girls have. Except, I haven't asked you about the healing. Can you heal?"
"I honestly don't know. I've never tried."
"Do you ever get scrapes or bruises and massage them with your hand? They disappear right after?"
Morgan thought about it. She was often scraping herself throughout the day on Flynn's fishing boats. It was normal for those in an active lifestyle and she didn't know many fishermen that weren't used to nicks and scrapes as part of their daily routine. She looked down at her arms, and saw no marks there.
"I suppose that I do, though I've never thought about it. In fact, I have no scars anywhere," Morgan said, looking down at herself and lifting her arms to look.
Her heart stopped.
Just for a second, panic raced through her. Breathe, Morgan, just breathe, she told herself.
"What happened? What's wrong?" Fiona said, standing over her, running her hands over Morgan's body, feeling for something.
Morgan held up her left hand, palm up. A thin white ridge sliced across her palm, a scar that looked like it had been there forever.
Except it hadn't.
Fiona reached for her hand, running her finger over the smooth white line that broke the creases in her palm.
"This wasn't there yesterday, was it?"
Morgan shook her head, unable to comprehend how living through a remembered past in her soul could bring to surface the scar.
"This is powerful magick," Fiona whispered and leaned down to press a kiss to Morgan's palm. "This is also an incredible gift. I think sh
e wanted you to remember that you aren't alone. Whenever you doubt yourself or feel lonely, look down at that scar and know that you are loved."
Morgan swallowed past the lump that had formed in her throat, unable to comprehend or process all of the emotions that were swarming through her. She closed her palm and brought it to her lap, running her fingers over the smooth ridge in her palm. As a reminder, it was a brilliant one.
"How could this happen? I don't understand," Morgan said.
"I don't quite know. Yet, the power of Grace O'Malley never ceases to surprise me."
Turning, Fiona gestured to the objects she had placed on the table. A few rocks, a crystal, a stick, and a cup.
"First, I'd like to see how your power works. You're the first that I know of that can move inanimate objects. Can you do that for me?"
Morgan raised an eyebrow at her and then, reaching out with her mind, she visualized the cup rising into the air. The cup did as she asked, hovering two feet above the table, staying completely still in the air.
"Wow, just wow," Fiona murmured. "It doesn't even shake."
"I can hold it like this while I talk," Morgan said, not looking at the cup; instead her eyes followed the dogs across the fields.
"So you don't even have to watch it?"
"Nope." Morgan shrugged.
"Can you hold more than one thing at a time?"
Morgan smiled, and for the first time really enjoying showing off her power, she lifted every item on the table and circled them around Fiona.
Fiona's warm brandy eyes lit with delight as she watched the items dance around her. They swooped in a circle and then lined up in front of them both, hovering about four feet off of the grass.
Like a bullet, Ronan shot across the lawn and launched himself into the air, snagging the stick neatly from the line of objects in the air and landing adeptly, before racing across the grass again.
"Ronan!" Morgan shouted out a peal of laughter, as did Fiona, the objects dropping to the grass in front of them.
"I guess we shouldn't use a stick for this. That's my fault," Fiona laughed, wiping tears from her eyes.
"Though I could really add to his game of fetch." Morgan laughed and laughed, having fun with her powers for the first time in her life.
"Oh, he would just love that. Maybe when we are finished here you can play with him a bit."
"Yes, I will." Morgan smiled at Fiona.
"So, I noticed that when you were startled, the items dropped from the air. Why did that happen?"
Morgan thought about it. "I stopped visualizing them in the air, I guess."
"And yet, when you are distracted, like during a kiss, objects will levitate."
"Yes."
"So there is a correlation somewhere with focusing and not focusing. I'm not sure quite what it is yet, because it almost seems like the relationship is inverted, but I have been thinking about a way that you can visualize turning off your power during particular moments."
"I'm all ears," Morgan said, waving at Fiona to continue. She stretched her legs out in front of her, leaning back against the table. The breeze tickled her face and carried the scent of sea with it.
"I think you should visualize it like an electrical current. You turn it on or off. So, for example, if Patrick leans in for a kiss, visualize a big switch in your head where you flip the power off. You'll need to practice this a bit, but I think the stronger you become at it, the more you'll be able to control the latent use of your ability."
Morgan pursed her lips, considering Fiona's words carefully. The image of a huge switch, the kind that had a handle that you pulled down to shut off the lights in a warehouse, formed in her mind.
"So, first, visualize the switch."
Morgan nodded and flicked a finger in the air, gesturing for her to go on.
"Now that you have the switch, imagine all of these currents of energy running through you that connect to the switch. Right now it is in the on position. I'd like you to turn it off."
Morgan leaned back and closed her eyes, feeling like a thousand volts of energy ran through her to the switch in her head. In her mind, she grabbed the switch and slammed it down, turning it off.
"Now raise that cup off the grass."
Morgan focused on the cup on the grass. Reaching out, she tried to raise it from the ground. It sat there, looking out of place in the grass, never moving an inch.
"I'll be damned, it worked," Morgan said in awe, turning to Fiona. "It really worked. I've never not been able to move something before."
Fiona smiled and patted her arm, instructing her to flip the switch back on.
Morgan imagined the switch again and in her mind, she flipped the switch to the on position. A current of energy pulsed through her and in seconds, the cup was hovering in front of their faces.
"Seems as though you're a quick learner," Fiona observed.
Morgan stared at the cup, her mouth hanging open, before happiness rushed through her. On a squeal, she wrapped her arms around Fiona, hugging the old woman with all her might.
"It worked! I can control it!" Morgan exclaimed, feeling happier than she had in years.
"So it seems that it is time to move on to the harder lesson then." Fiona sniffed and rose. "Let's test your mettle in the kitchen."
Morgan groaned and rose, knowing that cooking would truly be her hardest lesson of the day. Following Fiona, she did a little skip in the grass.
Finally, she was in control.
Chapter 16
Later that day, Morgan climbed the steps to her apartment, armed with her new knowledge. She needed a shower, and she needed to get to the market. But first, she wanted to scan through her wardrobe to see if she had anything pretty to wear.
Her nerves hummed with energy as she flipped between her shirts, finally settling on a deep red V-neck top that complemented her skin and brought out her eyes. Snagging her skinny jeans, she tossed the clothes on the bed and jumped in the shower, pushing the thought of what she was about to embark on out of her mind.
He probably had to work all night, Morgan thought as she scrubbed her body with a citrus scrub that Fiona had sent home with her. She inhaled the orangey scent, loving the way it seemed to wake her up and excite her senses. Making a mental note to tell Fiona that she'd like to package a few bottles and sell it at the cash register in the gallery, Morgan stepped from the shower and toweled off.
Eyeing herself in the mirror, she decided that tonight called for makeup. Morgan bent and pulled a brightly patterned makeup bag from beneath the sink. Leaning forward, she squinted as she tried to apply eyeliner.
"Damn it," Morgan cursed as she drew a sloppy line across her eye. Blowing out a breath, she grabbed a tissue and wiped it off. No eyeliner then.
Instead, she began to shadow her eyes, deepening the crease above them, and making their slant more exaggerated. They almost looked like cat eyes, she decided. Brushing the tips of her eyelashes with a coat of mascara, she finished up with a slick of lip gloss. Tilting her head in the mirror, she eyed her long mane of hair. Rarely did Morgan do anything with her hair as it hung so straight. Thinking about it, she pulled some strands from the temple area and created a braid on both sides, pulling them both back and securing them at the back of her head. It almost looked a bit like a crown, she thought as she tucked a loose strand in. A hippie, wildflower type crown maybe. Shaking her head at herself, she went to her dresser drawer, eyeing her underwear choices. Morgan sighed.
"Could you be any more uninteresting?" she wondered out loud as she looked down at her drawer of white cotton underwear and white bras. Pulling out the set with the lace edging, she made another mental note to go shopping with her next paycheck. It was time to grow up.
Morgan tried to imagine herself as some daring woman of the world, wearing all black, and brilliantly colored sexy underwear, leaving a trail of broken hearts and heavy perfume in her wake. She laughed.
"That is so not going to happen."
She finished
getting dressed, deliberately ignoring her nerves and every part of her that wanted to curl up on the couch with a book and not leave her apartment. Looking down at the scar on her hand, Morgan reminded herself that it was important to take chances.
"Here we go," she said as she grabbed her shopping tote.
Twenty minutes later, she found herself outside of Gallagher's pub with a tote bag full of groceries. It was now or never.
The doors were thrown open to encourage the warm sea breezes to come inside. Voices and laughter spilled from the pub and had Morgan pausing. If she went in there now, the whole village would know that she was asking Patrick to dinner. Her fingers ran across the scar on her palm again. Emboldened, she stepped through the entrance, scanning the cozy room until her eyes landed on Patrick. He was standing with Cait at the entrance to the kitchen.
Cait's eyes immediately found her and a wide smile crossed her face.
"Come over here! I haven't seen you in ages," Cait called and everyone turned to see who she was talking to.
Morgan nodded at all the regulars bellied up to the bar and hurried over to where Patrick stood. Her heart dropped as he nodded at her and then turned back to Cait.
"You were saying?"
Cait glared at him and turned, her arms open, to hug Morgan. Morgan smiled and returned the hug awkwardly, Cait's large belly pressing against her and getting in the way. A part of her wanted to scan Cait's womb and see what she was carrying.
"Don't you dare," Cait whispered into her ear and Morgan laughed.
"Sorry."
"Sorry about what?" Patrick said stiffly, having not been able to hear their conversation.
"Nothing, um, so I wanted to stop and see you," Morgan rushed out before she could talk herself out of saying anything.
"What for?" Patrick said stiffly and Morgan saw Cait's face go thunderous.
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