Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
TYNAN
The dull pain intensified when I looked at the fields ahead.
I did not want to dwell on it, but I could not stop the memories of my past from returning.
All the pain and misery I had to go through before I was strong enough to stand up for myself.
It was almost hard to imagine now, but I remembered being nearly broken by this place, these people.
I still remembered how cold and suffocating this land used to feel.
It took me years to realize that I could go anywhere, even the capital, rather than stay here.
Whatever I had to do to make it happen was irrelevant.
I hated this place with every part of my being.
I used to think that Darragh did not break me all the way, but maybe I had been fooling myself all along, maybe I was already broken.
“There are only two rooms here, you will have to share. But, it is better than sleeping outside.” Grace gave me an inquisitive look.
As far as I remembered, Quirin was Grace’s favorite.
She never liked Hanoch and almost never paid any attention to me.
All her days were filled with her art projects and the never ending war with my mother to gain more influence over my father.
But if she wanted to help us now, I would not hold it against her, or question her motives.
Even at her current age, when I looked at the old woman, I could see the resemblance to my father in the wavy hair, the shape of her face, and the softness of her eyes. I knew very well that it was just a mask, she was not a soft person. Behind that exterior was a stubborn and energetic woman.
“Thank you,” I said.
Almost mechanically, I crossed the threshold, lowering my head, and the very first thing I saw was a massive nude portrait. I stopped dead and the next moment, Victor walked into me.
“What the h – ell?” he started saying, but then he too, saw the wall.
“What’s wrong?” Grace asked.
“You have a very beautiful home,” Victor mumbled, abruptly looking away.
Alina’s cheeks flushed when she switched her gaze from the picture to Grace then looked at her feet. Frid bit her lip looking everywhere but at the old woman.
“Oh, grow up, all of you. There is nothing embarrassing here. Art has no boundaries or taboos,” Grace stated.
I nodded, examining the room. There were multiple chairs covered in thick cotton sheets and a short, plush couch with a colorful handmade blanket draped over the top.
Fake flowers were perched in pots, a set of partially melted, thick candles sat on a metal tray in the middle of the kitchen table, and everywhere on the walls were pictures in mismatched frames of different sizes and shapes.
Sculptures and painting decorated every wall, every surface.
I realized that during all my years in Darragh, I never visited her cottage.
I heard people talk about her being an artist. Usually, these talks were accompanied by mocking smiles and snide remarks.
I never knew what kind of person she was.
I was never interested enough to find out what she was doing with her time.
I turned to look at Sol, but he would not meet my eyes, his face remained beet red.
“Fine. If you cannot be mature about it, I will take down the picture,” Grace sounded displeased.
“We’ll be fine,” I said.
“Good. Sol, my dear, you should come with me. Your aunt will want to see you.” Grace turned to him.
“Mirtha? Is she still alive?” Sol raised his eyebrows.
Grace gave him a stern look and walked to the front door.
“Make yourselves comfortable. Take anything you need from the closets.” She offered before leaving the house.
“I can’t stop looking at the portrait.” Victor was the first to break the silence.
“Oh, stop being weird,” Frid hissed.
“Not as weird as Ty’s grandma–”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Frid snapped.
I shook my head and walked to one of the rooms. Both bedrooms had a good sized bed and were almost identical. That was so different from what you would expect to see in other houses. Usually one room was used as a bedroom and the second room could be a sitting area, kids room or storage.
“Can we take this room?” Frid pointed.
“Go ahead,” I said.
“Come on, Aly. I’m dying to take a bath and go to sleep.” Frid grabbed Alina’s hand and pulled her inside one of the rooms, closing the door behind them.
“That leaves the two of us.” Victor sighed.
I walked into the second bedroom.
“There are two of us and only one bed,” Victor continued.
“Do you prefer to sleep outside?” I asked.
“Of course not. I’ll just sleep on the floor.”
“Suit yourself.” I walked into the closet and found multiple gowns and suits displayed on the racks. “What in the holy hell?” I pulled out a bright red silk shirt and a pair of black pants to go with it.
“I guess you found your change of clothes. What exactly is your grandma into?” Victor asked as he stretched out on the bed.
“I‘m trying hard not to think about it.”
A knock on the door made me turn from the closet. Without waiting for a response, Frid swung the door open, and stood in the doorway holding two hangers.
“She said we could use anything we want, right? I looked through the clothes.” Frid shook the hangers in her hands.
“It’s a little too masculine for you,” Victor observed.
“Very funny. I thought it could work for you, Ty.” She handed me the black shirt and black pants made out of a thick, smooth material. “As for you, I think she has some kids’ clothes here.” Frid threw the second set right at Victor's laughing face.
“What are you up to?” I asked, hanging the suit on the closet door.
“We started a fire and Aly is boiling us some water for a bath,” Frid responded.
I returned my gaze to the window, watching the low fog creep down from the mountains. I had forgotten how the peaks crowded the horizon, adding contrast against the dark blue sky.