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Authors: Marilee Brothers
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pressed our palms together, interlaced our fingers and murmured, “Stella Potenza,” Italian for
“star power,” and the official greeting for Star Seekers.
“Eat first. Talk later,” he said.
He walked to the table, and lifted the lid from the pizza box, releasing the delicious aroma of tomato sauce, oregano and pepperoni. My stomach growled ferociously in response. I snagged a big slice, and sat down on a stump, leaving the rickety lawn chair for Dennis. He wiped his hands on his jeans, and dug into the pizza box. The dogs scrambled up, and flopped down on my feet, their unblinking gaze locked onto the pizza travelling back and forth to my mouth. Dennis must have been famished too. The only words we exchanged in the next five minutes were, “Mmm, good!”
Finally, we came up for air. Dennis tossed pizza crusts to the dogs, and then mopped his face with a handful of napkins. “To answer your question,” he said, still chewing his last bite. “No bad guys right now.”
I gathered up the debris from our dinner, and tossed it into the garbage can next to the trailer.
“So, is this just a friendly visit so we could share a pizza?”
“Not exactly.”
I studied his face. “So, why exactly are you here?”
“Your dad sent me.”
“Oh.” I bit my lip, remembering Mike’s shock and obvious sadness when he told me about his parents’ accident.
“He would have come himself, but he’s pretty busy making funerals arrangements and such.”
I nodded.
Dennis squirmed a bit before saying, “The funeral is tomorrow. Mike said if you want to go, you can ride over with me.”
“To the funeral?” I repeated, stupidly. In my mind, I saw Mike Purdy sobbing over his parents’
288
caskets, while his blonde wife and kids glared at me, the dusky, dark-haired teen stranger invading their family circle. “Um, don’t you think that would be a little awkward?”
Dennis shrugged. “Not for me to say. Your decision.”
“Pretty easy decision,” I said. “I didn’t know them.”
I couldn’t help but feel a little resentful when I thought about the prosperous Purdy family. Faye and I struggled every day to make ends meet. “Is that why you’re here?
To invite me to the funeral?”
I must have sounded a little snippy, because Dennis held up a hand. “Hey, don’t kill the messenger! The funeral invitation was an afterthought. The real reason is this.”
He pulled an envelope from his shirt pocket. I reached for it, but he jerked it away. “Before you read it, I have something to tell you.”
He looked so serious, I started to worry. “Is this about the moonstone?”
“Don’t know for sure.”
“Earlier, you told me ‘no bad guys,’ so what you’re about to tell me must be good. Right?”
Dennis said, “I’ll let you be the judge of that.”
“So what’s the big secret?”
Dennis cleared his throat. “Mike looked in his mother’s safety deposit box and got a bit of a shock.”
“Shock? Like in a good way?”
The corners of Dennis’ mouth lifted in a brief smile. “Depends on what you call good. Mike found out the man who raised him wasn’t his real father.”
“Figures,” I said. “More family secrets.”
He opened the envelope and withdrew a single sheet of paper, folded in thirds. “Mike had a copy made of the original. Since it involves you, he thought you should read it.”
I unfolded the paper, surprised when I read the date at the top. February 20, 1971. Written in black ink with a bunch of curlicues, the script looked old-fashioned, like the picture of the handwritten Declaration of Independence in my history book. It was that kind of writing. Even more surprising, was the content. It said: My days in this world are few. Those who would do me harm are closing in. As an emissary of the Tuatha de Danaan, I have accomplished my task. You, my unborn son, are the conduit. The moon and stars will bless the child who follows you. Descendant of an ancient race and daughter
“star power,” and the official greeting for Star Seekers.
“Eat first. Talk later,” he said.
He walked to the table, and lifted the lid from the pizza box, releasing the delicious aroma of tomato sauce, oregano and pepperoni. My stomach growled ferociously in response. I snagged a big slice, and sat down on a stump, leaving the rickety lawn chair for Dennis. He wiped his hands on his jeans, and dug into the pizza box. The dogs scrambled up, and flopped down on my feet, their unblinking gaze locked onto the pizza travelling back and forth to my mouth. Dennis must have been famished too. The only words we exchanged in the next five minutes were, “Mmm, good!”
Finally, we came up for air. Dennis tossed pizza crusts to the dogs, and then mopped his face with a handful of napkins. “To answer your question,” he said, still chewing his last bite. “No bad guys right now.”
I gathered up the debris from our dinner, and tossed it into the garbage can next to the trailer.
“So, is this just a friendly visit so we could share a pizza?”
“Not exactly.”
I studied his face. “So, why exactly are you here?”
“Your dad sent me.”
“Oh.” I bit my lip, remembering Mike’s shock and obvious sadness when he told me about his parents’ accident.
“He would have come himself, but he’s pretty busy making funerals arrangements and such.”
I nodded.
Dennis squirmed a bit before saying, “The funeral is tomorrow. Mike said if you want to go, you can ride over with me.”
“To the funeral?” I repeated, stupidly. In my mind, I saw Mike Purdy sobbing over his parents’
288
caskets, while his blonde wife and kids glared at me, the dusky, dark-haired teen stranger invading their family circle. “Um, don’t you think that would be a little awkward?”
Dennis shrugged. “Not for me to say. Your decision.”
“Pretty easy decision,” I said. “I didn’t know them.”
I couldn’t help but feel a little resentful when I thought about the prosperous Purdy family. Faye and I struggled every day to make ends meet. “Is that why you’re here?
To invite me to the funeral?”
I must have sounded a little snippy, because Dennis held up a hand. “Hey, don’t kill the messenger! The funeral invitation was an afterthought. The real reason is this.”
He pulled an envelope from his shirt pocket. I reached for it, but he jerked it away. “Before you read it, I have something to tell you.”
He looked so serious, I started to worry. “Is this about the moonstone?”
“Don’t know for sure.”
“Earlier, you told me ‘no bad guys,’ so what you’re about to tell me must be good. Right?”
Dennis said, “I’ll let you be the judge of that.”
“So what’s the big secret?”
Dennis cleared his throat. “Mike looked in his mother’s safety deposit box and got a bit of a shock.”
“Shock? Like in a good way?”
The corners of Dennis’ mouth lifted in a brief smile. “Depends on what you call good. Mike found out the man who raised him wasn’t his real father.”
“Figures,” I said. “More family secrets.”
He opened the envelope and withdrew a single sheet of paper, folded in thirds. “Mike had a copy made of the original. Since it involves you, he thought you should read it.”
I unfolded the paper, surprised when I read the date at the top. February 20, 1971. Written in black ink with a bunch of curlicues, the script looked old-fashioned, like the picture of the handwritten Declaration of Independence in my history book. It was that kind of writing. Even more surprising, was the content. It said: My days in this world are few. Those who would do me harm are closing in. As an emissary of the Tuatha de Danaan, I have accomplished my task. You, my unborn son, are the conduit. The moon and stars will bless the child who follows you. Descendant of an ancient race and daughter
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