by A. L. Knorr
"You need to be at the airport in six hours. Can you do that for me?"
"Of course," I said. "But what's wrong? It sounds serious." The fear was back with a vengeance. All the normal irritation I felt toward Liz was hiding in a cupboard somewhere. Now all I felt was panic crawling up my throat like a big nasty spider with hooked claws.
Jasher was up and standing on the other side of the bed, his hair sticking up every which way. He was staring at me, eyes wide and hands out, like he didn't know what to do and didn't know what was going on.
"The doctors haven't been able to identify it, so they’re doing a few more tests. I don't want you to panic. I'll pick you up at the airport and take you right to the hospital," Denise was saying.
At the word 'hospital' I stopped completely, staring at Jasher. I purposefully closed my eyes. "Hospital?" I repeated.
"She's alright, Georjie. Just focus on getting yourself home, and I'll explain everything. As much as I can, anyway. Talk to you soon." She hung up the phone. This was Denise's way of keeping control, she ends things when she wants to end them. It was the same thing my mother did.
"Georjie." Jasher voice broke through and I opened my eyes.
I am not going to panic.
"It's Liz, she's sick. I have to go home. Can you take me to the train station as soon as I'm ready?"
"Of course." He came around the bed and took me in his arms. His warmth and strength enfolded me. He smelled like trees and sleep. I allowed myself a moment of solace as his hug calmed me. "Did they tell you what's wrong with her? Is she in danger?"
"I don't think so." My voice broke. Guilt was beginning its slow burn, like acid being pumped through my heart and into my veins. I scrolled through my emails, finding the new ticket Denise had sent. "It was my mom's secretary. She didn't tell me much. I have to pack, my plane leaves from Dublin at two forty-five."
"I'll take you to Dublin, Georjie. There's no way I'll let you take the train." Jasher was bending over, peering under the bed.
"But, you have work. What are you doing?"
He pulled out my luggage and put it on the bed, opening it up. "I'm my own boss, I work when I want," he said. "You pack, I'll make us breakfast for the road."
My eyes found his face and I saw there, my own feelings mirrored. We weren't ready for this, to say good-bye. There was a heavy silence as everything that had happened this summer, and especially the day before, filled the space between us.
"I'm here for you Georjie, always," Jasher finally said. "Even if I'm making a pilgrimage to a temple in the Tibetan mountains, or I'm on a tiny island in the South Pacific, I would drop everything and come to you if you asked me to."
I would never ask him to do something like that, but the sentiment made my lower lip wobble. "Does that mean you're going to get a cell phone?" I asked, my eyes misting up in spite of myself.
"A satellite phone, if I have to." He gave me a quirky smile. When he saw my eyes filling up, his expression softened. He circled the bed and took my face in his hands. "It'll be all right, you'll see. You can heal your mom of whatever it is anyway. If you can heal me of seeing the dead, there is no ailment too big for you." He rubbed away a tear. "Just focus on getting home, okay? I'll explain everything to Faith."
I nodded. With that, he gave me a kiss and left me to my packing.
Chapter 36
The ride to the airport with Jasher was a thoughtful one. He’d made us tuna sandwiches, bagged up some cheese and crackers, and brought a thermos of tea to share. He ate his meal less than an hour into the drive, but I couldn’t work up the appetite for food.
“You won’t miss this rain,” Jasher said, turning on the windshield wipers as moisture spattered lightly against the glass.
“Actually, I don’t mind it,” I said, zipping my hoody up to my chin. “It’s good for the earth.”
He agreed, and we grew silent again. The windshield wipers squeaked and the sound of wet road buzzed under the tires. Jasher broke the silence again with, “Why do you think Mailís decided to appear when we were there? According to what you saw, she’d been trapped in that dusty place for decades. Why surface just then?”
“Because I said her name,” I replied.
He looked over at me, surprised. “That’s all it took?”
“I didn’t figure it out until after the fact, because it seemed weird to me too, but all the clues were there. The fae respond to their names - all it took in my dream was to say their names out loud and they breathed on me.” I sat up, another clue falling into place. “Emily.”
“Who?”
“That night at Eithne,” I said, turning to him. “Emily, the blonde girl with the short hair. While she was telling me the history of Eithne, she listed off the names of seven Irish rebels who had died there. I guess the dead respond to their names, too.”
“The seven ghosts,” added Jasher, as it clicked into place for him, too.
I shuddered. “Thank God she stopped.”
“Aye.” Jasher gave his own involuntary shiver of horror. “I’m glad I don’t have to deal with that anymore.”
“Me too. I hope it sticks.”
“It will,” he said. Then looked at me a moment later. “Why, you think it won’t?”
“I’m sure it will,” I added quickly. I hated the look of fear in his eyes. “I’m just… new at this. I don’t know how it all works.”
“Would be nice if you could find someone like you to talk to,” he said. “Like an Obi-Wan of Wise… people.”
I smiled and nodded. We fell silent again.
When my bags had been checked and we were saying goodbye in front of security, Jasher got a look of wonderment on his face.
“So, if the fae respond to their names, and Mailís responded to her name, and she was a Wise, and you’re a Wise…”
I thought I knew where he was going with this and I started to shake my head.
“Doesn’t it stand to reason that you could be called by name, too?”
I laughed. “And what? Materialize out of the air? I don’t think so.”
“Maybe not out of the air, no. But out of the earth? You did some crazy stuff with the soil, Georjie. You moved huge chunks of it in less than a minute, it was like watching tectonic plates shift in fast-forward. It would have taken men with earth-moving equipment weeks to do what you did.”
“How does that mean I could travel through it?”
“It doesn’t, I’m just saying, you’re a Wise now, it makes you related to the fae, doesn’t it? And they came to you when you called them.”
“Well, you can try it,” I said with a laugh. “While you’re on Bora-Bora drinking young coconuts and swinging in a hammock, you give me a shout and I’ll do my best to pop up out of the beach.”
He laughed, kissed me sweetly on the lips, and took me in his arms for a long good-bye hug. “I just might do that, Georjie. I just might.”
Chapter 37
"Mom!" I cried, and I crossed the hospital room to her bedside. She had an IV in her arm. The hair at her temples was streaked with gray. Her cheeks were hollow and the bones in her hands were so horrifyingly visible that I choked back a sob. I leaned over and wrapped my arms around her thin frame, and she stroked my back feebly.
"There's a word I haven't heard in a while," she said, softly. Her voice was that of an old woman's.
"Why didn't you call me sooner?" I pulled back to look at her. The words were no sooner out of my mouth than I felt like garbage. She had called me, but I hadn't wanted to listen to her, all I could hear were the voices of my own anger. "I'm so sorry." Movement by the door drew my attention. "Denise, would give us some privacy, please?" I said. "Thank you for picking me up."
Denise gave a curt not and a tight smile and closed the door behind herself.
"What do they say is wrong?" I sat in the chair near the bed and pulled it close to her.
"Mostly dehydration and accelerated ageing," she said, laying her head back on the pillow. "Doc says I've been
working myself to death."
That rang true, but I knew it wasn't all that was at play here. "When did you first notice it?"
"To be honest, the first time I felt like something was wrong was that day I called you and asked how things were going with Jasher." She dabbed at her nose with a tissue.
My fingers grew cold and a chill swept over me.
"It was the strangest thing. After we said good-bye, I had to sit down. I felt out of breath, and my mouth was so dry. It seemed like no amount of water could slake my thirst. It was bad for a few hours, and then I seemed to be okay again."
I nodded, taking a deep breath.
"I never felt perfect after that, but I felt a bit better, so I went on working."
"Did you tell anyone?" I already knew the answer. Liz wouldn't voluntarily go to the hospital unless she'd cut off a limb.
"No," she waved a hand. "You know how I am."
"And then?"
"Then, when you and I had that awful fight..."
I closed my eyes to steel myself against what I knew was coming. I had done this to her, without even realizing it.
"I collapsed. It was the strangest thing. I was desperate to speak with you, there was so much to say, but I couldn’t do anything but wheeze. Poor Denise had a heart attack."
"Why didn't you call me back?"
"Well, Denise rushed me to the hospital, and making another call right away wasn’t the priority. Besides, it sounded like you had things going on that were important..."
"Oh, Mom," I whispered. I had done this to her. The dangerous side of my powers had been fully demonstrated to me through Mailís, but a new realization had hit me. I could hurt someone without even intending to, just by how I was thinking or feeling toward them. "Can you walk?"
"Yes, I can walk," she said. "I'm feeling worlds better than I was."
"Let's go for a walk, want to? Is there a garden nearby?"
She gave me a baffled look. "There is, in the courtyard. It's quite pretty. I'm not sure I'm up for it."
"I'll help you. You'll feel better afterwards, Mom. I promise."
She got out of bed and wrapped a robe around her pajamas. I found her sandals and toed them into place so she could put them on. She had to take her IV with her, so I rolled it along with us out the door and to the elevator. My mom didn't walk fast, but she wasn't stiff or ungainly, either. The hall was quiet, and I was thankful Denise had disappeared.
As we walked, I asked, “Why did you want me to come home early so badly? Before you got sick, I mean. Was it really that you just missed me?”
Her eyes flashed up at me and back down at the floor. “I did. You know what they say, you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.”
There was more. I waited for it.
“I was afraid,” she finally added, as we stood in front of the elevator.
“Of what?”
“Of you spending too much time at that place.”
Now we were getting somewhere. “Where? Sarasborne?”
She took a crushed tissue from the pocket of her robe and dabbed her nose with it. She nodded, not looking me in the eye.
The elevator dinged and the doors swept open. We shuffled inside and I pushed the button for the ground floor.
“What’s wrong with Sarasborne, Mom?” I asked.
“It sounds crazy,” she said, flatly.
“Try me.”
“Your great-grandfather Syracuse was very unusual. He believed in faeries, you know.”
“Really?” I bit my cheek to hide my smile.
“He was always on about the fae, drawing pictures of them, telling stories about how special Sarasborne and our family was to them. How they were on the lookout for someone worthy of their gifts.”
The little hairs on my forearms stood up. I didn’t know if Syracuse had pegged the fae’s intentions quite right, but it was even more startling to hear my mother talk like this.
“How come you never told me about any of this before? Especially before I went to Ireland?”
“Well, it’s all hogwash,” Liz said. “I didn’t want to fill your head with all that nonsense.”
I hated to challenge her, but I had to know. “If you don’t believe it, then why were you scared?”
She looked uncomfortable. The elevator stopped and we stepped out into a hallway bright with windows. Mom directed us to turn left.
“I started to get these feelings,” she said, very quietly. “Like something bad might happen to you.”
“Like it did to Mailís?” I added, watching her face closely.
Her eyes flashed to mine and stayed there. “Faith told you about her?”
I shook my head. “I found her diary in the library.”
The little spots of color in my mother’s cheeks faded. “She went crazy, poor thing. Suddenly going on about the fae, the way Syracuse did. And then the suicide.” She wrung the tissue in her hands. “I got a bout of superstition,” she admitted, her voice going scratchy. “With me not feeling well, and thinking that you were over there where all that strange history….”
“I’m okay, Mom. You don’t need to worry.”
“I can see that, and I’m sorry, I should have left you there to enjoy the rest of the summer. I just got consumed by my own mental whirlpool.” She shook her head. “It’s not a good thing for someone in my position, being superstitious. I thought I’d dealt with all that. I must be getting old.”
I smiled and shook my head. “You’re not getting old, Mom.”
I pushed open a door and we walked out into the hospital’s sunny courtyard. There weren’t many people out enjoying the sunshine, just a man and a woman. The man sat in a wheelchair, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. The woman sat on a bench nearby, reading a book.
I took my mother onto the grass and slipped off my shoes. Tingles swept up my legs as I planted my bare feet against the earth. The feeling of roots shooting out of my soles and into the earth was there, but this time it was slow and lazy, and it didn’t trip me. The roots retracted as I lifted my feet from the earth, and extended when I stepped down. The vegetation around me glowed with soft light.
"What are you doing? You hate walking in bare feet. You've hated it since you were little." My mother’s eyebrows shot up.
"Try it," I said. "It feels glorious. It's something I learned to like while I was in Ireland."
She slipped off her sandals and stepped onto the grass. "I haven't done this since I was child," she murmured. She had two bunions, one at the base of each big toe.
I took her hand. "Isn't it nice? Close your eyes."
She closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the sun.
I let the healing powers flow through me, up my legs, into my torso, down my arm and into her hand. It was easier now than it was before, like removing a dam and just letting the water flow.
"Oh," my mom said, startled. "Oh, Georjie!"
"It's all right," I whispered.
"It feels wonderful." She laughed out loud and the man in the wheelchair looked over at us. I let the healing power overflow and reach out toward him and the woman. I didn't direct it with intention, I just let it go where it wanted, like flowing liquid.
I watched as my mother's skin plumped out, her hair lost its brittle texture, and the gray at her roots filled in with blond. The skin on the back of her hands thickened and turned from translucent to opaque. The bunions on her feet shrank and her toe bones straightened. My eyebrows shot up as I watched the IV needle push out of her skin, the tape pulled away from her as the adhesive could no longer hold. The needle fell out and dangled from the IV tower.
Eventually, the healing energy stopped moving so much. It sort of swirled and drifted through me, then became slow and lazy.
"How do you feel?" I asked
She opened her eyes. "What did you do?"
"I learned a trick or two, in Ireland," I said. "Don't let it alarm you."
She gazed at me thoughtfully. Her eyes misted and she pulled
me into a hug. "I am so sorry, Georjie."
"What?" I blinked, startled. "No, Mom. I am. I mean, neither of us has been perfect, but I… I'll never bulldoze you like that again."
She shook her head and pulled back. "I've been so absent. Ever since your father left, I haven't known what to do. All I knew was work. I thought that if I didn't let myself think, or feel..." She touched a hand to my cheek. "If I didn't let myself love you, then I wouldn’t be hurt when you left home the way I was when your father left." She shook her head. "I know they’re not the same thing at all. What an idiot I've been. What a mistake. We've lost so many years, living like ships passing in the night."
"Let’s not lose anymore, Mom."
She shook her head. "No. No more. Can you forgive me?" Tears ran freely down her face now.
"Forgiveness is easy when you realize that you aren't perfect, either."
It was a start. I'm not going to tell you that everything has been just hunky-dory for me and my mom ever since that day. We still argue, we still get on each other’s nerves, and I'm still trying to figure out how to feel ticked off without letting my emotion turn my powers on. It's getting easier. And yes, I put into motion the changing of my name from Sutherland to Sheehan.
The doctor, a distracted looking man with a comb-over and thick glasses, discharged my mom later that day, pronouncing her fully recovered. Denise was happy, but she looked at me askance more than once, like she thought something smelled funny. I never explained anything to her, and I don't think my mom has either. It's good that she works for my mom, so she's not permitted to be nosy.
Because none of my friends were home from their adventures yet, Mom booked some time off work and we've been having a bit of a staycation. That's how I've been able to pen these memoirs. I guess I'll leave them for now. Close them up. I still have a lot of searching to do about who I am and what I've become. Maybe, when I know more, I'll write more.
You might think that my mom would grill me about what happened, but she didn't. Even though we've begun mending the bridge between us, it’s still foreign to bare our souls to one another. One step at a time.