Read Online Wild Irish Roots (The Mystic Cove Series) by Tricia O'Malley - Free Book Online Page A

would be touched with a gift. Something.
    Horror filled her at the thought of her daughter growing up subjected to the same abnormal lifestyle as she had. Margaret rushed into the main room of the cottage.
    "Can you tell if it is a girl?" Margaret all but shouted at Fiona.
    Fiona's hands stilled on the cup of medicine that she was mixing in a bowl. Turning she met Margaret's eyes.
    "Why?"
    "Why? Why! Because, then she'd be different. A freak!" Margaret shrieked at her mother and Fiona's face fell.
    "We are not freaks. We are special," Fiona said.
    "I have a right to my own opinion," Margaret said stonily.
    "Aye, that you do. Yes, it's a girl," Fiona said stonily and slammed the cup of medicine in front of her daughter. Turning, she walked out of the cottage and Margaret gaped after her.
    A girl.
    "Oh no, oh, I'm sorry," Margaret whispered to the small ball of light in her stomach. "I'll protect you. I'll take you away from all of this."
    Margaret drank her medicine and began to plan.

Chapter Fourteen
    ––––––––
    T he next day, a knock startled Margaret as she was sorting through a pile of clothes. She wondered what would still fit her in just a matter of weeks. Fiona had left earlier that day, presumably to collect herbs for her remedies, Margaret thought as she walked to the front door.
    Opening the door, she saw the post office truck outside and her heart did a little skip.
    "International letter for you, Margaret," the mailman said and handed her a paper to sign. Margaret's hand trembled as she signed the receipt and grabbed the letter. Without a backwards glance, she closed the door and hurried to Fiona's rocking chair.
    Sitting down, she slit the letter open and pulled the sheet of paper out.
    Hi Margaret,
    Yes, please come! I'd love to have family here. I live in South Boston and we have an extra room for you. There are plenty of real estate companies that are hiring too. Come over, I need to hear more Irish voices around me! Here is my phone number and my schedule.
    The words blurred in front of Margaret's eyes as the tears came, fast and furious. Her out. She finally had an out.
    "I'm taking you away from this all, little one. We'll start a new life away from this weirdness. And, you'll have nothing but the best," Margaret vowed.
    Standing, Margaret rushed into her room and threw the rest of her clothes into a suitcase. Turning, she scanned the room for anything else that she would need. Seeing nothing, she moved into the main room and sat at the long table with a pen and paper. She owed Fiona a letter.

Chapter Fifteen
    ––––––––
    F iona stopped as she stepped through the door later that night. She'd driven to the next town over that day and was excited to show Margaret the things that she had purchased for the baby. She knew with a little prodding, her stubborn daughter would come around and eventually be happy about her pregnancy.
    Fiona's eyes tracked over the house. Something was different. She could feel it.
    Her eyes landed on her book laying outside of its usual spot on the middle of the table. It was open to a page. A letter with her name on it lay on top.
    Fiona's began to shake as she walked towards the book. Lifting the letter she looked to where the book was open. She sighed and without having to read the letter, knew that Margaret was gone. The page Margaret had picked held an ancient Celtic ritual to encourage forgiveness in others. In her own way, Margaret was asking her mother to forgive her.
    Fiona dropped the sacks of clothes and toys that she had purchased today and moved to sit in her rocking chair.
    The warm wood enveloped her and she relaxed back into its familiar grooves before slitting the envelope open and pulling the sheet of paper out.
    I'm sorry.

    I'll just start with that. I'm sorry that I said all those nasty things to you. I'm sorry that I was never the daughter that you wanted. But, I just can't understand this...this life. It's too much for me. Maybe I'm