by T L Harty
I examined his physique and mannerisms…anything to help solve the mystery.
“Give me one more clue, please,” I said.
“You saved my life with a whisper.”
I’d never done anything very heroic in my younger years, where this gentleman must have been situated in my history. And later, Rick didn’t like me talking to other men.
He towered over me and had dark hair. His eyes were what I recognized most, so I stared into them, while inching closer. He stood still, as I tilted my head to the side, straining to remember.
“I can whisper in your ear what you whispered in mine that day, when you’re ready for another clue.”
Having given up any chance of remembering, I nodded my head. He brushed my hair away from my ear and leaned in. It would’ve been a better idea for him to say it out loud because his proximity gave me goose bumps.
“You may find yourself on a bridge that merely needs to be crossed. Don’t ever let go.”
He stood straight up, raising an eyebrow.
“Delvin,” I said, softly.
We embraced. He kissed my cheek.
“What on Earth are you doing here?! This is crazy!”
“Not really. A lot of the guards know you.” A beep sounded inside Delvin’s shirt. “That’s my timer. We can catch up later because my shift is ending and I’ll be relieved soon.”
“O.K. Are you going to Ireland tomorrow?”
“No, I’m on the moving crew and we’ve been packing for the last couple of days. Should be done tomorrow and head out for Ireland soon. We’ll talk again. Have a good afternoon, my queen.”
I engaged the door locks, so I wouldn’t be disturbed. Everyone would be busy completing their to-do lists before we left for Ireland in the morning. After packing for the trip, I nibbled on some remaining snacks in the fridge.
Our plane and airstrip were not far from the castle. It was safer to travel under the cover of darkness, ensuring fewer witnesses to any of our activity, which meant we’d probably leave here by 4 am. It’d be better to take a shower now than wait until morning.
As soon as the warm water started rushing over me, a vision surfaced. I had seen this before, in England with Grammy. Different tribes of people were making the trek to Stonehenge, representing various time periods. Faces that were familiar to me walked by, looking in my direction: Jed, Rick, Delvin, Bruce, Liam, Douglas…
I’d ask about this strange vision on the plane. Maybe someone would have an idea.
_______________
Morning came far too soon. Although, with the absence of sunlight, calling it morning seemed wrong. We all loaded into cars and then unloaded at the airfield, so we could board the plane. Many of the guard were there to help load the baggage on board and get last minute instructions.
It appeared that Liam, Sean and two of the newer guards were boarding the plane for the trip. I made it a point to sit across from Ann, because she might be the one to best help interpret the vision, as a couple of the men were past love interests.
Sean and another guard took the seats in the cockpit.
I pointed at the cockpit, looking at Macy across the aisle and spoke the first words of my day, “What the hell is this?”
“All the guards have abilities that will come in handy. The more we can accomplish without outside hires, the better,” Macy explained. “Now pipe down and let me get some sleep.”
Macy covered her eyes with a sleep mask, but I continued to stare at her, surprised by her lack of concern.
“Good morning, this is your captain speaking and we will be taking off shortly. Please make sure all baggage is stowed and that you are in your seat and buckled. We will have a quick layover in Southwest Ireland and then a short, one-hour flight up to Dublin.”
The announcement sounded professional, but doubt still lingered as to the guard’s qualifications. I threw a small pillow at Macy, who now faced toward the back of the plane. She yanked up her sleep mask, looking angrily in my direction,
“Is he qualified to fly this thing?”
“Yes. He has a pilot license. Sean is still training for one. Goodnight.”
The four tables on the plane had four chairs around them, two chairs at each table faced forward and two faced backward. Tina sat opposite Macy, at the table across the aisle from me and Ann. Clio and Tracy sat at the table a row up from me and couldn’t be seen. Liam, another guard and one of the kitchen hands sat across the aisle, kitty-corner from my location.
The first two hours of the flight, hardly anyone stirred. The lights were dimmed and only the smell of coffee roused us. The kitchen hand moved deftly around the airplane, serving coffee, tasty quiche and fruit.
I opened the window shade to let the sun in.
“What time is it?” Clio asked, to no one particular.
“8am our time, 1pm in Ireland,” Tina answered.
“We should land in Kerry around 5 pm,” Clio announced.
People began using the restroom and milling about. I motioned for Ann to come sit by me.
“I had a vision yesterday,” I said, softly. “The last time I was in England, with my Grammy, we were traveling to Stonehenge. I saw all sorts of people traveling in the same direction. Last night, I had a vision of the same kind of thing, but people I knew were in the vision. More accurately, men I’ve known…some of them lovers or romantic interests.”
Ann looked at me, waiting for more of the story. She smiled, politely.
“So…” Ann said.
“So, do you know what that means?”
“Of course. You should know what that means.” Ann furrowed her brow with concern. “During summer and winter solstice or spring and fall equinox, our people traveled to Stonehenge to find their mate. When we moved into Ireland, we made our own stone circles. There are over a hundred that we know of. I’m sure there were more, but they’ve been destroyed over the years.”
“The stone circles were used for dating?”
“Don’t make it sound so simple. They were used for trade, education, celebration…you name it. People traveled from all around, enjoying rare times of peace.”
“What about the bodies that are buried near some of the circles? Scientists think it might be some sort of burial ground.”
“Some people died during the trip. It’s not like now. When people died, they buried them wherever they were and often times they carried them the remainder of the way, to the circles, because they felt it had more meaning to be laid to rest there. It’s similar to people today who believe in church burials.”
“Huh.” All this information required a couple minutes of thought. Ann waited patiently. “Why did these men show up in my vision last night?”
“They must be good matches and you must have met each one seven days on either side of the solstice or equinox. During that time, they can make an imprint on your heart...and more commonly, you make an imprint on theirs.”
I went down the list of men in my vision. Douglas and Delvin were summer solstice, Rick and Bruce must have been fall equinox. I met Jed when I was a baby, so I didn’t know for sure when that took place. But, I never met Liam before he came to the guard.
“That can’t be right. I didn’t meet Liam until recently, way before summer solstice.”
“Ya, well, the visions don’t lie. Maybe you don’t remember meeting him previously.”
I looked over at Liam who chatted with Clio toward the front of the plane. He caught me staring. I clumsily averted my gaze to the second guard who still slept snugly in his chair. His face stirred memories in me that had long been forgotten.
I got up and moved closer, kneeling down in front of him to better view his face that leaned to one side. Losing my balance a bit, my hand grazed his knee. He woke quickly, looking at first like he was about to strike me…but, softening when his eyes focused.
“Corey?”
Chapter 23- Intervention
Time flew once Rick and I returned to school. It wasn’t long before
Christmas break plans were being discussed.
Rick wanted me to fly back to Vermont with him for the holidays. He presented the trip like a fairytale, complete with family dinners, skiing, carols and opening gifts by the fire. I pictured much of that, but with the addition of nasty glares and biting remarks. The likelihood of Rick’s family accepting me with open arms had the same odds of my father welcoming Rick. Slim to none.
Unbeknownst to Rick, my Christmas plans were made a long time ago. A bunch of us from Marine World, after a bonfire, had decided to meet up in Tahoe the day after Christmas. Someone had access to a large family home in the area. Close to a dozen people planned to arrive there on or around the 26th and stay for a week. We’d celebrate New Year’s, too. Drinking, gambling, skiing…it’s what any nineteen year old with a fake ID should be doing. Much closer to reality than spending time with future in-laws.
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to come to Vermont?”
“Yes. It’s for a couple of short weeks. We’ll be OK. The break will be nice.”
“Why do you always say things like that? I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too.”
And I would miss him, but I’d regret not going to see my family at Christmas or spending New Year’s in Tahoe.
I arrived at the grandparent’s house three days before Christmas. It needed to be timed correctly in case my mother decided to join us. Although, now that I had a car, the possibility of escape made me hopeful that patience could be maintained.
Driving up to the house, I could see the front porch decorated with lighting and a stuffed Santa comfortably seated in a rocker. Gramps rigged up a mechanism that made Santa’s chair rock back and forth. The movement disturbed Grammy, but the decorations outside the house fell into Gramp’s domain and Grammy couldn’t control everything (as much as she’d like to).
It would have been nice to knock on the door and surprise them, but the dogs would never allow that. They barked feverishly as soon as the car passed over the gravel. They ran back and forth, barking through the fence, until they recognized the weary traveler exiting the vehicle. Then, whimpers and cries ensued as I made my way to the gate for a proper hello.
Grammy and Gramps were soon to follow with their greetings. We lugged the bags and gifts up to the house. When I walked in, Perry Como could be heard crooning holiday songs, at high volumes, through Grammy’s cassette player. This was Christmas.
Every inch inside the living room and kitchen had been accosted with some bit of Christmas décor. The bathroom had touches of Christmas, but the bedrooms lay untouched. It had always been done that way, for as long as I could remember.
The tree stood beautifully in the only available corner of the living room, smelling of pine and dripping with ornaments. It poised between Gramp’s chair and the bookshelf, the colorful lights reflecting off the tinsel.
Somewhere, wrapped under the tree, were my new pair of pajamas. Grammy thought I was too grown up for them a couple of years ago and I threw a fit, demanding pajamas be brought back and the tradition not be lost.
“How is Rick doing?” Grammy asked.
“He’s fine. His hand is good as new.”
The question served as a way to find out if we were still dating. She was much too clever to go the direct route, with the possibility of offending.
“That’s good,” Grammy said, pretending to care about his well-being.
“Supper will be ready soon,” Gramps said. “Go ahead and put your stuff away.”
I retreated to the back bedrooms with my two small suitcases, realizing Gramps probably thought two suitcases meant this visit would be a long one. But, one suitcase had been packed for Tahoe. It wasn’t a good idea to leave it in the car because temperatures could range wildly from day to night and I had packed makeup in the Tahoe bag.
The alarm clock in Grammy’s bedroom displayed the time at 2:45pm. Supper fell between 3-4pm every afternoon…life happened earlier in the country. The grandparents still retired for the evening in the seven o’clock hour, unless special occasions arose.
So, when 8pm rolled around and they didn’t show any signs of their normal bedtime routine…it made me curious because my presence didn’t qualify as a special occasion.
“Why aren’t you and Gramps in bed?”
Normally, after they went to bed, I’d watch TV and eat cheese. Tonight I might even shake a few gifts under the tree or sample some food meant for Christmas. They both shifted in their chairs, nervously watching the clocks. It finally dawned on me.
“Is mom coming?”
“Yes. She should have been here by now,” Gramps confessed.
“Ah, yes, the poster child for punctuality, so I can understand your concern,” I said.
They both allowed the comment to go unchallenged because they knew it rang with truth and I had reason to be sarcastic when it came to my so-called mother.
“Goodnight,” I said.
I retreated to the bedroom to read and avoid an awkward greeting. The window was cracked slightly and the fresh air did me in. I could barely keep my eyes open, going in and out of consciousness until sleep overcame me.
The next morning, I saw that Grammy still lay resting in her bed when I woke up. She slowly opened her eyes, smiling at me across the thin pathway that ran between our twin beds.
“You do realize it’s seven in the morning,” I said. “Between you staying up late last night and still being in bed, I’m afraid the whole world has gone mad.”
She grabbed her glasses off the shelf, above her head, and sat up. She then proceeded to leave the bedroom in her pajamas. No robe. No bra. What the…
I followed her out of the room and trailed her into the kitchen, where Gramps sat at the table.
“Did she ever make it in, Wayne?”
“Yes. She’s still in bed. I’m not sure when she got in because I fell asleep.”
Grammy appeared satisfied with the news and retreated back to the bedroom to properly get ready for the day. I joined Gramps at the table after putting a couple of bread slices in the toaster.
“Do you think you and your mom can get along?” Gramps asked, out of the blue.
I shrugged my shoulders, not prepared to answer that question definitively.
“Well, it’s Christmas. You should try.”
The bread popped up in the toaster, giving me an excuse to leave the table. I loved Gramps, but he could never comprehend the complexities that circled the women in his life. He wanted everyone to get along, naïve to the odds of that happening. When the three of us were together, the chances of all hell breaking loose was the safe bet.
I ate my toast in silence, not wanting to disrespect Gramps with a rebuttal. Just the fact that she arrived in the middle of the night could be a potential argument. It had taken years of practice, but I had mastered the art of ignoring my mother…of caring very little about her version of events or wild tales.
Grammy, however, was still highly invested in her daughter: what she liked, choices she made and how she spent her time. Grammy also tried to coach her on how to be a good mother to me. If Christmas wasn’t going to be as harmonious as Gramps had hoped, the trouble would stem from his wife. Her unsolicited advice and judgment brought more than one family holiday to a screeching halt.
A few minutes went by and Grammy came into the kitchen, properly dressed. She started to extract items from the fridge.
“Would you like to help me make breakfast for your mother, Muriel?”
“No, but if you want me to vacuum Gramp’s room, I will.”
I ate the last few bites of toast, in hopes it would quell any further snide remarks. We all knew the breakfast food aroma was Grammy’s ploy to rouse her. Grammy set out making mom some sort of elaborate omelet, while I went back to change.
I got out of my pajamas and into sweats, both being virtually the same thing. Grammy had taught me at a young age to put the pajamas under my pillow, so that’s what I did. My hair went up i
n a low-maintenance ponytail.
Humming seeped through the door from the hall. Grammy wouldn’t have to wake her up after all. When the door shut to the bathroom, I made my way back to the kitchen, not wanting to miss the upcoming conversational gymnastics.
A place had been specially set at the table for mom, complete with a Christmas placemat and Grammy’s small bottles of jelly or marmalade. Grammy only put out the small bottles for special occasions.
It wasn’t long before the humming could be heard trailing into the kitchen.
“Good morning, all!” she announced, arms in the air.
She wore a flowing black silk robe with Asian scenes and flowers. We greeted her after the grand entrance and she took her spot at the table.
“Do you have cream for my coffee, mom?” she asked.
“No, only milk.” Grammy responded, setting the plate in front of her with the fancy omelet.
That would mark the beginning of the day…no cream. It appeared a small thing and Gramps unwittingly smiled at the prospect of everyone getting along, but the lack of cream would be the small crack from which the foundation of this visit would crumble.
“So, how are you, my beautiful daughter? Your grandmother tells me you’re engaged!”
“I’m fine and yes.”
“Tell me all about him,” she said.
“Oh, I’m sure Grammy filled you in. I doubt there could be much more to share.”
“Well, we can talk more about him when you bring me into town to get some cream.”
“Is milk not good enough for you?!” Grammy flared.
“Calm down, mother. Muriel would love to give me a lift into town.”
Her presumptuous suggestion grated on my nerves, but it wasn’t long before we were on the road into town and she asked all manner of inappropriate questions about Rick’s performance in bed.
She brushed her hand in my hair and with feigned concern, told me, “I’d hate to see you get married so young and regret your decision. You have so much more of life to experience.”
“What have you been up to, mom?”
Changing the subject worked like a charm. She rattled on about anything and everything she had done over the last few months. Talking about herself never proved difficult. The words kept flowing the rest of the way into town, through the store and finally back to the house. The short outing left me exhausted.