“Probably a really cool tattoo.” She wished she’d known and paid more attention as a kid.
Devon laughed, deep and husky, sending a shiver through her body. “A tattoo’s just ink. What we have is tatù.”
“Why do you say it so funny?” Rae’d heard the weird enunciation several times now.
“Tattoo is just what it means...a regular, boring mark someone paid to get. Taa – toe. You just say the first part long, the second part rhymes with shoe. It’s the original Gaelic term.”
Rae laughed. “Do you always pucker your mouth and scrunch your face when you try to pronounce words? You look like you just ate a lemon.”
“I do?” His face pinched again. “Crap, I do .”
They smiled at each other. She enjoyed the banter, but turned serious again when the moment passed. “I wonder what mine’ll be.”
“The ink’s just a picture. It’s what you do with it that makes you stronger and develop as an individual. The type of person you are…what you're good at, will be blended with the gift, as well. It usually doesn’t come all at once, either. It grows with you as you mature.”
“What could my mom do?” Rae asked.
“I’m not sure what her powers were. I just know her ink-art.”
“Then why does everyone know about my past if people know my mom’s ink but not what she could do?”
“They know about your mom ’cause of your…your dad.” Devon suddenly seemed very interested in the night sky, the Oratory building, anywhere but looking at her. “It’s because of him,” he whispered.
“What about my dad?” She leaned forward so he had to face her. Her heart hammered, echoing inside her chest when she saw the fear in his eyes.
Chapter 6
Lessons of the Past
Devon rubbed the stubble on his chin. “What do you remember about Simon Kerr – sorry, I mean, your dad?”
Rae stared at Devon. She couldn’t figure how he’d hidden the scared look on his face so fast. One moment it was there, and the next…it was like he’d closed the shutters over his emotions. “He wasn’t around much, to be honest. He always seemed to be gone for work, or whatever he did.” Rae tried to think, cocking her head to one side as she sifted through her dreams and memories. She straightened when she realized they were the same – her dreams were actually her memories. It’d all been real.
Shifting slightly, Devon remained silent beside her.
“It’s funny now,” Rae murmured. “I’ve never noticed before, but it’s like every memory I have of him seems to be about magic tricks or some sorta dream. One time, I remember being very little, maybe three or four at the time. It’s one of my first memories, but I remember he made my toys float around the room. He could make my puppets dance without touching them. Another time, he made the rain go away when I wanted to play outside.” She remembered sitting by the large bay window at the back of the house, one moment singing the old nursery song and the next, the sun burst through the clouds.
Rae coughed as another memory rushed forward. One she’d tried to suppress a long time ago. “When I was about five…he got mad at me one night. I’d been crying about monsters under my bed. He came into my room really pissed off, and told me the monsters that lived in our house didn’t hide under beds or in closets. They were out in the open and fearless. I, of course, started screaming because what five year old isn’t terrified of monsters? And now he’d just told me they weren’t scared of anything and didn’t have to hide. Basically, they were going to get me.” What kind of person would do that to a child?
She exhaled, trying to calm the anxiety rising inside her that came with the memory. She tucked a long, Shirley Temple curl behind her ear and flipped her hand. “Anyway, my mom came running into the room. She was so ticked, and they started fighting, which only scared me more. In the end, she picked me up and carried me to her
Devon laughed, deep and husky, sending a shiver through her body. “A tattoo’s just ink. What we have is tatù.”
“Why do you say it so funny?” Rae’d heard the weird enunciation several times now.
“Tattoo is just what it means...a regular, boring mark someone paid to get. Taa – toe. You just say the first part long, the second part rhymes with shoe. It’s the original Gaelic term.”
Rae laughed. “Do you always pucker your mouth and scrunch your face when you try to pronounce words? You look like you just ate a lemon.”
“I do?” His face pinched again. “Crap, I do .”
They smiled at each other. She enjoyed the banter, but turned serious again when the moment passed. “I wonder what mine’ll be.”
“The ink’s just a picture. It’s what you do with it that makes you stronger and develop as an individual. The type of person you are…what you're good at, will be blended with the gift, as well. It usually doesn’t come all at once, either. It grows with you as you mature.”
“What could my mom do?” Rae asked.
“I’m not sure what her powers were. I just know her ink-art.”
“Then why does everyone know about my past if people know my mom’s ink but not what she could do?”
“They know about your mom ’cause of your…your dad.” Devon suddenly seemed very interested in the night sky, the Oratory building, anywhere but looking at her. “It’s because of him,” he whispered.
“What about my dad?” She leaned forward so he had to face her. Her heart hammered, echoing inside her chest when she saw the fear in his eyes.
Chapter 6
Lessons of the Past
Devon rubbed the stubble on his chin. “What do you remember about Simon Kerr – sorry, I mean, your dad?”
Rae stared at Devon. She couldn’t figure how he’d hidden the scared look on his face so fast. One moment it was there, and the next…it was like he’d closed the shutters over his emotions. “He wasn’t around much, to be honest. He always seemed to be gone for work, or whatever he did.” Rae tried to think, cocking her head to one side as she sifted through her dreams and memories. She straightened when she realized they were the same – her dreams were actually her memories. It’d all been real.
Shifting slightly, Devon remained silent beside her.
“It’s funny now,” Rae murmured. “I’ve never noticed before, but it’s like every memory I have of him seems to be about magic tricks or some sorta dream. One time, I remember being very little, maybe three or four at the time. It’s one of my first memories, but I remember he made my toys float around the room. He could make my puppets dance without touching them. Another time, he made the rain go away when I wanted to play outside.” She remembered sitting by the large bay window at the back of the house, one moment singing the old nursery song and the next, the sun burst through the clouds.
Rae coughed as another memory rushed forward. One she’d tried to suppress a long time ago. “When I was about five…he got mad at me one night. I’d been crying about monsters under my bed. He came into my room really pissed off, and told me the monsters that lived in our house didn’t hide under beds or in closets. They were out in the open and fearless. I, of course, started screaming because what five year old isn’t terrified of monsters? And now he’d just told me they weren’t scared of anything and didn’t have to hide. Basically, they were going to get me.” What kind of person would do that to a child?
She exhaled, trying to calm the anxiety rising inside her that came with the memory. She tucked a long, Shirley Temple curl behind her ear and flipped her hand. “Anyway, my mom came running into the room. She was so ticked, and they started fighting, which only scared me more. In the end, she picked me up and carried me to her
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