Ellida

by J. F. Kaufmann

  The boy slightly bowed his head. “I thank you, Enihamir, and the High Council for this great honor. It was my duty and my honor to protect our Ellida.”

  I smiled. Only Henry Flanagan could use such grown-up words with his high-pitched child’s voice and sound so noble.

  I walked to him and lowered myself on one knee to be at the same eye level with him. “I’m ever so grateful to have a protector like you, Henry. You risked your own life to save mine. I know how much you like our ancient stories about Harlan, Illeanna and the Horse with the Silver Mane. Well, the horse that’s waiting for you outside looks a little bit different. It’s chestnut with a black mane, but I know you’ll like him fine. Please accept it as a token of my gratitude, Master Henry.”

  Henry carefully placed the sword on the floor and hugged me fiercely. “Thank you, Ellida,” he stuttered. “I could never have a cat or a dog because of my allergies, but I’m not allergic to horse hair.”

  “I know that.” I smiled. “And soon, you’ll have a chance to have a cat and a dog, and drink milk. I’ve already scheduled your first appointment with Dr. Livia Blake. She’s the best allergy doctor in the world.”

  UNCLE JAMES, Betty and Eamon spent the first half of December in Italy, looking for a flat for Eamon, who’d chosen Conservatorio Statale di Musica in Florence for his studies in Music History next year. After two years in Italy, Eamon planned to come back and continue to study ethnomusicology somewhere in the States or in Canada.

  One day Eamon phoned me from Florence, so excited that I had a hard time figuring out what he was trying to tell me.

  “My Musicology professor, Signor Alessandro Colonna,” he started. “I spoke to him when I submitted my application. He’s doing a project on performance practice. He’s asking different opera singers to record the same role, for teaching purposes… Mr. Colonna’s chosen the Queen of the Night role. Astrid, he wants you to record it and send it to him.”

  “Slow down, slow down. Record it how? Why?”

  “Okay, okay… He’s doing research on variations between different vocal qualities, and one of the ways to do that is to record the same composition sung by several singers. Got it?

  “No, I don’t, Eamon.” I said. “Every singing voice is unique. Why would someone want to compare them?”

  Eamon ignored my comment. “I mentioned you, and I honestly told him you were not a professional opera singer, but that you’d had voice lessons for years. You did, didn’t you? So he’s going to e-mail you with the instructions how to download the orchestral part, and I’ll help you to record it. You just start practicing, will you?”

  I still wasn’t sure what Signor Colonna wanted from me, but Eamon’s enthusiasm quickly rubbed off on me. “So, I’m going to do a sort of Queen of the Night karaoke,” I said, laughing. “No problem. I’ll start practicing right away.”

  “Great, Astrid! I know it’s not an opera stage, but at least the students here will get a chance to hear your voice.”

  “Eamon, didn’t your professor ask how I ended up as a bar singer, divine voice and all? Eamon? Do you hear me?”

  “Not really. I gotta go anyway. Bye, Astrid.”

  JACK AND I continued going to Copper Ridge once a week so that I could spend time with my mother. As Christmas approached, however, we were too busy at home to continue with our visits.

  Thanks to Red Cliffs’ multiethnic population, Christmas was considered more as a time of social gathering than a religious holiday. It was the peak of the season, and hotels and ski-resorts were booked full. Many Red Cliffers couldn’t afford to take a few days off, but they had their ways to enjoy the festive atmosphere in town nonetheless.

  There was a constant flow of visitors through our house. People would pop in for a chat and a cup of tea or coffee, bringing us boxes and trays with cookies, bars and small cakes. Evenings were reserved for Christmas parties and dinners. Jack and I had an obligation to attend as many of them as possible.

  Lots of families from Copper Ridge came to visit their relatives in Red Cliffs and vice versa. There was a Christmas parade through the main street. Dr. Falkenstein was Santa Claus this year. Betty, Liv, Lily, Drew, Angela and I volunteered to be his elves. Every single child got a small toy as a present.

  Jack had brought in a big Christmas tree and we decorated it.

  We were invited, together with the Blakes, to Betty and James’ for Christmas Eve. We exchanged carefully chosen yet inexpensive presents. Edible and wearable gifts were a big hit that season. We enjoyed the feast the men prepared and stayed until dawn, sitting in front of the fireplace in the Mohegans’ cozy living room.

  On our way home, Jack and I had walked through the quiet streets, hand in hand. Happy, freed from fearing the future, we were delighted with the peaceful night and the swirls of snow that wrapped the town in a soft, white blanket.

  MOM AND Ahmed came to visit us shortly after the Christmas holidays. On the very first morning of their visit, Jack and James took my mother into the town and had a coffee with her in Café Insomniac. It probably hadn’t been necessary. After Heather’s confession, public opinion of my mother had completely changed. I was grateful, however, to both of them for their gesture.

  Mr. and Mrs. Ingmar Mortensen stopped by on their way to the Bahamas, where they were spending their postponed honeymoon.

  My mother wasn’t ready to get married, but she and Ahmed had bought a house, had it renovated and moved in together.

  It was a spacious dwelling that had belonged to one of Seth’s high-ranked officials. Seth had been in the habit of rewarding his favorite people with outrageously expensive gifts, such as houses, cars and land, all of it abandoned now. The Copper Ridge High Council had decided to sell those properties that now didn’t belong to anyone and use the money to rebuild the city.

  The problem was that few people in Copper Ridge had money to buy the essentials, let alone houses and land. Nonetheless, a few houses had been sold: aside from Mom and Ahmed, Ingmar and Peyton also bought one, as well as my grandparents, Takeshi and Amilla, and the Blakes.

  Ahmed had a cousin in England, a wealthy land developer recovering from an accident that had left him in a wheelchair. Ahmed had convinced him to purchase the biggest and most expensive estate in Copper Ridge. It had a charming Queen Anne house situated on a hill. His arrival would be postponed until he recuperated completely, but Ahmed said he expected to see his cousin soon. “Khalid’s an introvert,” he explained, “and his physical condition certainly didn’t improve his social skills, but he’s a good man. I’ll be happy to have him close.”

  Fifty-Three

  Astrid

  IT WAS a freezing cold and snowy late afternoon. I was at home alone and Jack was in his office in the City Hall. I expected him to return any moment.

  I heard two cars approaching the house, neither of them Jack’s truck, and peered through the window. Deputy Kowalski’s cruiser pulled into our driveway, followed by a navy-blue sedan at least ten years old. A tall, dark haired and beautiful woman in her late twenties was in the driver’s seat. A blond, delicate girl, maybe a few years younger, sat in the passenger’s seat. Mike escorted them to the door.

  “Evening, Astrid.” Mike greeted me in his deep, southern drawl and touched the brim of his black Stetson. “The ladies are lookin’ for Liv and Tristan, but they’re in Copper Ridge this weekend, so I brought them here.”

  “Of course. Please come in. It’s freezing outside.” I stepped aside and let them in.

  The willowy blonde introduced herself as Lydia Watson. I recognized the name. She was Darius’s ex-girlfriend from Scotland.

  Even before I heard the name of Lidia’s companion, I guessed who she was: Lanni Blackwell, Jack’s big heartache and Livia’s recent protégé.

  She was stunning: tall, slim, curved in all the right places. With her thick, rich auburn hair, high forehead and cheekbones, beautiful eyes the color of whiskey, ivory-white skin, full lips and small nose, she looked alluring, classy, s
ensual and challenging.

  I didn’t know the exact reasons why Livia had disliked Lanni during the time Jack and she had dated, but I could understand why Jack had been attracted to her: Lanni Blackwell was a woman with a capital W.

  I glanced at the fair, petite Lydia. She was tired and shivered visibly. Lanni, on the contrary, didn’t seem affected by the long drive and cold weather.

  Now it was time to learn how these two had ended up in Red Cliffs.

  Lanni apologized for disturbing me, and, glancing toward Mike, asked if she and I could talk in private.

  Mike didn’t budge. Leaning against the kitchen cabinets, his arms crossed over his chest, he kept his eyes on the two women and remained in my close proximity.

  “Mike, do you mind making a pot of tea? Lydia, please sit closer to the fireplace, you’re shaking. Mike, find Lydia a blanket.” I turned to Lanni. “We can go to my office.”

  “Astrid, why don’t we wait here until Jack returns? I phoned him. He’s on his way.”

  I gave Mike a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Mike. Lanni is Jack and Liv’s friend and Lydia knows my brother well.”

  Lydia’s eyes widened. “I don’t think I know your brother.”

  “Darius is my brother.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know he had a sister,” she said even more confused.

  “Stepsister, in fact, but it’s a long story.” I smiled. “You’ll hear it one day.”

  “I BELIEVE you know what happened to me last spring,” Lanni said when I closed the door. She stopped and made a vague motion toward the living room. “He can’t hear us, can he?”

  “No, the room’s soundproofed.”

  “All right, then. My ex-husband almost killed me. Jack came to the hospital, along with Livia and Ingmar. I was a hair’s-breadth from death. Liv thought it would be best for me to become one of her kind. And I’m grateful and honored. She didn’t have a very high opinion of me before, maybe you know that.”

  “I know. But that’s changed.”

  “Yes. And that means the world to me.”

  “Livia was completely convinced you were a decent human being, otherwise she would have never given you her own blood,” I said. “It’s very dangerous turning an individual with serious personality issues, regardless of the race, into another kind.”

  Lanni smiled. “I’m sure she conducted her own security clearance before she turned me.” She ran her fingers through her hair and let out a deep sigh. “See. I was just a human, I didn’t know about Langaer. Liv says that’s the name for all of you… all of us, I mean. I didn’t know that Jack was any different from me when…”

  I helped her. “When you two dated.”

  She nodded. “It took me a while to accept it, but now I’m content with who I’ve become. Well, most of the time, at least. Anyhow, after I recovered, Livia and I stayed in contact. She helped me to deal not only with the change, but also with everything that happened before I ended up in the hospital, almost dead—emotional and physical abuse, loss of self-confidence and respect, loneliness... I recovered physically. I’m still recovering emotionally. It takes longer for those wounds to heal.”

  “Livia likes you and she feels responsible for you since she made you one of her kind.”

  “She granted me longevity, excellent health and sharp senses, but I’m afraid I still need her help. There’re too many changes in my life.”

  “Of course there are. You must not go through it alone, Lanni.”

  “I feel lost,” she said quietly. “Liv and Tristan told me to always count on their help and support, they even offered to stay with me for a while, but I thought I’d try it on my own first. It’s difficult. I still need help. I don’t feel I belong to the human world anymore.”

  “You’ve made the right decision to come here, Lanni. You’ll be among your kind. We’ll help you to adapt, don’t worry.”

  “We’d need formal permission to reside here, right?”

  “Consider it done. Jack and my mother will grant it. Or I will.”

  “When are Livia and Tristan coming back? Should we continue to Copper Ridge?”

  “They’re in Copper Ridge till Monday. We’ll call them there, but feel free to stay here with us until they return. Now tell me, how did Lydia become a part of this? Does she know Darius is engaged to Jack’s sister?”

  Lanni confirmed it with a quick nod. “She knows. She isn’t in love with him anymore, but she still regards him as a friend. Lydia and I met accidentally. Her parents died in a car accident last summer. She was the only child, and her only relative was an old aunt in San Francisco, who also died in October. She left Lydia a small house and some money. Lydia decided to move to the States. Long story short, we both used to have lunch at an eatery near the hospital where I worked. We became friends.

  “She mentioned once she’d had a boyfriend back in Scotland, who was originally from a small town in Colorado, Copper Ridge. I remembered Jack talking about that place being the closest town to Red Cliffs. I knew Livia and Tristan moved here. Anyway, Lydia couldn’t get a job and the money she inherited started melting away quickly. She didn’t have any relatives or friends except me. I’d already decided to see Liv, so I convinced Lydia to come with me. I couldn’t leave her there. She’s sort of my family now.”

  LANNI AND Lydia stayed with us for a few more days. Jack spoke to my mother and Ahmed, and they invited them both to Copper Ridge. Lydia accepted a job as a music teacher and a part-time librarian.

  As for Lanni, there had been several openings for a pediatric nurse in both towns. She decided to take one in the Copper Ridge hospital. Ahmed found her to be hardworking and reliable. She was a part of Ella’s pediatric team, and my grandmother said she’d never worked with a more competent and compassionate nurse. Even Peyton had reluctantly admitted that Lanni had changed for good.

  Lydia and Lanni rented Arina Landau’s house. Arina had some close relatives in Winston, so she had decided to stay there for a while.

  Soon Lydia and Mike started dating. Lanni seemed content with her single life. “Don’t be surprised,” said my mother, who’d also become Lanni’s friend. “She was an abused woman. Her wounds might not be bleeding, but the scars are still fresh. She’ll need to learn how to trust men again. It takes time, but she’ll be fine.”

  Fifty-Four

  Astrid

  I PARTED the curtains and glanced through the window. It had started snowing in heavy, wet clumps of flakes, and soon the ground was covered with sticky slush. It looked dramatic, but in fact it was likely the last snowfall this spring, and the snow would melt soon.

  Jack had gone to Copper Ridge this morning. I expected him back soon. Rosie turned one month old today, and Jack and I had planned a small family celebration later that evening.

  Rosie was peacefully sleeping in her living room crib. According to Jack’s parenting theory, somebody always had to be in the room with Rosie so that she could hear, smell and feel us as soon as she was awake. As a result, she ended up with four cribs. One was in the nursery room, which hadn’t been in use at all; the second one in our bedroom, although she preferred sleeping in our bed. The only crib she occasionally tolerated was the one in the living room, although she was happier sleeping sprawled across somebody’s chest. The last crib was across the lawn, at her grandparents’ house, and served for decorative purposes only. Grandpa James wouldn’t let her out of his arms, sleeping or awake.

  I walked to the crib and looked at her, suppressing an urge to take her in my arms. My eyes got misty and my chest swelled with emotions. I gently brushed a soft, silky lock from her forehead.

  “You look so much like your daddy,” I whispered the same sentence for the umpteenth time, breathing in her sweet baby scent.

  As if she could hear me, my daughter stirred, opened her eyes and smiled.

  I took her out of the crib and gently pressed her against my breasts. Together we sat in the nursery chair, an old and beautiful piece that Brian had made for Bett
y when Jack was born, and for a while we just gently rocked back and forth, back and forth…

  Rosie made a soft baby sound and looked at me with her eyes, already amberish instead of the dark blue color she’d been born with. She turned her head toward my breast, heavy with milk, and opened the sweet button of her mouth.

  “Oh, we’re hungry, huh?”

  I unbuttoned my shirt and unclasped the nursing bra, guiding my nipple to Rosie’s open mouth. She expertly latched onto it and started sucking hungrily, relieving the painful pressure in my breast. I stroked her silky cheeks, singing an old song to her softly. Rosie liked when we sang to her.

  When she was done with both sides, I changed her soaked diaper and put her back into her crib. She didn’t like it, of course, and protested loudly. I took her out and we resumed our position in the rocking chair.

  d-e-c-C-G, my phone hummed some time later. Rosie turned her head toward the source of the sound.

  “Your daddy, Rosie… Hello, gorgeous!”

  “Hey, baby. The storm caught me half way home. I’ll be at least one hour late,” Jack said.

  “Don’t drive fast, Jack,” I said. “The storm’s not going to last long, but nobody should be on the road now, not even a blaidd.”

  “I’m driving twenty miles per hour. I’d be at home faster if I transformed and ran. Hey, have you practiced today?”

  “Yup. Grandpa James came this morning to baby-sit so that I could go to the studio and sing. I’ve recorded the first aria, O zittre nicht, mein lieber Sohn. It sounds amazing!”

  “I know it does, baby. Just keep practicing.”

  I smiled. Jack was as proud as if I’d gotten a contract with EMI Classics.

  I expected he would ask me more about the aria I’d recorded today, but he steered the conversation to his recent favorite topic—our wedding. I realized how much it meant to Jack. And to me.