Read Online Spiral: Book One of the Spiral in Time by Judith Schara - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Judith Schara
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there. It’s our right. The old Druids built Maiden Castle, and it’s ours. Then poor little Jemmy blew himself up so he wouldn’t remember any more killing.”
Germaine slumped back in her chair, shocked at what he said. A suicide? Then Aston broke down and started crying. His big shoulders shook as he wiped his eyes with the long sleeve of his robe. A dark-haired man came out of the crowd and put his arm around him.
It was Conan Ryan’s friend from the conference—Nicholas Greenwood! He guided the distraught man away from the television camera’s intrusive eye. Obviously, he was a friend to these new-age Druids. Was he a Druid? She felt uncomfortable remembering their conversation. She had been less than friendly, even rude, and he had treated her kindly, too.
Germaine kept staring at the television. The man’s anguish over his brother felt so real. A suicide! She couldn’t forget his words—they touched some sensitive, highly emotional place in her. She felt like crying. A young man tried to kill himself so he wouldn’t have to remember war anymore.
She took a sip of tea and tried to think of something else—anything! But Mick Aston’s anguished face was etched in her memory. His love for his brother was powerful. His grief came from the depths of his heart, and it showed.
What must it feel like to be helpless to save someone you loved?
And who had she ever loved that much? There was no brother or sister in her life to care for or love like that. And her marriage? There was no comparison. Too many times she had thought that one over. The harsh reality was although she thought she loved Julian, she had left her marriage every summer to go away and pursue her career, with scarcely a backward thought. Then she blamed him for finding other people to fill the gaps. Though hard to admit, he left her for someone else, and her pride still hurt.
Deep in her heart, she knew they were both to blame. But Mick Aston’s grief exposed a painful truth she wanted to avoid: she had never loved Julian that deeply. She married him for all the wrong reasons—his considerable charm, a powerful sexual attraction and, most of all, she now realized, to not be alone. To belong with someone. To stop feeling afraid. She had struggled with those fears all her life. Germaine felt like she had been born afraid and, somehow, abandoned by the world. She knew that was irrational, but the feeling was there, and emotions ruled everything people did or thought. They were rarely rational.
When she looked down at the untouched pancakes awash in syrup, she felt ill. Her appetite was gone, and it was almost time to go. The announcer’s voice on the television followed her as she walked out the door.
“Time doesn’t seem to have any meaning for the Druids gathered here at Maiden Castle. Everything is theirs as it once was, thousands of years ago. And who is to say they don’t have a right to bury their dead here? They’re English, aren’t they? And this is English soil.”
Aubrey said he hadn’t heard about a suicide, but Germaine couldn’t shake the gruesome thought of someone deliberately blowing himself up. As they entered the car park she looked around for Mick Aston. Was he still here? And what would she say if she found him?
The car park was chaotic and easily twice as full as yesterday. The Dorchester police were having a hard time containing the jostling, noisy crowd behind a taped-off line.
When Germaine nodded in their direction, Aubrey shrugged his shoulders. “They’re all pagans of one sort or another. The one thing they seem to have in common is they honor nature. They just have different ways of showing their spirituality. It’s not all neat and tidy like the Church of England, my dear.”
He tucked her hand under his arm. “I saw this same thing happen at Stonehenge and again at Seahenge. It’s a little confusing seeing them all together.”
Aubrey discretely pointed at one group of women. “Some are
Germaine slumped back in her chair, shocked at what he said. A suicide? Then Aston broke down and started crying. His big shoulders shook as he wiped his eyes with the long sleeve of his robe. A dark-haired man came out of the crowd and put his arm around him.
It was Conan Ryan’s friend from the conference—Nicholas Greenwood! He guided the distraught man away from the television camera’s intrusive eye. Obviously, he was a friend to these new-age Druids. Was he a Druid? She felt uncomfortable remembering their conversation. She had been less than friendly, even rude, and he had treated her kindly, too.
Germaine kept staring at the television. The man’s anguish over his brother felt so real. A suicide! She couldn’t forget his words—they touched some sensitive, highly emotional place in her. She felt like crying. A young man tried to kill himself so he wouldn’t have to remember war anymore.
She took a sip of tea and tried to think of something else—anything! But Mick Aston’s anguished face was etched in her memory. His love for his brother was powerful. His grief came from the depths of his heart, and it showed.
What must it feel like to be helpless to save someone you loved?
And who had she ever loved that much? There was no brother or sister in her life to care for or love like that. And her marriage? There was no comparison. Too many times she had thought that one over. The harsh reality was although she thought she loved Julian, she had left her marriage every summer to go away and pursue her career, with scarcely a backward thought. Then she blamed him for finding other people to fill the gaps. Though hard to admit, he left her for someone else, and her pride still hurt.
Deep in her heart, she knew they were both to blame. But Mick Aston’s grief exposed a painful truth she wanted to avoid: she had never loved Julian that deeply. She married him for all the wrong reasons—his considerable charm, a powerful sexual attraction and, most of all, she now realized, to not be alone. To belong with someone. To stop feeling afraid. She had struggled with those fears all her life. Germaine felt like she had been born afraid and, somehow, abandoned by the world. She knew that was irrational, but the feeling was there, and emotions ruled everything people did or thought. They were rarely rational.
When she looked down at the untouched pancakes awash in syrup, she felt ill. Her appetite was gone, and it was almost time to go. The announcer’s voice on the television followed her as she walked out the door.
“Time doesn’t seem to have any meaning for the Druids gathered here at Maiden Castle. Everything is theirs as it once was, thousands of years ago. And who is to say they don’t have a right to bury their dead here? They’re English, aren’t they? And this is English soil.”
Aubrey said he hadn’t heard about a suicide, but Germaine couldn’t shake the gruesome thought of someone deliberately blowing himself up. As they entered the car park she looked around for Mick Aston. Was he still here? And what would she say if she found him?
The car park was chaotic and easily twice as full as yesterday. The Dorchester police were having a hard time containing the jostling, noisy crowd behind a taped-off line.
When Germaine nodded in their direction, Aubrey shrugged his shoulders. “They’re all pagans of one sort or another. The one thing they seem to have in common is they honor nature. They just have different ways of showing their spirituality. It’s not all neat and tidy like the Church of England, my dear.”
He tucked her hand under his arm. “I saw this same thing happen at Stonehenge and again at Seahenge. It’s a little confusing seeing them all together.”
Aubrey discretely pointed at one group of women. “Some are
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