The Light-Bearer's Daughter by O.R. Melling Page A

we were very young and our father never remarried. His heart was broken and could not mend to love another.”
    “That’s sad,” Dana murmured, but she felt uneasy.
    She had known instinctively that this was the reason Gabriel’s girlfriends never lasted. But though she wanted him to be happy, she didn’t want his heart to mend just yet. Aradhana was different from the others and if there had been no hope at all—no hope of finding her mother— then … but there was hope now and Dana would do anything to see it fulfilled. If she earned her wish, she would find her mother and reunite her parents. Then they could stay in Ireland and live happily ever after.
    “Do you believe in fairies?” she asked suddenly.
    Aradhana smiled.
    “This question of belief is a difficult one for people in the West, yes? It is not so if you are born a Hindu. You grow up knowing many gods and goddesses, many kinds of spirits and beings.”
    “Irish people believe in a lot too,” Dana pointed out. “God and the Mother of God and angels and saints. Da says he believes in fairies and that he’s not the only one.”
    “And you?”
    Dana shrugged. “Well, weird things can happen.” She tried to sound casual. “But they’re just for little kids, aren’t they? Like Santa Claus?”
    Aradhana gazed up at the great falls that tumbled toward them. Where the sunlight shot through the spray, silver spicules needled the air like miniature spears.
    “I would not want to live in a world without gods or fairies,” she said softly. “I am happy to think that life is filled with mystery.”
    Before Dana could respond to this, Gabriel called to them.
    “Hey, you two mermaids! Come and join a poor mortal who’s starving to death!”
    He had emptied the wicker picnic basket that he was so proud of, the one he had bought at an antiques market for a lot more money than he could afford. It came with a linen tablecloth and napkins, blue china dishes, and tarnished cutlery he had spent days polishing. There was plenty of food: a stick of crusty French bread, goat’s cheese from the deli and cream cheese from the supermarket, a jar of dill pickles and another of olives, a green salad with herbs, a bag of apples, a punnet of mandarins, and a box of chocolates for dessert. A bottle of cold white wine lay in the cooler for the adults, and one of cola for Dana. To the delight of the other two, Aradhana had brought vegetable samosas and spicy pakoras, along with crispy poppadoms and a raita dip of yogurt with cucumber and fresh mint.
    “Yum!” cried Dana as she dived on the feast.
    While they were eating, Gabriel told Aradhana about the movie Excalibur , and how some of the scenes were filmed by that very waterfall. Then with all the verve of a natural storyteller he recounted the tragic tale of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere, and the French knight Lancelot who stole the Queen’s heart.
    Aradhana listened, enrapt, and so did Dana. Her father’s voice was like his flute, resonant and musical. She closed her eyes, overcome with happiness. It was as if her world was suddenly complete, as perfect as a pearl. Startled, she opened her eyes. The feeling had been strangely familiar, as if she were remembering another picnic, another moment like this. Guilt and panic swept through her. It was all wrong. This was not the family she wanted. This was not her life made whole.
    Angrily, she scanned the park. Where were they? She had done what she was told to do. She had come to the mountains.
    Lunch was almost over when it began to happen, and Dana was the only one who noticed. A silvery breath of mist rose from the earth itself, whispering through the grasses and around the trees. Like the sea come to shore, it flooded the valley. Dana stared at the lustrous haze, mesmerized. It even hung from the branches of the trees like icicles. The world around her had utterly changed. She was looking at the same scene, yet it was not the same. Everything was infused with an