Ellida (3 page)

“That was Seattle,” Astrid said. “Everybody
says hello.”

Drew, Alec and Lily were about to leave.
“We’ll be back tomorrow, as moral support,” Alec said, hugging her
and kissing her cheek. “See you, cousin.”

Betty came back after seeing them out. “Are
you tired, Astrid? It’s been a long day. Do you want me to show you
your room?”

It had been a long day indeed, and Astrid did
feel tired. On the other hand, she didn’t want to part with Jack.
Their brief encounter in the living room, however, had left her
burning with a fire that wasn’t going to be put out tonight.

“That may be a good idea,” she said and
turned to Jack. “When are you leaving?”

“Day after tomorrow. I have a couple of
meetings in the morning, but I’ll be here later.”

“Astrid, sweetheart,” James said, “Jack and I
have lots to do in the next couple of weeks. That means traveling.
I’ll go myself whenever possible so that Jack can stay here.
Sometimes you’ll go with him, to the ranches and around.”

“Oh, I’d love to,” she said.

Eamon winked at her. “You need to meet your
subjects and know your realm, Ellida. And, if you like, we can
start with your house tomorrow.”

“That’s a good idea. I have to fetch my
laptop and some other things from there.”

Betty gently touched Astrid’s elbow and
walked her upstairs. “Come, Astrid, let me take you to your
room.”

Jack placed a soft kiss on her lips. “I’ll
see you tomorrow, then. Sweet dreams, baby.”

“I DON’T want to sound like a spoiled kid,”
Astrid said to Betty as they climbed the staircase “but I’ve been
living on frazzled nerves for a while. Jack’s been my support all
this time.”

“You don’t need to apologize or explain
anything, Astrid. We are all impressed with how you’ve been
handling all the pressure. You were in hiding for a year, you were
attacked, you have a difficult transformation every month, and you
work all the time. Of course you want to be with Jack! We are all
going to have a couple of busy weeks ahead and you’re going to
carry the heaviest burden, Astrid. You’ll need lots of patience
with us and with Red Cliffs.”

They stopped in front of a guest room that
had been prepared for Astrid.

“Last night Jack asked me if I wanted to run
away with him,” Astrid said.

“I’m not surprised. Jack’s an honorable man.
He wanted to give you a chance to change your mind. And he loves
you a lot, you know that.”

“Oh, I love him even more, but that also
scares me. We met a few weeks ago, and I’m not only in love, I love
him, with all my heart. I’m not complete without him, he’s a part
of me. It’s so intense. Falling in love is one thing, but love ...
Love doesn’t just happen, it should develop over time, shouldn’t
it?”

Betty smiled and shook her head. “And who
says so? Why shouldn’t love happen, just like that. There are no
rules.”

Astrid smiled. “You might be right. I’ve
never thought about love that way.”

“It’s not always logical,” Betty said, “but
it happens.”

“Thank God it does.”

THE FIRST thing Astrid saw when Betty opened
the door was a crystal vase with two dozen pale pink roses on the
nightstand beside the bed.

It was a simple, comfortable room with an
attached bathroom. It was warm, and exuded a faint scent of
furniture polish and fresh linen. The soft-yellow walls and white
and pale-green color scheme balanced out the polished hardwood
floor, the massive bed frame and sparse dark furniture. One glance
at the spacious, inviting bed, with its fluffy white pillows and
crisp bedspreads made Astrid realize how dog-tired she was.

Betty quickly showed Astrid around the room
before she wished her good night.

Astrid’s suitcases and a few boxes with her
clothing stood in the corner, but she didn’t bother to unpack them.
She took a quick shower, brushed her teeth and wrapped herself in a
big, fluffy white towel. She moved the curtain and looked through
the window just in time to see the lights in the big house flicking
on. Jack was at home, across the yard, and that thought comforted
her. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, imagining him in rooms
she’d never seen before.

Further down, she could see her house,
wrapped in the dark night. She smiled. Regardless of what Jack had
said on the plane, it looked like both Mohegan houses were in the
Canagan house’s backyard. Positioned slightly ahead, Jack’s home
stood right between them, a big, handsome, solid structure, like
its owner himself.

Astrid pressed her palm against the
windowpane. “I love you, Jack,” she whispered and blew him a kiss,
then walked to bed and let the towel fall to the floor. She slid
under the covers. The bed sheets were smooth and pleasant against
her bare skin. “Better get used to sleeping naked,” she said to
herself, remembering their little talk about her nightwear, or
rather the absence of it.

Her narrow, elegant foot peeked out from
under the cover. Astrid wiggled her toes inspecting her impeccable
toenails painted in pearly pink.

“I’ll buy red nail polish, and you better
start looking for those sexy boxers, Jack Canagan,” she murmured.
Lifting herself on her elbow, she leaned toward the vase and
touched a rose to her lips.

She turned the lights off. With a sigh of
pleasure, she cocooned the bedcover around herself.

The moment her head hit the pillow, she was
sound asleep.

EYES CLOSED, I stretched in bed. I woke up
in the same position I’d fallen asleep in last night and felt
rested and hungry. My inner clock told me it was around six-thirty.
My room was quiet; no sound was coming from downstairs. I wondered
if anyone was already up.

I jumped out of bed, wrapped the bedcover
tightly around me and waddled to the window.

The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the pale,
bluish-gray sky sprinkled with a few remaining stars promised a
sunny day. I glanced toward Jack’s house, dark and quiet, sharply
outlined against the milky morning. It looked like he was already
gone.

Snow covered the ground; a lot of snow. It
hadn’t been snowing recently, however, since the roofs and tree
branches were clear of it. I loved the snow as much as I loved the
rain. I’d lived in several rainy places, but never where snow could
accumulate for days. One of my little wishes had already come true
and my heart was filled with joy.

I took a shower and brushed my teeth. I
tidied up the bed and turned to my luggage with all my wizard
efficiency. Soon all my clothes and accessories were in the old oak
armoire and the matching chest of drawers.

I put on my jeans and my favorite
Persian-rose mohair turtleneck, hoping it would be okay for my
first, informal socializing with Red Cliffs.

Happy with my simple solution, I almost
missed checking my appearance in the dressing table mirror, but
when I did, I frowned. Since my last transformation, my hair color
had been rapidly changing to bright red. One more thing that was
out of my control. My hair still looked nice in spite of its new
shade, but pink didn’t suit me anymore.

I was okay with leaving a good chunk of my
previous life behind me, but it’d be hard to give up on my pink
wardrobe.

I compromised with a mint-green cashmere
V-neck. The only jewelry I wore was the silver wolf-pendant
necklace Jack had bought me in Seattle.

DOWN IN the kitchen, my uncle was in full
cooking mode. He was juggling the toaster, frying pan and coffee
machine, leaving a significant mess behind.

So far, I knew too little about James Mohegan
to form my definitive opinion, but I’d put a few checkmarks in the
positive column: for being a good husband and father, for owning an
airplane but not having domestic service, for financial aid for
Copper Ridge. And now for making us breakfast.

Betty was setting the table, and Eamon’s head
was buried in the fridge.

“Good morning,” I said from the doorway,
suddenly nervous.

Fortunately, my family was more relaxed.
Uncle James abandoned his pans and pots to kiss my cheek. My aunt
gently stroked my arm and asked how I’d slept, and my cousin gave
me a bear hug, asking me which jam I preferred: strawberry or
apricot.

My tension eased. It was almost impossible to
stay stiff among such affectionate people. We ate, talked and
laughed. Betty told me Jack would be back later. “The guests will
start showing up around eleven. Lily and Drew should be here soon
to help me with food and baking.”

“Tell me what I can do,” I said.

“Oh, you don’t worry about that now. You and
Eamon can go to your house, or if you don’t mind waiting a bit, I
can join you two.”

“I’ll go with them, Betty,” my uncle said and
stood up. “Fetch your jacket, Astrid. It’s just around the corner,
but it’s fresh outside.”

THE AIR was crisp, infused with the scent of
snow, wind and pine. I closed my eyes against the bright sunshine
and thirstily took several deep gulps. I walked between my uncle
and Eamon, who held his right arm lightly wrapped around my
shoulder.

I eyed him under my lashes. At seventeen, he
was already taller than James, and just a bit shorter than his
brother. Not for long, I’d say, since he was still growing. He
still carried the last traces of teenage skinniness, but with his
broad shoulders, muscular chest, narrow hips and long legs he’d
definitely crossed the border to adulthood.

Eamon was neither overwhelmingly handsome
like his brother, nor did he possess his father’s powerful
physique. He didn’t resemble his mother, either. With his dark-blue
eyes, thick, copperish-blond hair and long narrow nose, he was, in
fact, a male version of myself.

He probably noticed I was watching him. As if
he could read my mind, he said, “It was a bit of a shock when I saw
you yesterday. You look like my twin sister.”

My uncle let out a soft chuckle. “None of my
kids took after me. Maggie looks exactly like her mother, and Eamon
took after my brother.”

“You’ll get a second chance with your
grandchildren,” Eamon said.

“Jack told me we have something else in
common, Eamon,” I said. “Music. He told me about Rawhide and the
bar where you guys play on weekends.”

“We need a singer. Jack says you have a
fantastic voice.”

“Whoa, whoa! Hold on! I’m not going to sing,
no way!”

Unconcerned with my reaction, Eamon continued
building his case. “It’d be a good way to meet people and let them
get to know you. Man, who wouldn’t come to hear an Ellida?”

Yeah, I could imagine that. “That’s way out
of my comfort zone, Eamon. Sorry.”

My cousin wasn’t a person to be easily
discouraged. “Even Dad thinks it’s a good idea.”

My uncle nodded. “It’s up to you, Astrid. No
pressure, but think about it.”

No pressure, yeah. Eamon wouldn’t easily drop
the idea of getting a singer. I wasn’t sure if he would convince me
to join the band, but I was relieved knowing that my uncle didn’t
find the idea outrageous. For a brief moment I closed my eyes and
visualized a dim bar full of people, a small stage for the band,
and me singing all the songs I loved.

I sighed. “I’ll think about it. I
promise.”

WE STOPPED at the white fence that
surrounded my house. James pushed it open and turned to me. “Are
you okay with this, Astrid?”

“I’ll be fine, Uncle.”

I didn’t have memories of this place; I was
too young when I’d left it. Still, my heart pounded in my throat as
James turned the knob and we stepped inside.

I stood near the entrance, reluctant to step
in. My uncle’s fingers gently closed around my shoulder and gave me
a little push.

I looked around the house where my parents
had lived during their short marriage. I thought I’d feel
something. Anything. But the old house remained silent. No
memories, no scents, no signs of its former inhabitants.

The big living room swallowed up my furniture
from Rosenthal, still looking half empty.

The house was clean and well aired. A
pleasant and oddly familiar blend of lavender and citrus reached my
nostrils. The floor was spotless, the windows and translucent white
organdy curtains recently washed.

I tried to imagine my father and my mother
there, to hear their voices. No matter how briefly, they must have
loved each other. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been born. My mother
must have laughed here, my father must have kissed and held and
loved her… They must have… There must be light, and love, and
happiness caught up here in this house.

Suddenly, I felt ashamed that I’d never
wanted to know more about my parents. I’d accepted whatever Ella
and Arnaldur had told me.
Your mother was too young to take care
of you. Then she remarried, and we all agreed it would be better
for you to stay with us
. That was the official version, and I
had been content with it. My mother had the right to live her own
life however she liked, I reasoned in the typical manner of my
kind. A logical, reasonable, unemotional cause-and-effect way of
thinking. Of course she wouldn’t know what to do with a child,
being almost a child herself. Of course I was better off with my
loving grandparents. Of course this, of course that…

But I was a werewolf, too, and therefore much
more emotionally demanding than my wizard kind. Why had I been
satisfied with this simplified explanation for such a long time?
Why had I never wanted to know the whole truth?

I didn’t need to be a psychologist to know
that it had been a way to cope with the issues I preferred to keep
buried deep inside me. Then, Jack had come into my life. He’d told
me more about my mother, and for the first time I’d started shaping
her in my mind. Here she was the Red Cliffs prodigal daughter. With
shame burning inside me, I realized that was what I’d been thinking
about her, too. Nobody knew a thing about what had been going on
with her all these years, or nobody wanted to tell me. Jack and
Betty, two of three people who were hurt the most by my mother’s
actions, were the only ones who thought she was a victim, too.