by T L Harty
Deidra and I grabbed a couple of grocery bags to bring into the house. Tracy unlocked the door, leading us to the kitchen table where we placed the bags. There were a couple of trips required to get everything in the house.
“The pastry was weak?” I asked, not really addressing anyone in particular.
Tom answered, “It’s piastre, the slang term for a Canadian dollar. It’s a Canadian- French word.” He was searching his pockets trying to come up with one. He found one and handed it to me. He added, “When the Canadian dollar is weaker than the U.S. dollar, we go over the border into Quebec to shop. It saves us a lot of money. When our dollar is weaker, the Canucks come here to shop.”
“I read about that. You can just go back and forth?” Deidra asked.
“Oh, sure,” Tracy interjected. “It’s very informal. The border is just a line on the road and a sign letting you know which country you’re entering. Sometimes you announce your name if there’s a guard at the border shack.”
“Speaking of which,” Tom said, “I better be off to man the post for a while. Derrick had me take his shift because he has a curling tournament. I will never understand that game.”
“You keep calling it a game and he is gonna get very upset,” Tracy informed him. “It’s a sport!”
Tom rolled his eyes, while shaking his head. He lovingly embraced Tracy and gave her a goodbye kiss on the cheek. “Nice meeting you,” he said to Deidra and me, before he left. “Make yourselves comfortable.”
Helping with the groceries was an awkward endeavor. There was no telling where anything went unless it was refrigerated. And even then, Tracy had her own little system.
“Why don’t you girls go get your bags, and I will show you where you are staying so you can get settled,” Tracy instructed. “I’m so glad you finally made it. I’ve been waiting for you.”
Deidra and I retrieved our bags and returned inside. The house was amazing. In the very middle of a great room was the fire pit. To the right was the kitchen and dining area. Behind the pit, on the other side of the entranceway was an immaculate living room that had been nicely furnished.
To the left of the pit was a rustic-looking desk, but beyond that was a hallway which must have led to the bedrooms. As we rounded the pit, the view of the living room became clearer. As if the house wasn’t magnificent enough, there was a huge sunroom off the living room. Tracy showed us to our separate rooms, both on the right side of the hall. The bathroom and linen closets were on the left side of the hall.
“You help yourself to any towels or toiletries you need,” Tracy informed us. “Would either of you like any tea?”
“No, thank you,” Deidra answered. “Would you think it incredibly rude if I took a shower and napped?”
Tracy laughed, “Of course not!”
“Tea sounds lovely,” I said, jealous of Deidra’s plan to nap. But it felt wrong to leave Tracy by herself after such a lovely welcome.
“Coming right up,” she announced. “Go ahead and get settled, Muriel. We’ll have our tea in the sunroom.” Tracy disappeared down the hall.
When I returned to the kitchen, all the groceries were put away. The tea was nearly done seeping and Tracy had put her hair up in a bun. Seeing her face in the light, made Tracy’s fine wrinkles more visible…giving away her age.
“What do you like in your tea?” Tracy asked.
“I don’t need anything in it,” I told her. “It will just be nice to get some warm liquids in me. It’s so cold!”
Tracy handed me the tea before leading me into the sunroom. She shut the door behind her once we were both inside. A small fire was crackling in a pot-belly stove. It was just enough to keep the back room nice and toasty.
“So, how was your trip here?” Tracy inquired.
“You appear to be a very nice person,” I started, “but if it’s all the same to you, I would just like to talk about why my grandmother sent me here. I need answers and struggling to make small talk is not how I’d like to spend our time.”
Tracy smiled. “You have started to embrace your tendency for direct communication. That is wonderful,” she complimented. “I can’t imagine everything you have been through. And I apologize for attempting to entertain you with trivial conversation.”
“In the last two weeks- I have shipwrecked my marriage, lost my grandparents and found out that I’m supposed to lead a group of people that I never knew existed,” I shared. “Who knows when your husband will return or Deidra will wake up. I would like to make the best use of our time.”
“Of course,” Tracy agreed.
The fact that she was not surprised by my tale, made me believe that Tracy was also an Oris. She stood up and reached for something on the bookshelf. She handed me a velvety, black box measuring about 8 x 8 inches.
“You can open it,” Tracy urged. “It’s yours.”
“It’s gorgeous,” I said, after opening the box. It looked like a necklace, but it was more rigid. Three round strands of gold were braided together to form a ring that almost closed in the front. On each side of the necklace where the braid stopped was a small, oval opening.
“This is a torc,” Tracy explained. “It is a symbol of our people. There is no way to know what it was originally called. It is derived from the Latin word torqueo, which means to twist.” Tracy picked up the necklace and motioned for me to lean forward. “The twists in the necklace made them more pliable, so the wearer could bend it open to get it around their necks,” she finished, as she placed the torc around my neck.
The necklace reshaped to practically close in front. It was a strange sensation to have it on. Necklaces were usually flexible and light, but this was neither.
“Does this have something to do with being in the line of Enya?” I asked. “Can you please just tell me what I need to know!?” My patience was at an all-time low.
“I am a Druidess, Oris, peace chief, seer, Banduri- whatever you feel comfortable calling me,” she stated, “as are you.”
“My grandmother told me that I am an Oris,” I challenged her.
“Can you name any secret societies?” Tracy asked, seemingly going off topic.
“Yes. The Knights Templar, Priory of Sion, Free Masons, Illuminati…” I trailed off.
“So are they secret societies if you know they exist?” she inquired.
“I don’t know. What the hell,” I spat.
“From this point forward, you should assume all my questions are hypothetical- at least for today,” Tracy suggested. She was annoyed with my attitude and her tone turned stern. “You’re going to stay here for two weeks. That is how long it will take to properly educate you. I cannot snap my fingers or do this any quicker. You need to calm down. Am I clear?”
“Yes, I’m sorry,” I apologized. “This is so hard and it hasn’t even begun.” Tears were filling my eyes, but I fought to keep them at bay.
“You’ve been through the hard part,” Tracy told me. She put her hand on top of mine. “Trust me. Once you are educated, you will realize that. Finding out who you are, birthing a daughter, losing your grandparents, your marriage dissolving…you have already lived through the hard part. Have faith, sister, and be encouraged.”
“Thank you,” I sighed. Her words calmed me down immediately.
Tracy leaned back in her chair, and without missing a beat, she continued, “Now, secret societies have been around for a very long time. They usually start with a group of elite members whose purpose is to share information with each other. Knowledge truly is power, and these societies desire both monetary gain and empowerment. There is a secret society called the United Ancient Order of Druids that was founded in 1781. It’s still around today. You should join,” she joked, realizing her attempt at making me laugh was futile.
“My point is that you are about to be in a secret society, but you’ve never heard of us because we are, indeed- a secret,” she explained. “We don’t have a name or conduct large meetings. Our membership comes about from harvesting
from a few societies that are already in place, the Oris Foundation being one of them. Over the last year, we were working with your grandmother to have you join us directly. But, her untimely death changed things.”
“It certainly did,” I agreed.
“Let me get another cup of tea for you,” she suggested. “When I come back, we are going to start from the beginning. You need to know where you came from before moving forward. It will help you understand.”
“This sounds like a history lesson,” I complained.
“It is,” she answered, without any hint of apology.
“Can I ask you something?” I wondered. “Do you think it would be a good idea to call my husband and let him know where I am at or how long I’ll be gone?” The words needed to be said out loud, as I wrestled with the decision. Deidra was here with me, and he needed to know we were safe.
“It would be best to leave out where you are,” she said. “But telling him how long you will be gone would be a good idea. Otherwise, he may want to contact the authorities if he thinks you are both missing.”
“Maybe Deidra should call when she wakes up,” I said, thinking out loud. “I’m not sure I could handle a discussion with him. I’d either want to scream at him or break down and cry, but I’m too disgusted to do either.”
On the way out of the sunroom, Tracy remarked, “Only betrayal has that kind of power.”
Chapter 4- Westward
According to the itinerary, Grammy and I would be traveling out to Stonehenge today. The morning sun was coming through the window, as we enjoyed our breakfast of scrambled eggs, fruit and an English muffin. One English fry was plenty.
“Don’t dawdle, Muriel,” Grammy said. “Henry will be picking us up in 30 minutes.”
“Just because we’re in England, doesn’t mean you need to use fancy English words,” I observed.
Grammy smiled. We gathered up some things for the day, filling our purses. Grammy grabbed her light jacket for the trip. For a moment, I considered telling her to leave it at the hotel, but Grammy rarely ventured forth without it. She never knew when she would feel chilly- even in eighty degree weather.
Henry was downstairs waiting for us. “Good morning, ladies,” he greeted, opening the door for us to get in the car.
“Good morning,” Grammy and I said in unison.
After being on the road for a few minutes, Henry spoke up, “If you have any questions between here and Stonehenge, I will do my best to answer them. It will take us a little over two hours to arrive.”
“What is your favorite part of English history, Henry?” I wondered.
“The quiet, uninteresting parts,” he said. “There has been so much war and destruction here.”
Grammy and Henry carried on a conversation, as I tried to unsuccessfully fight off visions. Leaning against the inside of the car, I saw droves of people walking in the same direction we were traveling. Stonehenge and another circular monument was the attraction. The people were dressed differently, as if they were from different tribes or areas. There were so many people.
“So many…” I said out loud.
Grammy was staring at me, wide-eyed.
“Is she O.K.?” Henry asked concerned, trying to catch a glimpse of me in the rearview mirror.
“She’s fine,” Grammy assured. “Sit up, Muriel. We’ll be arriving at Stonehenge soon.”
Grammy was letting me know that I had been out of it for a long time. If this was almost a two hour trip, the hint was very much appreciated. It was infuriating when the visions couldn’t be controlled. I was getting good at suppressing them, but there was something about this trip that was bringing them to the surface.
The tour of Stonehenge was cool. A few years before we visited, tourists could actually climb on the stones, but that was causing a lot of erosion, so it was no longer allowed. We were told that people still came here to celebrate the winter and summer solstice. The tour guides shared many different theories as to why or when the monument was built. It made me wonder, too. We didn’t stay for too long because, in the end, they were still rocks.
Henry had supplied us with something he called a “rolling meal.” I’d never heard that term before. It simply meant that we would eat a meal on the road, while traveling. There were an array of cheeses and some buns in the cooler. Between that and some vegetable offerings, it was very nice.
Henry drove us about 20 miles north to another henge, known as Avebury. The circumference of the stone circles at Avebury dwarfed those at Stonehenge, but the actual stones were much smaller. The fields were wide open with a man-made hill or ditch spotting the landscape. Those pesky visions encircled me, as though I was walking among people from long ago. It was difficult to control my impulse to reach out around me, but the other tourists would have found that strange.
As nice as it was to see such mysterious places, it was a huge relief when we started back toward London. During the ride, the visions were of people headed in the opposite direction. As London came into view, the visions, which were once so vivid and distinct, dissipated into a blur.
Later that night, before bed, Grammy asked, “Muriel, what were your visions about? I know you were experiencing sight in the car.”
This was not a conversation that interested me, but I answered, “Well, there were masses of people that were walking toward the area we visited today. They came from every direction and every walk of life. All ages, manner of dress and hierarchy were represented. It was overwhelming for me and hard to concentrate on any information during the tour.”
Grammy smiled, and suggested, “Your personal tour may have been the best one ever experienced. Well, goodnight. Oh,” Grammy remembered, “tomorrow you can shop at the Burlington Arcade. I have a meeting and will be gone for a few hours. I’ll let you sleep in, but I may not be here when you wake up. The credit card will be on the table.”
Shopping on my own was one of the few things that made me feel like I was actually growing up. I’m not sure if it was doing something without an adult’s input or handing over the credit card that tickled me more. It was hard to fall asleep, anticipating tomorrow’s shopping adventure.
It was just like Grammy said- she was already gone by the time my eyes opened the next morning. Not wanting to miss out on any shopping time, I sprang out of bed. Once dressed and some personal hygiene was attended to, the stores beckoned.
After visiting four or five stores, I decided that Grammy’s card had incurred enough damage. She didn’t give me a limit, but this opportunity shouldn’t be abused. Two new outfits were in my shopping bags, and one that I wore out of the store. The sales clerk talked me into the idea. It didn’t take much convincing because the outfit made me feel wonderful.
In all of the excitement, my stomach reminded me that it hadn’t been tended to all day. An afternoon tea was served at the hotel. It was free for guests, so I started back.
The tea was very enjoyable until someone on staff accused me of not being a guest. Even after telling him the name of my grandmother, the room we were in, and describing our outings with Henry- he was still not taking my word.
There was an older gentleman at the tea who had been staring at me since I walked in. When he witnessed the hullabaloo, he walked over to the hotel employee and said, “I would like to vouch for this young lady.”
“Oh, sir, please forgive the misunderstanding,” the employee begged. “Do you know her?”
The gentleman grabbed my hand and brought it to his mouth. He kissed my hand, while looking me in the eye. “She is someone I would like to get to know, very much,” he purred in a thick, French accent.
The whole scene was awkward. The hotel employee didn’t know how to react because this gentleman must have been a valued customer. My instinct was to pull my hand away and sanitize it immediately with scalding water. The lecher didn’t lose his gaze the entire time.
“Surely, you wouldn’t be flirting with my granddaughter, Monsieur DeLuc,” Grammy interrupted, just i
n the nick of time. “She is a mere sixteen years of age.” Grammy smiled, but her calm demeanor wasn’t fooling me. She was about to lose her temper.
“My apologies,” said Monsieur DeLuc. “She is beautiful and looks much older than her years. The age of consent is only fifteen in France. You can understand my confusion.”
“Frankly, imbecile,” Grammy growled. “I cannot.”
The monsieur was clearly insulted, huffing out of the room. The employee who was giving me a hard time became very apologetic. He explained that many people would come in for the free tea that weren’t guests, and he was just trying to do his job.
Grammy was still agitated, and went to the front desk. She left the employee and me alone, which was uncomfortable. I broke the silence, “It’s no big deal. My Grammy is here now, you can go.”
“It’s O.K., I will wait for your grandmother to return,” he said. “That French gentleman had one thing correct. You are incredibly beautiful, so it would be best not to leave you unattended.”
He blushed after finishing his sentence, bowed his head and walked by me, just as Grammy was returning. When the French man complimented me, it was repulsive. Yet, the kind words of this English man made me smile uncontrollably.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Grammy said, grabbing my arm. “Why didn’t you just show them your key?”
“I never thought of that,” I responded, feeling silly. “What are we going to do in the room?”
“We need to pack for our trip tomorrow,” she answered.
“The itinerary says we stay here tonight and tomorrow,” I said. “Why are we packing?”
“Change of plans,” Grammy replied, “nothing wrong with a little spontaneity.”
“Yes, Grammy, if someone said to describe your grandmother in five words or less,” I joked, “spontaneous would be on the tip of my tongue.” We laughed all the way to the room.
The hotel sent up a meal fit for a king an hour after we got back to the room. By the time I devoured the chocolate truffle for dessert, I was thinking to myself: apology accepted! After eating, we packed. This was not like her to go off plan, but this trip was an adventure for me either way.