Ellida (4 page)

“Oh, Mom, Dad, where are you?” I whispered
softly as my chest tightened with awakened pain. “You must be
somewhere here, with me.”

I closed my eyes and saw a room with soft
pink walls, filled with golden autumn light, white curtains blowing
in the afternoon breeze. And two smiling faces, one with soft-gray
eyes, the other one with dark-blue, hovering above a child in a
crib.

The old house wasn’t quiet anymore.

“Red Cliffs needs to accept me for who I am,
Uncle, and forgive my mother for whatever they think she’s guilty
of,” I said quietly, swallowing my tears. “I am not only Hal’s
daughter, but Rowena’s too. If they can’t, I don’t think I can stay
here. I can’t pretend to be somebody else.”

For a long moment, James didn’t say anything,
and then he nodded. “I understand, Astrid. And I don’t ask you to
deny that part of yourself; you know that, don’t you?”

“I know.”

“It will be fine, you’ll see. Just give us a
chance. We need you here.”

As I needed them, I thought, and this little
town, and a different kind of belonging—to my father’s kin, to
another part of myself.
Here I am, Father, Mother
, I wept
silently.
I came home because I wanted to, because I’m happy to
be a big, strong werewolf with red fur and amber eyes. And a wizard
with blue eyes and golden-reddish hair. I denied both of you. I
betrayed you by trying to be somebody else, neglecting my wizard
powers and fighting the wolf in me. Not anymore. I am happy being
who I am
.

I turned to James with a smile, as if a heavy
burden had been lifted from my shoulders. “I’m not going to live
here, Uncle, but I’ll keep the house. I’ll renovate it, make it
pretty again. Eamon,” I addressed my cousin who’d been sitting
quietly on my beige sofa, “help me to find my laptop. We should go
back. Aunt Betty might need a few extra pairs of hands.”

THE MOHEGANS’ kitchen looked busy as a
beehive and smelled wonderful.

“Check the oven, Astrid. The squares should
be done by now,” Betty said when I offered to give her a hand.

I pulled out a big baking sheet with
raspberry bars. “Pour the glaze over it, let it stand a few minutes
and then cut it into two-bite size pieces,” she said, pushing a
bowl with sugar glaze into my hands.

Lily was in charge of the catered finger food
that had just arrived. Drew started another batch of brownies in a
copper mixing bowl.

I heard the front door open and my uncle’s
voice greeting someone. A moment later a young woman with a
four-year old child came in.

“Hi, I’m Frances Colby, and this is Graeme.”
She hugged me and kissed my cheeks. “Say hello to Miss Mohegan,
Graeme. She is our Ellida.”

I ducked down to his eye level. “Hi, Graeme.
You can call me Astrid, if you like. What do you have there?” I
pointed to a small yellow dump truck clenched in his fist and
immediately regretted my attempt to make conversation because his
big blue eyes filled with tears.

“This is my favorite truck and my cousin Mary
broke it. Because I cut off her Barbie’s hair. We were playing and
she said it was okay, and then she started crying.”

“Maybe it can be fixed. Did you try?”

“It’s broken, see here. My dad used crazy
glue, but it didn’t work.”

I could easily fix it, even with my limited
metal skills, but I didn’t want to look like a show off in front of
his mother. “You know what, Graeme, I have to find my special glue.
Next time you see me, remind me about your truck and I’ll try to
fix it, okay? Come, have a cookie. Do you have any allergies?” I
asked my habitual question and glanced at his mother. She shook her
head.

“No. Only Henry has them. He’s allergic to
cookies and ice-cream and even pizza.”

SOON OTHER children arrived with their
mothers, and before long Graeme had forgotten all about his broken
truck.

Many people came that morning, mostly young
women and children, but there were quite a few men, too. My cousin
Alec arrived with Sid Brandon; Sid’s brother Mark popped in a bit
later. Then another set of brothers came in: Costa and George
Manatos, the owners of Kalamata Grocery, which sold Mediterranean
food. They came with hands full of paper bags with olives, pickled
vegetables, feta cheese, Parma ham and dried figs.

My family stayed close to me all the time.
Eamon was always within arm’s reach. James would usher in new
visitors and introduce them to me. From time to time Betty would
ask me to help her in the kitchen, giving me a chance for a brief
break. I was a bit nervous and tense among all the new faces and
names, answering various questions and enduring their curious
glances. But that was okay, I said to myself. That was me: never
entirely comfortable in a group setting.

And then the door opened again and my heart
jumped. Jack came in, bringing with him his fresh, crisp and sunny
scent, and the knot in my stomach eased.

“Hi Astrid,” he said and brushed my lips with
his. “How’s everything?”

The warm stream instantly spread from my lips
through my entire body, embracing me from inside out. I caught a
few curious looks and blushed.

“Oh, fine,” I said, feeling shy and wonderful
at the same time.

Jack’s light kiss could be interpreted both
as an affectionate greeting, as well as a statement of our
relationship as a couple. He let everybody in the room reach their
own conclusions. I briefly wondered if my uncle would see it as a
‘gradual revelation’ of our bond as I’d promised him back in
Seattle, but I decided to let Jack deal with it. After all, it was
he who had kissed me, not vice-versa.

He gently squeezed my upper arm and joined
his mother and James on the other side of the room, keeping me in
sight all the time. I felt safe and secure.

Then trouble walked in.

James let in two women. He gave a fatherly
hug to the younger one and kissed her forehead, politely nodded to
the older woman, and then introduced them to me as Heather Kincaid
and her daughter Peyton.

The mother had the coldest blue eyes I’d ever
seen. They sliced through me with such an icy force as if she’d
finally met her archenemy. Her open animosity was so unexpected
that I was sure for a moment that I’d imagined it. She said a few
courteous words and turned to talk to somebody else. Nobody seemed
to notice it, except Betty, who came to me and squeezed my
hand.

And her daughter. She smiled at me warmly, as
if trying to make up for her mother’s hostility.

Heather Kincaid had shaken the fragile
balance I’d worked hard to establish. I decided to ignore her and
concentrated hard on her daughter, who seemed to be a pleasant
person.

Peyton was my age and lovely: pixie-like,
with big, open blue eyes that dominated her heart-shaped face. Even
her voice was accordingly pitched: chiming, pearly and sweet. With
her porcelain-white skin and dark curly hair, she looked like a
woman-child, whose fragile physical appearance automatically
triggered a protective response in the opposite sex.

She inquired about my trip here, my job, my
future plans. She said she worked in the real-estate business, and
talked about her job and her trip to Europe the previous year.

After her unpleasant mother, I was ready to
like the daughter.

Until she excused herself saying she hoped to
see me soon and walked straight to Jack. She hugged him and kissed
his cheek, and he did the same. It looked like nothing more than a
warm greeting between friends, but then she placed her tiny hand on
his arm.

And kept it there.

The alarm in my head went off.

Summoning all my inner strength, I turned
away from the picture of my smiling boyfriend and a small hand on
his upper arm, and focused my attention on Frances Colby, who stood
beside me. I asked her if she had a job, how long she’d been
married and where her husband worked, nodding politely to her
answers.

Of course, I thought, confused, Jack hadn’t
lived as a monk, waiting for Astrid Mohegan to be born, grow up and
find him in her backyard. Was Peyton Kincaid his ex-girlfriend?
Would he have told me if he’d a serious relationship with her? What
was going on?

And then I heard an angry voice growling
inside my head.

“
You little bitch, move your claw from his
arm! He’s mine
!”

My wolf was on red alert, hurt, possessive
and jealous. She wanted to come out and take over.

“
You must trust him!”
I said firmly,
trying to calm her down.
“Look at him! He isn’t interested in
her that way. Trust him!”

“
She is surely interested in him! Look at
her! She’s all over him!”

“
Enough!”
I yelled at my wolf. “
You
back off! Let me handle it!”

Eamon appeared behind me and pushed a glass
into my hands. “Your drink, Astrid.”

I took a long sip, scanning the room. I was
sure that nobody else, save for my cousin, noticed anything. He
confirmed it with a tiny shake of his head but stayed close to
me.

I was angry with myself for letting my
jealousy get the better of me. My wolf had just vocalized what we
both feel strongly, only I was ashamed of it and she wasn’t. I was
trying to deal with it with logic and reason, while she wanted to
come out and deal with it in person. That was the only
difference.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself what
a gentleman Jack had been when my ex-boyfriend, Ingmar, had come to
see me. But Ingmar and I were just friends now, two people who had
ended their love affair long ago and felt good about it.

Could Jack say the same about this girl and
her feelings toward him?

I didn’t doubt Jack’s love for me, not for a
moment. I wasn’t sure he was aware of it, but to me it was clear as
day the petite girl was still very much in love with him. Her eyes
were full of love. And something else, I suddenly realized. What
was it? Hurt? Pain? Had he told her about us? Or had she figured it
out on her own? God, I didn’t want my love for Jack to hurt
her!

She removed her hand from his arm. Jack took
a small step back expanding the physical space between them. I felt
his eyes on me and felt the power of his love embracing me.

A few days ago—or an eternity ago, I wasn’t
sure anymore—I’d been concerned about the power of the bond that
left Jack and I more or less without options. We had decided to
make the best of it, to accept it as a gift, to nurture it and
cherish it. Now I felt the bond as freedom and a blessing, precious
and magnificent as life itself.

I found Jack’s eyes and smiled at him. His
warm, amber gaze caressed me with love.

“
Happy now?”
I asked my wolf.

I felt her sigh. “
Yeah, you’re probably
right. But you know what? Nobody touches what is mine!”

I exhaled deeply and I turned my attention to
six-year old Henry Flanagan, a child prodigy with an IQ over 160.
He was kneeling in front of a side table beside the sofa,
drawing.

I sat on the sofa, peeking at his art work.
It looked like some kind of map. I opened my mouth to ask him about
it, but he looked at me and said candidly, “Miss Mohegan, your eyes
changed color. I’m sure they were blue when we were introduced to
each other.”

From the corner of my eyes, I could see Jack
freeze and turn to me. Eamon shot me a worried glance. Alec and
Betty started walking toward me. James grabbed the first plate and
did the same. I gave them all a discreet sign I’d be okay.

Henry picked a sand-colored pencil and
continued coloring his map. “Could you please explain to me how you
do that? It’s fascinating,” he said in his grown-up language.

Now we had the full attention of the entire
room.

“Is that because you are a witch?” Henry
carried on.

“Henry!” Donna Flanagan, his grandmother,
snapped. “Miss Mohegan is a wizard, not a witch.”

“But Granny, this is purely a gender matter.
Men are wizards, women are witches.”

“Harrison Albert Flanagan, that’s enough!”
His grandmother warned him. “Not a word more!”

I laughed. “It’s okay, Mrs. Flanagan. Henry,
why don’t you sit here beside me?” I patted the spot on the sofa.
“We called ourselves wizards, but you are right, that’s a rather
gender neutral term.”

He sat beside me, his drawing in his hands.
“More like a category.”

“That’s right. In our wizard tongue, we call
ourselves—”

“Asanni, asyr and asyngaer,” he said,
nodding. “I thought those words aren’t in use anymore. Miss
Mohegan, I’m sorry I offended you by calling you a witch.”

“Oh, you didn’t offend me at all. Now, about
my eye color. See, Henry, I simply have two different eye colors.
Astrid the Witch is blue-eyed and my wolf has amber eyes.”

“I see. Does it give you trouble sometimes?
For example, when you travel, with the customs officers when they
check your passport?”

I almost burst out laughing. “I’ve been quite
lucky so far. May I see your picture?”

“Of course.”

He offered me his drawing. I studied it
trying to suppress a smile. “It’s a very accurate map of the United
Arab Emirates,” I said, amused.

“And surrounding countries: Qatar, Oman,
Yemen and Saudi Arabia. Granny used to work in Saudi Arabia, you
know,” Henry said, and then carried on with a brief account of the
current geo-political situation in this part of the world.

“You seem well informed for a young man of
eight,” I said.

“I’m six, Miss Mohegan.”

“You don’t say! Six! I was sure you were much
older.”

Henry beamed and asked me if I played
chess.

“I do,” I said.

“Then perhaps we can have a match or two one
day.”