Scotia's Grave

by T L Harty

  “Please drive carefully,” he pleaded. He hugged me. “Don’t come back here again. It might not be safe,” he instructed.

  Driving away, my personal triumph made me want to smile. However, the guilt wouldn’t allow it. When I got back to the house, I adjusted my wardrobe back to the grandfather-approved version before exiting the car. He would normally have gone to bed, but he would’ve waited up for me as long as it took. If I wasn’t home when Grammy arrived, he would have been the target of her wrath.

  “Good,” Gramps said. “I’m relieved you’re home. I’m going to head off to bed now.”

  His eyes were bloodshot because he stayed up until almost 9 p.m. - two hours past his normal bedtime. We hugged and bid each other goodnight. He went straight to his bedroom, while I removed my make-up and donned my pajamas.

  The excitement of the evening had made me forget the scrapes and bruises all over, but the pain resurfaced after leaving the lake. I took an aspirin to help me sleep. Falling asleep wasn’t coming quickly, especially with so much on my mind.

  Grammy once told me that she hoped I’d be responsible with my beauty. It now became clear what she meant. I planned the evening like a carefully played game of chess. My instincts were right on the money, and I knew how everyone would act based on my observations from the day before.

  Travis desired to be more like Grant, but didn’t have the confidence to act. Grant had a lot of confidence, which caused him to act too aggressively. I knew he would try to make a move on me. All his decisions were made as though the universe revolved around him. Others merely existed for his pleasure and purpose. It was easy to see Grant’s selfishness. Corey wanted to be helpful and make good decisions. If Travis didn’t do something to protect me from Grant- Corey would for sure.

  This was day one of my new life and an arrest record on the first day didn’t seem like the fresh start I’d envisioned. I wanted Grant to act inappropriately to ensure that he wouldn’t press charges for the theft of his precious boat.

  There were pangs of guilt because of the way I manipulated tonight’s outcome but, on the whole, it felt really good to have things go my way.

  It was something I could easily get used to.

  Chapter 4- The Library

  After a couple of days, I went to see Bruce. Bridget had cooked up a tonic that would lull the baby to sleep without any adverse side effects for me or the baby. Directions that accompanied the tonic were that it shouldn’t be taken on an empty stomach and only taken once a day. So, I drank it a couple hours after breakfast. Morning sickness was still a very real possibility and why risk the tonic making it worse?

  I entered Bruce’s apartment slowly, quietly climbing the staircase to the bed. Bruce lay in bed, reading a book, but smiled when he saw me. He put the book aside and raised both his arms up to invite a hug. It felt good to be in his arms again, being careful not to hurt him or make him strain.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “Pretty good given everything I’ve been through. The doctor said I should be good as new in a month. It’s hard to believe I didn’t know when I injured myself because this was so painful,” he explained.

  I sat on his bedside, stroking his hair- knowing that the doctor must have lied to him. “Well, that’s good to hear, Bruce. You had me so worried!”

  “Clio said the first suitor is coming tomorrow to meet Deidra. It will be strange to meet my sons.”

  “He’ll be here around noon and I imagine it would be strange. Did you know they come with a little resume of sorts? It lists things they like to do, foods they don’t eat, compatible traits and so on. Tomorrow, we’re expecting someone named Braden.”

  “I’ll be going down to meet him,” Bruce said. “I won’t be out of bed long or dancing around, but I’d like to shake his hand…get a good look at him.”

  The baby started moving, so I patted Bruce’s hand. “Well, I don’t want to keep you from your rest, so I’ll be going.”

  “You just got here,” he said.

  “I’ll visit again tonight, if I can get away,” I promised.

  We kissed goodbye. Even his injury didn’t stop the kiss from being passionate. I was falling in love, but nothing saddened me more than knowing I bore some responsibility for him lying in that bed.

  Before tears could well up in my eyes, I rushed down the stairs of his bedroom and out the front door of the apartment.

  Clio and Tracy were walking by, possibly on their way to the library. After they passed, Clio turned around. “Would you like to join us, Muriel?”

  “It’s too soon,” Tracy told Clio, under her breath. Clio waved her hand at Tracy as though the words she spoke would not affect her invitation.

  “What are you doing?” I wondered.

  “Reviewing a little history,” Tracy quickly announced, knowing full well that history could put me off any invitation. They both must have seen my eyes glaze over.

  “And then we’ll be going over the plan to avenge your grandparent’s death,” Clio shared. That snapped me to attention, like Clio knew it would. Everything inside me ached to be a part of that plan somehow.

  Trying to answer calmly, as if only mildly interested, I responded, “I can spare an hour or two.” I also shrugged, attempting to add to the nonchalant response.

  They turned back toward the library and I followed, feeling like a child at the heels of their parents. Tracy shut the doors, shooting a look at Clio to make sure she was certain. Clio merely nodded.

  “Before we get started,” Tracy said, as she took a seat, “I want to apologize again for the way we got you to the castle and my part in it.” I tried to speak, but Tracy raised her hand. “I neither care for your forgiveness or lack of it.” The small, forced smile that crossed her lips didn’t express enjoyment.

  “The more I’ve gotten to know you,” Tracy continued, “the less I like you.” I tried to speak again, but she raised her hand. “You’re going to sit in that chair with your mouth shut and listen. You’ll not insult the history of our people or their memory, in my presence, with your selfish interests. You will not question what I’ll share with you today. If you have questions or don’t understand something I explain, this library is filled with answers, as is the book in the basement. The other women here and Deidra also know everything I’m going to tell you. Your daughter is a marvel and I’ve enjoyed teaching her.”

  The compliment about Deidra was very nice, but Tracy’s tone and demeanor left me stunned. Wasn’t I supposed to be her leader, too? Is this how they treat their so-called queen? Looking to Clio for some sort of guidance didn’t help. She merely nodded in Tracy’s direction as though it would be best to pay close attention.

  When I looked back at Tracy, no remnant of the fake smile could be found. She retrieved a large notebook, similar to one that would house an art portfolio. “This is the book I use to teach our history,” Tracy said. “I admit there hasn’t been much cause to open this until recently. When we initially spoke, I told you that our people were called Toec and that we were part of the Celts, which is true.” I nodded my head, remembering our first meeting.

  “We need to travel back further in history and explain how some of our people arrived in Austria, before reaching Ireland.” Tracy pointed to a map in the notebook. “This is the beginning, Muriel. Do you know where this is?”

  Her finger landed on the first page of the book, east of the Mediterranean Sea.

  “That looks like the middle east,” I responded.

  Tracy ran her finger along the coast. “This area, here, is where the twelve tribes of Judah settled once they came back from being enslaved in Egypt, after Moses parted the Red Sea and escaped pharaoh’s men.”

  My eyebrows raised in disbelief like they had a mind of their own.

  “I will let you speak,” Tracy offered, “if you can do it with the proper amount of respect. Choose your words wisely.”

  “If someone, let’s say, didn’t believe in this Sunday school Bible s
tory, what then?” I wondered.

  “Then you’d be wrong,” she replied, knowing I referred to myself. “I don’t have time to argue the points. Moses’ life in Egypt is well-documented. A group of archeologists, trying to disprove the exodus story, led an expedition to the depths of the Red Sea. There, they found chariot wheels stuck in the deepest parts of the sea’s bed, some of them still standing upright, but they chose not to record their findings because it didn’t make sense to them.”

  “I never heard about that,” I said.

  “Of course not,” Tracy smiled. This time, her smile was genuine. “There are thousands of discoveries that have been explained away. Seeing doesn’t always lead to belief. Faith is an important factor.”

  “What if someone doesn’t possess faith?” I asked.

  “Last question, if you want to talk about the plan,” Clio interrupted.

  Tracy became excitable, speaking quickly. “First of all, the idea that a person doesn’t possess faith is ludicrous. We incorporate faith every day. When I get on a plane, for instance, I have faith that the person in the cockpit knows how to fly a plane. When I work, I have faith that I’ll receive a paycheck. If I believe in evolution over creationism, that still requires faith because there is no concrete proof of evolution! Where is the missing link? Why is the horseshoe crab the very same animal now as it was so many years ago? Does it not require any evolution because it’s perfect? Really?! Is that the culmination of perfection and the answer to all of life’s mysteries- a horseshoe crab?”

  Tracy laughed out loud, shaking her head. Her argument had merit, which made me a little uncomfortable. My belief system was shallow, so her comments would require deeper thought.

  “Anyway,” Tracy began again, “there were the twelve tribes of Judah. One tribe named Dan originally settled on the Mediterranean coast, which included the port of Joppa. The Danites were remarkable craftsmen, traders and sea-faring people.”

  “But, like there is in any family, arguments arose. We know that the original lot of land given to the tribe of Dan became ‘lost to them.’ They weren’t the type of people-group to sit idle, so they traveled north of all the tribes and conquered a piece of land, renaming it Dan.”

  Tracy was on a roll. “Ancient prophesies tell us very little about this tribe. We know they were double-minded because they worshipped other gods and idols. The tribe was likened to a serpent or an adder in the path. This serpent would leave a path, like the Danites did.”

  “The tribe of Dan begat the Danuna people of Turkey and the Denyen sea-faring people. Ancient Greek Spartans were first called the Danaans and Denmark or Danmark, as it was originally called, means Dan’s mark. The three original people-groups that founded Ireland were said to be of the same race. The third, called Tuatha de Danann, literally means Tribe of Dan.”

  Clio jumped in, adding, “Not only did they travel to all these places, but they brought their skills as masons, ship-builders, craftsman and their gifts of wisdom. We see signs of their presence in the artifacts left behind. The Greeks called them Danoi within their culture and the Romans called them Danaus.”

  “Because they named most everything after their forefather,” Tracy added, “that is where the migration path is most visible. The Danube River, the city of Ardana, the Dinaric Alps…all names that still exist. But, there is no denying the names of Irish towns.”

  “How so?” I asked, completely captivated by this historical lesson.

  “Well, so many Irish towns begin with Dun, Don, Din, Dan…all derivations of Dan,” Tracy told me. “The pre-fix is often said to mean fort or hill-fort, but that’s inaccurate. The Irish, Gaelic word Dun means judge- just as the Hebrew word Dan means judge.”

  My head was spinning. “I need some time to absorb all this information. Clio, can we meet after dinner to talk about any planning? I’m not sure I could focus right now,” I explained.

  “Well, it’s good to know you’ll be thinking about what we talked about,” Tracy said.

  Tracy and Clio left the library. I perused the books on the shelf. I’d been in the library on several occasions, but never truly noticed the titles on the spines of the books. All the titles seemed to have historical significance- small individual volumes that contributed to a bigger picture of history. I wish it was Grammy that taught me all of this, but I didn’t give her much of a chance.

  Ann and Tina came into the library, but stopped their conversation when they saw me.

  “Hi, Muriel,” Ann said cheerily. “What are you up to? And why do you have that stunned look on your face?”

  Tina must have wondered the same thing. She waved her hand in my line of vision and said, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “No, I was talking history with Tracy and…”

  “Say no more,” Ann interrupted. “History lessons with Tracy can be a little mind-bending.”

  Tina added, “I love history, you know that, but no one takes it quite as seriously as Tracy. It’s her life’s work. She’s determined to explain everything.” Tina made big, sweeping motions with her arms to signify everything.

  “I’m not sure she wants to explain much to me,” I confessed. “She was a little rude.”

  Ann brushed away my concern. “She believes you can help her with some missing pieces of the history puzzle and she’s annoyed because, now that you’re pregnant with a rug rat, she has to wait until you give birth to know that the visions are accurate. Tracy is a lot of things, but she’s never had an ounce of patience.”

  “What were you talking about today?” Tina asked.

  “The tribe of Dan,” I answered.

  “Ah, the beginning…nice,” Tina commented.

  The three of us sat down at a table. Ann rifled through a magazine, half-listening to Tina and I talk.

  “What made you believe all of this stuff?” I asked Tina, looking around the library.

  “I had my doubts, too,” she said, “but then you discover something that makes you curious…makes you ask different questions, ya know?”

  “Give me an example of something that made you ask those questions,” I said.

  “When you visited me at Trinity with your grandmother- that was definitely one of those times,” she said.

  “Give me a different example,” I pressed.

  Tina got up, grabbing a book off the shelf. She set it down in front of both of us. The title read: The Three Harps of Ireland. I flipped through the pages to find text and photographs. She then started turning the pages. Once she found the paragraph she was looking for, Tina pointed on the page and asked me to read it out loud. Ann put her magazine down to listen.

  “There is no denying the importance of the harp in Irish society and what it has come to mean to the people of that country.” I looked up. Tina gave me the universal sign to keep going. “Two of these harps, made of hornbeam, are on display at the National Museum of Scotland. The third is housed at Trinity College in Dublin.”

  “Did you notice it?” Tina asked.

  “Yes. This paragraph has shed new light on my whole existence,” I answered, sarcastically. Ann grinned and went back to her magazine.

  Tina pointed to one word in the paragraph. “This word here, it makes all the difference.”

  Leaning over the book, the visible word at the tip of her finger read: hornbeam.

  “It’s a type of wood that isn’t found anywhere in the region of Ireland or Scotland,” she said. “It’s found in Turkey or modern-day Iran…where the tribes of Dan were from.”

  I shrugged. “That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe they traded wood products or it came from somewhere else.”

  Ann slapped her magazine down, while Tina looked at me in disgust. “I’ve got this one,” Ann said to Tina. “Seriously, Muriel, use your head. People who lived more than a thousand years ago used wood from their own area. There were no neighborhood lumber stores where a person could go pick up a little hornbeam for their next woodworking project.” Ann shook her head.
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  “What if the harp simply got traded for other goods?” I asked, still being stubborn.

  Tina put her hand up to stop Ann, signifying that she’d take over from here. “If this was a traded item, we would see the instrument widely used throughout other regions. Instead, the tribe of Dan carried it over the land and the harp maintained its importance when they settled in Ireland and Scotland, even parts of Britain. The Bible points to harp use throughout the tribal cultures of Israel.”

  Bridget and Macy walked into the library, joining us at the table.

  Once Tina finished her explanation, I looked over at Ann. “What made you accept all of our history as truth?”

  “I don’t know if my story will be of much help,” Ann said. “It’s a wee bit more personal than everyone else’s.” Ann looked at the other women around the table. “Have I ever told any of you about my great-great-grandmother?”

  “I don’t remember, if you did,” Bridget said.

  “You haven’t told me about her, but I read about her in our biography annals,” Macy mentioned.

  “That’s right. I forget she’s in there,” Ann said. “My great-great-grandmother was a woman named Anna Hardwick. Her husband was obviously my great-great-grandfather, but from all the stories passed down through the last couple of generations- he’s painted as a bit of an ass.”

  “They were married in 1872,” Ann continued. “They stayed together less than ten years, but long enough to have three children. She possessed the same gift that I do, but it’s likely hers was not muddled and more powerful. Anna could see that her husband didn’t love her like he should, which made her constantly accuse him of not having strong feelings for her. He would always ask Anna what kind of love she expected. She didn’t answer for a long time. And then, one day, she had too much to drink.”

  Macy inhaled in surprise, saying, “That’s never a good idea. Alcohol is like a verbal laxative, inducing diarrhea of the mouth.” Everyone at the table snickered.