Fate's Hand: Book One of The Celtic Prophecy Page 4

  He turned the overhead lights off and the light box on simultaneously. He contemplated the three x-rays one at a time and made notes in Leo’s file. He took two steps to the examining table and, paying careful attention to her injured foot, placed it on the leg rest. He guided Leo to lie flat and slowly took off the air cast she wore. Brenawyn could see that the ankle and foot were badly swollen and bruised.

  “You have broken the third, fourth, and fifth metatarsals. They are, luckily, clean breaks and will heal on their own. What has me concerned is the heel; there’s a hairline fracture, and if not healed correctly, it will cause pain for the rest of your life.”

  “What are you going to do?” Leo asked.

  Turning on the overhead lights, Dr. Miller answered, “I’m going to have to put a cast on your foot. I am erring on the side of caution; the foot cannot move for fear of aggravating the fracture. That means you will have to stay off your foot for the majority of the day and sleep with it elevated at night. In six to eight weeks, the cast can come off, to be replaced by a removable boot, much like the one you have here,” he ended, holding up the hospital-issued air cast.

  “Okay, what about stairs? She has stairs at home.” Brenawyn asked for clarification.

  Leo’s head snapped up to the doctor’s face and she watched attentively as he responded, “As long as she doesn’t overexert herself,” he told Brenawyn, and facing Leo to make sure she was listening, he added, “and by that I mean, Mrs. Callahan, you cannot traipse up and down the stairs all day. No more than twice in twenty-four hours. Come down in the morning and then go back up in the evening when ready for bed. And I want you to keep the foot elevated as much as you can throughout the day. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, it is. Thank you, doctor.”

  A half-hour later, Leo was wheeled into the waiting room, sporting a knee-high cast on her right leg. “Brenawyn, I want to go home.”

  Chapter 5

  Alex liked walking into The Rising Moon on an ordinary day. He liked the dichotomy of the commercial quartz stone necklaces and love and fortune spell books juxtaposed against the beeswax candles and the sage and lavender bundles lovingly made by the proprietress. There was an authenticity to the shop, once one moved beyond the first two aisles. It was well-masked, and to the untrained eye, it fit in with the dozens of other shops within the city limits, but the walls resonated power which had nothing to do with the location.

  Today when he walked in, he was instantly pleased with his timing. A pair of long shapely legs and a fine ass belonging to a woman on a step ladder were just inside the entranceway. She was clad in a pair of denim shorts, and a snug black tee shirt emblazoned with the shop’s logo showed off the rest of her figure well. Her ebony hair hid most of her face, but he glimpsed the rosy cheeks and pert nose of Brenawyn, as she glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll be right with you. Just let me get this box down.” She said as she struggled with the box.

  Stepping forward, “Do ye need help?” Alex asked.

  “No, it’s not heavy. It’s just a bit… awkward,” she huffed out as she renewed her efforts to wrestle the box off the shelf. “Take a look around and be sure to let me know if you see anything you like.”

  Alex smiled at her comment and decided to keep his thoughts to himself. She would find them sexist and chauvinistic—not complimentary as he intended them.

  He glanced around but his attention was almost immediately brought back to her legs as she raising herself on her toes—complimentary indeed. It did luscious things for her and he itched to run his hand up her leg. She gave a little grunt of satisfaction, which was enough to pull him deeper into his fantasy, but to his disappointment, it only meant that she had the box in hand.

  “Ahem.”

  Alex looked toward the source of the noise and was met with a look of disapproval from Maggie, who stood behind the counter. He sauntered over and gave her a wink, but what he saw sobered him immediately. He caught her chin just before she shied away and angled her head to get a better look. The harshness of the fluorescent light cut through the heavy concealer to reveal the shadow of a faint bruise under her right eye.

  “Who dae I need ta ha’ a conversation with?” as he touched her cheekbone lightly with his thumb.

  Maggie bolted upright and broke contact. She cowered back in the confined space leaning down to brush her hair to cover the telltale contusion, whispering, “No one. I…I fell…fell at home.”

  Alex followed her gaze to Leo, who was approaching. The weight of her hand on his arm refocused his attention, and with a slight panicked shake of her head, she mouthed, “Don’t. She’ll worry.”

  He’d listen, at least until he investigated further. So when Leo hobbled up to join them, he showed no outward sign of concern, but she was no one’s fool.

  “Something the matter?”

  Maggie didn’t look her in the face so it was up to Alex to divert Leo’s attention. He leaned against the counter and admitted, “Oops, she caught me,” hitching a thumb back at Brenawyn, “appreciating beauty. I’m so ashamed.”

  Maggie attempted to play along but her laugh was stiff and hollow. Leo furrowed her brow, glancing at her, but Maggie didn’t give her any answer. With a ragged sigh, Maggie’s shoulders relaxed and she unfolded herself from the corner, a ghost of a smile on her lips. She leaned over the counter, poked him in the chest, and said, “What’s wrong with you? Behave yourself! You’re acting like a teenager. You’re a little old for that, aren’t you? That’s Brenawyn, Leo’s granddaughter, for heaven’s sake!”

  Alex turned around and now that he could see her face, he recognized the family resemblance. She had her grandmother’s big expressive eyes and her dark hair, which was twisted up haphazardly and held by two pens. Tendrils fell about her face attractively. He tore his eyes away from her at last and looked back at Leo, “I met yer granddaughter and her dog this morning at th’ bakery. I doonae ken why I didna recognize her then, she resembles ye quite strongly.”

  “Huh, she didn’t mention meeting anyone. Well, anyway, she’s staying indefinitely, or so she says. She even quit her job and sold the house.”

  “Really, she didn’t tell me that!” Maggie exclaimed as she bolted from behind the counter and skipped around the two of them.

  “Child, you didn’t give her a chance.” Leo called out as Maggie ran past. “That girl never gives anyone a chance to say anything. Always talking, talking, talking.”

  Alex admired Maggie’s youthful exuberance even though he knew that at this moment it was contrived to avoid a very serious matter. He’d look into that later today. His smile deepened when he heard her squeal as she ambushed Brenawyn. Turning back to Leo, he put his hands on the counter, “Well, it was just a few words over coffee.”

  Assessing Alex’s qualifications with the keen eye of a grandmother, Leo mused, “Perhaps she can find someone else and build a life.”

  Amused and interested that she would even find him suitable for her only grandchild, he asked, “Wha’ makes ye say tha’ she wants tha’?”

  Shrugging her shoulders, Leo guessed, “Hope?” She looked in the direction of her granddaughter and sighed. “She tells me that she wants to move on with her life. Maybe now she can find one.”

  Her eyes misted with tears and Alex covered her folded hands with his own, giving them a slight squeeze. Trying to lighten the mood, he suggested, “Well, let’s see if I can help,” then flashing a big smile, “Formally introduce me ta yer granddaughter, Mrs. Callahan.”

  “You are too handsome for your own good. And you know it.” This response made him grin, and he relaxed to put an elbow on the counter.

  “Ah, my charm is working.” Grabbing her hands, Alex looked playfully in her eyes, “Unless…tell me noo. Will ye run away with me instead?”

  Slipping her hands from his and slapping at the air in front of him, “Tcha.” Leo shook her head in exasperation, and raising her voice to be heard above the instrumental music piped through the store’s speakers
, “Brenawyn, could you please come over here?”

  “Sure, Nana. Be right there.”

  Leo turned to Alex, “Irreverent clod. No respect for your elders,” as she fussed with his collar. “Remember, be good.”

  “I promise—my verra best, charming self,” he playfully answered as he stood up to his full height of 6’5 with blatant exaggeration.

  Brenawyn came over, put the box on the counter, and wiped her hands on the back of her denim shorts. “These are the beeswax candles. Are they the ones for the ritual?”

  “Yes, they are. Thank you for getting them for me.” Drawing Brenawyn’s attention to the man standing next to her, Leo made the introductions. “Brenawyn, this is Alexander Sinclair. Alex, this is my granddaughter, Brenawyn McAllister. I believe you two have already met.”

  She had a strong handshake, confident and self-assured, contradictory to the dainty appearance of her tiny hand in his much larger one. She glanced away, letting her long lashes fall against her rose-kissed cheeks.

  “Well, I didna ha’ ta wait long ta see ye again.”

  She smiled genuinely but didn’t meet his eyes, “Nana, I met Alex this morning over coffee across the street at the bakery.”

  “Yes, I know, he told me. He’s the one that works at the community college that I told you about this morning.”

  “Hmm, talking about me already, Leo? Yer granddaughter hasna even fully settled in yet, though I cannae say tha’ I’m disappointed,” Alex said smugly.

  “Away with you and your teasing! I merely mentioned you in case Brenawyn wants to apply for a teaching position at the school. I thought perhaps you could forward her resumé.”

  More serious now, Alex turned his full attention to Brenawyn. “I could dae tha’ for ye if ye wish. Wha’ dae ye teach?”

  “I taught English literature and composition for seven years, but I’m taking a break from it for the time being to help Nana with the store, especially now that she’s in a cast. Of course that is if she can ever be convinced to stop micromanaging and allow me to pick up the slack.”

  Alex peered over the counter to look at the aforementioned cast and shook his head. “Does this ha’ anything ta dae with th’ kerfuffle?” Confirmation of his question was reflected in Leo’s face. “I think she has ye, woman. Ye cannae participate wi’ a cast on yer foot. Gi’ o’er ta Brenawyn. Ye have two weeks, more than enough time ta rehearse it with her.”

  “All right, fine. You got it, and you’ve seen me do this for years. There’s nothing to it. I’ll make a list of the items you’ll need for the program,” Leo added helpfully and hobbled back to the office, leaving Brenawyn and Alex standing at the counter staring at each other. Brenawyn made a face, and Alex realized she was looking over his shoulder. He turned to find Maggie rearranging a shelf to no purpose close by, whistling in tune with the Celtic music that was playing on the sound system. Looking back, Brenawyn’s face was now devoid of emotion, whatever had passed between them was undecipherable to him.

  “So, what can I help you with today, Alex?”

  “Leo called me yesterday morn and told me tha’ two books tha’ I ordered finally arrived.”

  “Hmm, let’s see,” she circled the counter and after a short search found a pile of ordered items waiting to be picked up. She squatted down to rummage through it. “So, you’re a teacher at the community college? What do you teach?”

  “I’m an anthropology professor but I also teach a class on Celtic lore and mythology.” He answered, looking over the counter at her.

  Brenawyn found the books and handed them to him. She stood up to find Alex digging in his back pocket for his wallet. “How much dae I owe ye?”

  Brenawyn crossed to the register and rang up the sale, “The total is $56.79. That’s interesting, anthropology and mythology. I bet you’re a great storyteller.” She stopped and looked away, the blush creeping back up her neck, but then continued. “Especially with your accent. Where are you from?”

  “Yes, I ha’ been told tha’.” He leaned on the counter. “If ye ever have an evening to spare, I could tell ye one or…” he moved closer to her, “two.”

  Brenawyn let out a giggle. “Well, I might have taken you up on that, but something tells me I’d be getting more than a story.”

  Smiling, he handed his credit card to Brenawyn. “Yer loss, then. As to whaur I call home, Scotland, a wee place near Roslyn, around sixteen kilometers from Edinburgh.”

  Her quest to complete the transaction came to a halt when she couldn’t locate a pen. She looked on the shelves underneath the register and on the floor, coming up to ask him to wait until she retrieved one from the back.

  “May I?” Alex asked, reaching over. A puzzled look washed over her face. Her mouth opening slightly, to voice a protest perhaps, but nothing came out. She leaned closer.

  He reached behind her and pulled out the scissored pens holding her hair. Waves of raven hair fell about her shoulders, and she smoothed the errant strands away from her face. “Ye should leave yer hair doon. ‘Tis beautiful.” He reverently reached for a wayward tendril with a knuckle and gently tucked it behind her ear.

  “Um. Thank you. I appreciate that.” Brenawyn blushed again.

  Alex signed the receipt and looked at the clock on the wall behind her, then verified the time with his own watch. “Och, I ha’ ta go, but I will see ye again.”

  “Oh?”

  “Aye, ye may have just volunteered for this thing on Thursday next, but many o’ us were corralled and beaten inta submission by yer wee grandmother in thaur.” he admitted, gesturing to the back room.

  A mysterious sparkle in his eye had Brenawyn changing postures. Coming out from behind the counter, she took the time to slowly look him over with a playful half-smile on her lips, “Beaten into submission is it? And here I was thinking that you were a strong, braw lad, well capable to fending off the sting of a small woman.” Brenawyn leaned back on the counter and crossed her arms, “Tsk. Too bad.”

  Alex registered her deliberate perusal and broke out in laughter. “Ah aye, I see wha’s happening haur. Ye’ve decided ta flirt with th’ master. Verra guid.” He spread his arms wide and took a few steps backward. “Ta th’ victor go th’ spoils.”

  As he exited the store, he shared a look with Maggie, who hovered by the door. Knowing she’d find an excuse to follow him out, he stopped in front of the window of the next shop. He heard the faint chime of the Rising Moon’s door and turned in time to meet her. Her eyes were brimming with tears, “Please, Alex. Don’t do anything. It was my fault… I made him mad.”

  “Maggie, was it yer jakey knob, Buchanan?”

  “Please…”

  “Margaret, ye doonae ha’ to be afeart. I’ll take care o’ him.”

  Chapter 6

  Brenawyn looked over the list her grandmother had made last night and counted two things that were actually specified—the candles, which she had retrieved from the shelf yesterday, and the ceremonial robes, which she knew were boxed in the office closet. She went into the office and located the robes which were, surprisingly, hung up and pressed in a garment bag. Every year, she would take these full length robes out for her grandmother, luxuriating in the cool, smooth feel of the white and green silk. Emerald and silver embroidery in a Celtic knot design decorated the lapels, back placket, and the cuffs of the wide bell sleeves. The sleeves were further lined with an emerald silk dyed to match the embroidery. The bottom eighteen inches of the white silk was vertically cut every six inches and embroidered to reveal six inches of the green, cut in a similar fashion. It was the most beautiful garment that she had ever seen.

  Brenawyn didn’t hear her grandmother approach, absorbed as she was. Leo hobbled into the room and joined her at the closet to admire the robe. “It’s an antique, you know. I never knew whether to believe the provenance, but I bought it from a woman who told me quite a story about it. In the back of my mind, the place that no reality or logic resides, I want it to be true because it’s rom
antic,” Leo mused.

  Drawn out of her ruminations and interested by the promise of a romantic story, Brenawyn turned. “I can’t believe you never told me this one. Here, sit down and I’ll pull up a chair. Tell me everything. You know I love this stuff. Wait, first, do you need anything?”

  “No, honey I’m fine,” Leo answered as she carefully sat down in the office chair.

  Considering whether her grandmother needed anything she wouldn’t ask for, and deciding the answer was no, Brenawyn settled down in the chair opposite the desk, “Ok, spill,” she urged.

  “Let’s see. I bought the robe back, hmm, over thirty-five years ago, well before I had this place. I bought it from a woman named Rosalyn Feegan when I went to Ireland with your grandfather. We had been on an extended vacation, staying with his family and mine alternately. During the first week I wandered into a shop and I bought a few items of no consequence. Weeks later, I found myself back at the same shop on one of my many solitary walks to escape the family bickering. Rosalyn was the owner, and we got to talking. I thought she was odd, more than odd, the way I would catch her looking at me periodically, like she expected some great surprise at any moment. It really was strange. But she was a fantastic storyteller, and before long I was caught up in her tales, eager for another when she had finished the last.”

  “Sounds interesting,” Brenawyn agreed.

  “It was. She told me the legends. I had heard them all before, but the way she told them, it was like she had been there. She made it believable, that if I walked out and over the next hill I would be carried off by the Faerie themselves. So at last, she tells me that she has something for me and she takes me in the back of the store and thrusts this robe into my arms, blathering on about waiting so long for the next guardian.”

  Brenawyn made a face, “What?”

  “Well, I guess you had to be there. So, she takes me out to the front again, and switches the sign that was hanging on the front door to ‘closed.’ Then she tells me, hushed-like, that it is the ceremonial robe of the last Druid high priestess.”