Wild Irish Heart (The Mystic Cove Series Book 1)

by Tricia O'Malley

  "I loved your father, deeply," Margaret said.

  Keelin gasped. She had always assumed that she was an "oops" and her father was a passionate night in passing.

  "Oh, Keelin, we were so young and in love. He was working to be a commercial fisherman and had plans to go to Dublin to open a commercial fishing business. That, or start a boat tour company. Either way, you couldn't keep him from the water if you had tried. Sean had quite the big dreams. He…he didn't know about you until I had left. I never told him. Leaving Ireland was one of the hardest things that I have done."

  Keelin stared in shock at her mother. Margaret's cheeks were flushed, yet there was a stubborn tilt to her chin. There would be no questioning of her past decisions.

  "But, how could you not tell him?"

  "He ran from me. He left me, Keelin. When I found out about you, I knew that the only thing that mattered was that I give you a chance at a normal life."

  "But, Mom, didn't you miss him? What was so bad that you had to leave?" Keelin asked.

  "I missed him terribly. I still do. I see pieces of him in you. We aren't the same people anymore though, and that time has passed. Let me tell you about the history of Grace's Cove."

  Keelin nodded and kept silent. This was the most she had ever gotten out of her mother and she wouldn't let her big mouth sidetrack Margaret from giving her the information she so desperately craved.

  "Have you heard of the famous pirate queen, Grace O'Malley?"

  "Of course; she is legendary throughout Ireland. She was notorious for her fierceness in battle. I know she married twice and had several children. She was famous for being ruthless, yet at the same time is credited with preserving much of Gaelic history."

  "Absolutely, and she was a woman that knew her own mind. Did you know that Grainne is the Celtic name for Grace?" Margaret asked. Both Keelin and Margaret's middle name was Grainne.

  "I did not," Keelin said.

  "Almost all of the women of a particular bloodline in Grace's Cove carry that name. It isn't because of the town name. It is because our bloodline is that of Grace O'Malley."

  "Shut up." Keelin was thrilled. She was related to a famous pirate queen? How cool was that?

  "Keelin, do not say shut up."

  "Sorry, Mom."

  "Yes, you are a descendant of Grace O'Malley, for whom Grace's Cove is named. Your grandmother has a direct connection and experiences the effects of it."

  "Of what? I don't understand. Is ol' Grandma a pirate or something?" Keelin asked.

  Margaret smiled. "No, not quite. Grace was rumored to have powers other than her formidable ones as a pirate queen. Some say magick. Others say a healer. Others point to almost a psychic ability to predict potential threats. It isn't really known what all surrounded Grace, yet almost all will agree she had a level of power."

  Keelin began to nervously pick at her nails. She pulled at a loose hangnail and winced as blood came to the surface. Without thinking she covered it with her hand and the wound slowly faded.

  "The cove itself is rumored to be enchanted. Almost no one will go there. Well, aside from your grandmother. And a few others. I've gone there. I never will again."

  "Wait. What. You're kidding me, right?" Keelin said. She pictured the stunning images of the cove that she had seen on Google. It was impossible to think that people wouldn't spend time there.

  "The Irish are a very superstitious people, Keelin. Nobody will go there. People who do are often swept out to sea or injured on the rocks. They say that the moon won't reflect off the water there – yet at times the sea glows from within."

  "Okay, Mom, stop. There are perfectly plausible explanations for these things. Oftentimes coves have whirlpools or riptides that will pull people out to sea. As for glowing from within, there are certain types of phosphorous plankton that can create a glowing illusion on the water. I'm sure it is all just a superstition," Keelin said.

  Margaret smiled and shook her head. "You're so smart. And typically, I would agree with you, had I not seen the power for myself. I won't go back there. My mother went into the cove regularly and never had a problem but she had her own way of doing so."

  "Mom, why is it named Grace's Cove? What is the connection?"

  "Well, it is rumored that Grace O'Malley hid the Chalice of Ardagh there and that the one in the national museum is a companion piece to the real chalice."

  "What! Mother. No. That is insane. The Chalice of Ardagh is part of Irish national pride. If that were true there would have been expeditions. Divers would have found it. The cove is not that big."

  "Oh, there have been expeditions. Many. They've all failed. The government got sick of spending money on it and now dismisses it as a silly superstition and warns people against going to the dangerous waters of the cove. The official statement is that there is a powerful current that will sweep you out to sea. The unofficial statement is that it is cursed."

  Keelin stared at the pond. The ducks swam lazily, picking at the offerings of bread. The science side of her mind concurred with the official reason for the cove's problems. The "other" side of her that stayed awake at night with visions, hummed. Her mom's words were like a balm of truth to her soul. Conflicted, Keelin rubbed her hands together, not seeing that her nail wound had completely healed.

  "How come Grandma could go there? How does the book play into all this? Is this why you left?" Keelin had so many questions.

  "Your grandmother and I had a difficult relationship. It was one of the reasons that I left with you. Her plans for you didn't coincide with my plans. I needed to give you a chance at a normal life," Margaret said again, nervously twisting a gold band around her right hand.

  "Um, what? How am I supposed to respond to that? Can you just say it straight?" Keelin liked to work with facts.

  Margaret sighed. Her twisting movements became faster. Keelin reached out and put her hand on her mother's.

  "Mom, just say it."

  "That book is your grandmother's. She was constantly devoted to it. She carried it everywhere and was always writing carefully in it. Your grandmother is famous throughout Ireland as a wise woman – a healer. There are those that claim she is a witch. I don't believe that. Yet, I've seen her cure people where modern medicine was unable to. She never let me see the book. She told me it was for my daughter and that I had other gifts. I never planned to get pregnant, so I didn't think about leaving Grace's Cove until I was surprised with you. I couldn't let you grow up with such nonsense. What kind of life would that be for you? People only come to healers if they need their services and healers are often shunned in other places. Healers are the focus of constant whispered gossip. With Fiona as my mother, no matter if we went into a pub or a store – someone always talked. The more religious members of the town would switch directions and cross themselves when we walked by. I just wanted a normal upbringing for you, not like the one that I had. I just wanted the best for you. You have to understand. I gave up my everything. My love, my family, my life so that you could be a normal child. And I still fear that I was never able to give you what you needed. She may have been right."

  "Mom. I had a great childhood. It's fine," Keelin said quickly. Too quickly.

  "Keelin. No, you didn't." Margaret sighed deeply and clutched Keelin's hand. "You had constant visions, daydreams, and night terrors. You would scare the crap out of our friends when you told them they were sick or what would happen with a family member. And that time that you healed our cat that was hit by a car? You were five. Five! You are not normal and there is nothing that I can do to change that. You are touched with something special. Maybe it is time that I embrace this and do what I can to help you. You'll never find happiness if you don't address this."

  Keelin was surprised to feel her cheeks were wet with tears. She hadn't felt herself start crying but it was like a part of her heart had cracked open. Her walls had been up for so long that she rarely thought of her childhood or how difficult her life could be at times. Her mother kn
ew. She saw all of it. All of her struggles as a child. Her difficulty in relationships because Keelin always knew too much. She had a tendency to scare people without meaning to. It had taught her to pick her relationships wisely and to keep her bonds tenuous.

  "Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. Don't cry. I always knew this day would come, though I wish your grandmother had picked a less dramatic way of doing this, without sending that book to you. I love you no matter what. Even if you may have a touch of Grace O'Malley's "power" in you. I mean, would you really be Irish if you didn't have a little extra something in you?" Margaret cracked a small smile.

  "Mom, can you heal people? Do you have the same thing that I do?" Keelin was eager for answers.

  "No, Keelin, I do not. My strengths come in other ways. I can read people's emotions from a mile away. Why do you think that I can close a sale in a heartbeat?" Margaret smiled her ferocious realtor's smile. Keelin nodded. It made sense, after all. A single mom straight off the boat from Ireland would have had to have an extra "something" to rocket to the top of the real estate empire in Boston.

  "So, what does this mean for me? I don't know what to do." Keelin stared at the book.

  "I don't want you to go. I really don't. In fact, I am terrified that I will lose you. But, if you want to learn about yourself, you may have to go to Ireland. If you want to ignore it and carry on here – I completely support that," Margaret said eagerly.

  Keelin laughed. She knew her mother wanted to keep her safe, under her watch. The book hummed in her lap.

  "I think that I might have to go."

  Chapter Four

  Keelin walked home, the book warm against her side. Her mother had held her close when they parted and whispered how sorry she was. Keelin mulled over all that she had learned on the walk through the busy rush-hour street traffic. She felt like there was a small pressure building deep in her stomach and she was unsure if it was from fear or excitement. Possibilities began to snake through her mind.

  Once home, Keelin fixed a pot of black tea, one of the few things she was capable of making well, and curled up on her couch with the book. She blew softly on the tea that steamed from her favorite flower mug. The pressure built in her stomach and she got the eerie feeling that she was staring at her destiny.

  "Now or never," Keelin murmured. Careful to set the tea far away from the book, Keelin leaned over and picked the book up. She gently eased the book open and cautiously touched the pages only along the edges. A small envelope slipped into her lap. Different than the first envelope with the cryptic "it is time" message, this envelope was unmarked. It was softly padded and held the same wax seal she had seen earlier. Keelin examined the seal more closely and thought that she was able to discern what looked like an old-fashioned anchor. She laughed softly as she thought about being a descendent of a famous pirate queen. With a little smile, Keelin peeled the seal back and found a stack of euros along with an address for Grace's Cove.

  "Well, someone doesn't like to mince words." Keelin was amused at the direct route. She grabbed her iPad and googled the address, pulling up the image function on the map. A thatched cottage met her eyes, perched high on a hill. As she rotated the image, Keelin gasped. The view from the cottage overlooked stunning cliffs and the curve of a cove. In any other city, this would be prime real estate.

  Keelin put her iPad down and returned to the book. Picking up the wad of euros, she quickly counted the money. It was more than enough for travel and some odds and ends.

  "Well, let's see what this book is all about. I'm not about to get into any dark-magick stuff." One thing Keelin was certain of was that her life could use less drama.

  Keelin carefully paged through the book. Hundreds of handwritten spells or poems covered the pages. Unfortunately much of the writing was in Gaelic and completely undecipherable to Keelin. As she paged through she noticed small sheets tucked behind each page. She opened them and found English translations of the Gaelic words. It was evident that someone had labored with this book. This was more than a gift. It was an offering.

  Keelin began to examine the weathered handwriting that scrawled across the pages. It was almost as if they were recipes. Yet not. As she read through the ingredients, Keelin realized that most of these were not something you would eat. They were topical ointments and potions used for various ailments. There were even directions for cultivating certain plants under the light of the moon. Spooky, Keelin thought. Yet, for some reason she wasn't scared. Keelin paged through the whole book and found nothing in relation to the devil or dark arts aside from some sort of ritual for protection. From what she could see, this was a healer's book.

  Her curiosity piqued, Keelin pulled out her iPad again. She researched "Celtic healer." As Keelin scrolled through the pages of information, she focused on a few key facts.

  The Celtic healing tradition is one of the oldest paths and can deepen the connection to the divine energy, ancestors, and the endless renewal of the natural world. Healing enhances the physical body of the person receiving the energy and can resolve pains or injuries of the physical body.

  The Celts were a rural people by choice, preferring to live close to nature because of their love of the land and their view of themselves as being the caretakers of Mother Earth. The Druids were the spiritual guardians of the Celts and made sure that each Celtic citizen led a healthy holistic lifestyle.

  It is common to Irish tradition that families of healers are descended from someone who has been given access to healing knowledge. In Ireland families of healers were often said to have obtained their knowledge from ancient books. Great legends and deep superstitions surround these infamous healing books.

  With healing comes a word of caution. The seeking of wisdom, including the wisdom of healing, is a dangerous business; death may ensue if healing is used improperly.

  Keelin shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. It appeared that there was a long and rich history of healers in Ireland. She wondered how certain people were touched with the gift while others weren't. There had to be more than just Grace O'Malley's bloodline. Was she really a healer? Was this her path? Her stomach took a small nosedive while at the same time her heart seemed to leap and sing. She shook her head. Before making any rash decisions, she needed to do more research. She padded into the kitchen and pulled out a packet of instant chicken soup. Pouring it into a cup, Keelin shook her head as she put the soup into the microwave. Some healer she was. She couldn’t even make soup on the stove. How was she to mix complex ointments and heal someone?

  Blowing on her soup, Keelin padded back into the living room and curled up with a blanket on the couch. Her mind was spinning with the possibilities and yet her science mind scoffed at this "energy healing" concept. She needed to learn more about Grace O'Malley as well as the Chalice of Ardagh.

  Quickly caught up in the rich history of Ireland, Keelin blinked hours later as her iPad battery died. She shook her head and stretched out her legs and arms. Sometimes she had a habit of becoming so engrossed in her research that the hours would slip by unnoticed. She thought about what she had learned. It appeared that Grace O'Malley was the original gangster. Not only did this woman marry twice, birth a child at sea, and murder hundreds of invaders who sought to take her lands, but she also forced political change for her country. Very little was mentioned about her healing powers, though many noted that she had an uncanny ability for anticipating potential threats and circumventing them. It was said that she disappeared when the end of her life came to a close and was never accounted for again. Keelin wondered what had happened to her.

  The Chalice of Ardagh also had an interesting history. Though many details were given to the ornamentation and design of this intricate chalice, virtually nothing was known of its true roots. Keelin noted that many of the decorations on the chalice were of animals. It seemed to tie in nicely with the Celtic history of animism. Keelin wondered if a companion piece to the chalice was buried deep in Grace's Cove. The longer she thought a
bout it the more she itched to grab her dive gear and spend the summer treasure hunting.

  Keelin stared into space as thoughts raced through her mind. Was she a healer? What were these visions she had? Should she go to Ireland?

  Exhausted, her eyes drooped and she fell into a deep sleep on the sofa. A man stepped into her dreams. With dark, unruly hair and blindingly blue eyes, he stared at her through the flames of a bonfire that shot up around them. His eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. Dark water rose up and covered her as she swam towards a glint of gold. Helpless, she couldn't reach it and was swept away only to awake bathed in a cold sweat. Her heart hammered against her chest and she wiped her sweat-soaked hair from her face.

  Keelin forced herself to take deep breaths and to calm the hammering of her heart. It was just a dream. It had been a weird day, she reminded herself. The book caught her eye. It was open where it had once been closed. She leaned over to look at the page that it had fallen open to. Written on it was a mixture of herbs to nurture true love.

  "Cute. Real cute," she said.

  With a sigh, Keelin reached for the phone. It was time to convince her professor that her thesis subject matter could be found on the Emerald Isle.

  Chapter Five

  The plane touched down with a little bounce that rattled the cabin. Keelin clenched her armrest and continued to say a "Hail Mary." She loved to travel but she very specifically hated when planes landed. Not the take-off and not the flight – but always the landing. As the smaller plane that she had taken from Dublin to Shannon taxied to a stop, Keelin exhaled a long breath before she gathered her purse and backpack. She thought about all that had transpired in the last few weeks. She was unsure if she was about to meet her destiny or if she was chasing a foolish superstition. It had taken some convincing on her part, but with enough research and the fact that her professor was half-Irish, her school had agreed to a summer in Ireland and a topic change of her thesis. She could only hope that the dark waters of the cove would provide enough information for her to write a thesis. Her mother had been more difficult to convince. While she had been initially supportive, when Keelin had made the decision to go, Margaret had lost it.