Magic's Muse, page 25
“Married?” Wynne smiled. “Oh, that’s nice. Can I come see you get married? I want to see you get your happy ending.” He leaned in, lowering his voice still further so Cathal had to strain to hear it. “That’s why I published her journal, you see. I wanted a happy ending. My parents didn’t get one, did they? But you could. You and your young man.” His eyes glazed over. He looked at Cathal and Mikey but didn’t see them. “I did the right thing, didn’t I? Mother didn’t think so, but I think she was scared. Not just for me but for her Christian. That was my father’s name, you know. Christian.”
“I know.” Cathal swallowed, searching for the right words. If Wynne hadn’t published the book, Tomas wouldn’t have looked for the sequel and followed the clues that had led to the truth behind the story. “Your father is my cousin, Wynne.”
“I know that.” Wynne snorted. “I know we’re cousins, Cat. You already told me that the last time you came to see me. You promised to bring him home to see my mother.”
“I….” Cathal could feel Mikey’s eyes on him, and the old man’s. “I….” He had to just come out with it. There was no easy way to say this. “He came back with me this time, Wynne. The enchantment is broken. Christian….”
“He’s here?” Wynne’s response was sharp, and then he started to laugh. Mikey and Cathal exchanged a worried glance. Had Wynne taken leave of his senses?
“Cat’s right, Granddad.” Mikey fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. “Christian’s here. He’s waiting to see you. Please let me tell him you want to see him.”
Wynne looked up in surprise. “He’s my father, Mikey. Why wouldn’t I want to see him?” His voice hitched. “Does he still look like the sketches Mother drew? He does, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, he does,” Cathal said softly, “but a little older, like me.”
Mikey bit his lip, his fingers paused on his zipper. “Are you sure you’re okay, Granddad? Why were you laughing?”
“I’m not as crazy as they think, Mikey. Sure, I see stuff, but so do you. Just because I don’t see dragons like you do doesn’t make what I see any less real now, does it?”
“I suppose not.” Mikey stared at Wynne. “Do you want me to go get him?”
“Get who?” Wynne leaned back onto his pillows after his outburst, puzzlement crossing his face. He looked past Mikey at Cathal. “Cat? That is you, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s me, Wynne. It’s Cat.” Cathal felt the grip on his hand tighten. Confusion rolled over him, a whirlpool of mixed emotions, a creeping darkness trying to swallow him, to steal him away. It reminded him a little too much of the diawl of his own world. He shivered.
Wynne took a deep breath and seemed to come back to himself. “Mikey, you remember the box where I keep my mother’s journal and her sketches? Could you bring it to me, please? There’s something in it I need to give to Cat.”
“Okay.” Mikey seemed relieved to have something to do. Within minutes he’d retrieved a box from the wardrobe in the far corner of the room and brought it over. It was covered in paper with roses on it. Cathal recognized the design immediately as one Alice had loved. “What am I supposed to be looking for?”
“Give the box to Cat, and he can find it.” Wynne reached over and ruffled Mikey’s hair. “Could you go get my father for me, Mikey? I need a few words with Cat in private.”
“Okay.” Mikey hesitated. “If you need me, Granddad, you’ll let me know, won’t you?” He shot Cathal a warning look.
“I will.” Wynne handed Cathal the box and opened it, but his next words were directed toward Mikey. “You’re a good boy, Michael, and I’m proud of you. I guess I haven’t said that often enough, have I? You’ll look after your father and your cousin for me, won’t you?”
Mikey nodded, his eyes suspiciously bright. He turned and ran from the room, leaving Wynne and Cathal alone.
“What am I looking for, Wynne?” Cathal lifted the leather-bound book out of the box carefully. It was Alice’s journal. He ran his finger over the etching on the front of it. Christian had made it for her as part of the wedding gift he planned to give her. He’d sat out in the field near the tree, using his favorite knife to get the design just right.
Beneath it there were two sketchbooks and a dried lavender rose attached to a pink ribbon. Cathal’s fingers shook. Alice had worn that ribbon in her hair the day the Falcons had come. He’d interrupted a moment between her and Christian. They were kissing, and there was a rose threaded through her hair. He’d quietly slipped away, not wanting to intrude.
“Your Tomas has seen the first sketchbook but not the second,” Wynne said softly. “It had to wait for the right person and moment.” He shook his head when Cathal lifted it out and went to open it. “It’s for my father. Open my mother’s journal. She left something for you too, and told me to give it to you when you returned.”
Cathal nodded slowly. Tomas had described the box to him, but it had only held the journal and the one sketchbook when he’d seen it. He opened the journal. There was an envelope nestled within the pages. It was addressed to him. “Alice….” He blinked rapidly, then wiped at his eyes. This hadn’t been here before. It couldn’t have been; Tomas would have told him.
“Mikey’s not the only one who sees things, Cat.” Wynne coughed, his breath whistling. Cathal looked up, concerned, but Wynne shrugged. “My mother told me you were coming, that you’d both come. I waited and I knew.”
“I’m sorry you had to wait so long.” Cathal held the envelope tightly to him. “This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen, Wynne. Your parents were supposed to have a long and happy life together.” A choked noise escaped his lips. Alice had been a dear friend. Damn the Falcons. This wasn’t fair. His uncle…. He closed his eyes, half dreading what might be in this final letter.
“It wasn’t your fault, Cat,” Wynne said. “My mother never thought that, despite what I told you. I needed to lash out at someone. I was angry.”
“We both were.” Seeing Alice again, but so much older, afraid, and alone had hurt so much. He’d vowed to fix it, whatever the cost. Taking over as head of the resistance was only supposed to be the beginning. God, he’d been so naïve, thinking everything could just be put right. Some things couldn’t be fixed. Time continued on its path, people changed, and the past was what it was.
“Visit me again?” Wynne sounded for a moment like a small boy. “I need to tell you about my Sarah, and Libby. They have to be remembered. That’s important.”
“I promise.” That was one promise he could keep. Wynne wouldn’t spend the time he had left alone. Cathal would see to it. It was the least he could do.
The door opened. Christian leaned heavily against its frame, staring at Wynne. “Wynne?” His voice was hoarse, almost broken. He crossed the room quickly. Cathal took a step back, not wanting to be in the way. The expression on Christian’s face did not come close to painting a picture of the emotions churning beneath the surface. Concern, distress, sadness, fear, were all mixed and merged, but within a palette of love.
Wynne looked up, his eyes brightening. “Father, you came. You came.” Tears ran down the old man’s face. Christian took him into his arms, holding him like one might a child, rocking him.
“Wynne. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
This meeting was meant to be private; their emotions were too raw. Cathal stumbled toward the door, shutting it quietly behind him, doubting they’d noticed he’d gone. He wasn’t a part of this. He wasn’t meant to be.
He leaned against the wall, his breaths coming in shallow gasps as he attempted to steady himself.
“It’s okay, Cat. I’m here.” Tomas’s arms were around him, holding him.
A sob tore from his lips, muffled as he leaned into Tomas, clinging to him.
Tomas held him, stroking his back, kissing the top of his head, murmuring words of endearment until Cathal began to calm. “I love you, Cat.”
“I didn’t think they’d ever have the chance to meet.” He looked up at Tomas. “I tried so hard to keep my promise. Why does it still feel like I failed?” Wynne should have met his father sooner. They’d lost so much time. A son shouldn’t be so much older than his father. It wasn’t fair to either of them.
“You haven’t, and it’s okay now.” Tomas caressed Cathal’s cheek. “I’m sorry about all of this. You guys have been through too much crap.” He slid his arm around Cathal’s waist and kissed him softly on the lips.
One of the nurses murmured something. Cathal felt himself grow red, realizing they had an audience. Tomas’s grip tightened, embarrassment quickly waning into a mix of protectiveness and determination.
“See, I told you they liked to kiss.” Mikey’s part of the conversation, naturally, was the loudest. It appeared that he too was giving Christian and Wynne the privacy they needed, even if that gesture didn’t extend to anyone else.
“That’s what people do when they love each other,” Cathal said quickly, before Tomas could add his opinion of what Mikey had said. He leaned into Tomas. “Mikey, I need to talk to Tomas about something in private. Would you be able to stay here?”
“Sure.” Mikey grinned. “I can look after stuff for you.” He turned to Trudy and spoke to her in a low voice, nodding when she replied in the same way. “There’s a garden out the back. I’ve taken Granddad out there sometimes. Trudy says you can go sit out there for a bit. Come, and I’ll show you.”
“Thank you.” Cathal managed a shaky smile. His fingers closed around the letter still in his hand, wrinkling the paper around the edges.
“Granddad’s okay, isn’t he?” Mikey turned to Cathal when they reached the door. “Should I go check?”
“Sometimes people want to be left alone for a bit, Mikey.” Tomas opened the door. Beyond it was an archway leading to seats in a sheltered garden, the well-trimmed shrubs and tidy flower beds a reminder that the privacy it offered was only a temporary one. But still, it would do.
Mikey frowned. “Sometimes it’s what they want, but it’s not what they need.” He shrugged. “I’ll give them a few more minutes; then I’ll go see.”
“That sounds like a good idea, Mikey.” Cathal laid a warning hand on Tomas’s arm. Mikey knew Wynne better than any of them.
“Thanks, cousin.” Mikey grinned at Tomas and ducked back inside.
“Cousin.” Tomas snorted. “I still can’t believe that kid is your relation, Cat. What the hell did I do to deserve that?”
“Excuse me?” Cathal rolled his eyes. “Mikey speaks his mind at times. There is nothing wrong in that.” It reminded him of his brother, Faolan. “And, strictly speaking, he is my cousin, so he is perfectly entitled to use that form of address if he so pleases.”
Tomas held up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m still getting used to a lot of this stuff, and that includes him and Christian. It took a while before Ethan and I became friends too. I can be a bit slow. I admit that.”
“You’re forgiven.” Cathal leaned in and kissed Tomas.
“That’s good. I was worried there for a moment.” Tomas smiled. It was difficult to tell whether he was teasing or not. “Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about that needed somewhere private?”
“Wynne gave me a letter.” Cathal held it out to Tomas. “I… I want to know what’s in it, but… could you read it to me?”
“This is from Alice.” Tomas sounded surprised. He turned the envelope over in his hands. The stationery was Alice’s favorite. It was similar to the paper covering the box Wynne had kept her journals in, although the rose pattern had faded with time. “I recognize her handwriting from all those letters she wrote to Christian. This is private, Cat. Are you sure you want me to read it? I can sit with you while you do if you’d like.”
Cathal shook his head. These would be Alice’s final words to him. “I’d prefer to hear it read by someone I love.” He sat down on the bench seat, his legs suddenly shaky. “I still don’t want to believe she’s gone, Tomas. I close my eyes and I can see her, just like it was yesterday.” He made a choked noise. Tomas was by his side in an instant, pulling Cathal close. “It shouldn’t have happened like this. It’s not fair.”
“I don’t think fairness has anything to do with this, love. Life has a tendency to be anything but.” Tomas brushed Cathal’s hair from his brow and kissed him gently on his forehead. “Are you going to be okay if I read the letter now, or would you prefer to wait till we get home?”
“Now, please.” There wasn’t a right time to hear this. He closed his eyes, leaning his head on Tomas’s shoulder, picturing her the day before the Falcons had come. That was the image he wanted of her, not the last time they’d spoken. In his mind she could be forever young, only growing older as Christian aged, which was the way it was meant to be.
He heard a careful rustle of paper as Tomas opened the envelope, unfolded the letter, and began to read:
My dear Cat,
If you are reading this I am probably long gone, having passed into whatever waits for us beyond. It also means you were not able to bring my Christian home in time.
I have no regrets, Cat. While my life did not turn out the way I wanted or planned, the short time I had with Christian still fills my heart with the memory of the love we shared. I see him in our son, Wynne, and in him, whatever happens, my Christian will live on.
Don’t blame yourself for what happened, and don’t deny that you do. I know you. None of this was your fault—I know you tried to stop them. Wynne doesn’t blame you either, despite the words he spoke. He was scared, as we all were. I regret the argument you and I had that day. We were both upset.
I wish for you only happiness, my dear friend. I hope you find the one you seek and that you are able to share a future Christian and I could not.
I do, however, have one request of you, but it is one I know in my heart does not need to be asked. Look after my husband, and be the voice of reason for him that he so often desperately needs.
Much love now and forever,
Alice.
Chapter 17
WHEN Tomas woke the next morning he was greeted by Cathal’s empty side of the bed and a murmur of voices coming from downstairs. A familiar tune rose in volume before Heidi yelled, “Turn it down!”
He stumbled out of bed, running his fingers through his hair in a vain attempt to tidy it enough to keep it out of his eyes, and hunted around for his clothes. Finally he spotted them on the back of the couch. Weird. That wasn’t where his boxers had landed when Cathal had taken them off the night before.
“I picked them off the floor when I was searching for mine,” Cathal said from the doorway, amused. He handed Tomas a cup of coffee and crossed the room to open the curtains. “You were sound asleep, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“How long have you been up?” Tomas pulled on his clothes and sipped the coffee gratefully, already feeling his body respond to the much needed caffeine fix. “I haven’t slept too late, have I?”
“I only woke a short time ago,” Cathal reassured him. “We still have plenty of time to go to the bank and the library before we need to pick Kathleen up from the train station.” He stared out the window, studying the field beyond the inn. “The wood from the tree will have to be gathered, split, and stored before the snow falls. Christian and Will are going to do it later.” He chuckled. “Mikey, of course, wants to help. It might not be a bad idea.”
“It’s not supposed to snow today.” Tomas came over to stand with Cathal. “Not according to the forecast, anyway.” He put his cup on the windowsill and nuzzled at Cathal’s neck, enjoying the taste of the skin against his lips. Cathal always tasted very good with coffee. “How are you feeling today?”
“Better.” Cathal turned away from the window, kissing Tomas good morning properly. “Thank you for being there for me yesterday, love.” His fingers brushed against Tomas’s stubble, lingering. He’d told Tomas that he loved the feel of it, and Tomas was tempted to stop shaving for a few days, just to see what would happen.
“I told you I’d be there for you whenever you needed me, and I meant it.” Tomas smiled, running his hands up and down Cathal’s back. “Kathleen’s always said that it’s better out than in, and it’s probably a good thing that at least one of us is going to heed her advice.”
Cathal stilled. “Do you think Kathleen will like me?”
“I’m not giving you up, even if she doesn’t.” Tomas placed a finger against Cathal’s lips. “She’ll probably be more likely to wonder what you see in me.”
“I can always tell her.” Cathal’s lips twitched. He poked out his tongue around Tomas’s finger and sucked on it.
“If you keep doing that, we’ll never make it out of the bedroom.”
“Is that a problem?” Cathal very deliberately repeated the motion.
“No! Yes.” Tomas felt his ability to reason go straight to his groin. He made himself take a step back and grabbed his coffee. “She definitely won’t be happy if we’re not there to pick her up.” His voice softened. “I could always tell her it’s because you’re a tease.”
Cathal chuckled. “That definition refers to someone who doesn’t deliver what is promised. Are you trying to tell me I don’t?”
“Oh God, no.” Tomas swallowed hard, choking when his coffee went down the wrong way. They’d better get downstairs for breakfast before this went any further. The last thing he wanted was for Heidi, or worse still, Mikey or Christian, to come looking for them. “Is it still okay with Heidi that we borrow her Land Rover?” He would have preferred Donovan’s car instead of that pink thing, but he and Ethan had planned to head into the village far too early than could be deemed civilized.
“It’s fine.” Cathal eyed Tomas up and down. “Breakfast is ready. Heidi said to tell you to shower later or it will get cold. She’s… a little preoccupied this morning, so I wouldn’t upset her further.”
Tomas sat down and pulled on a pair of socks. The floor was cold under his bare feet. “Preoccupied about what?”
