On the next page Colm was elated: the unthinkable had happened. Morgan had agreed to become his wife. He knew she was heartbroken, though she wouldn't talk about it. She still seemed very ill, but he was sure she would be fine in time. She just needed warmth and love and care and good food. He knew he could make her happy.
Moira kept skimming the pages. Outside, the sun was just starting to creep over the horizon, mostly covered by clouds. Great. Just what they needed-more rain.
Shortly after their wedding Morgan was pregnant. They hadn't realized it at first because of her illness. Colm was ecstatic. He loved his wife: she seemed healthier and more beautiful every day. Slowly her grief was going underground-she had almost smiled the other day.
Moira swallowed hard. It was so sad to read about it- how much her dad had loved Mum, how long it had taken Mum to be able to truly return his affection.
Going back to Morgan's Book of Shadows, Moira read about how Morgan was waiting for Hunter at a tea shop in Wales. There was no entry from later that night, when they had committed to being together. And no more entries for two months. Then a short one, in a weak hand, that acknowledged Morgan's marriage to Colm. And then another, two months after that: Morgan was expecting a baby. She was happy about it-it was a ray of sunlight piercing her gray shadow world. A few words about Colm-how kind he was, how gentle, how Morgan appreciated his care. There was no mention of Hunter, only a sentence about being ill and deciding to stay in Ireland.
And no magick. Before, her entries had been numerous and lengthy-a combination of daily diary, larger, philosophical thoughts, the directions her studies were taking her, spells she had tried and their results, spells she had created, different tinctures and essences she had used and their outcomes, her plans for next year's garden, and so on. But these entries were sparse, bare.
Though Moira looked, she could find no mention of Gran helping Morgan, no mention of smoothing away her troubles. The entries that mentioned her only described her kindness and caring, her constancy, her support. Morgan didn't detail any healing rites, circles held for her benefit, nothing.
Moira flipped ahead, searching for a mention of magick. A week after her birth Morgan had put some protection spells and general good-wishes spells on her new baby.
Hmmm. Something was odd. Moira skipped back and forth, looking from Colm's book to Morgan's, at earlier entries and later ones. The dates in Morgan's were messed up for a while-she simply hadn't put dates in, and it was only by her telling of events, and comparing the entries to Colm's, that Moira was able to figure out when an entry had been made.
Colm had been much steadier-virtually every entry was dated. Moira continued to flip back and forth. Hunter died, Mum got ill, Mum and Dad got married a month later. One month. Pretty fast for someone who had been so in love, for someone not marrying their soul mate. But considering how ill Mum had been, how devastated, maybe she had just really needed someone to take care of her. And from the entries it seemed she really had grown to love Colm.
Then Morgan was expecting a baby, and Moira was born… in December, right before Yule. Hunter had died in March. Mum and Dad had gotten married in April. Moira had been born in December. Mum's Book of Shadows mentioned that she and Colm hadn't slept together before their marriage.
So Moira had been premature by one month. A nine- pound preemie. That didn't sound right. She couldn't have weighed nine pounds.
There were sounds from downstairs. Moira realized her mum was awake and getting breakfast, and now that she was paying attention, she realized there was someone else downstairs, too, a woman. Gran? Not Gran.
Quickly Moira threw on her hated school uniform, brushed her hair and her teeth, and headed downstairs, holding the two Books of Shadows.
She froze when she spotted the back of the strange woman's head-she had the same white-blond hair as the man in her dream. Then the woman turned around. "Good morning," she said evenly. "You must be Moira."
"Yes," Moira said. She clutched the books tightly in her hands, her heart pounding.
Morgan turned from the stove. "Morning, sweetie." She looked tired, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She gestured to the woman with a dishcloth. "Moira, this is Sky Eventide. We've been friends a long time. She was Hunter's cousin."
"You were Hunter's cousin?" Moira asked, a funny feeling in her stomach. The same hair as the man in her dream… "Yes," said Sky, her expression guarded. She was unusual, not like Mum's other friends. Not smiling and remarking on how tall she was and asking about school.
"Oh," Moira said inadequately. She sat down at the table and poured some cereal into a bowl, then some milk, but couldn't bring herself to start eating. Her mind was whirling. Finally, keeping her tone as calm as possible, she asked, "Mum, was I born premature?"
Morgan looked surprised. "No… in fact, you were late. The midwife said that nature decrees that a woman will be pregnant for exactly as long as she can absolutely bear it… and then another two weeks." She rolled her eyes. "Let's just say I was anxious for you to get here."
"And how much did I weigh?" Moira pressed.
"Nine pounds."
Moira's pulse raced. No, no, it couldn't be.
"What's all this about, anyway?" Morgan asked, coming to the table. She moved the teapot closer to Sky, and Sky topped up her mug.
Moira pushed the two Books of Shadows toward her mother. "I was reading these this morning, and there's something-odd. It says that you and Dad got married in April, but I was born in December."
Morgan blinked. "No, that isn't right," she said slowly. She sat back and looked at the ceiling, thinking. "We were married in…"
"April," Moira supplied.
Frowning, Morgan nodded. "And you were born December 15."
"Right."
Her mum looked at her, then shook her head. "No, there has to be some mistake, something wrong with the entries. I know you weren't premature. Goddess, you were a whale." Moira just looked at her mother.
"Why were you up this morning so early, anyway?" Morgan asked.
"I had a strange dream," Moira said. "It woke me, and once I was up, I… I wanted to read these."
"Studying for your initiation, are you?" asked Sky, and Moira nodded.
"What was your dream about?" Mum asked casually. Dreams were often discussed in Wiccan households, whether they were important, funny, meaningful, or frightening.
Don't let this dream mean anything, please, Moira pleaded inwardly.
"Me being born," Moira said carefully. "Peggoty MacAdams and June Hightown were there. And they said, doesn't the dad want to hold her?" She paused, giving her mother a hard look. "But the dad wasn't Dad. They handed me to someone else." She turned her gaze to Sky. "He… well, he looked… like you. His hair was very light, like yours."
Silence. Moira looked at her mom and felt her heart sink. Her mother was pale, stricken, her eyes large. Glancing over at Sky, she saw that the other woman also looked very solemn.
"So I was wondering," Moira went on. The words were so thick and her mouth so dry, it was a battle to speak. "When I was born and when you and Dad got married…" Her voice trailed off. "Whether I was premature," she finished softly.
Still no one said anything. Moira looked at her mother and saw that she and Sky were staring at each other as if the other one would have all the answers in the world. Morgan swallowed. "Moira, I know that you are Colm's daughter, Colm's and mine. There's never been the slightest doubt about that. There was never a question." Her mum sounded absolute.