This comes right after Snippet #6 (which is also were you can find links to snippets #1-5). Please let me know if you think this has become infodump.
We left our neighborhood, heading north through Hampstead, along tree lined streets paved with cobble stones, past the magnificent Kenwood House, past the Heath with its ghosts of highwaymen long gone, and into the farmland surrounding the city of London. I can never give exact directions to Caitlin’s mother, Bronwyn’s house. I have accused Dr. John of never taking the same route twice, and he cheerfully admits as much. But Laura, who tells me that you need to know such things, has also told me that you know Bronwyn, so you know her house, and most likely how to get there.
Or not.
Anyway, we drove up to her house, which sits on thirty acres bordered on one side by a meandering stream, and on the opposite side by the road which is the only approach. The hedgerow that borders their property is backed by a line of tall thick bare to the bones trees, possibly some kind of larch that in the summer must look like some kind of magical green wall.
The house where Caitlin grew up is big and rambling and can’t be seen from the road. Everyone was silent inside the car as we drove up to it. And I must admit, as much as I love looking at houses and architecture, my eyes were glued instead on the family standing in the entry shading their eyes from the sun’s glare, waiting for their darling girl to come home so they could assure themselves that she was safe.
Caitlin was out of the car before it even stopped and in her mother’s arms in a heartbeat, and it was only then that she gave vent to all of the fear and pain that she’d felt since she so bravely ran at those Hell Hounds. Safe in her mother’s arms, with her father holding both of them, she cried and shuddered and at last healed.
Standing beside the car rather self-consciously while Dr. John and Laura unloaded the car’s boot, my musings were interrupted by the rapid approach of a dark gray bundle of fur which jumped up into my arms and shifted in mid-jump into a very small version of Caitlin.
“Are you Caitlin’s Gracie?” she asked, placing her hands on my shoulders and seeing how far she could lean to one side or the other.
“I guess I am,” I answered, watching as Dr. John and Laura made their way into the house with the first of their bundles. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Angharad,” she answered with a giggle. “I’m five.”
“Are you Caitlin’s?” I asked, grinning at her to let her know I was teasing.
“No. She’s my big sister. She only acts like she’s my momma.” She laughed. “Are you a momma?” She was looking down now, one small hand resting on the mound of my breast, and I realized that shifters must be naturally flat, or at least flatter than I was. Go figure.
“No, I’m not,” I replied, tempting fate before making it worse by adding, “but someday I hope to be.”
“Oh.” Evidently that required some thought, but after a while she looked up again and, smiling wistfully, said, “Do you wanna come in? It’s gonna take them a long time to get all cried out, you know.”
“Why don’t we help Laura and Dr. John bring their packages in?” And jumping down, she took my hand as we each carried a bag into the house.
Taking the time to show me the closet for my coat and scarf and gloves, and where to stow my boots, Angharad led me into the kitchen with me carrying both our bags, and then ran off yelling back that she’d just be a moment.
Having told Dr. John and Laura that we’d gotten the rest of their bags, I watched them disappear into what I later learned was the library; which meant that I was alone while I stood and looked in awe at the house that would become my second home.
That first trip, with no one looking over my shoulder, I indulged myself and looked to my hearts content. Everything about Bronwyn’s house was sunny and inviting that cold January day. The kitchen was large and well arranged with a fireplace against one wall and enough cabinets and countertops to give me a serious case of storage envy. Putting Laura’s bags on the counter I poked around, smelling the stew simmering on the stove and the bread in the oven and the collection of loaves cooling on the hearth.
“You can light the fire if you’d like,” the voice startled me and turning around I found Bronwyn had come in and was unpacking Laura’s bags. “I’d like to thank you for looking after my girl.”
“Am I really a witch?” It just slipped out. Honest. Slapping a hand over my mouth, I looked at Bronwyn stunned.
“Yes, sweet girl. You are.” Putting down whatever she had just picked up, Bronwyn walked up to me and hugged me, holding me until she felt me relax and then started stroking my hair. “It’s not a bad thing,” she assured me as she explained. “It’s rather like most things in life; it is what you make of it. What you do with it makes a thing good or bad.” And oddly enough, I believed her. “Now, let me take a good look at you. You look just like your mum.”
“You know Dee?”
“Yes, I do.” She smiled as she said this, and it seemed to me there was a great deal of mischief behind that grin. “Your mum made her very own pilgrimage to London a little over twenty years ago.”
“Twenty years ago?” I was stunned, but then again I’m also very good at math. “But that would mean…”
“That you were conceived here,” she finished. “Yes, you were. And before you ask, no I don’t know who he was. I have several suspicions, but Dee never told me. I am sorry; it must have been rough for you, not knowing.”
“Is my dad a witch?”
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he were. But more to the point, your mum is.”
“Why didn’t she tell me? Help me? Teach me? Didn’t she think I might need to know this?”
“Of course she did. That’s why she sent you to Laura and John. That’s why she was so insistent that you go to the college you did, and as early as you could. She knew that they were there and would keep an eye on you for her, and when you were ready they would be in a position to be able to teach you what you need to learn. After you graduated, Dee was worried about you and wrote to them. But they had already decided to invite you to join them here. The truth of the matter is that Deirdre didn’t feel she was the best person to teach you. But she knew that Laura and John could teach you, they’d been offering to do just that for years.”
“You did?” I asked turning to the kitchen’s entrance, not surprised in the least to find Laura standing in the open doorway, her arm draped around Caitlin’s shoulders.
“We did.” Laura smiled. “We would have invited you sooner, but we wanted to make sure you finished school first. We had a feeling this trip might change things for you.” I was so stunned I could barely think. Their generosity and help had started before she knew me. But how?
“Sweetheart, I’ve known you your whole life,” she said, reading the thoughts I hadn’t even spoken, and then she dropped her second bombshell. “Dear girl, I’m your godmother.”
“She asked me first,” Bronwyn muttered under her breath so we could all hear. Realizing just how petulant she’d sounded, Bronwyn started laughing at herself before explaining, “I was rather pregnant at the time and couldn’t be there.” She laughed again, this time a deep rich sound as she laughed at the vagaries of fate. “I did visit her long enough to meet you, but not long after, I had my own babies to take care of, and then a husband and then a farm and a business, and no money or time for trips. So I shouldn’t be too upset that your mum made a life for herself.”
“But why didn’t she tell me I was a witch? She didn’t even try to teach me,” I was baffled, frankly. I was happy to have heard what they told me, and yet I was hoping they could explain the inexplicable.
“I hate to say this babe,” Laura began, looking terribly serious. “But you grew up in hostile territory. If she’d said anything at all to you about witchcraft or talents, her grandfather and his favorite flunkie would have found out. And trust me when I say that as bad as things were, they could have been so much worse.”
“Favorite flunkie?” Bronwyn asked, stirring the stew, slicing the bread, and getting lunch ready to serve.
“He was so happy with everything this schmuck did for him; my great-grandfather gave him his only daughter.”
“How bad were things?” Bronwyn asked; wrapping her strong arms around Caitlin’s shoulders and pulling her daughter back to lean against her, as if what had happened to me was somehow a threat to her.
“When I was fourteen, my great-grandfather and his favorite flunkie somehow found out that I’d started having my period. They waited for it to pass, and then they both raped me, trying to get me pregnant.” Looking down, counting the ceramic tiles on the floor, the number of bricks in the fireplace hearth, or the leaves in the pattern in the rug, the last thing I wanted to see was their expression as they reacted to what I’d said.
There was nothing funny in what I’d said, so when I started chuckling weakly, I just figured they would think I’d lost it. And again, they proved me wrong.
“What?” Laura asked, pulling me into her arms and hugging me. There was no pity, no condescension, no worry that I was loony in her voice. It was just her voice and she was interested in what I had to say.
“The Major almost blew a gasket when he found out I wasn’t a virgin.” I smiled, but even I knew it wasn’t a nice one. “But since he was raping me at the time, I didn’t care what he thought.”
“Who?” I had buried my face against Laura’s shoulder, so didn’t see who asked the question, not that it really mattered.
“A boy I knew: a sweet, shy boy whose childhood was almost worse than my own. Cormac used to bring him home to us as often as he could. He and I would spend hours huddled together against the monsters in the dark. Then one night, we were huddled and we started kissing and cuddling and we didn’t stop. Not long after that, his parents sent him away to a boot camp school somewhere. I never saw him again.”
“I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough time of it.” Caitlin walked up to where I stood with Laura and wrapped her arms around me, whispering, “Those bastards try anything and I’m taking a baseball bat to their willies.”
“Don’t worry, they both know better now,” I assured her as Bronwyn handed Caitlin a basket of bread to take to the table. “Besides, the Major is so old now, all the Viagra in the world couldn’t make that soldier stand and salute.” And taking the handful of silverware wrapped in napkins, I joined Caitlin in the dining room.
I had just finished putting one at each place when Bronwyn came out carrying a large tureen of stew followed by Laura with the teapot and Caitlin carrying the condiments. As if by magic, no sooner had Bronwyn placed the stew on the table than Dr. John and Angharad walked in with Caitlin’s da.
“Gracie, this is Caitlin’s Da. Brychan, this is Gracie O’Shaunnessy.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir,” I said, shaking his hand and seeing where Caitlin got her white blond hair.
“Call me Brychan,” he said with a smile that was almost identical to Caitlin and Angharad’s before he poked fun at his friend. “You’ve probably sir’ed him enough for a lifetime.” We had walked to the table and Brychan pulled out a chair for me, kissing my cheek as he pushed me in, saying “Thank you for taking care of my sweet girl.”
Sitting at the table, listening to the conversations going on around me, I was swamped by a wave of exhaustion as everything that had happened since coming to London washed over me, and the thought of food was one thought too many.
“What’s wrong, you don’t like my cooking?” I was looking at the table in a food induced stupid when Bronwyn’s question finally made it through the fog. The denials were on my lips when I looked up and saw the grin she was wearing, a grin that everyone else at the table also wore.
“That’s not it.” I answered lamely, blushing brightly as she laughed, a rich warm laugh just like her daughters’. “It all looks delicious, and if we hadn’t just eaten more food for breakfast than I usually eat all day, I would probably be making a big pig of myself. But I can’t face food right now.”
“Me neither,” Caitlin sighed, looking longingly at her favorite dishes. “May we be excused?”
“Certainly, why don’t you show Gracie the maze?” She smiled as she turned to me and said, “I think you’ll like it. Granted, it’s not much to look at in the middle of winter, but its still a pretty special place.”
