"Alisa," she said, "if you would please bring out your athame, I would like you to cast the circle."
She held out a bowl of water and indicated that I should dip my athame in it. When I had done so, she placed the elements in their respective quarters and nodded for me to begin.
I'd never actually done this before, so I was a bit nervous. You're supposed to try make the circle as perfectly round as possible. Using my right hand, I held the athame out in front of me. Walking deasil around the group, I concentrated on feeling its power, and I visualized the wall of energy that I was drawing. Automatically I started to speak, not really knowing where I had found the invocation. I supposed maybe I'd read it somewhere, but it came out of me naturally, as if I was saying my own name: "I conjure you, circle, to be a protected space, boring down through the earth and rising into the sky. I cast out from you all that is impure. Within your protective embrace, may we honor the Goddess and God."
Evelyn smiled, and I took my place. I saw quite a number of surprised glances Ping-Ponging between Evelyn and me. The circle was very peaceful—no busted pipes, no floods. When it was over, everyone headed for a table that had been set up next to the house. There were cookies, brownies, and little bowls of milk and rosewater pudding decorated with rose petals. Someone switched on some Celtic music. I stayed with Sam most of the time, chatting with Kate—but I was really scanning the yard for Charlie. He vanished into thin air the moment the circle was over.
When I was alone for a minute by the table, Brigid approached me, reaching past me for an oatcake. I felt a chilly, brittle energy coming from her.
"Hi," I said. "This circle—it was great. It was beautiful."
She picked through all of the cakes very deliberately before choosing one. At last she looked up at me. "You saved Charlie last night. Thank you."
I opened my mouth to respond but quickly realized that I had no idea what to say. I didn't feel like I should be accepting things for something like that. Finally I just nodded.
"I'm not happy about what's happened," she said, real sadness tearing at her voice, "but what you did was good."
Having said her piece, she walked off. I saw her go into the house.
"What happened?" I said out loud to no one in particular. I desperately wanted to find Charlie and ask, but his dad came up to me at that very moment.
"I've checked my schedule," he said. "I didn't have a few full days."
I had no idea what he was talking about. "I'm sorry?" I said.
"You asked me if I had a few days to listen to your story," he explained. "I do, but not until June. Maybe we could speak on the phone instead. I'd like very much like to hear all about your experiences. Charlie's told me some, and I am absolutely fascinated."
"Oh," I laughed. "Right. Sure."
"Wonderful," he said, taking a dish of pudding. "Does Charlie have your phone number?"
"I'll give it to him," I replied. "Have you seen him?"
"Oh, yes," he said, peering around the yard. "He's on one of the benches in the back."
Far in the back of the yard, there was a small clump of four tall shrubs. In the middle of these was a tiny white stone bench, and on this bench was Charlie. As usual, my stomach twisted around completely.
"You found me," he said, sounding kind of pleased.
"I'm supposed to give you my phone number," I said, joining him on the bench.
"Oh yeah?" he said, arching his brows.
"Your dad wants it."
"My dad's been asking for your number?" He laughed, "Is there something going on I should know about?"
I felt myself blushing. "Um, listen, I'm sorry about yesterday," I said, "I didn't mean…"
"No." He shook his head quickly. "No! Don't apologize." He looked around and then checked his watch. "Let me explain, but not here. Can I give you a ride back to Sam's? Things are wrapping up here anyway."
My ride arrangements where fine with Sam, so I went back inside to change into my clothes, and carefully folded the robe and put it in with my mother's tools. Evelyn gave me a warm hug and another kiss on the forehead as I left.
"We have a lot of work to do," she said to me quietly. "We need to put those tools back to good use."
"Thank you…," I said, not even sure how to express my gratitude.
"Call me Grandmother," she said with a smile. "That is my name. Or Grandmom. Gran. Whatever you like."
I'd only ever had one grandmother, and she was from Buenos Aires. I called her Lita Soto.
"How about Lita?" I asked. "It's a nickname for grandmother in Spanish."
"I like it," she said with a satisfied nod. "I like it a lot."
18. The Castle
February 13, 1991
I sat straight up in bed at three o'clock this morning and screamed.
Poor Ruth, I think I scared her half to death. I woke little Brigid as well. They both turned up a my door. While I assured them that I just had a bad dream, I knew it was more. My heart ached as though it were broken. It's difficult to explain, but it felt as though a candle that always burned inside me had been snuffed out. I felt an emptiness, an indescribable loss.
After Ruth and Brigid had gone back to bed, I walked all through the house, trying to convince myself that there was some reasonable explanation for my disturbance. I walked through the basement, the kitchen, and the study, praying to the Goddess that I would find some mundane solution. But in my heart I knew there would not be, and my heart was right.
In my workroom, Sorcha's old bedroom, I found everything in a shambles. The shelves had collapsed and everything was storing had tumbled down. The carpet was shredded where the bed once stood. I knew then that my worst suspicions were true.
My daughter, my lost Sorcha, is dead.
— Aoibheann
Charlie guided the car through the streets of Gloucester, past the huge neon Gorton's fisherman and the crowded pubs along the waterfront. He didn't say anything at first—he just played with the windshield wipers, flicking them on and off, as if they could help him clear his thoughts. I couldn't get a good reading on what he was feeling. It felt like a whole soup of emotions.
"On Monday," he finally said, "in the basement, I told Brigid what happened."
I remembered the wave of emotion I'd felt coming from Brigid as I passed—that whole nasty mix of panic, anger, and sadness. It made me nauseous to think of it.
"You mean what happened in the library," I said.
"Right." He nodded. "And it was really bad. She was so upset. I've never done anything like that."
"I'm sorry," I said. "I've caused a mess…"
"No!" he said, accidentally jerking the wheel a bit as he turned to look at me. "It's not that I regret it. I'm sorry I was so quiet yesterday. I was just trying to take care of things."
"Take care of things?" I asked.
"I spent yesterday thinking it all over," he continued. "Today I told her that I needed a little time to think things over."
"You… broke up with her?"
He stopped for a red light and turned to my. "Yes," he said. "I think so."
I nodded, unsure of what to say. I didn't think, "Great!" would be appropriate, but by now it was clear that we had some kind of bond, however strange and undefined.
"It's for the best," he said. "We've been together for two years, since she was fourteen. Now she's sixteen and I'm seventeen. I care about her a lot, but we've both grown and changed. I don't think we're the best match for each other."