finally suggested.
He didn't have
to be more specific. Keelin knew he was referring to her ability. "I'm not
certain that I can."
"Me,
neither, but you can start with whatever you're holding back," he
suggested. "The thing that makes finding Cheryl so important to you."
"I doubt
anything I tell you will change your mind."
"Try
me."
Tyler sounded
as if he were serious. And the way he was looking at her, as if he were afraid to trust her, touched Keelin.
Sensing he meant what he said, that he really wanted to be convinced, she
didn't see any harm in relating the first part of the story.
"After
Gran explained everything to me," she began, "I hated the fact that I
was different. But I couldn't change things, couldn't run away from who I was.
I felt the huge responsibility she spoke of in my heart and in my soul."
"How old
were you?"
"Fifteen."
"Not much
older than Cheryl. Heavy stuff for a kid..."
Keelin could
almost hear him mentally adding if it's
true .
"The
dreams always sprang from strong emotions," she went on. "Sometimes
good emotions, sometimes bad, but always very, very intense."
"And the
bad ones upset you?"
Keelin nodded.
"Of course, though they weren't anything of great significance
until..." She took another sip of her brandy for courage. Sharing this
still wasn't easy. "My closest chum was a schoolmate. Deirdre Flanagan.
One night, I saw her being molested – I felt her being molested and fighting a boy we both knew. I woke up near-hysterical,
made Da ring the constable. I was certain I was reporting a crime in
progress." The painful memories washed over her. "When they were
caught together, Deirdre told the constable that Tully O'Meara was her new
boyfriend and that he hadn't done anything she hadn't wanted." She took a
deep breath. "Afterward, she and my other schoolmates froze me out for
telling."
"But even
if you were wrong, you were trying to help her."
"And I'm
not certain that I wasn't correct. In my heart, I believe that Deirdre was
raped...but I suppose she thought admitting to it would put more of a stigma on
her than if people merely thought she fell from the virtuous path."
"So she
lied to save face."
"And in
so doing made me an outcast. A subject of jest. This from a good friend,"
Keelin said sadly, remembering as if the betrayal had just happened. "I
wanted to die of embarrassment."
"Being a
social outcast as a teenager would be traumatic," Tyler admitted.
"But if you're saying that's your motivation, the reason that you've got
to find Cheryl –"
"No."
After abruptly
cutting him off, Keelin splashed back the last of her brandy and reveled in the
smooth burn of the liquor as it slid down he throat. This is what she could not speak of. What she had never
told anyone but her confessor. The burden she'd carried around with her. The
guilt she could never wash away completely. Day after day, year after year,
she'd thought it impossible to redeem herself.
But maybe
she'd been wrong.
Maybe finding
Cheryl Leighton before something terrible happened to the girl was her chance
at last.
She set down
the empty glass on the table next to her.
"I'm
saying ‘tis the reason that, for many years, I chose to ignore the ability I
inherited from my grandmother. And there were terrible consequences to be
paid." An image of Galvin Daley's body caught in the shallows of Lough Danaan danced in her head.
Her eyes stung with the vision that haunted her. "I can not let that
happen again."
"So
exactly what was it that happened?"
"That's
all I'll be telling you," Keelin insisted, bouncing up from her chair,
head down so he wouldn't see the tears trembling on her lids.
Tyler was
equally quick. Before she could get around him, he'd blocked her path, and his
hands were encasing her arms again. "Tell me."
"No!"
Her refusal was a ragged cry.
"I think
you need to talk about it."
Slowly, Keelin
raised her head, forced herself to look at Tyler. Her pulse surged. What she
saw etched in his features startled
He didn't have
to be more specific. Keelin knew he was referring to her ability. "I'm not
certain that I can."
"Me,
neither, but you can start with whatever you're holding back," he
suggested. "The thing that makes finding Cheryl so important to you."
"I doubt
anything I tell you will change your mind."
"Try
me."
Tyler sounded
as if he were serious. And the way he was looking at her, as if he were afraid to trust her, touched Keelin.
Sensing he meant what he said, that he really wanted to be convinced, she
didn't see any harm in relating the first part of the story.
"After
Gran explained everything to me," she began, "I hated the fact that I
was different. But I couldn't change things, couldn't run away from who I was.
I felt the huge responsibility she spoke of in my heart and in my soul."
"How old
were you?"
"Fifteen."
"Not much
older than Cheryl. Heavy stuff for a kid..."
Keelin could
almost hear him mentally adding if it's
true .
"The
dreams always sprang from strong emotions," she went on. "Sometimes
good emotions, sometimes bad, but always very, very intense."
"And the
bad ones upset you?"
Keelin nodded.
"Of course, though they weren't anything of great significance
until..." She took another sip of her brandy for courage. Sharing this
still wasn't easy. "My closest chum was a schoolmate. Deirdre Flanagan.
One night, I saw her being molested – I felt her being molested and fighting a boy we both knew. I woke up near-hysterical,
made Da ring the constable. I was certain I was reporting a crime in
progress." The painful memories washed over her. "When they were
caught together, Deirdre told the constable that Tully O'Meara was her new
boyfriend and that he hadn't done anything she hadn't wanted." She took a
deep breath. "Afterward, she and my other schoolmates froze me out for
telling."
"But even
if you were wrong, you were trying to help her."
"And I'm
not certain that I wasn't correct. In my heart, I believe that Deirdre was
raped...but I suppose she thought admitting to it would put more of a stigma on
her than if people merely thought she fell from the virtuous path."
"So she
lied to save face."
"And in
so doing made me an outcast. A subject of jest. This from a good friend,"
Keelin said sadly, remembering as if the betrayal had just happened. "I
wanted to die of embarrassment."
"Being a
social outcast as a teenager would be traumatic," Tyler admitted.
"But if you're saying that's your motivation, the reason that you've got
to find Cheryl –"
"No."
After abruptly
cutting him off, Keelin splashed back the last of her brandy and reveled in the
smooth burn of the liquor as it slid down he throat. This is what she could not speak of. What she had never
told anyone but her confessor. The burden she'd carried around with her. The
guilt she could never wash away completely. Day after day, year after year,
she'd thought it impossible to redeem herself.
But maybe
she'd been wrong.
Maybe finding
Cheryl Leighton before something terrible happened to the girl was her chance
at last.
She set down
the empty glass on the table next to her.
"I'm
saying ‘tis the reason that, for many years, I chose to ignore the ability I
inherited from my grandmother. And there were terrible consequences to be
paid." An image of Galvin Daley's body caught in the shallows of Lough Danaan danced in her head.
Her eyes stung with the vision that haunted her. "I can not let that
happen again."
"So
exactly what was it that happened?"
"That's
all I'll be telling you," Keelin insisted, bouncing up from her chair,
head down so he wouldn't see the tears trembling on her lids.
Tyler was
equally quick. Before she could get around him, he'd blocked her path, and his
hands were encasing her arms again. "Tell me."
"No!"
Her refusal was a ragged cry.
"I think
you need to talk about it."
Slowly, Keelin
raised her head, forced herself to look at Tyler. Her pulse surged. What she
saw etched in his features startled
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