Fate's Hand: Book One of The Celtic Prophecy by Melissa Macfie Page B
Authors: Melissa Macfie
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for years after, sending the completed journals to me when she filled them. There are three. She seemed intent on putting it all on paper to document it, in case…you ever wanted to know.”
Puzzled, Brenawyn nodded her head, but she wasn’t listening to Leo any longer. She was more concerned with the fact that she had three whole journals of her mother’s writing to read.
Pushing the book on her again, “Read it and I’ll give you the others. After…” Stopping to look around, Leo hobbled out to the living room to return with the bouquet of flowers that had seen too many days, “I have to show you something first. Hmm, I’m glad I didn’t throw these flowers out yet. They will serve as a good demonstration,” Leo said.
“What did she feel was so important? Not that I’m complaining, but I’m a little scared by the way you’re telling me this.”
“Hush and pay attention to the flowers. Then you can read it.” Leo closed her eyes and concentrated. “Blessed Ones, make me your vessel so I may bring about healing the Earth. Let the healing of the Waters run through me as I do your biding.”
Mesmerized by her grandmother’s words, Brenawyn’s eyes drifted to her instead of the flowers as she had been instructed. Her grandmother was relaxed as she said the words, obviously expecting something to happen just as Brenawyn knew nothing would.
Brenawyn made a small sharp movement and let out a soft cry as, in exaggerated slowness, an iridescent blue pattern began to glow under her grandmother’s skin as she reached out to touch the flowers. The leached, muted colors of the petals turned more vibrant and the stem regained its rigidity. Turning back time, the flowers no longer wilted, and they gained the freshness of the newly picked.
Brenawyn found herself on her feet next to her grandmother though she hadn’t remembered getting up out of the chair. She reached down to lightly touch the still glowing runes on her grandmother’s arm. “What. Are. These?” Taking the hand and extending the arm, she saw that the runes covered it from finger tips to shoulder and beyond as the gape in the blouse’s armhole revealed.
Leo turned to her granddaughter and purposely opened her eyes. Gone were her soft green eyes, replaced by iridescent irises matching the runes. “Look at the flowers, Brenawyn. It’s important that you know. My beliefs are real. They are ancient and they are strong after all these years. You had to see this before you read the journal because it will give validity to what’s in it.”
“What did you… how did you…?” then finally giving up on formulating a coherent question, asked the more important one, “What are you?”
Laughing, Leo responded, “I’m a Druid, Brenawyn.”
Chapter 7
January 31, 1986
My Sweet Girl,
I thought I knew what love was. Not bothering to listen to my parents—your grandparents—when they ranted and pleaded with me to give my relationship more time. They were wrong. They didn’t understand that I love your father, but at the same time, they were right about me not knowing what love actually was. Until I found out that I was pregnant I didn’t know to what lengths a mother would go to protect her child: beg, borrow, steal, trade her life, or sell her soul. I didn’t know what lengths I would travel to protect my child until it was upon me and the child yet unborn. Now, I know.
I went to stay with your grandmother after my father’s death, and shortly thereafter I broke down and asked her to take me to her doctor after three days of not feeling you move much. I also asked her not to call your father, because I didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily; but truth be told, I wanted time to keep my options open.
Sent home with a prescription for bed rest and pregnancy hormones in a last ditch effort to try to save you, I knew this was only done to ease my mind and help me begin to accept the inevitable. By the time we
Puzzled, Brenawyn nodded her head, but she wasn’t listening to Leo any longer. She was more concerned with the fact that she had three whole journals of her mother’s writing to read.
Pushing the book on her again, “Read it and I’ll give you the others. After…” Stopping to look around, Leo hobbled out to the living room to return with the bouquet of flowers that had seen too many days, “I have to show you something first. Hmm, I’m glad I didn’t throw these flowers out yet. They will serve as a good demonstration,” Leo said.
“What did she feel was so important? Not that I’m complaining, but I’m a little scared by the way you’re telling me this.”
“Hush and pay attention to the flowers. Then you can read it.” Leo closed her eyes and concentrated. “Blessed Ones, make me your vessel so I may bring about healing the Earth. Let the healing of the Waters run through me as I do your biding.”
Mesmerized by her grandmother’s words, Brenawyn’s eyes drifted to her instead of the flowers as she had been instructed. Her grandmother was relaxed as she said the words, obviously expecting something to happen just as Brenawyn knew nothing would.
Brenawyn made a small sharp movement and let out a soft cry as, in exaggerated slowness, an iridescent blue pattern began to glow under her grandmother’s skin as she reached out to touch the flowers. The leached, muted colors of the petals turned more vibrant and the stem regained its rigidity. Turning back time, the flowers no longer wilted, and they gained the freshness of the newly picked.
Brenawyn found herself on her feet next to her grandmother though she hadn’t remembered getting up out of the chair. She reached down to lightly touch the still glowing runes on her grandmother’s arm. “What. Are. These?” Taking the hand and extending the arm, she saw that the runes covered it from finger tips to shoulder and beyond as the gape in the blouse’s armhole revealed.
Leo turned to her granddaughter and purposely opened her eyes. Gone were her soft green eyes, replaced by iridescent irises matching the runes. “Look at the flowers, Brenawyn. It’s important that you know. My beliefs are real. They are ancient and they are strong after all these years. You had to see this before you read the journal because it will give validity to what’s in it.”
“What did you… how did you…?” then finally giving up on formulating a coherent question, asked the more important one, “What are you?”
Laughing, Leo responded, “I’m a Druid, Brenawyn.”
Chapter 7
January 31, 1986
My Sweet Girl,
I thought I knew what love was. Not bothering to listen to my parents—your grandparents—when they ranted and pleaded with me to give my relationship more time. They were wrong. They didn’t understand that I love your father, but at the same time, they were right about me not knowing what love actually was. Until I found out that I was pregnant I didn’t know to what lengths a mother would go to protect her child: beg, borrow, steal, trade her life, or sell her soul. I didn’t know what lengths I would travel to protect my child until it was upon me and the child yet unborn. Now, I know.
I went to stay with your grandmother after my father’s death, and shortly thereafter I broke down and asked her to take me to her doctor after three days of not feeling you move much. I also asked her not to call your father, because I didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily; but truth be told, I wanted time to keep my options open.
Sent home with a prescription for bed rest and pregnancy hormones in a last ditch effort to try to save you, I knew this was only done to ease my mind and help me begin to accept the inevitable. By the time we
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