The Forest of Aisling: Dream of the Shapeshifter (The Willow Series Book 1) (37 page)

“Da!” Bram yelled, then looked to me and Quinn.
“Is he answering?”

We both paused, listening hard to the sounds of
the desolated building, but heard nothing other than the crackling of the fire
and dripping water.

“DAAADDD!” he yelled again, this time panic
shooting through his voice.  I grabbed his arm and turned his face to me.

“Let me see if I can reach him.”  I used
mindspeak, “Aaron, Aaron, where are you?”

Bram’s eyes burned into mine.  I prayed for a
response and held his gaze, repeating, “Aaron, please, can you hear me?”

“Where was the safe room, Bram?” Quinn asked,
kicking aside the clutter.

Bram stepped over to an area that was now
completely covered by pieces of the collapsed roof and wall.  “The door
was here,” he motioned waving his hand, “behind all this.”  His voice
cracked as he grabbed hold of a chunk of plaster and threw it aside. Quinn
began grabbing pieces and throwing them out the broken window.

I tried my mindspeak again but got no response
from Aaron.  I joined Bram and Quinn and desperately we sifted through the
remnants of the ravaged building.  Finally, the frame of a door appeared,
with the door miraculously still in one piece.  Bram turned the handle but
it was locked.  He stepped back and slammed his shoulder against it. 
It didn’t budge.  Quinn and I threw ourselves into it, too, and after a
third attempt the entrance finally swung open.  The three of us went
tumbling down the staircase that led to another door at the bottom of the
stairs. 

“Blimey mate, you might have warned us!” Quinn
signed, frowning as he stood up, dusting himself off.  He reached a hand
down and pulled me up.

Bram stood and rubbed the side of his head where
he had come in contact with the door at the bottom of the stairs.  “I
didn’t know!  I’ve never been down here, didn’t even know that doorway led
down to these stairs!”

As we stood there discussing the door and the
stairs, suddenly the bottom door opened and there stood Aaron.  He grabbed
Bram and held him tight.  He then pushed him back, holding his shoulders
and stared at him with tears in his eyes.

“I was worried, son.  I’ve never been so
worried in all my life.”  He grabbed hold of Bram again and signed
frantically to him.  The two hugged again; then Aaron took hold of Quinn
and me.

“Thank God you’re all ok.”  He pulled us both
close and kissed me on the cheek and Quinn on the forehead.  “Is
everything ok, with the Fomorians, that is?”

Bram nodded, “Aye, we’ve a lot to tell you.”

“You can tell me all the details later.  I’ll
bet you’re all exhausted. Go on in,” he ordered, stepping aside so we could
enter the room.  Once inside we stood staring, dumbfounded at the
condition of the space.  There was no damage whatsoever. The room itself
was no more than a ten-by-ten space, but its walls appeared to be
concrete.  There was a small cot in the corner, a safe in another corner,
a sink, a toilet, a small fridge and a bookcase loaded with all sorts of books,
and a table and chairs.

“What is all this, Da?” Bram asked, obviously
surprised at the set up of the room.

“It’s the safe room,” Aaron replied nonchalantly.
“I told you about it.”

“Yeah well, I never pictured it as a bunker,” Bram
replied, studying the books on the shelf.

“I asked you to come see it many times. You never
wanted to,” Aaron responded.

“Yeah, ‘cause I thought it was just a safe in a
room, not a
safe room
!”  Bram answered. “But thank God it is. 
Have you seen the damage upstairs, Da?”

“No, I didn’t want to risk it.  I could hear
explosions, decided to stay put.  The blasts stopped a few hours
ago.  I guess I fell asleep.  I just now woke up when I heard a crash
against the door.” 

“That explains why you didn’t answer when I spoke
to you,” I said, tapping my forehead, sitting down at the table.

“Hmm, I didn’t hear you, sorry.”

“It’s a mess up there, Da,” Bram said joining me
at the table.

“I don’t doubt it, son.  I’m just happy that
you’re all ok, that’s all that matters.”

Quinn was shuffling back and forth when Aaron
looked over at him.  “I bet you’re anxious to get home.”

“Yeah, I want to make sure everything’s ok.” 
Quinn ran his hand through his hair, dislodging bits of plaster that floated to
the concrete floor.

“Let’s go see if we can get a car started and get
you two back to your families,” Aaron said, leading us to the door.

We made our way back up the stairs and carefully
stepped over the debris.  Aaron went to a wall where keys were still
hanging.  He grabbed a handful, then headed outside.  A car lot sat
in back of the building with about a dozen cars.  Most were destroyed by
fallen trees but, incredibly, there was one small compact VW that had somehow
managed to avoid getting crushed.

 Aaron opened the door and fumbled with the
keys, finally picking the one that turned over the engine.  Quinn and I
climbed in back and Bram jumped in the front seat beside his father.

When we pulled up to Quinn’s house we all breathed
a sigh of relief.  The place looked relatively unharmed in comparison with
most of the town.  Tree branches were scattered across the lawn and a
couple of the front windows were cracked.  Mini lakes had formed in and
around the yard, but other than that, no damage was visible.  I looked
over at Quinn, who was craning his neck, checking out his home.

“Looks good, right?” he asked, turning his head to
me.

I nodded and smiled patting him on the back,
“Looks great.” 

Bram stepped out of the car and walked Quinn to
the front of the house.  Quinn stood at his side and the two chatted for a
few seconds non-verbally.  Quinn clasped hold of Bram for a quick hug then
lowered himself to look through the car’s windshield.  He waved and
smiled. “Thanks, Aaron.  See you soon.”

He signed “Later” to me, then stepped up to the
front door.  He barely had his hand on the knob when the door swung open,
slammed against him and almost knocked him down.  Out bounced
Kelleigh.  She took hold of Quinn and held onto him for dear life. 
Quinn rested his head on his sister’s shoulder.  Kelleigh’s mouth was
moving a mile a minute, which made me smile; I could just imagine all the
things she was saying.  Soon they were joined by his parents, who took
their son and put him in the center of their hug.  My heart began aching
for Dad.

“Thank you!” Kelleigh yelled.  Aaron stuck
his hand out the window and waved.  Quinn’s parents nodded their heads
toward the car then pulled their son and daughter back into the house, all four
of them still wrapped up in each other’s arms.

I asked Aaron to take me to the hospital, thinking
that was the last place I had seen Dad; I felt sure he was still there. 
Aaron insisted on waiting while I went in through the hospitals entrance. “Just
to make sure your dad is still here,” he offered.

I went into the crowded lobby and was surprised by
all the activity.  People were standing all around the main desk. 
Some were in their robes, some in hospital uniforms, and others were dressed in
plain clothes.  They were all discussing the storm and the damage done by
it.  I rushed past the crowd, took the elevator to the third floor and
headed towards Grandpa’s room.  As I walked, my heart began racing, I was
so anxious to see Dad and Grandpa.

 I went to Conor’s room and quietly opened
the door.  I was taken aback when I entered and saw Grandpa’s empty bed
with the sheets and blankets all tucked in.  I looked around the room and rested
my eyes on the corner built-in cabinet that had held all of Grandpa’s get well
cards; they were gone.   His slippers weren’t beside his bed and his
robe no longer hung from the hook on the back of the door.  Everything was
gone.  I thought he must have been moved to another room and headed out
the door, bumping into a nurse on her way in.

“Hi, I’m looking for Conor Whelan.  He was in
this room.  I’m his granddaughter.”

The nurse stepped past me and laid some blankets
on the bed.  “Ah, hello, you must be Willow.”

I nodded my head.

A concerned look swept across her face as she took
hold of my hand.  “Your father left here an hour ago, after the storm
lightened up.  I believe he was heading back to your hotel. Do you have a
way to get there?” she asked, sympathy oozing from her voice.

My throat tightened at her tone.  Something
had happened, something bad.  “Where’s my grandfather? I’d like to see him
while I’m here,” I answered, pulling my hand away, suddenly feeling distressed.

She looked to the bed then back at me.  “You
should be with your father.  Can I help you find a ride?”  she asked
again, taking hold of my shoulders.

I stared into her hazel eyes and saw my own
reflection there, distorted and blurry.  I quickly pulled away and ran to
the elevator, pressing the down button as I swallowed hard.  Thoughts were
racing through my head as I felt the abrupt stop, signaling I had reached the
lobby.  I raced out past the crowd and stood at the entrance looking to
the parking lot, past the downed trees and power lines.  My eyes finally
caught sight of the little blue VW.  It started up and was at the curb in
seconds.  I jumped in the back seat and rested my head in my hands. 
Bram reached back to me and took hold of my wrist.

“Willow, what is it?” he asked worriedly.

I wasn’t able to look up at him.  I held onto
my head and asked Aaron to take me to the hotel.  Bram jumped in the back
seat of the car and grabbed hold of me.  I felt myself collapse into his
arms and closed my eyes against his chest. 

Bram walked me up the pathway and through the
doors of the darkened hotel lobby.  A security guard at the front desk
shouted hello and waved us ahead to the staircase, explaining the elevator was
out.  

Bram had his arm around my waist and I felt
comforted by his closeness.  Without a word we climbed to the fourth floor
and stepped out onto the landing.  I walked past the ice machine and
flashed for a brief second on the incident that had happened there with the
mist.  I cleared my head and came back to the present and felt an ache in
my stomach.  As we approached the door I stopped and grabbed hold of
Bram’s arm.  He swung around to look me in the face and tilted his head.

“I’m so worried, Bram,” I sent in mindspeak. “I
have a terrible feeling that something has happened to Grandpa.”  I felt
tears welling up in my eyes.  “I think he may have passed away.”

He furrowed his brow and tightened his lips,
empathy washing over him.  “Ah, Willow,” he said aloud, pulling me
close.  I held on, letting myself get lost in the sheer comfort of his
arms.  After a few minutes I took a deep breath and turned, grasping hold
of the doorknob to our room and opened it. 

Bram entered with me and waited at the threshold
while I approached the sliding glass doors of the balcony.  There, sitting
alone, in the coldness of the early morning was my father.  He turned his
head as he heard the door open and was standing in an instant, facing me. 
The look on his face spoke more to me than any words could have.  I had
never seen such sadness in his eyes, such torment.  His brow was creased
with lines and his cheeks damp from tears.  He tilted his head to the side
and frowned, the way he would when he was unable to find the right words. 
It broke my heart.

I flung myself at him and felt us collapse in each
other’s arms.  His tears began to flow freely and were washing down my
face with a mix of my own.  A quiet sobbing arose from my dad as he laid
his head on my shoulder.  I heard the door close from the other room and
glanced back to see that Bram had left us alone.  I held onto my father
and joined him in his muffled sobs.

My eyes opened slowly onto brilliant shades of
green and blue as I blinked into focus the rolling hills and azure skies of the
Irish landscape.  A deep breath filled my nostrils with hypnotic scents
ranging from lavender to roses and even to the briny smell of the sea. 
The sound of crashing waves drew my attention behind me where a cliff jutted
out of the Atlantic Ocean’s white-capped grasp.  I marveled at the
awakening of my senses.  No other sound, sight, or smell had ever been
quite so intense or magnificent.

As I returned my attention to the hillside I
observed a chestnut-colored mare grazing in the distance.  I watched her
lower her head and nibble at the long grass growing freely around her. 
She rose up and looked in my direction.  She took a few steps towards me,
then stopped and began to eat again.  Locked in the calming feel of the
scene I stared, hypnotized by the horse and its surroundings.

 I then noticed a person climbing over the
hill, approaching the mare.  The first thing I saw was the top of a straw
hat as it made its way up the rise.  When the figure drew closer I saw it
was a woman wearing riding pants, a plaid shirt, and a vest.  She held her
head low, with her hat shading her face, and in her left hand she carried a
bucket.

The breeze danced the soft sound of her voice
my way as she spoke to the horse.  She pulled a brush out of the bucket
and began smoothing the mare’s mane, all the while speaking in a velvety
tone.  I gazed at the two feeling an inexplicable peacefulness in watching
their interaction.

Soon a man made his way over the hill.  He
carried a saddle and also wore a straw hat which hid his face.  He joined
the woman and the horse, and placed the saddle on the horse’s back.  He
leaned in and kissed the woman, and the two drew closer together in an
embrace.  Laughter floated through the air.  The man held onto the
saddle as the woman slid her foot into the stirrup and pulled herself up. 
The man looked back behind him and whistled.  Within a few seconds a young
boy dressed in a t-shirt and overalls bounded over the hill, singing to the
adults.  They all laughed. The man lifted the boy onto the horse, placing
him in front of the woman.  She wrapped her arms around the boy and kissed
the top of his head.  The boy looked up to the woman and she then kissed
his nose.  His laughter filled the air. 

The man took the rope and began leading the
horse towards where I stood.  I felt happy and excited to meet the joyous
family making its way to me.  A soft breeze captured the man’s hat and
played with it before tossing it to the ground. He bent down and reached for
it, but before he grabbed it he lifted his head in my direction.  When he
looked up, his eyes met mine.  He nodded and smiled.  I held my hand
to my heart.  I’d know those eyes anywhere.  The blueness in them was
visible even from where I stood.  And almost like a zoom lense my vision
closed in on them, as though they were right in front of me.  It was
Grandpa Conor, a young Grandpa Conor.  He placed his hat back on his head
and took hold of the lead rope once more. 

I turned to the woman, who was now looking my
way as well.   Her hat had blown off and was resting against her
back, held on by the hat strings. Strands from her long auburn braid were loose
and blowing in front of her face.  She fingered the loose strands and
tucked them behind her ear.  A smile spread across her face as she also
nodded at me.  A quick recollection of the picture of Grandma Shannah shot
through my mind and there she was, sitting on her favorite chestnut
horse.   I wanted to run to her, to run to both of them, but was
unable to move.  A nod from the woman followed by a tilt of her head told
me that I could come no closer.  Her eyes pulled me in just as Grandpa’s
had done and allowed me to stare deeply into them.  I saw once more the
eyes of my Grandma as she had appeared to me, the eyes of the gray wolf. 

The little boy grabbed hold of the reins and
then he, too, looked my way, with a huge grin followed by a wave of his little
hand.  He spoke excitedly to the adults and motioned for his father to
come closer.  Conor grabbed his free hand and walked beside the horse as
the three slowly turned and headed back down the other side of the hill. 
I watched until they disappeared then looked back out to the sea, the sounds of
their laughter still echoing in my ears.

I opened my eyes and looked around the familiar
hotel room.  The dream had felt so real; in fact, I knew it was
real.  Just as Grandma Shannah had sent messages to me before, I felt both
she and Grandpa Conor were sending me one now, letting me know that they were
ok –better than ok; they were at peace and where they wanted to be.  They
were together and they also had their little boy back, Joseph. 

I rolled over in my bed and looked out the window
onto the bright blue sky.  A feeling of contentment and peace rose up
inside of me.  The sound of my father’s hushed voice from the bathroom let
me know he was talking to mom, and the thought that I would be seeing her very
soon warmed my heart. 

I sat up and looked at the clock, which was again
working, and wondered if the time was correct.  If it was, that meant I’d
slept eight hours.  I stretched my arms overhead and felt twinges of pain
shoot through my body which wasn’t surprising, considering the events of the
night before.  I momentarily lost myself in the recollections of that
night: the Fomorians, the Eye of Balor, the crazy weather, the fear of losing
Dad and all the people I’d now come to know and love.  My mind raced back
and forth, replaying elements from each occurrence, before it finally slowed
down and rested on one thought…my grandparents and the beautiful image of them
from my dream that I would carry with me forever.

“How are you feeling, Wils?”  Dad asked, as
he stepped out of the bathroom.

“Not bad, really,” I answered, twisting my neck in
an effort to loosen the knots.  Considering the hits that we all took, it
was amazing that any of us could still walk.  I shuddered at the thought
of how bad I’d be feeling if we hadn’t been able to shift and bring on healing
that much faster.  I grabbed hold of the Triquetra hanging from my neck
and held it to my lips, kissing it lightly.  “Thanks to this.”

Dad smiled and sat down on the bed alongside me,
taking hold of my hand.  “You know how proud I am of you?  Not just
because of the whole, saving the world from evil, thing,” he said with a side
grin, “but because of all of it.   When Conor was passing, he asked
for you.  I told him about what was happening and he made me promise to
tell you how much he loved you.”

I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my
arms around them, resting my chin on top.

“I’m so sorry, Dad.  If the power hadn’t been
lost completely, he’d still be here with us.”

Dad shook his head.  “I don’t know about
that, honey.  I think he was ready to go. For the most part he was
unconscious and the nurses did an amazing job at keeping him comfortable. 
When he was awake he’d talk about how tired he was and how much he missed
mom.  In fact, just a few minutes before he died, he had been lying there
with his eyes closed; then he opened them and called out Shannah’s name and
held his hand out as though he was reaching for her.  After that, he
smiled at me, told me he loved us, closed his eyes, and was gone.”

I took comfort in the fact that Dad had been able
to reconcile with Grandpa before it was too late, and to be there with him when
he died.  Eight people had died that night at the hospital because all
power was lost, even the backup generators, and the life support systems had
failed.  I hoped that all of them were able to leave this world under the
same peaceful circumstances as Grandpa Conor.

Dad then told me about his conversation with Mom,
and that he had booked return flights to New Mexico the next day.  My
heart both leapt and sank at the same time.  Even with all the wonderful
new relationships I’d gained in Ireland, I was still somewhat homesick.  I
missed my mom, my friends, my
before Ireland
life.  Thinking back
on it, that life was so simple and easy.  But at the same time the thought
of leaving produced a huge knot in my stomach.  How could I possibly say
good-bye to these people whom I had shared life-and-death experiences
with?  How could I just go back to routine as usual?  And most
importantly, how could I say good-bye to Bram?

I stood in the middle of Grandpa’s study where,
days earlier, he and I had sat talking about Grandma and their life
together.  Amazingly, nothing at Grandpa’s house had been damaged, or
impacted at all from the storms that had decimated so much of the area. It was
all exactly as he left it, which kind of comforted me.

I sat on the loveseat and smiled as I rubbed my
hand over the worn cushion and felt the spot where the spring had stuck me that
day.  Family pictures still hung on the wall and sat placed throughout the
room.  I moved to the chair at the roll top desk and opened the top
drawer, sifting through the collection of faded color and black-and-white
photographs that lay inside.  My grandparent’s lives remembered in these
faded pieces of paper. 

“Eagan says he’ll leave everything just the way it
is,” came Dad’s voice from behind me.  I spun the swivel chair and faced
him as he stood in the doorway of the little room.  His face looked much
more serene now; the lines that had been so pronounced were relaxed.

“Do you think it’d be ok if I box some of these
and take them with us?”  I asked, running my fingers over the fading
images.

“Sure, they shouldn’t be left lying around
anyway,” Dad answered as he joined me at the desk and took a handful of shots,
inspecting each one carefully.

“I’ll go find a box,” I said, motioning for Dad to
sit.

I left the room and went into the tidy little
yellow kitchen.  The sweet smell of cinnamon lingered; from what I
couldn’t tell.  I stood over the stove and pictured Grandma there
cooking.  She must have made many meals at that stove, considering,
according to Dad, that nothing had changed in the past forty years. 

 I looked around the room and spotted a
door.  I opened it and found that it led to a basement.  To my left
hung a string attached to a light bulb. I pulled the string, illuminating the
staircase and small cellar below. The wooden slat steps were wobbly and aged.
After cautiously maneuvering downstairs I saw an area to my right that had a
bench spanning the length of the wall.  The bench had tools neatly
arranged on a pegboard sitting on top of it.  Old tin cans lined the back
of the bench, filled with nails and screws and other odds and ends. 

Shelves were stacked at the far end of the
bench.  On the shelves were jars of food.  It looked like canned
fruits of different kinds, and jams and jellies.  I remembered the few
times mom and I had canned some peaches and applesauce, and how delicious they
were. I wondered how long ago it had been since Grandma had canned them.

As I looked around the workbench my eye caught
sight of a small cardboard box sitting underneath.  I bent down and picked
up the box, then headed back upstairs. When I neared the top I reached over to
turn off the swinging light bulb. 

A folded piece of paper tucked into a wooden beam
became highlighted by the bulb.  I blew away the dust and cobwebs that had
ensnared the old paper and pulled it away from the beam.  I carefully
unfolded it, shaking away the last bits of dust.  When I opened it up I
saw it was a faded map.  I switched off the light and stepped back into
the kitchen where I could get a better look.  I moved over to the window
and held the map up to the light.  It looked like the area around
Killarney, but I wasn’t sure.  Then I noticed a circle drawn with an arrow
pointing to handwritten words on the corner of the map.  The writing was
washed out but still visible.  I could make out the words,
the forest
of my aisling.

The familiar sound of Eagan’s voice floated from
the living room to the kitchen.  Just hearing him made me feel
happy.  I hadn’t seen him for days so I raced to greet him.

“Well, here we are, my dear girl, Willow!” he
exclaimed reaching his arms out.

I eagerly went in for a hug and basked in the
smell of the cherry pipe tobacco that coated his shirt.  I breathed in
deeply, wanting to store the scent in a special place in my memory. 
“Hello, Uncle Eagan!”  I responded excitedly.

“Hello, darlin’, how are you?” he asked.  He
looked down at the map in my hand and pulled my wrist up to his face. 
“What have we here?” he wondered as he tilted his head, studying the old piece
of paper.

“I went to get a box from the basement and found
this map stuck behind a board near the door.  Is this a map of Killarney?”

Uncle Eagan took hold of the paper and held it at
arm’s length, narrowing his eyes.  “Well, yes, this is Killarney and this
area here…this is the park.”  Uncle Eagan pointed to the spot with the
circle.  “What does it say there?” he asked, tapping the faded
handwriting.

“It says
forest of my aisling
.  What
does that mean Uncle Eagan…aisling?”  I leaned in closer looking at the
paper still resting in Eagan’s hand.

Eagan raised his eyebrows.  “Aisling? Well,
that’s usually a name, but it’s also an Irish word meaning… vision or
dream.  That looks like your grandma’s handwriting.  This spot she
has circled is the area that my mutt Cryer got lost in.  Remember
that?  It’s also the area
you
were lost in.”   Eagan
stared at the map, then shook his head.  “Wonder what the old girl meant
by that?”  He shrugged and handed back the map, then wrapped his arm
around my shoulder and turned towards Dad, who was now standing in the living
room by the fireplace.