Prophecy of Three

by Ashley McLeo

  “What are you going to do?” Evelyn grumbled, lowering herself onto her dirt-covered bag, sweat glistening on her forehead.

  But Lily was already in motion, her legs carrying her down the tunnel in an awkward combination of high knees and sprints, intent on their target. With only two feet left and rudimentary knowledge born from watching hockey games with Rich, Lily flung her body into the door. Her bony hip hit the hard iron with a sickening thwack.

  “Shit,” she cried crumpling to the ground in pain. That’s definitely going to leave a mark, she thought gripping her side.

  “That was awesome!” Sara exclaimed, rushing to Lily’s aid.

  “Too bad it didn’t work,” Evelyn called from down the tunnel.

  “Maybe we should knock really loudly? We’ve been out here almost a half an hour. I’m sure someone will realize Morgane’s left us to find our own way soon,” Sara suggested, bending down to inspect Lily’s side.

  Lily pulled herself up to sit with her back to the door, defeated. Who knows how far away the adoption agency is once we get through the hedge? It could be down a winding forest trail and across a river for all we know. If it isn’t, why hasn't someone already come to collect us?

  “We could take turns in here,” Sara suggested, wiping sweat from her forehead with her shirt sleeve. “I’ll go first. You can wait on the road where it’s cooler. I’ll come get you two when someone arrives.”

  Lily moaned and threw her head back against the iron inlay, too exhausted to move. A strange tingle rushed over her as skin met iron, and the air inside the tunnel thinned. Just as Lily was about to ask Evelyn and Sara if they had felt it, too, a squeal of rusty hinges echoed through the tunnel and the door inched open. The hedge seemed to pulse and Lily could have sworn the air shimmered as a cool breeze rushed over her face.

  Lily’s mouth fell open.

  “Finally,” Evelyn’s whisper echoed through the hedge.

  “Thanks for all your help,” Lily muttered, grabbing her backpack and turning toward the light, ready for her next chapter.

  Bright sunlight shone on Lily’s cheeks and her lungs filled with fresh air. She gasped. She had walked into a dream. Standing here, on the edge of a garden teeming with heavy blooms and heavenly aromas, Lily felt like she’d been transported hundreds of miles in three short steps. A grove of fruit trees ran the perimeter of the garden, all the way to a charming stone cottage on the other side. A small lake and forest sat behind the cottage perfecting the scene.

  “It’s an Irish wonderland,” Sara said, her lips parted in awe as she emerged from the hedge.

  “I’m quite happy to hear you think so.”

  A slender woman with long auburn hair stepped from the shadows of the orchard.

  “It seems Morgane left you to find your own way in? She forgets that our entrance is quite unique. Many have trouble navigating through the tunnel. I’m pleased you managed.” She smiled knowingly as Lily brushed dirt from her pants. “That door can be a right bugger. It takes a special type of person to open it. I figured I’d come check that you hadn’t passed out in the hedge. My name’s Brigit McKay-Clery, and I’ll be making your introductions today. Welcome to Fern Cottage.”

  Lily, Evelyn, and Sara stuck out their hands in turn, a smile plastered on each of their faces. Lily caught the scents of cinnamon and lavender wafting off Brigit as their hands clasped.

  “We’d best be moving on. Everyone’s waiting,” Brigit said, gesturing at the fairytale cottage with the air of someone who wanted to get down to business.

  Lily followed, slack-jawed as she took in the lush vegetation. Trees heavy with a wide array of fruit lined one side of the stone path they walked upon. To her left, every inch of earth was flourishing with fruits, vegetables, herbs, and flowers. Even the gardens of Terramar couldn’t compete. Smaller stone pathways split off the main one to create attractive and functional partitions in the garden. Familiar scents of basil, lemongrass, and lavender perfumed the air and eased Lily’s nerves. She stooped to study a large shrub with purple flowers and black, circular berries. I’ll have to ask someone its name, she thought, analyzing the bush. It’s pretty; I bet Annika would like it.

  “You’ll be having plenty of time to explore after the meeting,” said Brigit. She was already at the front door of the cottage with Evelyn, who looked displeased to be waiting on Lily again.

  Lily’s cheeks flushed.

  “Sorry, I . . .”

  “You too, Sara,” Brigit said, a tease of a smile playing at her lips.

  Lily turned to see Sara rising from a stone bench. At least I’m not the only one who gets easily distracted. Sara looks like she just woke up, she thought, stifling a laugh.

  “Sorry! I stopped to meditate for a second. I needed to calm down,” Sara said, her harem pants flapping as she jogged down the path to meet them.

  “Understandable,” Brigit said warmly. “Lily, I noticed you inspecting our belladonna? If you’re interested in plants, we can provide a tour of the gardens after your meeting. There are many exotic plants here.”

  “I’d love that,” Lily said, a wide grin spreading over her face.

  “Right, then,” Brigit said, placing her hand over the doorknob. It hovered there for a moment and she turned back to face them, her lips parted. For a second it looked like she was about to say something but stopped herself and opened the door.

  A welcome trickle of lavender and chamomile flew out on the warm cottage air to meet them. Stepping over the threshold, Lily heard the crackling of logs in the fire and cups being set onto saucers as conversations inside ceased.

  They weren’t the only ones with a case of the nerves.

  Following Brigit’s lead, Lily, Evelyn, and Sara kicked off their shoes and set them on a robust wood stand along with dozens of other pairs next to their bags. The slamming of a side door rang through the cottage and Morgane’s gray head appeared out the windows framing the front door. They were on their own now.

  “The sitting room is this way,” Brigit said, waving them in.

  Weird decoration for an office. We can’t all be meeting in here . . . they must have separate back rooms for the reunions, Lily thought, her eyes sweeping the room. It looked like a space designed for deep conversation, like Em’s kitchen back home. An enormous hearth was positioned in the center of the cottage, dividing the kitchen and living area while still accessible to both. A large green sofa and two overstuffed armchairs sat opposite the hearth around an oak coffee table. The oak’s chipped and scarred surface hinted at the many stories and histories shared there. At the edge of the room a green love seat sat below the window overlooking the garden and orchard they’d walked through. While tones of blue and green dominated the room, it was also peppered with glass Celtic knots and candles in various shades of red that provided warmth and a pop of color. A peculiar cross hung above the fire. Its stark crimson rushes warming the cool gray of the stones it rested against.

  “Would anyone fancy tea? Water? I haven’t anything stronger, I’m afraid. Though some say circumstances such as these certainly call for it,” Brigit said. She hovered by the armchair nearest the door, her fingers tapping its back.

  “I’m ready to start,” Lily said, holding up her Nalgene and taking a seat next to Evelyn on the couch.

  Evelyn and Sara nodded in agreement.

  “Of course. You’ve come such a long way. We should be getting on with it.” Brigit lowered herself slowly into the chair and cleared her throat. “It's my understanding that you haven’t been told much of anything. Only that each of you are to meet your biological family today. Am I correct?”

  Lily stared perplexed. What else would we have been told? And why is Brigit acting so nervous? Is this her first time introducing birth families to their long-lost children?

  “As you look like intelligent young ladies, you’ve likely already guessed the people on the other side of the hearth to be your families.” Brigit jerked her head toward the fire, where a table, chairs, a
nd three pairs of legs were discernible through the flames and smoke.

  Sara laughed nervously.

  “Aye,” Brigit said. She inhaled deeply and tears popped suddenly into her brown eyes. “Well, you were close to the mark. Those ladies are in fact your kin, though not in the same sense you’re probably thinking.” Her voice cracked as she averted her gaze and stared into the fire.

  A minute that felt like an eternity passed while Brigit composed herself.

  Lily caught Sara’s questioning gaze and shrugged her shoulders in agreement.

  “What I’m trying to say is, they are your aunts, my sisters. I am your mother.” The words cascaded from Brigit, quiet as a whisper yet unstoppable and deafening in magnitude. She closed her eyes and exhaled.

  Lily’s mouth fell open. Unsure what to think, she looked down the length of the couch to gauge the other girls’ reactions.

  Evelyn frowned. “You must be mistaken. We can’t be more than a year apart in age,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

  Tears were flowing down Brigit’s face now. It seemed she could no longer control her emotions. As if she had used up all her composure in the act of showing them to the cottage.

  “No more than a few minutes apart, actually. You’re triplets.”

  Brigit’s Tale

  Brigit didn’t begrudge their skepticism as her daughters examined each other, their eyes narrowed, brows knitted together in disbelief. After all, it was difficult to believe.

  She wiped the tears off her face. I may as well deliver all the news in one swoop. She cleared her throat and three pairs of eyes swung back to her, each brimming with questions. Or waiting perhaps, for Brigit to jump up and yell “Gotcha!”

  “I mean not to unload too much at once, but you must know there’s more.”

  Evelyn grunted, and a practiced mask of neutrality slid over her face.

  Brigit felt fear radiating off the girl. It pained her to see a person, her daughter, so guarded. She could only hope she’d have a chance to see past those walls, though she suspected her next words would not help. She cleared her throat again.

  “There are critical aspects of your biology that have been contained, hidden from you, if you will, but will soon become apparent.”

  Lily’s mouth opened a half inch more. It was beginning to remind Brigit of a cave.

  “Not only are you sisters. You are also witches by birth. Born of a long line of witches and believed to possess power not seen for generations.” Brigit sighed. Finally, the reunion she had longed for could begin. She waited for her words to sink in, for their relationships as mother, daughters, and sisters to begin.

  A shriek cut through the room, shattering Brigit’s hopes of a quiet reconciliation in one high-pitched note.

  “You! This lady is batshit crazy! There is no way we are related, much less sisters!” Evelyn screeched, her words amplifying off the cottage stones. “And don’t even get me started on this . . . witches bullshit.” Her tone had the air of one accustomed to mocking others. “Let’s get out of here,” Evelyn finished, fixing Brigit with a hard stare as she rose from the couch.

  “Actually,” Sara piped in, “I’d like to hear more. While it sounds far-fetched, I’ve come all this way and see no harm in listening.” She chanced a small smile at Evelyn before continuing. “As unrealistic as it sounds, I can’t disregard Brigit as crazy. She appears very sane, don’t you think? Definitely not normal, but then I wouldn’t call the two of you normal-looking either.”

  Brigit’s body loosened as she witnessed understanding settle in Lily’s bright green eyes. Two are open to this, at least for now, she thought, inwardly urging Sara on.

  “I got this feeling when you said we were sisters. Did you guys?” Sara’s tone was measured, exploratory. “I swear, I was vibrating right . . . right here. Like my body recognized the truth when it heard it.” Her hand rested on her ribs below her heart.

  Lily nodded slowly. “I agree with Sara. Being here feels natural. I didn’t realize it when we met at the airport because I was preoccupied, but I wasn’t crazy anxious like I usually am when I meet new people.” She looked down the couch at Sara and smiled. “And, for the record, you don’t seem altogether normal yourself.”

  Evelyn rolled her eyes. “You’re saying you recognized us as family the moment we met?”

  “That’s not what I said. There’s no way I would have thought any of us were related. We look, not to mention act, nothing alike,” Lily retorted, her eyes boring straight into Evelyn's narrowed blue ones.

  Evelyn’s face flooded crimson, and a new wave of tension swept the room.

  “What I would like to know,” Lily continued, turning to Brigit with hardened eyes, “is if you are our mother, why did you let us go? I have to know why a parent wouldn’t want their child. You look capable enough, not at all the druggie I had imagined.”

  Brigit winced. She knew this was just the first of many difficult questions to come, though she wished they could have started smaller.

  “It’s a long story, longer perhaps than you can imagine, and I hope you will allow me to explain it.”

  Lily and Sara nodded, and Brigit’s gaze turned to Evelyn.

  There was tension embedded in every nook and cranny of the girl’s body, vibrating like a taut string over the length of her. In a way, Brigit was grateful for Evelyn’s willful disbelief. It told her that her daughter had known the love of family and would not allow it to be swept aside.

  “You may as well explain yourself. I’ve traveled this far already,” Evelyn said finally, her lips pulled tight as she flung herself back onto the couch.

  “Thank you,” Brigit said, her heart flooding with relief. “I promise, I’ll not waste your time. Let me start at the beginning.”

  She took a giant breath and exhaled out the story she’d been practicing for years.

  “Your father and I met in town at the Beltane celebration a year before you were born. His name was Aengus Clery, and he was tall and strong, with red hair that glinted like fire in the summer sun. He had a smile that could melt glaciers and hands that were strong and worn but gentle, as a man’s hands should be. It was a whimsical day to begin a courtship. A day of fertility and new beginnings in old tales. May Day has always been an auspicious day for witches.” Her face broke into a sad smile as it often did when she thought of Aengus.

  “Aengus and I became inseparable and after a few short months, I noticed the disappearance of my cycle. I still remember the moment, clear as day, when my best friend asked me for a pad. I fell to the floor, struck by the revelation that I hadn’t needed to carry one for months. I lied, claimed a migraine had come over me, and begged off. I took a pregnancy test, which only confirmed what I already knew deep down to be true. The test was positive.”

  “You didn’t use protection? And then you ditched us? Sounds irresponsible,” Evelyn scoffed.

  “In fact, your father and I did use protection, and still, there you were, a truth growing within me. Small and fragile, but a truth nonetheless. Who was I to deny the goddess?” The girls’ puzzled gazes followed her own to cross of the goddess Brigid in its place of honor above the hearth.

  “I recall being elated but also sick with fear. To know a person, love a person, only a few short months and find yourself irrevocably bound is a terrifying and thrilling prospect. Still, that idea was not as frightening as admitting what Aengus didn’t yet know about me: that I was a witch.” She paused, sucking in a breath to push down the tension she associated with memories of that brief, unsettling period in her life.

  “In those days the internet was new and information was harder to come by. People’s knowledge came from books, sermons, and stories. Lore in this part of the world runs deep. You’d be hard-pressed to find a more superstitious lot than the people on this island. In the days when the old religions of our blood died for Christ on the Cross, my Great-Gran and those before her had a hard time of it. It’s true, witch hunts were few in Ireland, but tha
t didn’t stop people from feeling the fever. I’d grown up with these tales and heeded them. Over the years I’d told only a few non-magic folk the truth about myself.

  “I knew nothing of Aengus’s stance on magic. It was one of the most nerve-wracking days of me life, the day I had to admit to him two truths that would rock anyone's world: That he was to be a father, and that I was a witch. The poor man was so shocked he couldn’t talk! Walked me home without a word and left me at my doorstep. I took it as a good sign that he at least walked me home. I was right. Aengus came calling the very next day with questions, most of which pertained to my witchy nature. He accepted his role as a father without hesitation. I suspect he was a man who wanted children sooner rather than later in life. Though we’d never spoken of such things before the time came.”

  She paused, allowing the girls to take in the fact that despite whatever they thought of her, their father had been good man. She wanted no blame placed on Aengus if she could help it.

  “I knew my pregnancy was early enough for me to put off seeing a physician for a few weeks. At the time, the closest doctor with a functional ultrasound was a two-hour journey to Galway. I did not fancy making the trip more times than I needed to. Instead, I sought the advice of my sisters, all of who had experience working with pregnant women.

  “As it turns out, I ended up needing the extra time. Your father proposed a mere week after my confessions. I expect he would have proposed the minute I told him I was with child, but my claiming to be a witch threw him off. That and Aengus was a traditionalist. He needed time to buy a Claddagh.”

  “A Claddagh?” Lily asked, strangling the word.

  “It’s like an engagement ring. It’s traditional in Ireland and represents love, loyalty, and friendship,” Sara said as if reciting from a textbook.

  Brigit presented her hand to Lily, who stared down at the gold ring, its large center heart topped by an elaborate king’s crown and encircled by two hands.