Wild Irish Heart (The Mystic Cove Series Book 1) (2 page)

Chapter Three

"Okay, drama queen,"
Keelin said. "Let's bring it down a notch. This is all a little much for me."

A small smile flitted over Margaret's face as she turned to face Keelin. "You were always so irreverent. Part of me has always wished that I could be the same."

Keelin was shocked. Her mom admired what she so chastised? Interesting, she thought.

"If you'll excuse me, I need a moment to cancel my meeting. Then I will discuss that…that book with you," Margaret said as she strode purposefully from the room. Her back, ramrod straight, radiated determination and fortitude as usual. Keelin automatically straightened her shoulders. Just looking at her mother made her feel like a slob.

Idly, she let her hands trace the book. The supple leather seemed to warm to her touch again.

"Let's go," Margaret said. Keelin jumped and gasped.

"Mother! I didn't know you owned jeans!"

"Well, yes, if I ever went for a walk in the woods, I would need a pair, wouldn't I?" Margaret's tidy blue jeans were tucked into Hunter boots and her thick cardigan was buttoned perfectly. A plaid scarf topped her outfit and screamed "Ralph Lauren chic."

"Woods? What woods are you walking in, Mom?" Keelin asked.

"Well, the Common, of course. They have lovely trees."

Keelin had to laugh. Only her mother would refer to the manicured lawns of the Boston Common as "the woods."

"Okay, Mom. Let's go for a walk." Keelin tucked the book into her satchel and gathered her cardigan. She watched as her mother gathered her keys from the gold Hermès dish by the door, and made sure the doormat was aligned just so.

How had she come from such a woman? This wasn't a new thought to Keelin. Messy, disobedient, and opinionated, Keelin felt like she was a constant disappointment to her polite and reserved mother. She often felt like she was playing a role when her mother invited her to the society's most elite functions. Silk dresses and being seen mattered little to Keelin when she could bury her head in a book or hear some great local music. Her mom knew what every spoon and fork meant in a table setting, while Keelin preferred cider and a greasy burger from the local bar. For all their differences, a pure, strong love ran between them. It had been just the two of them for so long. She couldn't fault her mother for wanting the best for her.

As was typical of a Friday afternoon, the Common bustled with activity. The pulse of the city seemed to beat there, as people from all walks of life flowed from the stairwells of the T, dispersing into the green of the Common and weaving between the ponds and trees. It never failed to interest her, the people she found here, Keelin thought. Keelin had spent many an afternoon thinking about the lives of those who walked past her picnic blanket. She often played a game without really knowing why. Keelin would guess the ailments of strangers. She had no way of confirming how or why she knew what she did but she did it without thinking. Cancer, cold sore, cough, diabetes, sprained wrist…images flashed through her head along with emotions. It was like a game show where she had no way of knowing if she was a winner.

Keelin walked quietly beside her mother and listened as she rattled off the prices of the apartments that lined the Common. She knew all of this already, yet allowed her mother to talk. Margaret had a tendency to talk real estate when she was nervous. Eventually, they wound their way to a stone bench overlooking a small pond. Keelin idly watched a mother help her toddler feed the ducks.

"What do you know of Grace's Cove?" Margaret asked.

"Well, I know that it is a small town on the water in Southern Ireland. I know that you grew up there and didn't like the village lifestyle. I've googled it and the pictures are stunning. It really looks like a beautiful place to live. And, I'd love to get out on the water there. Those cliffs are incredible! I imagine there is a ton to study," Keelin said.

"Yes, well, I'm not surprised you like the water so much, as your father was a fisherman," Margaret said.

"Yes, so you've said," Keelin said. She was surprised that her mother had brought him up. A source of bitterness between them, Keelin knew little of her father and Margaret rarely spoke of him.

"I understand that I made a decision to remove him from your life, Keelin, however, it was in your best interests. And look at the life that I gave you. I had my reasons," Margaret said.

Keelin stayed silent. She'd heard this refrain before. What was the point of arguing the past?

Margaret sighed. "I suppose it is time for you to know more about your heritage."

"Yes, that would be nice," Keelin said dryly as she picked at some fuzz on her sweater.

"I loved your father, deeply," Margaret said.

Keelin gasped. She had always assumed that she was an "oops" and her father was a passionate night in passing.

"Oh, Keelin, we were so young and in love. He was working to be a commercial fisherman and had plans to go to Dublin to open a commercial fishing business. That, or start a boat tour company. Either way, you couldn't keep him from the water if you had tried. Sean had quite the big dreams. He…he didn't know about you until I had left. I never told him. Leaving Ireland was one of the hardest things that I have done."

Keelin stared in shock at her mother. Margaret's cheeks were flushed, yet there was a stubborn tilt to her chin. There would be no questioning of her past decisions.

"But, how could you not tell him?"

"He ran from me. He left me, Keelin. When I found out about you, I knew that the only thing that mattered was that I give you a chance at a normal life."

"But, Mom, didn't you miss him? What was so bad that you had to leave?" Keelin asked.

"I missed him terribly. I still do. I see pieces of him in you. We aren't the same people anymore though, and that time has passed. Let me tell you about the history of Grace's Cove."

Keelin nodded and kept silent. This was the most she had ever gotten out of her mother and she wouldn't let her big mouth sidetrack Margaret from giving her the information she so desperately craved.

"Have you heard of the famous pirate queen, Grace O'Malley?"

"Of course; she is legendary throughout Ireland. She was notorious for her fierceness in battle. I know she married twice and had several children.  She was famous for being ruthless, yet at the same time is credited with preserving much of Gaelic history."

"Absolutely, and she was a woman that knew her own mind. Did you know that Grainne is the Celtic name for Grace?" Margaret asked. Both Keelin and Margaret's middle name was Grainne.

"I did not," Keelin said.

"Almost all of the women of a particular bloodline in Grace's Cove carry that name. It isn't because of the town name. It is because our bloodline is that of Grace O'Malley."

"Shut up." Keelin was thrilled. She was related to a famous pirate queen? How cool was that?

"Keelin, do not say shut up."

"Sorry, Mom."

"Yes, you are a descendant of Grace O'Malley, for whom Grace's Cove is named. Your grandmother has a direct connection and experiences the effects of it."

"Of what? I don't understand. Is ol' Grandma a pirate or something?" Keelin asked.

Margaret smiled. "No, not quite. Grace was rumored to have powers other than her formidable ones as a pirate queen. Some say magick. Others say a healer. Others point to almost a psychic ability to predict potential threats. It isn't really known what all surrounded Grace, yet almost all will agree she had a level of power."

Keelin began to nervously pick at her nails. She pulled at a loose hangnail and winced as blood came to the surface. Without thinking she covered it with her hand and the wound slowly faded.

"The cove itself is rumored to be enchanted. Almost no one will go there. Well, aside from your grandmother. And a few others. I've gone there. I never will again."

"Wait. What. You're kidding me, right?" Keelin said. She pictured the stunning images of the cove that she had seen on Google. It was impossible to think that people wouldn't spend time there.

"The Irish are a very superstitious people, Keelin. Nobody will go there. People who do are often swept out to sea or injured on the rocks. They say that the moon won't reflect off the water there – yet at times the sea glows from within."

"Okay, Mom, stop. There are perfectly plausible explanations for these things. Oftentimes coves have whirlpools or riptides that will pull people out to sea. As for glowing from within, there are certain types of phosphorous plankton that can create a glowing illusion on the water. I'm sure it is all just a superstition," Keelin said.

Margaret smiled and shook her head. "You're so smart. And typically, I would agree with you, had I not seen the power for myself. I won't go back there. My mother went into the cove regularly and never had a problem but she had her own way of doing so."

"Mom, why is it named Grace's Cove? What is the connection?"

"Well, it is rumored that Grace O'Malley hid the Chalice of Ardagh there and that the one in the national museum is a companion piece to the real chalice."

"What! Mother. No. That is insane. The Chalice of Ardagh is part of Irish national pride. If that were true there would have been expeditions. Divers would have found it. The cove is not that big."

"Oh, there have been expeditions. Many. They've all failed. The government got sick of spending money on it and now dismisses it as a silly superstition and warns people against going to the dangerous waters of the cove. The official statement is that there is a powerful current that will sweep you out to sea. The unofficial statement is that it is cursed."

Keelin stared at the pond. The ducks swam lazily, picking at the offerings of bread. The science side of her mind concurred with the official reason for the cove's problems. The "other" side of her that stayed awake at night with visions, hummed. Her mom's words were like a balm of truth to her soul. Conflicted, Keelin rubbed her hands together, not seeing that her nail wound had completely healed.

"How come Grandma could go there? How does the book play into all this? Is this why you left?" Keelin had so many questions.

"Your grandmother and I had a difficult relationship. It was one of the reasons that I left with you. Her plans for you didn't coincide with my plans. I needed to give you a chance at a normal life," Margaret said again, nervously twisting a gold band around her right hand.

"Um, what? How am I supposed to respond to that? Can you just say it straight?" Keelin liked to work with facts.

Margaret sighed. Her twisting movements became faster. Keelin reached out and put her hand on her mother's.

"Mom, just say it."

"That book is your grandmother's. She was constantly devoted to it. She carried it everywhere and was always writing carefully in it. Your grandmother is famous throughout Ireland as a wise woman – a healer. There are those that claim she is a witch. I don't believe that. Yet, I've seen her cure people where modern medicine was unable to. She never let me see the book. She told me it was for my daughter and that I had other gifts. I never planned to get pregnant, so I didn't think about leaving Grace's Cove until I was surprised with you. I couldn't let you grow up with such nonsense. What kind of life would that be for you? People only come to healers if they need their services and healers are often shunned in other places. Healers are the focus of constant whispered gossip. With Fiona as my mother, no matter if we went into a pub or a store – someone always talked. The more religious members of the town would switch directions and cross themselves when we walked by. I just wanted a normal upbringing for you, not like the one that I had. I just wanted the best for you. You have to understand. I gave up my everything. My love, my family, my life so that you could be a normal child. And I still fear that I was never able to give you what you needed. She may have been right."

"Mom. I had a great childhood. It's fine," Keelin said quickly. Too quickly.

"Keelin. No, you didn't." Margaret sighed deeply and clutched Keelin's hand.  "You had constant visions, daydreams, and night terrors. You would scare the crap out of our friends when you told them they were sick or what would happen with a family member. And that time that you healed our cat that was hit by a car? You were five. Five! You are not normal and there is nothing that I can do to change that. You are touched with something special. Maybe it is time that I embrace this and do what I can to help you. You'll never find happiness if you don't address this."

Keelin was surprised to feel her cheeks were wet with tears. She hadn't felt herself start crying but it was like a part of her heart had cracked open. Her walls had been up for so long that she rarely thought of her childhood or how difficult her life could be at times. Her mother knew. She saw all of it. All of her struggles as a child. Her difficulty in relationships because Keelin always knew too much. She had a tendency to scare people without meaning to. It had taught her to pick her relationships wisely and to keep her bonds tenuous.

"Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. Don't cry. I always knew this day would come, though I wish your grandmother had picked a less dramatic way of doing this, without sending that book to you. I love you no matter what. Even if you may have a touch of Grace O'Malley's "power" in you. I mean, would you really be Irish if you didn't have a little extra something in you?" Margaret cracked a small smile.