images of the runes? I let myself go deeper into the magick, losing myself in its power. There. Yes, there was one place where I felt a stronger sensation. Each time my fingers passed it, it called to me. I let my hand drift downward to rest on the paper and opened my eyes.
My fingers were on the rune called Yr. The symbol for death.
I frowned. “What does this mean?”
“Hmmm,” said Cal, looking at the paper, his hand on his chin. “Well, you know, Yr can be interpreted many different ways. It doesn’t mean that you or someone you know is going to die. It may simply mean the ending of something and the beginning of something new. Some sort of big change, not necessarily a bad one.”
The double-fishhook symbol of Yr shone darkly on the white paper. Death. The importance of endings. It seemed like an omen. A scary omen. A jet of adrenaline surged through me, making my heart thud.
All at once I heard the back door open.
“Hello?” came my mom’s voice. “Morgan? Mary K.?” There were footsteps in the dining room. My concentration evaporated.
“Hey, sweetie,” she said to Mary K. She paused. “Hello, Bakker. Mary K., is your sister here?” I knew she meant: For God’s sake, you’re not here alone with a boy, are you?
“I’m in here,” I said, tucking the paper of runes into my pocket. Cal and I walked out of the family room. Mom’s eyes flashed over us, and I could immediately see the thoughts going through her mind. My girls, alone in the house with two boys. But we were all downstairs, we had our clothes on, and Mary K. and Bakker were at least sitting at the dining room table. I could see Mom consciously decide not to worry about it.
“Are you baking potatoes?” she asked, sniffing.
“Yep,” I said.
“Do you think we could mash them instead?” she asked. “I’ve asked Eileen and Paula to dinner.” She held up a folder. “I’ve got some hot prospects for them housewise.”
“Cool,” I said. “Yeah, we can mash them, and then there’ll be enough. I’m making hamburgers, too, but there’s plenty.”
“Great. Thanks, sweetie.” Mom headed upstairs to change out of her work clothes.
“I’d better go,” I heard Bakker say reluctantly. Good, I thought.
“Me too,” said Cal. “Bakker, do you think you could give me a lift back to school? That’s where I left my car.”
“No prob,” said Bakker.
I walked Cal outside, and we hugged on the front porch. He kissed my neck and whispered, “I’ll call you later. Don’t get all bent about the Yr thing. It was just an exercise.”
“Okay,” I whispered back, although I still wasn’t sure how I felt. “Thanks for coming over.”
Aunt Eileen arrived first. “Hi!” she said, coming in and taking off her coat. “Paula called and said she was running a few minutes late—something about a Chihuahua having a difficult labor.”
I smiled awkwardly in the front hall. I hadn’t seen her since I had demanded to know why she hadn’t told me I was adopted, at a family dinner two weeks ago. I felt a little embarrassed to see her again, but I was sure Mom had been talking to her, keeping her up-to-date with everything.
“Hi, Aunt Eileen,” I said. “I . . . uh, I’m sorry about making a scene last time. You know.”
As if to answer, she swept me up in a tight hug. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she whispered. “I understand. I don’t blame you a bit.”
We pulled back and smiled at each other for a moment. I knew Aunt Eileen would make everything okay again. Then she glanced down and gasped, pointing urgently to my dad’s La-Z-Boy, where a small gray butt and tail were sticking out from under the skirt.
I laughed and scooped Dagda out.
“This is Dagda,” I said, rubbing him behind his ears. “He’s my new cat.”
“Oh, my goodness,” said Eileen, stroking his head. “I’m sorry. I thought he was a rat.”
“You should know better,” I joked, putting him back on the chair. “You date a vet.”
Aunt
My fingers were on the rune called Yr. The symbol for death.
I frowned. “What does this mean?”
“Hmmm,” said Cal, looking at the paper, his hand on his chin. “Well, you know, Yr can be interpreted many different ways. It doesn’t mean that you or someone you know is going to die. It may simply mean the ending of something and the beginning of something new. Some sort of big change, not necessarily a bad one.”
The double-fishhook symbol of Yr shone darkly on the white paper. Death. The importance of endings. It seemed like an omen. A scary omen. A jet of adrenaline surged through me, making my heart thud.
All at once I heard the back door open.
“Hello?” came my mom’s voice. “Morgan? Mary K.?” There were footsteps in the dining room. My concentration evaporated.
“Hey, sweetie,” she said to Mary K. She paused. “Hello, Bakker. Mary K., is your sister here?” I knew she meant: For God’s sake, you’re not here alone with a boy, are you?
“I’m in here,” I said, tucking the paper of runes into my pocket. Cal and I walked out of the family room. Mom’s eyes flashed over us, and I could immediately see the thoughts going through her mind. My girls, alone in the house with two boys. But we were all downstairs, we had our clothes on, and Mary K. and Bakker were at least sitting at the dining room table. I could see Mom consciously decide not to worry about it.
“Are you baking potatoes?” she asked, sniffing.
“Yep,” I said.
“Do you think we could mash them instead?” she asked. “I’ve asked Eileen and Paula to dinner.” She held up a folder. “I’ve got some hot prospects for them housewise.”
“Cool,” I said. “Yeah, we can mash them, and then there’ll be enough. I’m making hamburgers, too, but there’s plenty.”
“Great. Thanks, sweetie.” Mom headed upstairs to change out of her work clothes.
“I’d better go,” I heard Bakker say reluctantly. Good, I thought.
“Me too,” said Cal. “Bakker, do you think you could give me a lift back to school? That’s where I left my car.”
“No prob,” said Bakker.
I walked Cal outside, and we hugged on the front porch. He kissed my neck and whispered, “I’ll call you later. Don’t get all bent about the Yr thing. It was just an exercise.”
“Okay,” I whispered back, although I still wasn’t sure how I felt. “Thanks for coming over.”
Aunt Eileen arrived first. “Hi!” she said, coming in and taking off her coat. “Paula called and said she was running a few minutes late—something about a Chihuahua having a difficult labor.”
I smiled awkwardly in the front hall. I hadn’t seen her since I had demanded to know why she hadn’t told me I was adopted, at a family dinner two weeks ago. I felt a little embarrassed to see her again, but I was sure Mom had been talking to her, keeping her up-to-date with everything.
“Hi, Aunt Eileen,” I said. “I . . . uh, I’m sorry about making a scene last time. You know.”
As if to answer, she swept me up in a tight hug. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she whispered. “I understand. I don’t blame you a bit.”
We pulled back and smiled at each other for a moment. I knew Aunt Eileen would make everything okay again. Then she glanced down and gasped, pointing urgently to my dad’s La-Z-Boy, where a small gray butt and tail were sticking out from under the skirt.
I laughed and scooped Dagda out.
“This is Dagda,” I said, rubbing him behind his ears. “He’s my new cat.”
“Oh, my goodness,” said Eileen, stroking his head. “I’m sorry. I thought he was a rat.”
“You should know better,” I joked, putting him back on the chair. “You date a vet.”
Aunt
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