Scotia's Grave Page 2

  No sure my grandparent’s hearts could take that kind of truth experience, I opted for diversion tactics. “You know, Gramps,” I began, “one of your carved walking sticks would be a big help. There must be a perfect branch out in the yard somewhere.” I looked at Grammy, hinting at an assignment for her, “A warm meal sure would make me feel better.”

  They scattered to accomplish these favors. Grammy wouldn’t normally cater to me like this, now that I’d gotten older, but the injuries made her respond as though she served an honored guest. For the last couple of years, my treatment could best be described as that of a lowly peasant.

  Grammy made me a lovely meal. It felt good to have a full belly, giving me a better outlook on the next couple of days. A nagging fear made me think that someone from lake patrol or the police department would knock on the door at any moment. Being new to the criminal world, it was unclear to me how any of this played out.

  Grammy gave me some medicine for the pain. Staying awake became increasingly difficult. She must have given me something stronger than the usual aspirin because my foot stopped throbbing.

  “Grammy,” I said, slurring my words a bit, “can you bring me the phone? I need to call down to lake patrol.”

  “You need to do no such thing!” she scolded. “You need rest.”

  “Hmm, you are a little blurry and I can’t feel my ankle,” I informed her. “What exactly did you give me, nurse?”

  “I can’t tell you because dispensing that kind of a pain reliever, without a prescription, could jeopardize my nursing license,” she explained. “So, as far as you’re concerned- I gave you aspirin.”

  “If you give me the phone and a minute of privacy, that’s all anyone will ever know,” I jokingly bribed her.

  She handed me the phone, and left to check on Gramps’ progress with the walking stick. After shaking my head a little, I could focus on the dial. The lake station number couldn’t have changed. I dialed 4-4-7 and waited for someone to answer.

  “Lake station,” said a familiar voice.

  “Hi, this is Muriel,” I announced. “Are you the officer who found me on the lake today?

  “Yes,” he said. “It’s Corey.”

  The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place him. The fact that he said he didn’t recognize me when I was on the boat today, made it clear he had noticed me before. He also knew my grandfather’s name.

  “This is a small town. I remember your name,” I lied. “I wonder when someone will come and haul me off to jail.”

  “Well, I spoke some sense into the boys that owned the boat,” he shared. “You recently turned eighteen, so it may be viewed as more than a foolish stunt. We should be able to return their boat tonight. That is what they really want- no disturbances of their weekend plans.”

  How did Corey know my age if he never asked to see an ID? He also wanted me to know that he had helped out by talking to the boat owners.

  “My grandmother is washing Grant’s sweatshirt and I am planning to return it at the restaurant tomorrow night,” I explained. “There’s no way that thing is worth seventy-five dollars!”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Corey questioned, sounding concerned. “Grant can be a bit of a jerk and he won’t be happy to see you.”

  “Maybe not, but I need to do the right thing and apologize,” I said. “If he’s not at the restaurant, I’ll leave the sweatshirt near his boat.”

  “He’s always at the restaurant when he’s up for the weekend. He doesn’t cook his own food and he likes to drink. Well, what time are you planning on going to the restaurant tomorrow night?” Corey inquired.

  “I’m not sure how my ankle will be holding up,” I shared. “If I come in tomorrow, it will probably be around eight. Doesn’t the restaurant turn into a bar after nine?” I asked, knowing the answer already.

  “Yes, it does,” he confirmed. “I get off patrol at 8:00 tomorrow night, so I’ll check in to make sure everything is going smoothly.”

  “See you then, Corey,” I finished. “Thanks for all your help today.” I hung up.

  I looked at the phone, trying to remember why Corey seemed so familiar to me. Then, it came to me. The Easter after Jed died, Corey and his parents drove me to church.

  Trying to remember more about him became impossible, as the medicine Grammy had given me would no longer be denied. Sleep overcame me.

  Chapter 2- Unexpected Injury

  Spring at Danu castle was an incredibly beautiful sight. Once the snow melted, acres of lush, green fields were exposed. The lines of trees on the farthest side of the lake were thick, begging to be explored. I thought there were only evergreens in the wooded areas, but other trees were now visible because of the new buds peppering the branches.

  The ice on the top of the lake had thawed and wild animals came around for a drink or to bathe. Large birds of prey started perching high up in the trees, waiting to swoop down on unsuspecting fish. One evening, Deidra squealed with delight when she spotted a large moose emerge from the woods to take a dip in the water. She wanted to go out and see it close up, but Clio told her what a temperamental animal they could be.

  Deidra continued to learn all manner of things from the women on the council. During the last month, everyone had moved into the castle full time. Their houses had been sold or rented because we’d all committed our lives to the council, now that it had been completed.

  Everyone got settled. And even though I’d spent more time at the castle than the other women, the secret pregnancy kept me anything but settled. Bruce and I were constantly together, which gave me ample opportunity to divulge my secret. The council had convinced me to hold off on divulging any information, but in a couple of months, my stomach would be impossible to conceal.

  The council decided to employ the “it’s safe to announce a pregnancy at three months” reasoning, as to why I held the news back. But, I’d seen Bruce’s reaction in a vision about a month after the decision had been made. He’d be angry. Bruce would see the choice to keep the news from him as a stronger devotion to the council than to our relationship. That wouldn’t be fun to deal with when the time came.

  Not to mention, the first couple months of the pregnancy were already trying. My time was either spent hovering over a toilet or apologizing for strange behavior. Bridget believed my unborn child had the ability to influence me somehow. She worked long hours on a safe, herbal remedy to make the baby sleep during my waking hours.

  Deidra’s suitors (Bruce’s sons) were expected to arrive over the next four days. After Deidra made her initial selections and the boys left, the council said that Bruce could be told of my condition. He had a lot of extra responsibilities during this time and they wanted to make sure he maintained his focus. Deidra also had a monumental decision and didn’t need any distractions.

  For whatever reason, telling Deidra about the baby carried more difficulty for me and I worried about her reaction. Embarrassment and shame accompanied revealing the news to her. She must have seen my reaction to her birth and a whole slew of my darkest thoughts and actions. Yet, she would be able to sense the excitement involved with this pregnancy. So unfair to her. Deidra’s conclusion must be that I love this baby more. It’s not true.

  A chilly breeze interrupted my rambling thoughts. Even though it was spring, the downstairs patio only seemed warm when the sun beat down on it. I wrapped the blanket tighter around me, closing the gaps where the wind could enter.

  I settled in to re-read the book Tina had given me at the first council meeting…the one that talked about Merlin and his line. In the past couple of months, I had read the book cover to cover- twice. The third time would hopefully “be the charm.”

  The book says that Merlin had no father, but was sired by an incubus. A son of the devil hovered over his mother, visiting while she slept. That is all it says about Merlin’s conception, which leaves me festering with questions. So, Merlin’s father is the devil? It’s maddening how the book is supp
osed to educate me, but leaves me feeling less informed than before.

  Because of my frustration, Bruce’s arrival went undetected as he placed his hands on my shoulders. I responded to his touch with a loud, high-pitched shriek. The baby saw fit to throw the book in his direction.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” He bent over to return the book, glancing at the title. “Why are you reading that?”

  There were many other topics and people groups covered in the book, offering me an opportunity to lie but, I felt he’d been receiving a large quota of lies from me lately.

  “Trying to educate myself on the history of your people,” I confessed. “Can you tell me about the line of Myrrdin? There really isn’t a lot of information in here.” I held the book up and crinkled my nose in disappointment.

  “How about for every tidbit of information I reveal,” he suggested, sitting beside me, “you pay me with an article of clothing. I reveal, then you reveal. It seems very fair.”

  His smile and accent would be the death of me. In a rare moment of self-control, I leaned further away from him. Still maintaining eye contact, I said, “There’s plenty of time for that. Right now, I’d like you to tell me more about your line. We’re meeting your sons soon and one of them may eventually marry my daughter.”

  We cuddled underneath my blanket on the lounge chair. He rested his head on my shoulder, wrapping his arm around my stomach. I got tense, thinking that he would notice a little bump or jokingly ask if I’d gained some weight.

  “I’m not sure there’s much to tell you,” he sighed. “Merlin is thought to have been a fictional character, created by an author’s pen. And, yet, there are tales of him in the flesh. No one knows for sure. Supposedly, he embodied an equal penchant for evil and good.”

  “Do you think that’s possible, being both?” I asked.

  “Absolutely.” He looked up at me and smiled.

  I put my hand over his face. “I suppose I can see that.”

  Bruce rested his head back on my shoulder, looking out over the fields. “There is no way to know if I’m truly from the line of Merlin or not. I’m a druid, for sure,” he claimed.

  “Then why do the women on the council believe you are from the line of Merlin?” I pressed.

  “Mostly because I’m madly in love with you,” he answered. “They can’t believe that I waited so long or how utterly devoted I am. Many believed you’d be my downfall, just as Niviane was for Merlin.”

  “Niviane?” I inquired.

  “Supposedly, Merlin fell deeply in love with her and taught her all of his magic,” he explained. “Then, she used the spells he had taught her to lock him away forever.”

  “You have no magic,” I announced, flatly.

  “This is true,” Bruce agreed. “My line has grown weak over the years. It’s a condition known as muddled genes. But, if our children marry, they can start strengthening the magical lines again. It would resurrect an old way of life that may have been lost forever.”

  “It still seems like a strange science experiment to me,” I said.

  “You won’t be thinking it’s too bad when we have our grandsons running around,” he smiled.

  “Or granddaughters,” I corrected.

  He shook his head. “Now, that is something I know for certain. I’ve checked my lineage going back a couple hundred years and the Driscoll men never sired one lass.”

  “Well, surely, that can’t be right,” I remarked. “If your line is muddled, couldn’t a girl be born?”

  “Not possible,” he decided. “That’s the one thing I can be sure of.”

  The possibility that he would not believe this child is his, never crossed my mind. Surely, when I shared the news, he would understand.

  “Bruce Driscoll,” I said out loud, seeing how the name felt on my tongue.

  He looked at me, smiling. “Muriel Driscoll has a nice ring to it.” The baby kicked hard, as though she wasn’t impressed with the pairing of our names. I shifted in the chair so he wouldn’t notice her tantrum.

  Quickly changing the subject, I asked, “So, when your sons get here, will they know you’re their father?”

  “No. I’m not sure what they’ve been told, but the mothers were trusted to keep that secret,” Bruce answered. “The only one that will find out is the boy that Deidra chooses.”

  “So, they all think they’re coming here for a vacation or something?”

  Bruce shrugged.

  I sat up in the chair and Bruce did the same. “Is it going to be weird for you to meet the mothers of your children for the first time?” I wondered.

  Bruce looked at me with a sideways glance, head tilted. “It’s kind of difficult to have a woman sire your children without an initial meeting,” he laughed.

  Quizzically, I searched his face for understanding. His laughter died down immediately.

  Bruce bowed his head, not able to meet my gaze. He spoke into his lap, “Muriel, I made love to those women.”

  Because of my confusion, it took a minute to formulate my thoughts into a sentence. “I thought the women were artificially inseminated. That they used your sperm…”

  Bruce shook his head back and forth. “In order for the boys to be viable candidates, they had to be conceived in love.”

  “What!” I screeched. “In love? Are you telling me that this castle is going to be filled with your ex-lovers? All these boys are practically the same age! These women loved you? What the hell is going on?” My imagination raced with thoughts of Bruce and other women in passionate embraces. The knots in my stomach tightened.

  Bruce startled me when he quickly stood up. He grabbed his crotch and started screaming. His face grew a dark shade of red. I watched in horror as he dropped to his knees.

  “Bruce, are you OK?” My eyes were wide with worry.

  No answer came. He briefly looked at me; perched on his knees, face beet-red. The bending at his waist started slowly and it kept me paralyzed until the sound of his forehead hitting the cement snapped me out of my trance. He then fell on his side and lay motionless, with his eyes closed. His hands fell away from his groin.

  As fast as my legs would carry me, I ran for help. Once through the patio door, I yelled for no one in particular. It didn’t take long to reach the stairway leading to the ground floor, but a door opened behind me. Bridget peeked out, looking as though she had been disturbed, mid-nap.

  What could be better…a woman who heals.

  Running back in her direction, the cramping in my stomach got worse. “Bruce passed out,” I announced, out of breath, pointing toward the patio.

  She reached out with both hands to touch my stomach, but they were swatted away. “I’m fine,” I said, breathlessly. “Come take a look at Bruce!”

  Bridget followed me out to the patio where Bruce lay still. The rise and fall of his chest made me feel hopeful.

  “Tell me what happened,” she demanded.

  I shared what transpired before Bruce passed out.

  “You say he held onto his groin…and you were upset about him being with other women? This is bad,” she decided. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine,” I answered. “What about Bruce?”

  Bridget put a blanket over Bruce. He moaned, which made me want to comfort him. I started toward him.

  “No,” Bridget insisted. “I will stay with him. Go tell Clio to get the doctor here immediately. He will need pain medicine and possibly anesthesia. Go!”

  “Please let me stay with him and you go deliver the instructions,” I argued, tearing up.

  Bridget grabbed me by both shoulders. “I feared something like this might happen,” she said. “Your baby did this. You shouldn’t be around him right now until we can figure this out.”

  There was nothing left to say and her instructions were followed. Clio called the doctor, who arrived with a wheel chair. They would have to hoist Bruce up into the chair. He was muscular and not as light as he looked.

&
nbsp; My instructions were to keep a safe distance, defined to me as anywhere left of the main entry. Macy stayed with me after the incident, watching me pace back and forth in my room.

  “You have to get something to eat,” Macy scolded. “The baby needs to be nourished.”

  “From what I saw, she’s plenty strong,” I remarked between steps.

  “There’s nothing you can do for Bruce right now,” Macy said, almost tauntingly. “He’s going to be with the doctor for a while. Let’s go get some cheese.”

  Cheese couldn’t solve all my problems, but it would get rid of my growling stomach. Macy and I went downstairs where Ann and Tracy were playing cards in the dining hall. Tracy must have noticed my pallor and asked if I was okay. I nodded, a forced smile crossing my lips.

  After small talk, cheese and a half hour of complete boredom, Bridget entered the dining hall.

  “Can I see you in the greenhouse, Muriel?”

  Excusing myself from the table, I followed Bridget down the hall. We entered the door to the greenhouse, and then walked all the way to the end of the path, which brought us to the small patio surrounded by glass.

  “First,” she started, “how are you feeling? Has the baby calmed down? Are you still cramping?”

  This was not the topic of conversation that needed to be discussed. “How is Bruce? I’m fine!”

  “Bruce has suffered an injury of a quite rare and delicate nature,” she informed.

  It felt as though Bridget danced around the subject. Her approach couldn’t have been more annoying. No words crossed my lips, as I waited impatiently for additional information. The look on my face could not have been a pleasant one.

  Bridget cleared her throat. “Bruce has suffered a painful dislocation in his groin area. More specifically…” Bridget circled her hand around a small area over her own groin.

  “Yes, yes. I understand. How did something like this happen?”