The Forest of Aisling: Dream of the Shapeshifter (The Willow Series Book 1) (12 page)

I found myself once again entangled in my web of
sheets, pinning my legs until I sat up and freed them.  My brow was sweaty
and my mouth parched.  I stood in the darkened room, lit only by the
streetlights of town and a beam of moonlight.  Staring out at the moon
returned me to my dream momentarily until Dad gently shifted in his bed,
which brought me back and reminded me where I was.  I got another drink of
water and sat in bed wondering what it all meant.  Was there some kind of
connection to everything?  It all just seemed to be too random to make any
sense.

I leaned back against the headboard, letting the
darkness of the room envelope me.  Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to
transport into the vision of the forest, to see if I could somehow conjure up
some answers.  The images returned quickly and easily at first, but soon
disappeared.  The last sight I could hold onto was of the gray wolf
standing to what I somehow knew to be the west. 
That has to mean
something,
I surmised.  But what?

 Then I went ahead and let my heart take
control of my brain…I no longer wanted to decipher images and sounds.  I
just wanted to think… about Bram.

Both Dad and I were sound asleep when the
telephone rang.  Dad jumped up, cleared his throat and answered with a
gruff, “Hello?”

He listened, easing himself
to the edge of the bed.  “What does that mean exactly?” he asked with a
definite edge to his voice.  Holding the receiver with one hand, he used
the other to rub his neck. He was getting agitated.

“I can be down there in fifteen minutes.” He rose
from the bed, searching the room with his eyes.  He grumbled, “Ok,” then
hung up the receiver.

“What’s up, Dad?”

He made his way over to the dresser and grabbed a
pen and paper and scribbled something. “I gotta go, Wil.” He took a change of
clothes and went into the bathroom.

“What is it? Do you want me go with you?” I called
out, sitting up in bed.

He didn’t answer until he came out of the bathroom,
dressed and ready to leave. “I’ve got to go right now, I’ll fill you in when I
get back,” he answered, sprinting to the door.

Before I realized it I’d positioned myself between
him and the door.  “Dad! What’s going on?”

He stopped and glared at me. “We’ll talk when I
get back. I don’t have time to explain.”

I knew when to give my dad his space; this was one
of those times. He was upset and adamant about going this second and going
alone.  But I could be just as stubborn, so before I moved from the doorway
I grabbed his arm. “Just tell me, is it about Grandma?”

“Yes.” He glared and pushed past me out the
door.  Looking back he added, “I’ll be back soon, just stay here.”

I watched him make his way down the hallway and
turn into the elevator before I closed the door.  I looked out the window
and saw him climb into the car and speed away.  Obviously the call had
come from the police
. 
What could they have told him?

I found myself pacing back and forth trying to
imagine what might be going on.  The lab results must have shown something
and it couldn’t be good.  But what could it be, worst case…she was
poisoned? I wondered.  I finally decided to try and distract myself
instead of making crazy assumptions with all the what-if’s so I went in and took
a long shower.  It helped a lot.  I got dressed and went out for some
breakfast, then came back to call Mom.

“Hello?” she answered on the third ring, her voice
hoarse.

“Hi, Mom, you ok? Your voice sounds funny.”

“Willow! I’m fine, just sleeping; its two a.m.
here, you know.”

“Oh, sorry, Mom. I’ll call back.”

“You will not!” she exclaimed. “We’ll talk now. It’s
fine, honey.”

I sat down on the bed, getting myself in the best
position for a long conversation.  Whenever Mom and I were apart for any
amount of time, we more than made up for it with long chats on the phone, but
even those had become few and far between the last few days.

“I’d planned on calling you and Dad today,” Mom
added. “I need to know how you both are and what’s going on there.”

“We’re doing ok, Mom, but Dad just got a call –
from the police, I’m guessing.  He ran out of here in a rush, told me to
stay, that he’d explain everything when he got back.”  I stretched out my
legs and kicked off my shoes.

“Hmm, that’s curious.  Any word yet on the
investigation?” Mom asked.  I could hear her shuffling around in the
background and knew she was planting herself on the big overstuffed chair in
the living room, her favorite spot to sit anytime she was on the phone.

“Dad met with them yesterday.  They were
still waiting for test results so they really didn’t tell him much of
anything.  Mom, what do you think might be going on, with Grandma, that
is?”

“That’s hard to say honey, although it is strange
that they have to investigate the death of a seventy-five-year-old woman who’d
been ill.  Any word on what led up to them deciding they needed to check
things out?”

I leaned back against the headboard, feeling the
vibration of a vacuum cleaner from the room next door. “No, that’s the strange
thing, Mom.  I overheard Uncle Eagan’s housekeeper talking to someone and
she said that Grandma wasn’t ill.  That she’d seen her two days before she
died and she was fine, no sign of being sick.”

Mom let out a heavy sigh. “This sounds even more
serious than I imagined…how’s Blue taking it all?  Is he ok?”

“I guess. You know Dad.”

There was a long silence in which I could picture
Mom tapping her fingers on her chin, a habit she had when she was deep in
thought. While I waited for her to respond I contemplated whether or not I
should dump the rest of my news on her. Do I tell her about
my change,
for
lack of a better term?  Part of me was afraid to even mention it, feeling
like if I did, that it would make it real.  At the same time, there was no
one else I’d rather confide in. 

“I hate being so far away from you two, especially
now with all of this going on,” she sighed.

“We miss you Mom, a lot.” 

Now’s the time,
I thought
, just open
your mouth and let it all spill out.  Tell her about becoming the wolf,
the dreams, or Ihan’bla or premonitions or whatever you want to call
them.  Tell her about the shadowy movement that’s appeared only to
disappear as quickly as it showed up.  Tell her how worried you are
because now the dreams are different.  And tell her about…Bram.
I held
my fingers up to my lips and began chewing my nails. The clicking sound of
teeth against nail reverberated through the telephone across some five thousand
miles and found a receiver in Mom’s ear canal.

“Willow, are you chewing your nails?” she asked
accusingly.

I quickly wiped the moisture off my fingertips
onto my jeans and answered, “No.”

“Aw, honey, it must be pretty tense for you to
start ripping at your nails again.”

“There’s just a lot going on, Mom.  I don’t
even know where to begin trying to tell you about everything.”  While I
debated the best course of action my phone vibrated in my pocket.  I
pulled it out and quickly read the text message:

 “Good morning Willow,” read the message from
Bram. 

My heart began pounding and for a moment I lost my
concentration and dropped the phone, leaving Mom hanging.  Staring at the
screen I quickly typed my response.  He asked if I was busy, to which I
said no. 

“Willow, are you there?” came the muffled sound of
Mom’s voice, tucked between my leg and the red-and-green comforter.

“Sorry, Mom. I dropped the phone.” 
Tell
her about Bram at least,
pressed that annoying little voice in my head. I
quickly shot Bram a text asking him to give me a few minutes…I was on the phone
with my mom.

“Mom, there is something I would like to talk to
you about.”

“Go ahead, Wagmu,” her soft voice encouraged.

“Well, I met this guy.  His name is
Bram.  He’s a friend of Kelleigh and Quinn’s, Uncle Eagan’s grandkids, you
know?”

“Right, I remember you mentioning them.”

“Mom, you know how I am, I mean, I have guy
friends, but they’re just that, friends, nothing more. Remember last summer
when Sam’s brother started getting all serious and wanted to date exclusively
and I told him I just liked him as a friend?” The urge to chew my nails was
growing.

“Of course I remember; that almost ended your
friendship with Sam.  I’m so glad you two were able to work through it,
but what’s that got to do with this boy, Bram?”

“Mom, is it possible to fall for someone after
only a few days?” I just spit it out.

“Fall for someone?  You mean, like fall in
love with someone?” she asked.

I stopped there and let the words bounce around in
my head like a ping pong ball. 
Is that what I mean?
I
wondered.  Love was such a strong word and to even be suggesting it felt a
little premature.

“Um, no, not love, but feeling really crazy about
someone, you know.  Almost like you’ve known them for a lot longer than
you have…does that make sense?”

Mom took a deep breath before answering, “I know
exactly what you mean.  Why don’t you tell me about this boy, Willow?”

I sat there for the next hour switching between
talking and texting.  Telling my Mom all about Bram and the way he made me
feel, and texting Bram, making plans to see him in a few hours.  Mom was
amazing. She listened and shared with me that she felt like she fell in love
with Dad on their third date.  That sometimes love hits when you least
expect it. 

“Just be clear, Wagmu, this is the first boy
you’ve felt so strongly about…first time can be very powerful.  Try to
keep your wits about you; after all, you’ll be leaving Ireland soon and that
means saying good-bye to Bram.  Don’t deny yourself these feelings; just
don’t let them run away with you.  I know that’s hard to do but it will
make leaving much easier.”

I laid back on the bed and let her words wash over
me like a warm summer breeze.  Of course I was going to have to say
good-bye, I realized that.  But that made me want to be with him even
more…just knowing that it was all coming to an end soon.

“You ok, love?” Mom’s voice questioned after I
grew silent.

“Yeah, I’m ok.  I can’t believe how long
we’ve been on the phone.”

“I know, and I can’t believe your Dad isn’t back
yet.  Make sure he calls me right away, no matter the time.”

“Will do, Mom, I love you, thanks.”

“I love you, Wagmu.  We’ll talk again soon.
Techi’ ila.”

I took the receiver from my burning, ringing ear
and placed it down on the hook. 

“Shoot,” I muttered as I
remembered the family picture I’d snapped at Grandpa’s.  I wanted to ask
Mom about it.  I quickly scrolled through the pics on my phone and found
it, then forwarded it to Mom in a text.  Hopefully, she’d have an idea of
whose little hand was resting on Grandpa’s.   Just as I did that, I
heard Dad at the door. 

He walked in, visibly shaken, and threw the keys
on the dresser.  He poured himself a tall glass of water then slumped down
in the oak chair by the table. I watched him, not sure if I should begin my
interrogation or wait until he made eye contact.  Everything about his
body language screamed at me to wait, so I did.  I sat back down on the
bed, the spot still warm from my marathon phone call to Mom.  After a few
minutes Dad finally turned to me.

“Willow,” he mumbled, his face growing pale as he
spoke.

I joined him at the table hoping my nearness would
make what he had to tell me easier.

“Your Grandma, well…the police… they found some
things they can’t explain.  It appears that she had a strange substance in
her bloodstream. The police found it in an earlier sample taken by her doctor
before she passed.  They sent the sample to London, but even the police
there weren’t able to identify it.  So between that and the conflicting
reports of her being ill, the police have…,” he paused, lowering his head and
rubbing the back of his neck. “They decided… that they’d better… exhume the
body for further investigation.”

My brain grabbed hold of the word and quickly
defined it. I thought they only “exhumed” bodies on crime shows or in
who-dunnit novels, not in real life, not here, not my grandmother. “Exhume the
body, oh my Lord, Dad no!”  The word felt strange and foreign in my
mouth. 

His pale face worked itself into an expression of
self-control; his composure grew second by second.

“I know it sounds bad, and it is, but if that’s
what they have to do to get some answers, then that’s what has to be
done.  My only concern right now is Conor…not sure how he’s going to take
this.”

I sat back in my chair and flashed quickly on
Grandpa’s blue eyes and the sorrow that had been there.  “I’m afraid what
this is gonna do to him.  Dad, he’s so frail, what will he do now if you
tell him that Grandma may have died suspiciously and that the police need to
exhume her?”  My throat tightened around the words and a sick feeling came
over me.

 “First person I need to call is Eagan.
 He’ll probably want to go with me when I speak to Conor,” Dad said and
grabbed the phone.  He paced as he relayed the terrible news to Uncle
Eagan and suggested they go see Grandpa right away.  The police wanted to
do the exhumation first thing in the morning, but Conor needed to be informed
first.  The decision was made, and all that was left to do was for Dad to
pick up Eagan and head to Grandpa’s.

“I’d like to come, Dad,” I asserted, hoping he’d
agree without much coaxing.

He winced at first but then looked back, studying
me for a full minute. 

He pursed his lips in a long exhale, trying to
decide. “How about this: You can go, but let us go into the house and tell him
first; you wait in the car.  I need to see how he’s going to take
this.  I don’t want you to have to deal with it if it becomes
uncomfortable…which I suspect it will,” he added under his breath.

The rainy day provided the perfect backdrop to the
horrendous turn of events.  The morning had begun sunny and clear, but as
quickly as the word
exhumed
forced its way into our vocabulary, the
weather changed, along with our moods.

In no time we were at Eagan’s house.  He
stood on his porch, waiting for us.  He quickly put out his pipe, turned
up his jacket lapels, and rushed to join us in the car.  He greeted me
with his usual charm but it was short lived. Missing was his usual joviality,
replaced with a stern demeanor and tone. While he and Dad discussed the best
course of action for dealing with Grandpa, I seized the opportunity to text Bram
and make my apologies for missing our date.  His understanding and concern
made me miss him all the more.  I promised to get in touch as soon as I
was able.

By the time we arrived at Grandpa’s the weather
had gone from bad to torrential.  The rain had transformed to sleet and
made visibility difficult at best.