Into the Storm: Into the Storm Trilogy Book One

by Serene Conneeley

  Beth’s head was spinning. Part of her wanted to keep arguing, because what was the point of everything she’d done over the last two years, if not that? And yet, the possibilities excited her, if this was true. She’d thought she couldn’t wait to return to Paris, or to Andrew at least, to be seen again the way she wanted to be perceived, to be who she wanted to be.

  And yet, Mike and Violet had befriended her anyway, right here. Rose had been so kind to her, in the heart of this village, with no pretence. Maybe they could see her true self too, regardless of her being back here, where she thought she couldn’t be, couldn’t live, couldn’t thrive.

  “Do not flee this town for anyone, your mother included. Do not wander aimlessly for anyone else, unless you want to,” the woman said softly. “Travelling can help you see yourself more clearly – but you can achieve all of that without leaving home too. Dear girl, you were already worthy of love, worthy of friendship, worthy of respect, long before you left this village.”

  It reminded Beth of what the blue-clad being had told her, that she would become very close to Rose, and that she would be worthy of her trust and friendship. But how could she be worthy of a relationship with the healer?

  “Oh Beth.” The words were a sigh, were a sadness, were an expression of frustration, but still the mysterious being took her hands in hers, and gazed deeply into her eyes. Beth stopped feeling scared, stopped feeling anything, and fell into the swirling gold flecks in the vivid green of the woman’s eyes. A vision hung there, suspended, of herself in a white dress, with a diamond ring on her finger, and her face radiantly happy as she climbed the tor.

  Another one shimmered into life, of herself holding a baby in her arms as she drank coffee with a faceless friend in one of the local cafes. Then she saw herself in a red dress, arms raised to the sky as she stood with Rose in the centre of a circle in the priestess’s ritual room, magic spinning around them as they shaped the healing energy they’d raised and sent it outwards.

  Each vision was of herself living so happily in this village – joyously married, a radiant mother, a powerful witch using her magic to help and to heal.

  Then her face fell. That last image had given away that they were false images. “I have no magic,” she said, defeated, and the disappointment that she wouldn’t have that life pierced her heart. Now that she’d seen it, she wanted it desperately.

  The woman in gold drew her into her arms, and she felt the soothing energy flowing into her again, strengthening her.

  “Oh beloved, of course you have magic. You already feel it when you join Rose’s rituals, when you walk through the countryside, both here and in France. You feel it in your connection with Violet, your friendship with Mike, and your bonding with your sister after all this time.” The woman’s voice was still soft, still kind, but she was becoming frustrated with her.

  “The magic is not external, it is within you, and it has always been there, I promise you.”

  Beth shrugged, not convinced.

  “This is for you,” the woman finally said, handing her a small package wrapped in gold velvet. Slowly, carefully, she opened it, and gasped. It was a beautiful necklace, strung with small rose quartz crystals, and with a huge rose quartz heart in the centre, nestled in a delicate silver setting and with ivy leaves, hearts and butterflies surrounding the crystal.

  “It will remind you that you are loved. That you need to trust. That you must open yourself to the love being offered. And when you doubt, it will reassure you that you are indeed filled with magic.” Beth’s eyes welled with tears, but she blinked them away, focusing on the beauty of the crystal she held in her hands.

  The woman hadn’t finished though. “It will also remind you that you are a part of this land, of this countryside, of this village, and that you are able to access the magic right here.”

  She placed her hand over Beth’s heart, and she felt the warmth seeping into her, the love wrapping around her.

  “We are here, those who love you are here, and you will find the magic within you, right here, right at home. You are home Beth,” she said, voice a whisper, a caress, a promise.

  “I don’t know what to say. It’s so beautiful.”

  The woman smiled, and moved around behind her, slipping the pendant and its string of crystals around her neck, then lifting her long hair to do up the clasp. A moment later Beth spun around to thank the gold-clad stranger, but no one was there.

  The street was empty, and silent. The shadows up ahead were pools of inky blackness, but there was no movement within them. Sadness overwhelmed her as she wondered if she had hallucinated the meeting. And yet she felt the weight of the pink heart on her chest, and when she hesitantly raised her hand to her neck, the necklace was there, sitting against her collarbones, so beautiful, so heavy, so present.

  And the woman was right. It felt like home.

  Chapter 19

  A Yuletide Miracle

  Rhiannon... Today…

  The wintry grey sky perfectly reflected Rhiannon’s mood, as she sat hunched in the window seat of her bedroom. Once again she was pretending to read, yet she was mostly just staring outside at the bleakness that seemed to call to her. A knock on the door dragged her from her reverie, and she sighed as she called out to her dad to come in.

  It could only be him. Brodie had given up trying to entice her out to play with him long ago, and she hadn’t seen her friends since school had finished for the term four days ago. Not that she blamed any of them, or even spared them a thought. In her case, misery did not love company.

  “Hello darling,” Mike began cautiously, and she rolled her eyes at him. Yep, she was so mature, but did he have to be wearing a silly Christmas jumper? And why was he? She thought about figuring out what day it was, but couldn’t find it within herself to actually care.

  Her dad edged into her room, studiously avoiding glancing at the mess on the floor, not wanting to antagonise her in any way. “I was hoping you could watch Brodie for an hour or so. He’s not feeling well, and I have to go out for a while. It would mean a lot to both of us if you could pop down and spend a bit of time with him.”

  Guilt. Just what she needed. “Fine,” she said, sighing dramatically, but she pushed herself up from her cosy little sanctuary and followed him downstairs. Her brother was lying on the couch under a blanket, listlessly staring at the TV but not taking anything in.

  “Rhi-Rhi,” he cried when he caught sight of her, and a smile lit up his face. “Will you read me a story?” he asked, then quickly looked away. But not before she saw the pain and anxiety on his face, and – fear?

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, as she picked up one of his books from the floor and sat down on the couch next to him.

  “I’m sorry, don’t worry about reading,” he said softly. “I know you don’t like me any more.”

  A wave of guilt swamped her, and she looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time in… god, could it have been almost three months since she’d spent any real time with her brother? She’d held him as he cried in the church during their mum’s funeral, but seeing his face now, and his quiet acceptance of her neglect, she realised that she’d pretty much checked out emotionally the following day, when she’d buried her pain about the thing that had happened and drowned herself in grief about her mother instead.

  “I’m so sorry Brodie,” she said now, heartsore as she noticed the changes in his face – the hollowed out cheeks, the furrow between his brows, the nervousness as he watched her.

  “Are you going to die too?” he asked, voice small and scared. “Will you leave me all alone?”

  Shocked, she threw her arms around him and drew him close. “No buddy, I won’t leave you, I promise,” she whispered, trying not to sob on his small shoulders. “I’m so sorry I’ve been... well, that I haven’t been myself. But I never stopped caring about you. I love you so much.”

  “Really?” he asked, and the tremor in his voice cut Rhiannon to the core. She pulled back so
she could look him in the eyes. So he could see that she meant it.

  “Oh Brodie, of course I love you. And Dad loves you too. I’m so sorry that I’ve neglected you. I’ve just been so sad, about, well…”

  He smiled at her bravely. “About Mumma, I know. Dad said you didn’t mean to ignore me, you were just trying to work out how to cope. I miss her too,” he added, and she broke down at that. When he patted her on the shoulder, trying to comfort her, she castigated herself even further. God, she’d left her five-year-old brother to deal with the loss of their mother on his own, and now he was trying to make her feel better. How heartless could she be?

  When Mike got home, both his kids were sitting on the couch together, sharing a blanket and drinking hot chocolate as Rhiannon read her brother a third story. For the first time since his precious wife had died, he felt a kernel of hope that somehow their family would be able to go on.

  “Hi Dad, I hope it went well on your mission,” Rhiannon said, with a genuine smile, rather than the sarcastic grimace she’d been doling out for the last few months. “Do you want to take over here with Brodie and I’ll make dinner?”

  “That would be amazing,” he said, hugging her as she passed him, then perching on the couch with his son.

  “Did you get the stuff for Rhi-Rhi?” Brodie asked, and his dad nodded. “Want me to help you wrap it?”

  Mike laughed, and walked upstairs with Brodie, the two of them giggling. When Rhiannon called them down two hours later, they both gasped. She’d set the table in the dining room with their best china, and had assembled Beth’s small Christmas tree, draped it in festive baubles and tinsel and placed it on the sideboard with candles lit on either side of it. And on the table was a lentil and vegie loaf filled with fresh herbs and smothered in thick mushroom gravy, a serving dish overflowing with baked pumpkins, potatoes, carrots, parsnips and beets, and a bowl of steamed zucchini, broccoli and peas.

  Brodie squealed and ran over and pulled up a chair, reaching out a small hand for a piece of roasted pumpkin. “I’ve missed your baked vegies so much,” he said with a happy sigh, and Rhiannon almost cried with shame and regret.

  “I’m so sorry I’ve been so… well, so absent,” she said. “For both of you.”

  Mike walked over and hugged her again, his eyes shining as he took in the warmth of the candles, the look of joy on Brodie’s face, and the wonderfully festive Christmas feast.

  “How did you manage all of this?” he asked. “Not that I’m complaining, it’s amazing! Did you plan it?”

  Rhiannon laughed as she took a seat opposite her brother. “No, I’m embarrassed to admit that, despite your kooky jumper Dad, I didn’t even register that it was Christmas Eve until Brodie mentioned it. So I had to cheat. The lentils are from a can, and the roast vegetables are in such small pieces so they would cook more quickly. And I’m afraid there was nothing in the kitchen I could turn into a dessert.”

  For a moment Brodie looked crestfallen, but then he shrugged and started spooning more vegies onto his plate. “It’s lucky I picked up a chocolate Yule log while I was out then,” Mike said, and Brodie’s face lit up like the proverbial Christmas tree. Rhiannon felt even worse, that she’d neglected her family for so long, but her dad shook his head.

  “Darling, it’s okay. I understand that you had to pull away from us to be able to start healing. I did that too,” he said gently.

  “It’s not that,” she admitted. “I’ve been so selfish. And totally unfair to you, and to Brodie. Mum would be devastated if she knew I’d let you all down like this, and for so long.” For a moment she wanted to run back upstairs, pull the pillow over her head and hide again.

  “Your mother was, and is, incredibly proud of you,” her dad said sternly. “And all that matters is that you’ve returned to us now. There’s no point dwelling on the past, or beating yourself up with regret, we just need to move forward, together. I’ve missed you so much darling, and Brodie has too.”

  Blushing, she tried to raise a smile as her little brother looked at her across the table, his face so open and joyous, while she was consumed with guilt. He didn’t have it in him to be mad at her, he was just glad to have her back.

  “Merry Christmas,” she said softly, and took both their hands to say grace.

  Over dinner Rhiannon was astounded to discover how mature her little brother had become while she’d been hiding in her room, not just in his language and increased vocabulary, but in his attitude to school, and his friendships, and all the things he’d been doing around the house. Was this how parents felt, that they turned around for a minute and suddenly their kids had grown up?

  When they’d all finished eating, Brodie hopped straight up and cleared the table, and Mike smiled over at his daughter. “Not such a little kid any more, is he?” he asked her, and there was pride in his voice.

  “I’m so sorry Dad,” she said again, wondering how many times she would have to say it before she felt even the tiniest bit of atonement had been made.

  “Say no more,” he insisted. “Love means never having to say you’re sorry, right?”

  Rhiannon frowned at him. “God no Dad, that’s an awful thing to say. Love absolutely means apologising when you’re in the wrong. I feel terrible because I care so much about you both, yet I behaved so badly, right when you needed me most. I have a lot to be sorry for, and I will keep apologising for all of it. I’ll also be doing all I can to make up for it,” she insisted.

  Her father sighed and smiled all at once. “Wow, it’s not just Brodie who’s growing up,” he replied, reaching over to squeeze her hand, and Rhiannon was touched, and a little surprised, to hear pride for her in his voice.

  “Clearly I’ve never actually thought about what that quote could mean, other than at face value, but you’re right.”

  The intensity of the moment ended when Brodie came back out from the kitchen, three plates and a cardboard box in his hands, and his eyes alight with joy. “Can we eat it now?” he asked, and their dad laughed.

  “Of course buddy,” Mike replied. “Or would you rather open your presents first?”

  “Presents!” Brodie cried, dumping the cake on the table and jumping up and down with excitement. Panic engulfed Rhiannon, and she felt mortified. She hadn’t even thought about Christmas, let alone gifts, until tonight. She was a failure all over again. About to apologise for the thirty-fifth time that night, she looked over at her dad, shame turning her cheeks red, but he shook his head at her and rose, picking up a large box wrapped in red paper and tied with blue ribbons that had been sitting in the corner of the room.

  “This one’s for you Brodie, from your sister,” he said, handing over the gift.

  “Thanks Rhi-Rhi!” her brother said, voice high with anticipation as he reached for the package and tugged at the ribbons. Inside was another set of boxes, all separately wrapped, and Brodie swooped on the biggest one and tore the paper off. His high-pitched squeal of excitement almost deafened Rhiannon, and she stared at the present, eager to see what “she” had bought him. Inside the first box was a Spider-Man suit, complete with mask and boots, as well as a pair of winter pyjamas emblazoned with the wall crawler’s face and webs. She hadn’t seen her brother look so happy for… well, months… and his joy was contagious.

  “I don’t know whether to put it on now, or open the next present,” he gasped, and Rhiannon laughed, while their dad pushed the next box over to him. Nestled inside were two web shooters with several canisters of web-making fluid, and the other boxes each revealed an array of matching toys and figures. Brodie ran around the table to hug his sister, then stripped off his clothes and stepped into the superhero suit.

  “Maybe we should wait for the morning to start shooting webs though, right buddy? And only outside?” their father suggested, as it looked as though the excited five-year-old was going to wreak havoc on the room. Reluctantly Brodie sat back down, but in mere seconds he had opened one of the action figure sets and was happily playing with th
at instead.

  “Thank you Dad,” Rhiannon whispered, and he smiled at her before turning back to the superhero in their midst.

  “Did you want to give Rhiannon your present?” he said, and Brodie carefully sat the figures down and nodded enthusiastically. Mike handed her a box as big as the one Brodie had just opened, which was surprisingly heavy.

  “For me?” she asked, and he nodded and told her it was from Brodie.

  “Thanks buddy,” she said, then asked him to help her open it. He was by her side in an instant, ripping at the paper as enthusiastically as he had been when he opened his own gift. He really didn’t have a selfish bone in his body, unlike her. But while she knew she didn’t deserve a present, she was curious about what it could be.

  And as the paper came away, she wasn’t sure whether to laugh, cry or be offended. On top was a gorgeous deep amethyst patterned quilt cover, and beneath that were two pale purple curtains, matching sheets and pillow cases, and plush lavender cushions for her window seat. It was all so light and airy and soft, and a million miles from the dark and gloomy way her bedroom looked right now. And the thing that had made the box so heavy? Tubs of paint in the palest yellow, called lemon blossom, and three paintbrushes.

  Turning wary eyes on her dad and her brother, she waited for an explanation.

  “We wanted to cheer you up Rhi-Rhi. Your room is so dark and gloomy, and it’s making you be like that too.”

  One part of her started to get angry, out of habit, but a surprisingly large part of her was touched by their gesture, and as she stared at the paint tubs, she felt the tiniest bit of hope worm its way into her heart, along with the promise of lemon blossoms and spring sunshine.

  “You don’t have to change a thing if you don’t want to,” her dad said, picking up on her unease.

  Shaking her head, she tore her gaze away from the paint tins and smiled. “No, it’s all good. I should make over my room.”

  “Only if you’re sure,” he offered gently.

  “I am,” she replied, knowing there was no turning back once she started, but surprisingly eager to dive in. “Thank you both, really. Will you help me?” she said, turning to her brother, and it warmed her heart when his face lit up with delight, and the joy of being included.