Dermot at one of our gatherings. She became infatuated with him and begged Áine, her mother, to arrange a match. In those days, unions between the Tuatha Dé Danann and mortals were no longer so common. Her mother forbade the union, so Mairéad took matters into her own hands. She approached Dermot and proposed they wed, emphasizing the benefits an alliance with the Tuatha would bring to our clan. They have supernatural powers. An alliance would make the MacKays invincible, or so we thought at the time.”
“Have, as in they still exist? What about Mairéad’s father?”
“Aye, they still exist. Mairéad’s father was human. Perhaps that’s why Áine objected. As the story goes, her husband and sons refused immortality when it was offered to them. She watched them grow old and die. Dermot’s beliefs about immortality were well known to Áine. I’m sure she feared her daughter would suffer the same heartache.”
“How did Dermot feel about Mairéad?”
“It’s hard to say. I do no’ think he loved her as she loved him, but he certainly saw the value in the alliance with the Tuatha. Our clan was well off, and we had many enemies because of it. An alliance with the Tuatha made sense at the time. As a Druid, Dermot viewed Mairéad’s immortality as abhorrent and against the laws of nature. He agreed to wed her on the condition that she give up her birthright and become mortal.”
“No.” She gasped. “He didn’t.”
“Aye, he did, and Mairéad agreed to his terms. This made Áine livid and not at all kindly disposed toward Dermot, to say the least. Mortality put her only daughter’s life in peril, not to mention she’d have to watch her last remaining child grow old and die a mortal death.”
“I feel sorry for Áine. It must be terrible to watch everyone you love age and die.”
“Aye, that it is, but some suffer loss and become more compassionate. Áine’s losses turned her heart to stone.”
Sidney glanced at the clock on her bedside table. The green light showed 11:30 p.m. She flipped onto her back, pulled the covers up to her chin and tried hard to fall asleep. It wasn’t happening. Why on earth had she spilled her guts to Dermot MacKay? Even worse, why had she told him about her financial insecurities?
The blame lay with her mother. If she hadn’t shown up at the store, Sidney could’ve avoided Dermot’s company altogether. None of her conflicted feelings would have been stirred up. No, she wasn’t being fair. The fault was hers. If she had returned her mother’s calls, she wouldn’t have popped up at the store, and then Sidney could’ve avoided Dermot. Yep, it was her own fault.
She gave up, turned her lamp on and got out of bed to get her sketch pad and charcoal pencils. She settled on her bed with her back against the headboard. Flipping to a blank page, she let her mind wander and drew. The delicate features of a lovely young woman took shape on the paper. She wore her hair in a thick braid that hung over her shoulder. Her face radiated goodness, and her eyes twinkled with good humor. Who are you? Why do you feel so familiar?
Sidney tore the drawing off the tablet and began another. This time a building took shape, a stone and timber structure built on the summit of a hill and surrounded by a ditch. One drawing after another littered the top of her bedspread.
Her heart beat a staccato rhythm and she had trouble breathing. What does it mean? It means I’m going crazy, that’s what. She covered her face with her hands and curled up into a fetal position amidst the drawings of places she’d never been and faces she’d never known. She reached out to turn her lamp off and fell into a restless sleep.
She awoke to the scent of a summer rainstorm. Sidney sat up in bed and searched the dark corners of her room. A tiny ball of blue light flashed into existence, spinning and growing. She watched in fascinated horror as the ball of light grew. Then she appeared, and a rush of
“Have, as in they still exist? What about Mairéad’s father?”
“Aye, they still exist. Mairéad’s father was human. Perhaps that’s why Áine objected. As the story goes, her husband and sons refused immortality when it was offered to them. She watched them grow old and die. Dermot’s beliefs about immortality were well known to Áine. I’m sure she feared her daughter would suffer the same heartache.”
“How did Dermot feel about Mairéad?”
“It’s hard to say. I do no’ think he loved her as she loved him, but he certainly saw the value in the alliance with the Tuatha. Our clan was well off, and we had many enemies because of it. An alliance with the Tuatha made sense at the time. As a Druid, Dermot viewed Mairéad’s immortality as abhorrent and against the laws of nature. He agreed to wed her on the condition that she give up her birthright and become mortal.”
“No.” She gasped. “He didn’t.”
“Aye, he did, and Mairéad agreed to his terms. This made Áine livid and not at all kindly disposed toward Dermot, to say the least. Mortality put her only daughter’s life in peril, not to mention she’d have to watch her last remaining child grow old and die a mortal death.”
“I feel sorry for Áine. It must be terrible to watch everyone you love age and die.”
“Aye, that it is, but some suffer loss and become more compassionate. Áine’s losses turned her heart to stone.”
Sidney glanced at the clock on her bedside table. The green light showed 11:30 p.m. She flipped onto her back, pulled the covers up to her chin and tried hard to fall asleep. It wasn’t happening. Why on earth had she spilled her guts to Dermot MacKay? Even worse, why had she told him about her financial insecurities?
The blame lay with her mother. If she hadn’t shown up at the store, Sidney could’ve avoided Dermot’s company altogether. None of her conflicted feelings would have been stirred up. No, she wasn’t being fair. The fault was hers. If she had returned her mother’s calls, she wouldn’t have popped up at the store, and then Sidney could’ve avoided Dermot. Yep, it was her own fault.
She gave up, turned her lamp on and got out of bed to get her sketch pad and charcoal pencils. She settled on her bed with her back against the headboard. Flipping to a blank page, she let her mind wander and drew. The delicate features of a lovely young woman took shape on the paper. She wore her hair in a thick braid that hung over her shoulder. Her face radiated goodness, and her eyes twinkled with good humor. Who are you? Why do you feel so familiar?
Sidney tore the drawing off the tablet and began another. This time a building took shape, a stone and timber structure built on the summit of a hill and surrounded by a ditch. One drawing after another littered the top of her bedspread.
Her heart beat a staccato rhythm and she had trouble breathing. What does it mean? It means I’m going crazy, that’s what. She covered her face with her hands and curled up into a fetal position amidst the drawings of places she’d never been and faces she’d never known. She reached out to turn her lamp off and fell into a restless sleep.
She awoke to the scent of a summer rainstorm. Sidney sat up in bed and searched the dark corners of her room. A tiny ball of blue light flashed into existence, spinning and growing. She watched in fascinated horror as the ball of light grew. Then she appeared, and a rush of
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