Chapter Twenty-Five Rab #3
Nevin looked festive today in a tartan waistcoat and bow tie. “We have an extra-special baking challenge for you all today.”
“Lovely,” I said, under my breath, and Lyra lightly bumped my shoulder with hers.
I grinned.
“Today’s challenge is going to get very…
personal.” Kelly picked up where Nevin had left off, the cameras following her as she walked across the room.
“Because the holidays tend to be nostalgic, and many of our favorite recipes come from our memories, today’s challenge is called: Whisking up the Past.”
Worry niggled at the back of my neck as Kelly turned her smile toward our table.
“Contestants will drink a magickal tea that will allow them to exchange one memory of their choice with their fellow team member. Based on those memories, you’ll need to come up with one holiday-themed recipe of your choice.”
“Memories of Christmas morning?” one of the elves asked.
“Any memory from the past.”
I couldn’t bring myself to look at Lyra, though I could feel her practically vibrating with angst at my side. We had so many shared memories together, but there was one very important one that we had two differing viewpoints on.
I knew it was what the reality show wanted.
But, I realized, so did I. I wanted her to see that day, from my view, so she could understand just how much I’d hurt when she’d left.
“Rab, no.” Lyra looked up at me, worry creasing her forehead, understanding in her eyes.
“Why not?” I asked, with a shrug. “It’s what they want. And maybe it will be good for us.”
“Us?” Lyra asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Us,” I said, and took the tea that Kelly handed me.
“Lyra, you’ll drink first. Then, Rab, drink from the same cup. You’ll recite the spell after me, and you’ll be brought into Lyra’s memory first. And then Rab’s. Once finished, you can decide which memory will inspire your shared dish.”
I took the tea without hesitation.
“Are you sure?” Lyra whispered, tugging on my shirt.
“Lyra, we have a lot of great shared memories together, but what we don’t know about is the day we fell apart. So why not? Why not now?” I asked, my gaze boring into hers. After a brief hesitation, she pressed her lips together and then nodded.
“Right, let’s do this.”
Taking a sip of the peppermint tea, I passed it to Lyra, and then we looked to Kelly.
“Recite after me.” Nevin stepped forward. “By holly bright and candle’s gleam, show us now the other’s scene. Through winter’s glass let past unfold, one heart, one sight, and a tale retold.”
We recited, and then I… was no longer in the room.
I was staring at the old tree in my backyard, my hands at my mouth. I blinked, trying to get a bearing on my senses.
Thunder rumbled the skies and the branches shook over my head as voices carried to me through the open window.
“Rabbie.” My mum’s voice drifted through the window. “We heard. We didn’t mean to, but we were taking the washing in.”
“You can’t do this, son. You’re too young.” My dad’s no-nonsense voice followed. “You think you’re in love, but it’s just… hormones. Everyone thinks they’re in love at your age. I know it feels all big and real right now, but it will pass. And you can’t throw away your future for some lass.”
“She’s not just some lass! I love her,” my younger voice cried out.
“Aye, so you think you do. But it’s impossible, what you’re suggesting. Lyra isn’t old enough to leave her family. To come live with… you? Where? Here? We wouldn’t agree to that. Nor are we even sure it’s legal,” my mother said.
My heart dropped as I realized what I was seeing.
Lyra hadn’t left that day.
Instead, she’d pressed herself to the wall of my house and listened to every word my parents had said that fateful night.
“You’re about to sit exams, Rab. You’ve got an incredible future ahead of you.
Promise me you won’t throw it away. Not for just a bonnie lass.
Not for… a MacGregor. Of all people. You could do better for your future than to saddle yourself to a family riddled with curses. They’re a blight on this community.”
“I suppose it was foolish, wasn’t it? To think we’d have a future. I guess… I just got caught up. You’re right. Lyra’s nothing special. She’s just a pretty face.” I cringed as I heard my own voice agreeing with my father.
“That’s a good lad. I knew you’d see it our way. It’s hard, I know. But in a year, this won’t matter at all.”
And then the landscape in front of me shifted, and we were running, racing through the icy rain that slapped our face, tears hot at our cheeks.
The memory cut off as soon as Lyra slammed through the front door of her house, suitcases piled up at the door, because what else was there to show? I’d thought I’d heard crying that day but had chalked it up to wind wailing through the branches.
My heart felt leaden. She’d heard. She’d heard my lie. She hadn’t known that those words were only spoken to pacify my parents. Shite.
All these years I’d assumed she’d left me because she’d lied, because she hadn’t really loved me. Not because she’d overheard me lie to my parents. Opening my eyes, I looked down at Lyra, only to be thrust directly into the next memory.
Mine.