Scotia's Grave

by T L Harty

  “Rick, what if I told you that I’ve wondered what it would be like to sleep with other men?”

  “That’s normal. You’re inexperienced and young, which is exactly why I want to marry you and make sure that will never happen.”

  He walked over to where I sat and started kissing my neck.

  “I want this neck to be mine,” he whispered. “These ears…”

  He named every part of me while he kissed or touched it, claiming it as his own. Our conversation quickly became forgotten and words were exchanged for noises of pleasure.

  _________________

  The next morning, I came into the kitchen to find everyone chatting and laughing. Not being awake long enough to appreciate conversation, I went to the toaster to prepare a light breakfast. Judging by the dishes in the sink, they had all eaten their morning meal together. How nice for them, I thought, sarcastically. I eventually sat at the table, crunching on my toast.

  “Rick was telling us about your whirlwind romance,” Gramps said.

  My head nodded up in down, to acknowledge his words.

  “Yes,” Grammy said, “what an interesting change of heart. One day he’s setting you up with his best friend and, the next, he can’t live without you…”

  Her words slowly trailed off. I could tell by the way she suspiciously looked over her glasses at me, as she sipped her coffee, that she was deeply skeptical. No words were exchanged between us, but Grammy’s glance stirred my suspicions once again.

  She didn’t relent, “So, Rick, what is it about Muriel that you love?”

  “The easier question would be: what’s not to love?” Rick gushed. “She’s intelligent, beautiful, funny, kind…she makes me so happy!”

  Still too early to speak, but in fairness to the conversation, I would have said that I’m fairly smart, decent looking, and not all that kind. If I make him happy, I’ve also equally frustrated him. Being in love had skewed Rick’s judgment.

  Taking another bit of toast, a vision of me holding a letter on a beach fogged up my thoughts for a couple of minutes. I was sitting in a chair, straining to see the words, but they weren’t clear. It looked like Grammy’s distinctive handwriting. The chewing brought me back.

  “Wayne, why don’t you go show Rick your plot of land over in the valley?” Grammy suggested. “Muriel and I have some important girl-stuff to discuss.”

  “I’d like that. I have something I’d like to ask you, Wayne,” Rick said.

  Rick winked at me and I wondered if he planned to ask Gramps for my hand in marriage. My dad wouldn’t give him the green light, but getting the OK from Gramps marked a pretty impressive seal of approval.

  I offered Rick first dibs at a shower, but he decided to take one when he got back from Gramp’s tour, not knowing what he’d encounter. When I went to shower, I could see Rick and Gramps out the window, walking around the garden.

  Stepping in the shower and letting the warm water wash over me, calmed my nerves. So far, everything had been going well. Sometimes Rick could come across as conceited or privileged, but he’d been respectful to my grandparents. Well, except for what we did in Gramp’s workshop, but that was equally my fault.

  Dizziness came upon me and I braced myself on the tiled, shower walls to stay upright. The vision of my wedding came into view. The same vision that I had on campus, the night Rick walked me home. I traveled down the aisle in a wedding gown, approaching my soon-to-be husband and wanting to see his face so badly. Straining. Curious. After arriving at the front of the church, I looked over to see a man in a tuxedo smiling back at me. I didn’t recognize him.

  I inhaled in surprise, hearing a voice call my name. Grammy had been knocking at the door.

  “Muriel…Muriel.”

  “Come in, Grammy,” I answered.

  A shriek sounded from outside.

  I slid the shower curtain back a smidge. “Gramps showed Rick a king snake?” I asked.

  Grammy looked outside the small, open window and nodded up and down, before lowering the toilet cover to take a seat.

  “He’s getting predictable in his old age,” I said, moving the shower curtain back into place.

  “Are you kidding? He’s been predictable for decades.” Grammy seemed to take a minute before broaching the next subject.

  “So…do you love him?”

  I kept the curtain shut, stopping my soaping ritual. The bar of soap and wash cloth, each frozen in a different hand.

  “He treats me so well.”

  “Not what I asked.”

  “He loves me so much!”

  “Again, Muriel…not what I asked.”

  “I don’t know,” I finally admitted. “Sometimes, I’m not certain what love even means…or how it’s supposed to feel.”

  Confessing that truth out loud brought relief.

  “Until you do, you shouldn’t get married.”

  She quietly left the bathroom. She was right, of course, but I’d made a promise to him. I had decided.

  After a couple of hours, Gramps and Rick returned from the other property. They washed up for lunch. Gramps offered Rick a beer, which meant that Gramps fully approved of him. Grammy, on the other hand, busily prepared lunch in the kitchen, giving no indication of approval.

  We enjoyed the meal and chatted about various topics, and then everyone pitched in to clear the table. After placing the condiments in the fridge, I turned around to find Rick on one knee, holding an empty box.

  “You already wear the ring. And I’ve asked you more than once, but I’ll ask you again, here, in the place you call home. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  He rose, scooping me up in his arms and planting a kiss on me. Gramps clapped. When Rick put me down, the expression on Grammy’s face lacked joy. She feigned a smile, but the attempt proved unconvincing.

  A vision tried to force its way into my mind, but I shut it down, refusing to see anything that would change my decision.

  “Maybe you should take a wee bit of time to think on this. You’re both so young,” Grammy suggested.

  “Not too young that we don’t know exactly what we want,” Rick said, smiling and hugging my hip into his.

  “There’s an old tradition in Ireland that says you need to lick the top of the dog’s head of your future bride. I welcome you to use one of our dogs,” Grammy said.

  I had been around Grammy long enough to know when she spun a tale and had never heard of this dog-licking custom.

  “No, thank you,” Rick said, seemingly disgusted by the suggestion.

  “It’s not that bad. I’m sure if Muriel asked you to, you’d do it.”

  “No, ma’am,” Rick replied. “I’m not planning on licking a dog any time soon.”

  Grammy raised her eyebrows over her glasses, looking at me…daring me to ask.

  “Would you please lick the dog, Rick?” I asked, feeling foolish.

  Rick went over to one of my grandparent’s dogs and licked him on the top of his head. He turned back around, removing hair off his tongue.

  “That’s kinda what I thought. He seems to be under your spell,” Grammy said, hinting.

  Grammy and I looked at each other, the anger rising in me.

  “I’m going to get some water,” Rick said. “I need to get this dog taste out of my mouth.”

  While Rick sputtered at the sink, Grammy swiftly grabbed my arm and brought me to the furthest corner of the kitchen, opposite Rick.

  “There’s something going on here, Muriel that I don’t think either of us fully understands. You mustn’t marry him. Not yet. A windy day is not the day to be fixin’ your thatch.”

  “At least that’s an actual Irish saying. Lick a dog’s head? What are you playing at and why are you reading more into this than you should, Grammy?”

  “I don’t think I am. Ask him to do anything…something ridiculous, that he would never do on his own.”

  Still looking into Grammy’s eyes, I accepted the challenge. Without
looking away from her, but raising my voice, enough for Rick to hear, I gave him the ludicrous instruction.

  “Rick, stab yourself with a knife.”

  Confidently, I kept my eyes locked with Grammy’s, cocking my head a bit sideways to further express my lack of concern…until we both heard a scream from the corner of the kitchen. Rick had a knife sticking out of his hand.

  We both ran to him, Grammy immediately going into nurse-mode. She inspected the area and then carefully removed the knife and applied pressure.

  “It looks like he missed any major veins. He’ll need to go to the hospital, though.”

  Looking on in horror, I grabbed the countertop to help me stay upright.

  “Rick, what the hell were you thinking?” I yelled.

  He grimaced through the pain and explained that he would do anything for me. Grammy and Gramps led him to the car, while I quickly gathered our things. While backing up, out of the drive, I said that we’d go straight back to San Jose from town.

  The emergency room deserted, Rick got called in to see the doctor in no time. Stitches were needed, but the numbing shot in the hand was the most painful part of the process. As he cried out in pain, my sympathy levels were low. What kind of dumbass stabs his hand like that? On purpose!

  The doctor asked how this happened and I took the blame, citing clumsiness. Had Rick told the truth, I feared he would be put in a psych ward.

  I drove us back to campus, my mind racing, while Rick slept in a painkiller-induced fog.

  Chapter 22- A New Land

  There would be much to discuss in the council meeting today...a combination of new beginnings, old traditions and painful goodbyes.

  After lunch, Tina, Macy, Clio, Anne and I gathered in the throne room. Macy instructed the guards to wait outside. The door creaked open, right after it had been shut. Macy turned, ready to yell at someone, but Tracy entered the room.

  She apologized for being late and explained there had been an accident on the highway that held her up. Today, she greeted me with a grin of concerned pity. I rolled my eyes slightly, never knowing what behavior to expect from the history maven.

  “O.K,” Clio started, as we all took our seats. “This meeting is deemed runda.”

  Everyone smacked the top of the table and repeated in unison, “runda.”

  “Topics of discussion will be as follows: Moving our headquarters to a new location, Danu’s third ceremony, a replacement for Bridget and the loss of Deidra Gallagher to the dark druids.”

  When Clio finished with the agenda for the meeting, she asked if anyone needed help getting their belongings ready for the move to our new location. My heart dropped into my stomach. What if Deidra changed her mind and came looking for us? What if she needed me?

  “If she wants to get in touch with you, she can stop taking the potion,” Anne said, as though she were reading my mind.

  “I’d like us all to be packed up before we leave for Ireland tomorrow.”

  “What? We’re going to Ireland?” I asked.

  They all looked at me with forgiving glances because of the circumstances over the last couple of weeks, but their concern irritated me.

  “Your third ceremony can only be completed in Ireland,” Tina said. “I’m sure someone told you that.”

  “I don’t think anyone’s had time,” Macy added. “Do you even know what your final ceremony entails?”

  “That’s my fault,” Clio admitted. “With everything that’s been happening…”

  “I’m going to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.” The small bathroom in the hall stood mercifully vacant. After closing the door behind me, I took deep breaths. My reflection in the mirror showed a woman who seemed to have everything together on the outside, but her eyes gave her away.

  “You are a queen, you’re a queen, you are a queen,” I repeated. The reminder gave me strength. Heading back to the throne room, I sneezed. The “bless you” startled me. It became easy to forget that the guards were always around.

  “Thank you,” I said, turning to smile at the guard. His face caught me off guard. I knew him from somewhere, but struggled to recall our life’s intersection.

  Once I had returned to the meeting, the final ceremony and its purpose were explained.

  “You will go to the hill of Tara and be inaugurated as queen,” Tracy explained. “All ancient royalty in Ireland began their reign in this manner. You will be no different.”

  “How many Irish queens have there been through history?” I wondered.

  Tracy snickered. “There have been many, but because they were married to a king. You will not be like the others. You will rule as queen and if you ever decide to take a husband, you can make him a Prince or give him dozens of other titles, much like Queen Elizabeth has done for her husband, but he will never be called king.”

  “Very well,” Clio interjected. “We leave for Ireland tomorrow. The inauguration is planned three days from now. Macy, we’ll need four guards to travel with us. Anne has scheduled the movers to empty out Castle Danu after we leave, so I think we’re all set.”

  “We can interview Bridget’s replacements when we get to Dublin,” Tina mentioned. “Fergus has a list of three candidates, one of which might be a good fit.”

  “Meeting adjourned,” Clio said. “Tracy and Danu, please stay seated, as there is something you need to discuss.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “What about Deidra?”

  Everyone else left the throne room, while Tracy poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the table and filled my glass up again. She took a sip from the glass, slowly lowering it back on the table, as a sigh escaped.

  She rummaged around in a large tote bag, where many of her books and treasures were stored. Once she found what she had searched for, she set the shiny object in front of me. A silver rattle, with a pink ribbon attached to it. The rattle held no special meaning or memory for me. Confused, I looked to Tracy for answers. Her face contorted with pain, while she struggled to fight back tears.

  I took a sip of water, hoping the gesture would give her time to compose herself. The sudden display of emotion became awkward for us both.

  “That rattle belonged to my daughter,” Tracy said, voice trembling. “Her name is Orla, which means golden princess.”

  Tracy smiled, but the pain hidden behind her expression was palpable. She ran her hand across the rattle, deep in thought.

  “They’ll break your heart,” she whispered.

  I shifted in my chair, trying to find a comfortable spot, which proved impossible to accomplish.

  “All this time and I didn’t even know you had a child.”

  “I used to have a child, years ago, until she turned sixteen and left. I haven’t seen her since.” Tracy lowered her eyes to her lap and raised them again. “That’s often how it works. Every other generation of women in the line will choose the different path.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “No. I wouldn’t expect you to…not until now. Deidra has chosen the darker route. And I apologize, because there were signs that I consciously ignored or disregarded in an effort to spend more time with Deidra…attempting to fill a void that Orla’s absence left in my life. It was wrong and foolish.”

  “What kind of signs?”

  “The dark druidess line seemed to fascinate her. She asked questions about their motivation and constantly read the book in the basement…the true “Book of Deidra.” Has she always been so mature?”

  I nodded, to affirm her suggestion. I got up and opened the shutters and doors to the balcony, the warmth from outside rushed over me. Tracy followed me out on the balcony. Our shared pain gave way to a comfort level between us.

  I looked out over the tall trees, up into the mountains. “Why are we here, Tracy? What’s the point?” They were rhetorical questions, hanging in the air.

  “Ah, yes, the meaning of life. I would like some answers myself,” Tracy joked.

  The breeze lifted her hair u
p behind her, making her look majestic.

  “I think we have a life that is ours for a time, until we have children. Then our lives become our children,” Tracy mused. “As important as you are, Muriel, it’s Deidra that carries out our future line. We must help guide her to the truth.”

  “What, exactly, is the truth?”

  “That we aren’t nearly as important as we think we are. Life will teach us that, bruise us…bat us around a bit. I mean, you’re a queen and you don’t have it easy.” Tracy shook her head before continuing. “Being a woman is the most lovely blessing and painful curse.”

  “How am I going to make a difference as a Queen?”

  “We’ll raise money for important causes and charities, our followers will marry politicians and business leaders so we can exact change in the world, we’ll take care of one another and right many wrongs. We’ll be very powerful, when we all pledge ourselves to you.”

  “Who says I’ll make all the right choices?”

  “You won’t. That’s why you have a council. Unless we decide unanimously on something, it won’t happen. The history of the tribe of Dan, which begat the Line of Enya, clearly records that the anti-Christ also comes from our line. The tribe of Dan has the same potential for evil as it does for good. We have to enact checks and balances.”

  Silence lingered between us for a time. Deidra rushed into my mind, running toward the waves in her youth, with such a carefree spirit about her. And for a brief moment, I saw her in a present-day vision. She and Owen were walking on a beach together.

  The sight of Deidra disappeared when Tracy touched my hand, tears in her eyes. We hugged; our heart’s both heavy from thoughts of our daughters.

  “C’mon, we need to get ready for Ireland,” I said.

  When leaving the throne room, I saw the familiar guard. He must have been on duty because he followed me up to my quarters. Outside the door, I motioned him to come in. He did as instructed.

  “I feel like I know you,” I said.

  “You knew me for a short time,” he confessed, with a grin on his face that also toyed with my memory. I raised my hand to silence him, in case he wanted to give me any further clues.