Chapter 33
The Lesson
Deja
I walk into my great-gran’s bedroom and go to take the seat next to her bed. My heart aches to see her like this. She looks so frail. Much worse than when I left.
My anger grows all over again. How did I allow this to happen? I feel so selfish and stupid.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
She opens her eyes, and they are unfocused at first. It takes a moment before she’s able to train her gaze on me. A smile comes to her lips.
“Aye, she told me ye were coming,” she says weakly.
I purse my lips. If she’s talking about that gypsy friend of hers, I don’t want to hear it. I left in the first place because of her.
“Och, and she told me ye would be angry. Listen to me, Deja. Ye did the right thing.
“Dinnae fash yersel. I am auld. My time grows near whether ye be here or not but ye should not be here.”
“How can ya say that? Where should I be if not with ya?”
“Ye should be where ye will unlearn—” She begins to cough midsentence.
I have to fight against my tears and frustration. What am I supposed to be unlearning? Why do I have to leave to unlearn it?
“It’s okay, Gran. Rest,” I say softly.
“No, I’m fine. Ye need to understand. It’s important. Yer destiny awaits ye.
“This will always be yer home, but yer life is tied to where Phoebe has seen ye.”
“Where has she seen me?”
“Ye belong in the Big Apple. Yer destiny lives in New York. However, the time hasn’t come for ye all to be there. It is coming. They will be there when ye arrive.”
“They who?”
“Hush—” The coughing begins again.
“I’m sorry, Gran. I will sit here and be silent. You sleep.”
She gives a laugh and her eyes twinkle. “Och, love. No. I don’t mean for ye to hush. That is who will be there when ye arrive. Hush and the Black Death. They will teach ye to trust.
“This is the lesson. This is what you will unlearn. This mistrust. When ye learn this from them, the lad will reappear and ye will know the truth.”
“What if I don’t want him to appear?”
“Aye, ye say that now, but is that what ye heart says? Phoebe has told me a lot. Ye aren’t seeing the whole picture.
“He needs ye to trust him. That’s going to save ye all. The trust of a real family. Not one born of blood but one forged in it. I believe those were her words,” she coughs the last part.
I sigh. “I don’t understand.”
“Ye will. Go back to the life he has given ye in Ireland. Ye will know when to leave. Yer king will do the rest.”
“He’s no king of mine,” I mutter to myself.
She chuckles. “Aye, love, he is. Ye will see.”