The Forest of Aisling: Dream of the Shapeshifter (The Willow Series Book 1) (2 page)

He smiled and leaned in closer as if to whisper.
“I’m Hawk, Hawk Redwing. Nice to meet you, Willow Whelan.”  He grinned and
turned back to the food line.

As
I walked over to join my friends, I felt confused about my new
acquaintance.  One second the guy was shy and kind of sweet, the next he
was like a Casanova, the picture of confidence and intimidation.  I looked
back his way and watched as he took his tray and went to an empty table. 
I shook my head and looked down at my arm that was still tingling from his
touch.

 “Willlllllooooww,” Leah sang, “Who. Was.
That?” She grabbed my lunch bag and threw it to the table, then pushed me down
in the chair next to hers.

Leah
was one of the first friends I made at this new school, and it was
immediate.  Once we started talking, we never stopped.  It felt as
though we had known each other forever.  At five foot six, she was a
couple of inches shorter than me, thin, wore glasses and had short dark-brown
hair that contrasted with her pale blue eyes.  She was funny and friendly
and slightly crazy which came out at the most inappropriate times.

My
other friend, Samantha, transferred to SFAA when I did.  We’d known each
other since fifth grade.  I was so happy to have her here. Sam was as tall
as me, with blonde hair which she always wore in a ponytail, half of it hanging
in her hazel eyes.  She was athletic and strong; obsessed with running
each and every day.  She was funny too but in a less obvious way than
Leah.  She had a more serious side, like I did; we figured that it was
because we were both “only children.”  “We’re way more mature,” she’d
whisper to me whenever Leah would be acting crazy. Sam sat on the other side of
the table, still staring wide-eyed at the new addition to the school.

“His name is Hawk,” I answered, “he’s in my
language arts class. He walked me to class this morning…but it was kind of
creepy; it felt like he kept following me.  I sort of went off on him.”

Leah craned her neck to look over at Hawk then stared
back at me in disbelief.  “Why would you go off on
that
?!” she
exclaimed.

I shrugged.  “It just felt kind of weird,
like he was stalking me.”

Sam finally looked at Leah and me.  “That
dude is hot,” she observed casually.  “Who the heck is he and how come
I’ve never seen him before?”

“Like I said, his name is Hawk Redwing.  He
just moved here from Taos.  He’s only been here for three
days.   He seems nice but he also seems kinda like a player.  I
don’t know…he’s different.”

We sat for the next fifteen minutes trying to
figure out this newer-than-myself new guy and how he already knew who I
was.  When I looked over at Hawk’s table again a gorgeous blond girl had
planted herself in the seat next to his.  I chuckled to myself and decided
that’d probably be the last conversation I’d have with Hawk Redwing now that
the cover-girls had spotted him.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. 
This fifth week of school found classes getting harder and teachers losing
their sense of humor.  But, at least I was making friends and beginning to
feel less out of the loop.  School is always much more bearable if you
have good friends waiting there to share it with you. 

As I visited my locker for the last time of the
day, I said good-bye to Leah and Sam and looked around for Hawk, but didn’t see
him anywhere. 
Oh well
, I thought,
maybe tomorrow
.  I
had to admit I was curious about the guy.

 I rushed out to Mom waiting in the car. “Hi
Willy, good day?”  

“Sure,” I answered, hoping for a quiet ride home.
I wasn’t much in the mood for chit-chat and wanted to mull over mentally the
events of the day.  Mom must have read my body language because she turned
on the radio and just let me drive without any conversation.  When we did
get home, I saw Dad’s car in the driveway.  “Dad home already?” I
asked. 

“Dad didn’t go to work today,” Mom answered as I
turned off the engine.

“Really?  Dad never misses work…is he
sick?” 

“No.  I’ll let him explain, he’s
inside.”  

I flashed on Dad’s comment of the morning, saying
he needed to talk to me.  Dad never really needed to talk to me about
anything.  He’d ask me about school and friends and Mom;
needing
to
talk to me was something new. That set off my curiosity big time as I rushed
into the house. 

Glancing around the kitchen, I didn’t see him but
heard his voice in the living room.  I tossed my backpack on the counter,
hurried in and sat beside him on the couch.  He was on the telephone and
from what I could tell, was making some kind of reservations.  I waited
patiently until he finally ended his call. 

“Hi Dad, is everything ok?  Mom said you
didn’t go to work today.”  My dad never missed work.  He owned his
own landscaping business and would crawl there on hands and knees if he had to,
so the fact that he stayed home all day told me something big was going on.

“Everything’s fine kiddo…I’m fine that is,” he
answered, writing on a piece of paper.  After he finished he turned to
face me. “I have something to tell you, Wils.”  His expression was stern
and his blue-gray eyes were missing their usual spark.  Mom joined us and
sat beside Dad, placing her hand on his back, rubbing it the way she would when
she was trying to be supportive. 

“What is it?” I asked moving closer. 

“I received a call last night, from my dad in
Ireland.” 

Immediately,
I sat up and focused my attention on my father.  In all my life, I’d only
heard him speak of his parents one time. After that, he said never to ask about
them again, despite the fact I was dying to know them.  I mean, they were
my grandparents, for Pete’s sake.  All I knew was that they still lived in
Ireland and that Dad had moved away at a young age.  I got the impression
that he and his father had some kind of a falling out.  Any time I’d try
to ask questions about them Dad would either just leave the room or glare at me
with that,
don’t even go there
look. 

“You
got a call from Grandpa?”  He shot me a stare suggesting he wasn’t happy
with me referring to his father as “Grandpa” even though that’s exactly who he
was. 

“Yes,
and I’m afraid I have some sad news.  Your grandma, Shannah, has passed
away.”  Dad’s voice cracked and his eyes grew damp as the words spilled
out.  It was almost as though, by saying it, the unbelievable became real.
For me, this was the first time I’d even heard him speak my grandmother’s
name…Shannah.  

“Dad, I’m so sorry.” I sat closer and clutched his
arm.  He was quiet and motionless for several minutes, staring at the
tablet that lay on his lap.  I looked over at Mom who was resting her head
on Dad’s shoulder.  She glanced my way then closed her eyes. Dad finally
spoke again. “The funeral for your grandma will be in three days and I’d like
you to go with me.” 

I didn’t move for a minute and thought about what he’d
just said. “Of course, we’re all going, right?” 

“I don’t think so, Wils. It’s very expensive;
plus, your Mom has her showing at the gallery. We’ve discussed this and feel it
would be good for you to go.”  Dad looked over at Mom, and then grasped
her hand in his.

I wasn’t sure how I was feeling about
everything.  After all, I never met my grandma…knew nothing about her and,
until today never even heard her name.  I knew I should be sad and all,
and I was for Dad but…this was just so confusing.  "What about
school?  I'm just starting to get comfortable there and making
friends.  How long would we be gone?" 

He ran his hand through his graying hair and
frowned. “I can't be away for any more than a week. That should be more than
enough time.”

“I spoke to the head of school, Willow.  Your
teachers are putting together your assignments so there’s no problem
there.  Luckily it’s so early in the year you won’t be missing much,” Mom
added.

I thought about all the things coming up at school
in the next week...the plans I’d made with my friends.  A week didn't
sound long, but when you're trying to fit in somewhere, every day makes a
difference. I glanced at Dad, who suddenly looked very old.  He stared at
the floor and then again at the tablet with the flight plans.  After a
long silence he stood up and walked toward the kitchen.  "Better
start packing, Willow, we leave tomorrow."  His footsteps slowly
faded away as he walked out the back door. 

I stared at Mom. “Tomorrow?”  She stood up,
reached for my hand and led me to my room. Already sitting there on my bed was
a suitcase. 

"This is important, Willow. Your father needs
you more now than ever.  He’s hurting so much.  Too many years have
passed without him speaking to his mother and now to have her gone…it’s just
very sad.”  Mom unlatched the suitcase then stepped over to my closet and
opened the door.

"What’s the story there, Mom, all I've ever
heard is not to ask, or speak about them. What happened between them and Dad?" 
I wondered, opening the suitcase and laying it across my bed.

"That needs to come from your father. All I
can say is his anger never was towards his mother. It’s out of love and respect
for her that he’s even going to the funeral." 

As we talked, she went through my closet and held up
different clothes tossing me the “yes’s”
that I packed all the while
listening to her speak about Ireland.  She’d been there one time with Dad
after they were first married, when he tried to reconcile with Grandpa. But,
according to Mom, he left feeling more alienated from his father than ever.
Whatever happened between the two of them was still unresolved, after so many
years.

“That’s even more reason why you should go, not me,”
I insisted. “I mean, how can I be of help when I’m in the dark about
everything?”

“Willy, I just can’t leave right now,” Mom
answered with a calm, soft voice.  “You know how hard I’ve worked to get
my art showing in a gallery.  It’s important that I’m there for the
opening this weekend.  You of all people know what this means to me. 
We talked it over and it’s decided.”  She came over and took hold of my
shoulders, pulling me in for a hug.  I held back and just shook my
head.  A hug wasn’t going to help and it wasn’t going to give me any
answers.

I placed the last pair of socks in the suitcase,
closed it, and flopped on the floor, resting my back against the powder-blue
wall and watched as Mom continued rifling through the closet.  Max, my
gray tabby cat, climbed onto my lap and began his purring ritual.  Most
times it was annoying when he did that, like when I was doing homework or
trying to read, but this time I was happy to have him with me.  I
scratched behind his ears and felt the vibration from his underside grow stronger,
relaxing me with each purr.  Looking down into his green eyes I thought how
simple and easy his life was.

“Well, that should take care of it,” said Mom as
she tossed a coat on top of the suitcase.  “The flight is tomorrow at 10 a.m.
It's a long flight, Wagmu; put a couple of books and whatever else you want in
this other bag to carry on the plane.”

She lowered herself to the floor beside me draping
her arm over my shoulder.  She hadn’t called me “Wagmu” for a very long
time.  It’s Lakota for pumpkin and she pretty much stopped calling me that
when I started driving.  Thought it was too childish, I guess.

“It’d be nice if I could join you, and it’d be
nice if we were going for a different reason, but, well, it is what it is. And
as hard as this is, it’s still an opportunity for you to connect with family
you've never met, a chance to see where you come from.  This may sound
strange, Willy, but we all have memories of places from our past locked up deep
inside of us.  Most of us never get the chance to return to those places.
Voices of our ancestors become quiet in the busyness of our modern lives. Keep
your eyes and ears open to the sights and sounds of this place. Your history is
there, and, who knows, maybe your future.”  Her eyes sparkled while she
spoke, pushing back loose strands of hair behind my ears; she seemed excited
for me and this trip, which was weird considering I was going to a funeral.

 “But Mom, you should be the one going with
him.  I’m not sure I’d even know what to say or do to support him
now.  It just all feels so… awkward,” I repeated as I stroked Max’s neck.

“It’s meant for you to go, Wagmu. The reason for
that will become clear, maybe while you’re there or maybe not until sometime
after, who knows.  Trust that your father and I know what’s best for you
now, ok?”

“Will Dad even let me meet Grandpa?  You saw
how he reacted just now when I called him Grandpa.”

“I’m sure you will, though I can’t say how much
time you’ll get to have with him…knowing how your father feels about
him.”  Mom leaned back against the wall.

“But that’s just it, Mom; I don’t know how he
feels about him!  I don’t know what’s going on, why he won’t talk about
him or tell me anything about either one of them. Why can’t you tell me?” 
My voice shrieked in irritation.

Mom reached over and stroked Max on the head,
“It’s not my place to tell you, Willow. This thing with your Dad and Conor can
only be explained to you by him.  There are things that even I don’t
know.” 

“Conor?  That’s Grandpa’s name? Finally,
after sixteen years I hear my grandfather’s name.  That’s just…
awesome.”  I flopped back against the wall and threw my arms up in
frustration.  Max dug his nails into my legs before jumping off my lap,
adding his own insult to injury.

“Dad won’t even say his name and now we’re going
to the funeral of my grandma who I’ve never even met,” I said in frustration
rubbing my scratched legs.  “And you tell me I need to go and support
him.  I’m the child here you know and you’re expecting me to behave more
like an adult than he is! If you’re confused about this, how do you think I
feel?”  I felt my face flush and my eyes began to sting. 

“Willow, I know it feels like we’re putting you in
a very uncomfortable position–”

“Duh, ya think?” I blurted out, then eyed her
nervously. 

Without blinking an eye she wrapped her arms
around me and continued. “A very uncomfortable position, but you know we’d
never ask anything of you that we weren’t completely sure you could
handle.  As I said, you need to look at this as an opportunity to meet
some amazing people and visit an amazing country. Leave the other business to
Dad; it’s his battle, not yours.” 

We sat quietly for the next few minutes, the only
sound being the low rumble of a neighbor’s lawn mower.  She then stood up
and brushed the cat hair from her jeans. “I need to finish fixing dinner; I’ll
call you when it’s ready.”  I nodded and rested my head against the wall.

Dinnertime was like an awkward first date with
feeble attempts at conversation. Even Chance skipped his annoying begging and
lay asleep under the table. The quiet was beginning to make me extremely
uncomfortable.

C’mon somebody say something,
I thought,
while I took a bite of salad.  Looking up at my parents I caught Mom’s eye
and quickly glanced back down at my plate. 

“Willow, would you like some more potatoes?”

“No.”

“Jack, more potatoes?”

“No.”

The clock on the wall was ticking so loudly I
could swear that it was some kind of a bomb.  I’d never even noticed that
clock before but now it was the only sound I could hear.

“Ok you two, enough of the silence,” Mom said as
she began clearing the dishes away.  “You’re going to be together for the
next week so you better start figuring out how to get through this.  Jack,
go ahead and show Willow that picture.”

Dad frowned then looked back over at me, reached
into his denim shirt pocket, and pulled out an old photograph.  “This is
your grandma, Wils; she was probably about twenty-two at the time this picture
was taken.” 

He handed me the photo. The black and white
picture was faded with torn edges. It was the image of a young woman standing
beside a horse.  In the background was a barnlike building resting on top
of a hillside.  The woman was dressed in what appeared to be riding gear and
had wavy, long hair draped over one shoulder.  She had a trace of a smile
and was very pretty.  As I studied the picture I could make out some of
Dad’s features on the face of my grandmother; similar eyes, the shape of the
face and the smile.  That smile I’d seen many times before on my
father. 

“She’s so pretty,” I said, without taking my eyes
from the picture. 

“Yeah, she was lovely; a kind woman, but strong
also. She trained that horse in the picture…it was her pride and joy.” He
tapped on the photo pointing to the horse.

“That is so cool.”  I’d worked with horses a
few years ago as part of a volunteer program for rescue animals. I admired
anyone capable of training them.  “Do you have a picture with Grandpa?” 

Without so much as a blink he grabbed the photo
and his cup of coffee and walked out of the kitchen.  I looked up at Mom
with raised eyebrows, drawing her attention to what I was going to have to deal
with.  She tilted her head to one side and frowned and motioned for me to
join her at the sink.  As we did the dishes together in silence she would
nudge me every so often; I guess to let me know she was there.

I wasn’t able to sleep very well that night,
didn’t get a chance to go back to my dream with the wolves.  I guess I was
too worried about everything else, so when Mom came into my room to wake me up
I was already dressed and making my bed. 

“Wow, Wagmu, you’re up already?”

“Yep, didn’t get much sleep so I thought I might
as well get ready.”

“Nervous about the flight?” she asked as she
tossed me my pillow.

“That and everything else.” Just as I said that I
realized I hadn’t had a chance to get in touch with my friends and let them
know what was going on.  “Ah, crap…”