The Forest of Aisling: Dream of the Shapeshifter (The Willow Series Book 1) (8 page)

“I miss you, Mom.”

“I miss you too, Wagmu, can’t wait until you and
Blue get home.”

Blue…Mom’s special name for Dad.  She called him
that because of his eyes; funny because Dad’s eyes always looked gray to me.

I faded in and out of our conversation.  Sometimes
hearing what she was saying and sometimes just taking comfort in the sound of
her voice.  Ever since I was little, her voice would calm and relax me. It
felt like it had been ages since I’d seen her.  I wondered how I was going
to open up to her about all that had happened.  If anyone would be able to
figure it out, she would.  Mom just had a way of dealing with any kind of
crisis in a positive and unruffled way, making it seem like less of a problem.
I couldn’t possibly explain any of it now over the phone so I just laid back on
the bed and let her voice chase away my fears. 

After about an hour of talking to her, Dad chimed
in and reminded me that we needed to go to Uncle Eagan’s.  It was easy
saying good-bye to her because I knew the next time I heard her voice she’d be
right there with me.

After I had passed out at Kelleigh and Quinn’s
place, Dad suggested I try and get some rest.  I guess he was right,
because when I crawled into bed that night I slept for twelve hours straight –
no dreams, no nightmares, no visions, just peaceful slumber. We stayed in our
hotel room for most of the day, packing our bags and getting ready for the trip
home.   We went out once for some quick sight-seeing.  
That only left me wanting to see more, but I realized that wasn’t going to
happen.  We’d be leaving Killarney in less than twenty-four hours, with
more questions than we came with and not a single answer to be found.  I
had a bit of an ache in my heart at the thought of going home so soon. 

Dad decided before we went to Uncle Eagan’s house
that we should stop by a gift shop and pick up a present to thank him for
everything.  I smiled, knowing full well Mom had planted that idea in his
head.  We drove up the streets of town, trying to decide just where to go,
when Dad spotted a shop he remembered from his childhood.

When we opened the door to the bright, cheerful
shop a small bell attached to the door jingled, announcing our entrance.  I
suggested to Dad that we get something for Mom as well.  His expression showed
me how relieved he was I’d thought of that.  He nodded and made his way to
a nearby jewelry counter and chatted with the clerk there. 

 I looked around at all the trinkets lining
the shelves of ‘The Hungry Toad
.’  Funny name for a gift shop,
I
thought.  In an especially crowded corner of the shop was a trio of
hand-carved gnomes standing about two feet tall, each one holding a book with a
symbol on the cover.  The first one had a cross, the second a star, and
the third…well, the third had a symbol on it just like the symbol in my vision
of last night.  I tried to remember what the voice had called it. 
Closing my eyes, I could almost hear the voice again…Triquetra.  This was
the shape and that was the word the voice had spoken.  I knelt down
tracing the shape with my finger when I felt a tap on my shoulder. 

I looked up and saw his smiling face…Bram, the
deaf friend of Quinn and Kelleigh.  He stood positioned in front of a
light from the ceiling so it created a halo effect around his head.  All
that was missing was the choir and a sparkle from his teeth when he smiled.

 His tall frame was thin but athletic, like a
bicyclist.  His wavy brown hair was short on the sides and a little longer
on top, flowing down over his forehead.  But it was his eyes that were the
most mesmerizing.  They were a shade of brown I’d never seen before. 
To even call them brown did them an injustice. I caught myself staring, trying
to give a name to the color, when Bram finally spoke.

“Hello Willow, fancy meeting you here.” He smiled,
reaching his hand out to help me stand.

“Hi Bram. What are you doing here?” I asked before
realizing that he wouldn’t hear my question.

He pursed his lips and frowned, trying to read
what I had just said.

“Again please,” he said, crouching down to get a
better look at my face.

“What are you doing here?” I repeated, this time
slower and hopefully with more definition.

“Ah,” he smiled, “Picking up a birthday card, and
yourself?”

How am I going to do this,
I thought,
without
looking like a complete idiot
?  Before I could embarrass myself
completely by trying to sign to him, he whipped out a notepad from his jacket
pocket.  He held it up and then pulled out a pencil from the other pocket
and handed them both to me.  I nodded, impressed with his preparedness.

I took the notepad and pencil and wrote….
gift
for my mom back home
.

He read it and then looked down at the
gnome.  His face crunched up into a frown. “That?”

I laughed and shook my head no and wrote on the
notepad,
just curious about this symbol, it caught my eye.

“That’s the Triquetra, a Celtic symbol usually
representing the trinity, you know, like in Christianity. It can also symbolize
the elements of the earth.  It has lots of different meanings, depending
on who has it.  A very powerful symbol, when used properly, not on some
silly garden gnome.”   He scowled once more as he looked down at the
little figure.

While he spoke I found myself once again staring
into his eyes.  They were so dark and mysterious and I swear the color
would change.  He seemed to be older than seventeen just in the way he
carried himself.  I wondered if it had something to do with his
deafness. 

“How much longer will you be here?” he asked
shyly, shifting his attention to the floor.

I wrote on the notepad that we’d be leaving the
next day. 

He winced. “So soon?”

I half shrugged and nodded.  I could feel the
blush coming over me again so I quickly looked away, trying to regain
composure.  He made me nervous, I had to admit it.  I usually felt
pretty comfortable around guys, more comfortable than with girls at
times.  But Bram…there was something different about him.  He had
that intensity to his eyes and whether or not it was part of deafness, I
couldn’t be sure.  He relied on his eyes so much for everything and seemed
very intuitive, like he could read your emotions easily just by glancing at
your face.

We both stood there for what seemed like an hour,
staring at each other.  I decided to ask him if he was busy later.  I
told him Kelleigh and Quinn and I were going to get together and it would be
great if he could join us.  He smiled broadly and accepted, saying he’d
get in touch with Quinn about time and place.  I felt happy and
excited.  I really wanted a chance to see him again and talk to him more
about the Celtic symbol of my dream.  I watched as he walked away, curious
and eager to spend more time with him.  As though he read my mind, he spun
around, signed a few things, and saluted a good-bye.

Dad came up behind me and grabbed my shoulders,
scaring the beejeebies out of me.

“Who was that?” he asked, peering over my
shoulder.

“Bram, a friend of Kelleigh and Quinn’s; he was
with us the other night when we searched for Uncle Eagan’s dog.”

“Huh, what’s with the salute?” Dad wondered
watching him exit the store.

“He’s deaf, that’s how he says good-bye.”

“Hm, really?  That must make communicating
with him a challenge.”

“He speaks perfectly and uses sign language. 
Quinn interprets for him, although he does pretty well on his own.  Just
now, he pulled out a notepad and pencil so we could talk.  He’s a nice
guy.”

Dad studied my face, and then the edges of his
mouth turned up slightly.  I knew what he was thinking.  I didn’t
have to be too intuitive to read my father’s expression.

“What?” I asked following him to the
cashier.  He just looked back at me over his shoulder, grinning.

“Oh my Lord,” I mumbled shaking my head, “really,
Dad, I’m not eight years old.”

While the clerk packed up our purchases, he leaned
over and whispered in that annoying sing-song voice, “Willy’s got a boyfriend.”

All I could do was shake my head.  His mood
was a far cry from earlier, when I saw him at the window of the hotel.  He
was so somber and sullen then, understandably so; after all he had just buried
his mother.  Today he was light-hearted and easy, funny even.  I
thought it had something to do with the fact that we’d be heading home the next
day.  I knew he was missing Mom a lot.  I’d heard him say her name in
his sleep a couple of times. 

Once we got into the car we threw our packages in
the back seat.  Dad was fumbling through one of the bags when he pulled
out a small blue velvet box. “Open it,” he encouraged.

I ran my fingers across the top of the box…always
loved the feel of velvet.  It reminded me of Christmas dresses and black
patent leather shoes.  I hated getting dressed up when I was little, but
something about wearing velvet always made it more tolerable.  Sitting
there, holding the little box, made me flash on those carefree days with
melancholy.

 I slowly opened the lid and held my breath. 
It was a Triquetra symbol on a silver chain.  I looked over at Dad who
caught my glance and smiled with raised eyebrows.

“Like it?” he asked tentatively.

I stared speechless at the piece of jewelry,
first, because this symbol suddenly was becoming a part of my life, and second,
because this was the first time that I could remember my dad giving me a piece
of jewelry that he picked out all on his own.

“We can take it back and you can pick out
something else,” Dad said softly, misinterpreting my quiet expression.

“Dad…absolutely no way! I love it, I’m just so
surprised.  What’s this for?” I stared at the piece of jewelry, then
closed my eyes seeing the Triquetra from my dream.

“It’s for everything you’ve done this past week,
Willy.  You’ve been a big help to me, more than you’ll ever know, and I
realize how hard it’s all been.  I just want you to know how much I love
you and appreciate you being here.”

His voice cracked when he said he loved me. 
My dad, my complicated, funny Dad, who at times could barely say “I love you”
to my mom, actually went into a store and picked something out for me. 
And not just something but the very symbol I’d dreamed about.  I looked
over at his face, the face that had comforted me when I was scared, encouraged
me when I was down, and had always been there when I needed it, was now
thanking me for something.  I leaned over in the seat, reached my arms
around his neck, and kissed him on his cheek.  His graying whiskers felt
soft.

“Thank you, Dad, this means so much to me, more than
I can say.” I managed to get the words out without crying but felt the tears
welling up in my eyes.

“You’re welcome, love,” he replied gently stroking
my cheek. “Care to put it on?”

“Yes!” I removed the velvet-covered cardboard
inset, turned it over and untwisted the wire holding the chain into place. I
lifted the serpentine necklace and studied the Triquetra charm close up. 
It was eerily similar to the one in my dream. It gave me pause and I stopped
breathing for a second.

“Do me the honor, Dad?”

He held up the necklace and fumbled with the
clasp.  After a few seconds of grumbling and fidgeting he finally placed
it around my neck.  I grabbed the Celtic symbol and held it tightly in my
hand, tracing the edges with my fingertip.  I recalled Bram’s explanation
of the symbol and that it carried different meanings for whoever had it. 
I wondered what it meant for me.

Our visit with Uncle Eagan was perfect.  From
his melodic Irish brogue to his tweed jacket and driving cap, he fit the image
I had in my mind of an older Irish gentleman.  He had such zest for life
and a funny sense of humor that time spent with him was something I
treasured. 

He and Dad traded one-liners during dinner that
had me laughing so hard my side hurt.  It seemed the more time Dad spent
around Eagan, the more relaxed he’d become.  His own understated Irish
accent returned with more sharpness and clarity as he joked around.  I
loved it.

 After dinner we sat in Eagan’s music room
listening to him masterfully play the piano and sing.  He had been a
professional musician and often toured the U.K. with his group, The Kinsmen. He
shared stories of his times on the road and some of the adventures he’d had
there.  One time in particular, when he was in Dublin, the group had just
wrapped up a ballad. “I was commenting on the sorry state of today’s young
musicians, when lo and behold, out of the depths of the darkened room, who
should appear but Bono himself, applauding and raising his glass to toast the
group.”

 He chuckled and held his pipe to his lips
inhaling a long breath then discharged aromatic smoke circles into the
air.  I watched in delight as he raised his pipe and inserted the
mouthpiece into one of the vanishing rings.  “That’s a three pointer
there,” he noted, pleased with his expertise.  

As our time with him was drawing to a close, he
sat down between Dad and me on his burgundy-colored sofa.  He grabbed hold
of my hand and draped his other hand over Dad’s shoulder.

“Jack, m’ boy, you know I love you like the son I
never had,” he said in a boisterous voice.

Dad looked incredulous. “You have a son, Eagan…
John, remember?”

“Ah right!” Eagan chuckled, “Johnny boy, I forget
about him sometimes.”

Dad laughed heartily, shaking his head.

“But seriously, lad,” Eagan continued, “I’m hoping
you have plans to go see Conor before ya leave.”

The room grew so silent you could hear the
proverbial pin drop.  Dad stood up and paced behind us.  Eagan shot
me a glance and a wink of the eye.  I sat there hoping Dad would do the
right thing and agree to see Grandpa.  I knew I had to go again…I’d
promised him I’d come back.  I wanted it to be with Dad, but was prepared
to go alone if I had to.

“I know it would mean a great deal to your father,
boy.  Time for building bridges, what d’ya say?”

I looked up at Dad, still pacing behind us. 
He rubbed his neck then returned to the sofa with Eagan and me. “Willow, can
you give us a few minutes alone?”

Eagan shot me a serious look and nodded.  Without
even answering, I left the room knowing full well that Dad was going to try to
get out of seeing Grandpa.

I decided to go into the kitchen to see Meriel and
thank her for a delicious dinner.  As I closed in on the doorway I heard
muffled voices from inside.  One was Meriel’s but I had no idea who she
was speaking to.  I stayed just short of the doorway and listened. 
There was still no answer regarding the mysterious
circumstances
surrounding Grandma’s death, and since Kelleigh had
said that Meriel was one of the last people to see Grandma alive and had
reported that she was fine, I decided it was ok to eavesdrop, at least to see
if Grandmas name came up.  I leaned against the wall so as not to be seen
and lowered my head, trying hard to pick up bits and pieces of the
conversation.

“Aye, they’ll be leaving tomorrow,” Meriel said in
her squeaky high-pitched voice.

“What does Eagan say about… the garda?” A deep,
gruff male voice asked with emphasis on
the garda
.

“He’s working with them but wants to keep quiet
about it all.  No need to worry Jack while everything’s still just
speculation.” Her voice faded in and out as she moved around the kitchen.

“Aye, but the lad has a right to know, don’t he?”
came the unknown voice followed by a raspy cough.

The sound of footsteps drew near so I quickly
backed away.  Just as I reached the door to the sitting room where Dad and
Eagan were, I saw Meriel pop her head out into the hallway.  She looked around,
then caught sight of me standing there.  I had my hand on the doorknob so
as to appear to have just stepped out of the room.  She smiled and waved
her little finger.  I smiled back and turned to go the other way. 
The front porch was lit up so I stepped outside and took a seat on the rocking
chair.

The night was cool and damp and the air had a kind
of herbal smell to it, like eucalyptus or menthol, cough drop-like.  I sat
there rocking, thinking about what I had overheard, wondering what the heck a
garda was and realizing that there
were
questions surrounding Grandma’s
death.  It was almost impossible to wrap my brain around that when I was
still wrestling with the whole shapeshifting thing.

 I hoped and prayed that there had been some
kind of mistake about Grandma and that people were just being gossipy and
jumping to wrong conclusions.  But I had a feeling in the pit of my
stomach that wasn’t the case.  Something was amiss with her passing and
part of me feared it may have something to do with my new found ability.

The clouds began to grow thick and block out the
moon.  While my eyes adjusted to the varying degrees of light I sensed
movement to my right.  Quickly I turned my head to see what it was and
caught a glimpse of something rushing into the darkness.  The shape was
imperceptible, but the movement was not.  The grasses growing in that area
were still rustling from whatever had just disturbed them.  I stared out
at the darkness, trying to distinguish any motion at all. 

 I had the sense that whatever had just been
here, very near to me, was the same thing that had been at our hotel just a few
days earlier.  I walked over to where I had seen the flash, hoping to
catch sight of some kind of track, but there was nothing, not even flattened
grass
.  What the heck is going on?
This trip to Ireland had
exceeded any expectations I might have had about what an interesting country it
is…it was way beyond interesting.

As I stood there in the darkness I saw headlights
approaching the house. I half expected them to continue down the road, but
instead they pulled into Eagan’s driveway.  The lights dimmed and I could
make out the word “Garda” on the side along with lights on the top, much like a
police car.

When the man stepped out of the car, I saw he was
in uniform. He was definitely a police officer.  He pulled a case out of
the back seat and made his way to the front door.  Looking my way, he
reached up and tilted his hat, smiled and asked if Eagan was in.  I shook
my head yes, wondering what he had in the case
.

I sat back down on the rocking chair, with a knot
growing in my stomach as I thought about why the police might be paying Eagan a
visit and all the while knowing full well it had something to do with
Shannah.  I pulled out my phone and began texting Kelleigh and told her
what was going on.  It took about ten minutes for her to get back to me
and when she did she had a thousand questions.  I didn’t have any
answers. 

After about twenty minutes the policeman came out
of the house, stood on the porch and lit up a cigarette.  He looked my way
with a stern expression then got into his car and drove off. 

The screen door opened. “Willow, come on in here,”
Dad ordered, holding the door open. I walked in and took my spot on the
sofa.  Eagan had a serious expression on his face and looked extremely
pale.

“What’s going on?” I asked, anxious about the
change in Eagan’s demeanor and the seriousness of a visit by the police, or
garda.

“Willow, it looks like I’m going to need to stay
on for a few more days.  Something urgent has come up,” Dad looked back at
Eagan then to me. Perspiration lined his brow and worry filled his eyes.

“Urgent?” I asked.

“You just saw the officer that was here. Well
apparently, there’s going to be an investigation… into the cause of Shannah’s death.”
Dad stammered, stumbling over the words.  He stepped to the end table and
took hold of a glass of water, downing it all in one gulp.

“I think it may be best if your Dad stayed on here
for a few more days while the garda try to figure this out,” Eagan stated,
regaining his composure. 

So Kelleigh’s suspicions were right, and there was
something more to Grandma’s passing.  I fumbled around in my head for the
right words.

“What are they thinking…that she was murdered or
something?” The words just spilled out without any editing.

“No!” Eagan and Dad shot back
simultaneously.  Eagan sat beside me and took hold of my hand, squeezing
tightly. “No, darlin’, the police are making sure they cover themselves since a
statement was made to them saying that Shannah hadn’t been ill and no cause of
death was ever recorded.  They’re just doing their job.” Eagan glanced
over at Dad and forced a small grin.

Dad put his arm around my shoulders, “It’s just
procedure, honey.  They should’ve done this right away but sometimes when
it’s the death of an elderly person and there’ve been reports of illness,
generally the police don’t get involved.  The assumption is that the
person died from their illness.”

“Well, who made a statement saying that she wasn’t
ill?” I bit my lip thinking about Meriel and wondering who it was she had been
talking to in Eagan’s kitchen.

“We don’t know.  The authorities don’t have
to tell us who made the statement.  They just need to investigate it and
come up with the cause of death,” Dad replied, gripping my shoulder firmly.

“How do they come up with the cause of death when
she’s already been buried?” My imagination was running away with me and my
heart began pounding at the sound of my own question.

“For now, they’ll just pull all her files, question
her doctor.  He saw her two days before she died.  They ought to be
able to come to a conclusion based on that,” Eagan answered as he moved closer
to Dad and me, wrapping us both in his arms.  “It’s nothing to worry
about.  The garda really should have done this before.  Let’s not
fret.”

“What about Grandpa, does he know about this?”

“Not yet.  No reason to worry him right
now.  It’s all just conjecture,” Dad replied, shifting his eyes to the
floor.

“We all saw how frail Conor was at the
funeral.  Losing Shannah has taken a hefty toll on the old boy. I don’t
think news like this will do him any good. I’m convinced it’ll all resolve
itself without any problems.”  Eagan paused and rested his eyes on Dad.
“Jacky’s staying on will be of comfort should the situation become more
complicated.”

Dad and Eagan locked eyes for a few moments,
leaving me wondering if there was something they weren’t telling
me.   I bit the inside of my mouth as I tried to process it
all.  What did Eagan mean, “Should the situation become more
complicated?”  How could it become any more complicated?

“Plus the garda needs him to act as Conor’s
representative until they close the whole matter,” Eagan continued, turning his
attention my way.  He grasped hold of my hand once more before sitting
back on the sofa.

“So you’re going to have to travel home alone,
Wils, but I’ll be along as soon as all of this settles.” Dad also eased back
onto the sofa, resting his head on the cushion, looking exhausted and more than
a little shaken with the change of plans.

I inhaled slowly and closed my eyes for a brief
second. “Dad, please, I think I should stay with you.  I really want to
see Grandpa again and you may need some help.  Let me stay with you.”

Dad tilted his head then briskly shook it
no.  “No, Willow, it’s better for you to head home.  I’m going to
have to be running around; who knows what the police will need from me.  I
don’t want you to deal with what may lie ahead.  It’s a strange situation
and you don’t need to be involved.”

“But I am involved, Dad.  Those are my
grandparents and you’re my dad.  I want to be here for you.  I don’t
expect or want to get involved in
everything
but I feel like I need to
be here.  Please, Dad.  I don’t want to leave you alone to deal with
all this.  No offense, Uncle Eagan; I know you’re here but…”  I added
as I looked up to see Eagan watching me intently.

“None taken, darlin,” he answered softly nodding
his head.  A trace of a smile crossed his lips. 

Dad reached up and brushed my hair back behind my
ear, just like he used to do when I was small. “We’ll give your Mom a call when
we get back to the hotel, see what she thinks.”

 “Ok.” I felt relieved.  Dad was too
tired to argue and I knew most likely Mom would agree that I should stay.

Dad and Eagan sat for a few more minutes figuring
out a schedule that would work for the both of them.  Dad wanted to get in
on the investigation and told Eagan he planned to check in with the police
first thing in the morning. 

While they sat there talking, I replayed in my mind
the conversation I had overheard in the kitchen.  It told me that Eagan
knew about all the
mysterious circumstances
surrounding Grandma’s
death.  I wondered why he would want to keep that from Dad, but quickly
came to the conclusion that he himself wasn’t really worried about the whole
thing and saw no need to upset Dad.  It made sense to me; plus, it made me
feel better, instead of thinking that Eagan was hiding something from us.
Within a few minutes we were heading out the door.

“Well, if you do go home tomorrow, best give me a
hug now, sweetheart.” Eagan smiled and reached out, pulling me in. “I surely
hope you’ll be staying with us for a few more days.”

I smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Me too.”