Into the Storm: Into the Storm Trilogy Book One

by Serene Conneeley

  Starting to freak out, and needing to do something to distract herself, Rhiannon stood up abruptly and began pulling flour and spices out of the pantry so she’d have something to do with her hands. She was trying to get her head around this crazy, devastatingly sad story, but it was too much to take in.

  “And Rose? What’s happened now, after all this time, that you’re both going through all of this again?” she asked gently, trying to shift the conversation away from the place where she had to embrace a whole new perspective of her mother.

  Mike stared back at her, struggling to focus on her, on the question, on the present. “She got a phone call from Violet’s friend in Australia today. That’s where she’d been all these years.”

  “That’s wonderful! So Rose can call her daughter and talk to her, and go and visit her in Australia. And maybe Violet will even come here at some point, so you can see her too?”

  Mike shook his head, fresh tears in his eyes. “A week ago Violet was in a car accident. She died, alongside her husband, but their daughter survived.”

  Rhiannon gasped. “Violet had a daughter?”

  “Yes. She’s seventeen, and apparently she has no other family, so she’s coming here next week, to live with Rose.”

  There was so much Rhiannon was dying to ask about this girl, but seeing her father’s face, she abruptly stopped that line of questioning. A daughter didn’t matter. There were more important things to ponder. “Wait, Violet died? Rose’s daughter had been alive all this time, but now she’s dead?”

  A shudder rocked through Mike’s body, and for a moment she thought he was going to break into a million tiny pieces. But he took a deep breath and managed to nod to her before his head sunk into his hands. Realising how much this would be hurting him, she put an arm around him, trying to offer some kind of comfort, and push away the new doubts about her mother. This wasn’t the time for that.

  Her heart ached for him. He was still grieving the death of the love of his life, and now he was losing his first love all over again – and would have to face the memory of that every time he saw her daughter wandering around the village. Her daughter who was the same age as she was. That was going to be very weird for her dad. And for Rose.

  “Oh god, how old was Violet when she ran away?” she asked, hoping her rough calculation was wrong.

  Mike gazed at her with haunted eyes, and seemed reluctant to answer the question. “She was seventeen too,” he finally conceded. “So Rose will gain a seventeen-year-old granddaughter in place of the seventeen-year-old daughter she lost twenty years ago.”

  They both lapsed into silence. Rhiannon’s mind was whirring. And while she knew it was selfish, her mind kept circling back to how this affected her. She didn’t want Rose to have a real granddaughter. To all intents and purposes she had always been her grandma, and she hated the idea that she would have to share her with this stranger.

  Or – oh my god! – would she just be completely replaced in Rose’s affections? And did worrying about this now, while her dad was so distraught, make her just as bad and as self-centred as her mother, who’d encouraged her love rival to go for the other guy so she could have Mike for herself? Who had apparently used magic to get what she wanted?

  Her mum had mentioned to her a few times that you couldn’t do anything to control a person or change their free will, and if you were going to do any spellworking, you had to be very clear and very careful with your intent, and very much aware of and responsible for all the consequences that could arise. And she’d always encouraged her to be kind and selfless, to think of others and be compassionate. But was all of that simply because she was trying to atone for her previous actions? Trying to pass on the hard-won knowledge she’d acquired because she’d broken those rules herself?

  Rhiannon’s head was spinning, so when Brodie came running in to ask for a snack, she was relieved at the distraction. She didn’t know what to feel about everything she’d just learned, so she left her dad crying in the kitchen and happily dove into playing with her brother, baking the cookies she’d begun then disappearing with him into his treehouse to play a complicated game of knights and dragons. Although compared to real life, it was a breeze.

  Chapter 26

  The Green-Eyed Monster

  Rhiannon…

  The next morning Rhiannon woke up with a smile. It was the middle of summer, and the holidays would be starting soon. She was looking forward to having almost two months off school – she needed a break from the questions, from the chaos of people, and from the pressure of study. From the pity of her fellow students, and from her own self-pity.

  Then she remembered the heartbreaking conversation she’d had with her father, and a wave of sadness enveloped her. Rose had lost her daughter, once twenty years ago, then all over again yesterday. The priestess was still grieving Beth’s loss, and now she’d been hit again. She was the strongest person Rhiannon knew, but could even she survive this?

  The oppressive cloud of gloominess reached out thicker, tighter tendrils to her as she thought of her dad’s heartache. Which, knowing him, was being made even worse with an additional serving of guilt on top of his pain.

  Guilt to be mourning someone else, when he should still be mourning Beth. Guilt that he’d abandoned Rose to her grief, now and then, even though that wasn’t true. Guilt, she’d seen last night, that he had kept all of this from his daughter. Why had he? Who was he trying to protect – himself, or his late wife? Had Beth spent her whole life trying to pretend Violet hadn’t existed? That she hadn’t ever hurt her friend, or acted less than perfectly?

  Selfishly though, the thing that burned Rhiannon the deepest was jealousy, and fear of her own potential loss. More than just: Who was Violet? – and that question continued to plague her, especially in relation to her dad’s connection to her – she also wanted to know: Who was this daughter of Violet’s? The one coming to turn Rose’s life upside down? Why hadn’t she ever been in touch with her grandmother before, if she wanted to live with her now?

  Childishly, she pouted. Rose was her grandmother, not some stranger’s. Would this supposed granddaughter steal the priestess away from her, turn her against her? Would Rose care more for a flesh-and-blood relation than for Rhiannon and Brodie, and lavish all her love and attention on her? Would she have any time left for them, once this new girl arrived?

  It made her sound petty, she knew that, but Rhiannon wasn’t sure she could cope with losing Rose too. She’d been more than a grandmother to her since the day she was born. And now it seemed as though some upstart new kid from the other side of the world was going to steal her away.

  Suddenly she wished she’d gone to the rituals and celebrations when she’d been invited, when the priestess had almost begged her. She wished she’d joined the magical circle and inserted herself more fully into Rose’s life when she’d had the chance.

  What would she be like, this stranger? Apparently she’d just turned seventeen, the same age as her, and she shuddered to think how this would play out. Would she be lumbered with the new girl, obliged to hang out with her to help Rose? Have to show her around at school, entertain her, be her friend, when that was the last thing on earth she wanted?

  Finally though, a small smile crossed her face as a flash of curiosity wormed its way into her brain – she’d never met anyone from Australia before. What would she be like? What kind of things would she enjoy doing? What would she sound like? Was she used to sunshine and beaches? What did Aussies do, throw another shrimp on the barbie? She had no idea what that actually meant, but it sounded weird and foreign. They were convicts too, weren’t they, descended from British criminals?

  Rolling her eyes, she scolded herself for her over-active imagination. She could hear Rose’s voice in her head, telling her to give the girl a chance, to open her heart and display some empathy. Besides, Violet had been English, and had grown up right here, with Rose, in this village, so her daughter would hardly be a savage, surely, no matter how
Australian she was.

  And she wondered if her father had been from the land down under, or was he British too, that older guy her dad had mentioned, a shaman or something? Then again, Mike hadn’t spoken too highly of him, so for the girl’s sake she hoped it had been someone else. Phew, a sliver of sympathy for the recently orphaned stranger, at last.

  With that thought, Rhiannon finally felt bad. The poor girl had just lost both her parents – and was being uprooted from her entire life and sent to the other side of the world to live with a stranger. She knew how crushed she’d been by her own mother’s death, how crushed she still was, and she couldn’t even begin to comprehend losing her dad as well. And all so recently. She would be a mess for sure, so she figured she could spare her a little compassion.

  She was still terrified the new girl would steal Rose away from her, but something her dad had said struck her now. Violet, his girlfriend (his girlfriend!), had been kind and welcoming to Beth when she’d come back to Summer Hill, inviting her into her circle, both the magical one she shared with Rose, and her friendship circle, and even on dates with her and Mike, because she’d grown up with Rose for a mum, for a role model, for a friend. Whereas Beth, who’d been “mothered” by cold and cruel Patricia, which made her careful, and suspicious, and less trusting of anyone new that she met, had apparently taken advantage of Violet’s friendship, and behaved less than well.

  But Rhiannon had grown up with Beth for a mum, and she’d limited her exposure to her nasty grandmother and taught her there was a better way to act and to be. So no matter how worried she was about this new girl, and how threatened she felt, she would honour her mum’s memory by being kind. She just hoped the girl had inherited her own mum’s good traits, since it seemed Violet had been well-loved – perhaps too well-loved – when she’d lived in their village. And she hoped the stranger wouldn’t take Rose away from her completely.

  * * * * *

  A knock on her door brought her back to the present, and Brodie called out that she had a visitor. Stumbling out of bed, she pulled yesterday’s dress over her head then opened her door – to see Rose standing there, face drawn and cheeks tear-stained, but kindness still radiating from her.

  “I was just thinking about you,” Rhiannon said sheepishly.

  “I know, sweet girl,” Rose said sadly, then walked past her and collapsed onto her bed. Rhiannon followed, and sank down on the other end. The priestess took her hands.

  “Dear Rhiannon, I could feel your fear, and your angst, and I want to reassure you that nothing, and no one, will ever take me away from you.”

  Rhiannon blushed, which made Rose’s eyes twinkle. “It’s normal to feel threatened by the unknown, and this situation is certainly that, for all of us, but I have room in my heart for both of you, I promise. And I’m wondering if you could help me, if it’s not too much to ask of you?”

  Reluctantly she nodded.

  “Violet’s friend told Carlie about me last night, and I could sense her terror, and an incredible anger, from the other side of the world. I don’t know what Violet told her about me, but she’s feeling a great deal of anguish, hatred even, when she thinks of me, and of coming here to live,” Rose sighed.

  Pain radiated from the older woman, and her words and emotions pierced Rhiannon’s soul, before she remembered what this whole situation had begun from.

  “Rose, I’m so sorry for your loss,” she stammered. “I’m mortified to admit that I didn’t even know you’d had a daughter, let alone lost her so many years ago. I feel so terrible that I had no idea about this. My whole life you’ve been like a grandmother to me – better than a grandmother. You’ve known everything about me, been so kind, always, and I wasn’t even aware of such a fundamental part of you...” She trailed off, tears making her voice unsteady.

  “Oh Rhiannon, there’s nothing to be sorry for,” Rose said, scooping her into a hug. “By the time you were born, Violet had been gone for several years, and I’d reconciled myself to life without her – or as much as you can reconcile yourself to living with a part of you cut away. And don’t blame your dad. He didn’t think there was any point worrying you over it – and Beth was very sensitive about the situation, feeling it was her fault in some way, so he was protective of her because of that.”

  When Rhiannon inhaled quickly, panicked that this was really true, Rose soothed her. “It was ridiculous for Beth to feel responsible, I promise you, and I told her that over and over again. No one could have done anything. And honestly, until yesterday, I didn’t even know what to tell anyone.”

  The young girl sighed. “I didn’t know about Louis either,” she admitted, voice small. “I’m so sorry.”

  Rose patted her cheek. “Thank you sweet girl. Now, I know this is a big ask, especially while you’re feeling so vulnerable, but Carlie is going to feel very alone when she gets here. She’s lost both her parents, and is being torn away from all she’s ever known – friends, home, school, life. Would you keep an eye out for her once school starts, just to check she’s okay? And maybe even pop by some time to say hello, see if she needs someone her age to answer questions or help with anything? I have absolutely no idea what a seventeen-year-old girl needs.”

  The request scared Rhiannon, and she wanted with all of her heart to say no. But she couldn’t refuse Rose anything. So eventually she nodded, and tried to grin reassuringly as the older woman stood up from the bed.

  The priestess offered a tired smile in return. “You don’t have to be her best friend, or even her friend at all – I know you have people you’re close to already, and that this is all a lot to take in. It would just mean the world to me if she could come to you if she needed to.”

  “Of course,” Rhiannon said, finally managing to inject some enthusiasm into her voice. What a bitch she was, to be so reluctant to provide even the most basic of polite conversation. This was a favour to Rose, who she owed so much.

  “And who knows sweet girl, perhaps you’ll become friends after all.” A glint of mischief returned to Rose’s eyes.

  After the grieving priestess left her alone in her room, Rhiannon threw herself down on the bed. Why had she been so hesitant to agree to help Rose’s granddaughter? Hadn’t she just been complaining that she wanted a friend who understood how she felt, who had suffered her own loss, so that she recognised the pit of despair she still faced every day? And this poor girl had lost both her parents – as well as everything else – while she still had her dad and Brodie, and Rose, and her school friends, kind of, and her school, and even her family home.

  God, this girl had nothing. She was being thrown into a whole new, totally foreign world, where nothing would be familiar, and everyone she met would be a stranger.

  After nine months of thinking she was the saddest person on earth, the one who’d lost the most, she was going to meet someone who’d lost far more. Perhaps it would shake her up a little, stop her self-pity, and maybe she’d actually be able to help someone else. She’d felt so alone when she’d lost her mum, so maybe she could be there for this girl, in the way she’d wanted someone to be there for her. She wondered how it would feel, to be out-grief-stricken.

  Chapter 27

  A Deal With the Devil

  Beth... Twenty years ago...

  It was the morning after the wedding, and Beth woke with an ominous feeling in her chest. The emotional weight of her childhood home pressed down on her, and the knowledge that she was alone with her parents made her want to scream. Yet there was a spark of hope too. Last night, her newly-married sister had made her promise to follow her dreams, and follow her heart, and she intended to keep her word.

  First up, calling her French employers, to let them know they would need a permanent replacement. For a moment she was sad, because she’d miss them and their two daughters. The girls and their innocent wonder and easy affection had been healing for her, and seeing the way Melisande and Julius parented them had reassured her that not all families were as dysfunctional as he
r own.

  When she got through to the kind Parisian woman who had taken her into her home, Melisande took the news well, and was happy for her that she had made peace with her past. Touched by her well wishes, Beth sat down and wrote a letter to her former charges, adding some local postcards so they could see where she lived, and promising to stay in touch. Being pen pals with Aveline and Joceline would bring her joy, and she knew their parents would be happy they had someone writing to them in English, since they wanted them to grow up bilingual.

  Before she could slip out to the post office, her mother swept in and announced that she was required downstairs in fifteen minutes – and she’d better make herself presentable.

  Sighing at the dramatics, Beth raced down the hall for the world’s quickest shower, then quickly pulled the beige dress her mother so loved over her head. She wasn’t going to provide any new reason for disapproval today, any excuse for her mother to ruin her excitement or distract her from her new plans. If Jenny had taught her anything, it was the futility of always arguing with their mother, always trying to score little victories, when it just meant she ended up losing the war.

  When it came to Patricia, the most successful way of coping was to pretend you were agreeing with her, to let her think she was winning and that you were doing what she wanted you to, then to live your life on your own terms, quietly and with confidence. Case in point – her own efforts at petty rebellion throughout her years at home had got her nowhere but condescended to and frowned upon, whereas Jenny was perfectly happy and content. Her sister had never lied to their parents, she’d just… let them believe what they wanted to, and not told them the whole truth.

  As she walked gracefully down the stairs fourteen minutes later, shock swept through her when she saw the large formal drawing room filled with serious, anxious-faced men in business suits. A puzzled-looking Jenny caught her eye from where she was leaning against the opposite wall with her new husband, but she shrugged. She had no idea what was going on either.