Wild Irish Rebel (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

The rest of
the week passed in a blur of late night visits and early mornings. Morgan had even brought herself to stop at the pub for a cider after work one night. She'd been entertained with stories from the locals and had even accepted a dance with old Mr. Murphy. He'd kept her on her toes and had made her laugh when he blushed after she dropped a kiss on his cheek.

Slowly, the village seemed to be absorbing her and she it. She was excited to tell Fiona about her week, Morgan thought as she put a small package on the seat of her van before settling into the driver's seat.

"Come on, baby." Morgan sweet-talked the van as the engine struggled to catch and then let out a cheer as the engine roared to life. She made a mental note to get it to the mechanics one of these days.

As Morgan directed the sputtering van out of the village, she allowed her mind to daydream.

This week with Patrick had been like an awakening to her. Both physically and mentally. She found herself laughing more, craving his touch, wanting to tell him things through the day.

So why couldn't she shake this sense of impending doom? Morgan sighed as she looked out at the afternoon sun's rays that slashed across the sea-green water. By all accounts, her life was perfect.

Morgan pulled a sharp right onto the gravel lane that led up to Fiona's cottage. The van shuddered to a stop and Morgan smiled as Ronan came racing around the corner, his barks joyous.

"Hey, boy," Morgan said as she climbed down, the package in one hand. She scratched behind Ronan's ears and the dog immediately rolled over and exposed his stomach to her.

"No shame, huh, fella?" Morgan laughed and obediently scratched his tummy while he wiggled against the grass.

"Just in time, I've a lovely casserole about to be done," Fiona called from the open door and Morgan approached, smelling the scent of garlic on the air.

"Smells wonderful," she said and smiled at Fiona. The old woman's cheeks were flushed with heat from the oven and she came forward to hug Morgan. Morgan automatically stiffened but almost immediately relaxed. She was getting better at being touched, embracing people. It seemed like a way of life for the people of the village. They were always kissing each other and hugging goodbye quite casually. Morgan hoped that she would be comfortable with it all in a few more months.

"It's comfort food. I was in a mood," Fiona said and shrugged. Morgan tilted her head and really looked at Fiona. Though she smiled pleasantly, there seemed to be some tension around her eyes.

"What's wrong? Do you not feel well?"

Fiona laughed and waved for her to sit.

"Fit as a fiddle. I just feel like something is off. Or wrong." Fiona waved her hand again. "Probably just foolishness."

"Like an impending doom?" Morgan asked, her eyes trained on Fiona as the old woman pulled a steaming casserole from the oven.

"Aye, that'd be a good way to say it," Fiona said and sliced into the gooey mass of cheese and noodles.

"Me too. I have that feeling too!" Morgan exclaimed.

"You do? Oh, oh no. Now I am worried," Fiona murmured as she dished out heaping helpings of lasagna onto the waiting plates. Walking over to the table, Fiona deposited the piping-hot food in front of Morgan and then went back for the garlic bread. Sitting across from her, she raised an eyebrow at Morgan.

"Go on. Explain yourself."

Morgan immediately tore off a chunk of the steaming garlic bread as its scent was making her mouth water.

"I don’t know. I honestly thought it was just me. Like, because things have been going really well for me. And, well, they never have before. I keep waiting for it to go wrong, I guess," Morgan said.

"You and Patrick?" Fiona asked as she took a bite.

"Yes, he's just…oh he's great. He's kind and funny, but not afraid to be the man. I feel like he really wants to be with me and take care of me. Even with all of my insecurities and bag of issues," Morgan laughed ruefully.

"You told him about your abilities, yes?" Fiona said, meeting her eyes.

"Well, most of them. Not the levitating stuff. Since I'm not going to use it anymore I figured he didn’t need to know."

Fiona's hands stilled and she watched Morgan carefully.

"What do you mean that you won't be using it anymore?"

"Since you taught me to shut it off…I can. It's great," Morgan said enthusiastically.

"And what happens if it doesn't work? During a dream or something while you're sleeping next to him?" Fiona asked carefully.

"I…I hadn't thought of that. I just thought that I could keep it off."

"And so you might. But don't you think he deserves to know so that you don't give the poor man a heart attack?"

"But…what if he hates me?" Morgan asked, fear lacing her voice.

"What did he say about the rest of your abilities?"

"Nothing really. He said he was used to it with Cait and it was no big deal."

Fiona beamed.

"I've always said that Patrick was a fine lad," she said, taking a sip of her whiskey.

"He is. I guess I will tell him about the rest of it. It's not a big deal, really."

"Well, I mean it is. It's a very unique power. I suggest that you point out to him all of the positive uses of it," Fiona said.

Morgan thought about it as she took another bite of the lasagna, savoring the flavors in her mouth.

"Okay. I will tell him. Tonight or tomorrow, whenever I see him next."

"Good girl. Maybe that's what's giving us this feeling of doom. Because you haven't been fully honest with him," Fiona remarked.

Morgan considered it. Did she feel better making the decision not to hide anything from Patrick? Maybe so.

"Perhaps. I guess it isn't a big deal. It just seemed like a lot to lay on someone at once."

Fiona pointed a finger at her.

"Honesty is always the best way. In magick, in healing, in using your abilities, in life…"

"In using my abilities, what do you mean?" Morgan asked in confusion.

"Say you used your abilities for nefarious purposes. Well, the harm you caused would come back on you twofold. If you use them for the greater good, no boomerang effect then," Fiona said simply.

Morgan covered her face with her hands and cursed softly.

"God, no wonder you try to find each of us. If we didn't know these things, something really bad could happen. I'm glad that I was too busy hiding to really explore what I could do with my powers."

Fiona regarded her gravely.

"I'm only grateful that more harm didn't befall you. But, now you're in a good place. And, you're one of mine. So, what's in the package?" Fiona said lightly, gesturing to the package Morgan had brought in.

Morgan allowed the warm pleasure of being called "one of Fiona's" wash through her as she reached for the package she had brought.

"I thought you'd like this," she said softly.

"A gift! What fun," Fiona said and unwrapped the present eagerly, not bothering to hide her joy in receiving a present.

"Oh, this is just lovely," Fiona breathed and unfolded a swatch of lace.

"It's a table runner. Or you could put it on a shelf with some candles on it or something," Morgan said.

"I love it," Fiona said, her eyes shining.

"Patrick's mum makes them. I'll be selling them in the store."

Fiona's smile widened. "Even better. I've always liked Agatha too. Good family there."

Morgan decided against filling her in on Aileen's attack on her. Seeing as how they had smoothed things over, it was probably best not to gossip in a small village.

"Yes, I'm quite taken with her. Though their family is large. It will take some getting used to."

"I suppose it will at that. You'll do just fine with them, Morgan. I have no worries about you." Fiona smiled and stood.

"Now, fill me in on any gossip you've overheard at the gallery."

Hours later, Morgan was smiling as she opened the creaky door of her van and climbed up onto the seat.

"Come on, girl, you've got this," she murmured to it as the engine chugged over again. Her night with Fiona had been just right. Good food, great company, and a dog to curl up at her feet. She could happily do this every Friday night, Morgan thought. Though she knew that made her different than other girls her age, Morgan figured that she was making up for lost time.

"Thank you!" Morgan sang out as the engine caught and she creakily backed down the driveway before turning onto the dark road. Her old headlights were the only light on the road here and she squinted into the dark as she made her way slowly along the ocean road.

Ireland wasn't known for its great roads and this one fit the bill. One lane, curvy, and difficult to navigate, Morgan began to wish that she had left earlier in the evening before the sun had set.

"Ah, well. Just go slow," Morgan murmured, and crept along the road. She tapped the accelerator lightly with her foot as she approached a hill.

Nothing happened.

"What?" Morgan asked, pressing harder onto the accelerator.

Nothing happened and the van began to decrease in speed.

"Shit," Morgan cursed and steered the van as far to the edge of the road as she could, the bushes screeching wildly as their branches scraped the side of the van. Morgan turned the key off and then the lights, not sure if she should conserve the battery.

"Shit," Morgan said again, thinking about what she should do.

She was about seven miles from Fiona's house and easily another fifteen or so from the village. As the darkness crept in around her, Morgan tried not to panic. Taking another deep breath, Morgan opened the door and stepped out. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks below reminded her of her precarious position.

It really was dark out here, she thought as she began to walk a little bit to see what was around the next curve. The moon was a small sliver in the sky, casting the faintest of light for her to see by. At the top of the hill, Morgan scanned desperately for any light, or any cars advancing.

Darkness greeted her.

Panic skittered up her spine and she began to breathe slowly, forcing herself to calm down. If worse came to worst, she'd walk the seven or so miles back to Fiona's. It would just take a little longer navigating in the dark, she thought. Morgan turned and headed back down the hill and was just at her van when she remembered her cell phone.

"My phone!" Shaking her head at herself, Morgan opened the driver's door and dove into her purse, digging around in the contents to find her slim cell phone.

"Please be charged," she prayed, knowing that she had a tendency to forget about her phone as she rarely used it.

Finding her phone, she swiped the screen and saw that she had 20% battery life left.

"Yes!"

Scanning through her contacts, she thought about the time. Patrick would be at work by now, so it was pointless to call him. Morgan's eyes landed on Flynn's name. His spread was just over the ridge from Fiona's and Morgan knew that he might have the necessary equipment to tow her vehicle.

Praying again, she selected Flynn's name and then did a fist pump when she heard the ring through the tiny speaker.

"Hello? Morgan?" Keelin's voice reached her through the speaker. Morgan's heart sank. She couldn't call a pregnant woman out to tow her vehicle.

"Hey, Keelin, how are you?" Morgan asked politely.

"Morgan, what's wrong?" Keelin asked.

"Um, well, it's no big deal, I can call someone else," Morgan began.

"Spit it out, Morgan," Keelin ordered.

"My van broke down. I'm about seven-eight miles towards the village on the ocean road coming from Fiona's. I was wondering if maybe Flynn would be able to…" Morgan pulled the phone away from her ear. Keelin had cut her off with a single "On our way."

"Okay then. Okay." Morgan breathed out and wiped sweaty palms on her jeans. Now, all she had to do was wait.

Reasoning that she would be safer in the van, Morgan climbed into the row of seats in the middle and buckled up. If anyone whipped around either curve, they could smash into her van from either end. The middle was fairly safe, she concluded.

Morgan looked at her phone again, her finger hovering over Patrick's name. They'd texted a few times this week and it always surprised her to see something sweet from him on her phone. Deciding again not to bother him, Morgan turned off her phone to conserve the battery and tucked it back in her purse.

The moments crept by incredibly slowly as she sat, alone in the dark, on the edge of the cliff and waited. She commended herself on not having a freak-out and for steering the van to the side of the road as quickly as she had. She could only hope that the mechanic bill wasn't huge.

Sighing, Morgan jumped as a light sliced across her rearview mirror. Praying that it was Flynn, she craned her neck to see the haze of headlights working their way along the curvy road behind her.