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“Isn’t it dangerous to repress feelings?” I asked, hiccupping.
“To repress them? Yes. But controlling them is another matter. Have you held a cord cutting ceremony yet?”
“No,” I said. “I haven’t been able to.”
“Then we will—because he asked you to let him go and youmusthonor his memory and wishes. It would also help to find a way to physically work through your feelings. Do you belong to a gym?” She took me by the shoulders, holding me steady.
I gulped back my tears. “I don’t. No. There’s one in town, but I haven’t gone since I moved here.” I closed my eyes, feeling the emotions swirling inside of me. “I’m afraid of my feelings. They’re ugly and angry and they feel dangerous. I don’t want them building up inside.”
Grams shook her head. “Dry your eyes. You’ve cried enough. At some point, you must pick up the pieces and go on. Rian’s dead, and it wasn’t your fault. He died a tragic death, but women have watched their men walk into the shadow of death for eons, knowing that there was a good chance their beloveds wouldn’t return, and yet they carried on. They had to.”
“But how?Howdid they carry on?”
“They carried on by setting one foot in front of another. They carried on becausethat’s whatwe do. That’s whatanysurvivor does. You carry on. You mourn, you rail against the gods, then you move on, even when you don’t feel ready. I mourned my husband’s death, and I carried on. I mourned my son’s death. It wasn’t an honorable one, but I mourned him and let him go, and did my best to make up for his shortcomings. I mourned my grandson’s death, and I moved on.”
I wiped my eyes. “You’re one tough broad, Grams.”
“You bet your ass I am. I’m not unsympathetic, but there’s far too much naval-gazing today for my tastes. The MacPherson clan guards the highlands. And those of us with magical blood, guard against the monsters that seek entrance to this world. That’s the main reason I’m here—to help you understand the lineage you represent. It’s time you learned about your heritage. Your mother knows some of it, but I think she tried to block it out when your father died. Unfortunately, with no clear indication of how he died, it made it worse for her.”
“My mother calls me every week, like clockwork, to find out if I’m all right.”
“It’s good practice,” Grams said. “But she’s lived in limbo since your father passed. While I can’t help her, I can keep you from doing the same.”
I leaned forward, resting my arms on my knees as I stared at my fingers. Overhead the stars shimmered. Their light came to us from the distant past. That past still lived in our vision, but in reality, a number of those stars no longer existed.
“I know you’re right,” I whispered. “I know it’s time to say goodbye. To let go and step fully into the life I have now.”
“Are you afraid you’ll be disrespecting Rian’s memory?” Grams asked.
I thought about her question for a moment. “No. As I said, he came to me about six weeks ago and gave me permission to move on. In fact, he insisted. I just…stepping through that door—isn’t easy. It’s easier to live in the known, even if the present is painful. Stepping into an uncertain future is terrifying.”
“It can be,” Grams said, leaning back. “But instead of staring down at the ground, at the past that’s dead and buried, look up at the stars.Yes, some of themaredead. But what about all those stars who continue to thrive and live? What about all the experiences waiting for you to give them a platform, to give them actual life?” She paused, then added, “I can’t force you to move on, but I can stop enabling you to continue hiding.”
I thought for a moment, then let out one final sigh. “All right—I know when I’m fighting a losing battle. I don’t want to be like my mother—mourning for decades. Because though I love her, she interferes with everybody and everything in a rush to avoid her own feelings. And I don’t want to be that person.” Resolved to put the past to rest, I stood. “Teach me what I need to know.”
And Grams smiled, winking at me.
CHAPTEREIGHT
“Wake up! Grams is making breakfast.”Fancypants flapped his wings in my face, and as I opened my eyes, squinting at him, he breathed out a puff of smoke.
Coughing, I forced myself to sit up. The light streamed through my bedroom window, unimpeded by any clouds. I yawned and stretched. “All right, I’m up. And when did you start calling her Grams?”
“She suggested it this morning. She said that since you’re her great-granddaughter, I’m her great-granddragonette. I’m honored. Grams would never offer someone the chance to call her that unless she liked them.” Fancypants landed on the quilt rack, which was devoid of any quilt. I always planned to buy one, but I kept forgetting. Rian’s mother had been going to make us one as a wedding present, so I’d bought the quilt rack in preparation for it. But that was a memory of something that would never happen.
“Maybe I should get rid of this,” I said, running my hand over the white enameled rack. It had silver embellishments and was pretty enough as a piece of art. “But it’s hard for me to think about that.”
“Maybe you should buy a quilt you like.”
“Maybe I will,” I said, sticking out my tongue at the dragonette. “What should I wear today?” Fancypants had also made himself useful as a fashion consultant. He had impeccable taste, meaning his tastes matched mine.
“You’re working today, so might I suggest the cold shoulder purple crop top and the black pleated skirt? They’re pretty.” He flew over and peeked in the open closet door. “Unless you want to wear a sundress. It’s supposed to be near eighty today, according to what the weatherman said.”
I thought about it for a moment. “I’ll wear a sundress.” While I loved my leather, I had a feeling I’d be seeing Faron today and he liked me in sundresses. Not to mention, if it was going to be near eighty, leather was too hot. I sorted through my clothes. I had four sundresses, and one was a vivid cobalt which made my hair stand out.
As I hooked my bra and slid into a pair of bikini panties, Fancypants delicately turned away. We weren’t the same species, but he had a sense of decorum and, unlike cats, he never followed me into the bathroom.
I finished my makeup and slid on a pair of three-inch heeled Candies. My mother had loved them, and I had played dress-up with her wooden platformed slides. After a final glance in the mirror, I hurried to the kitchen. Grams was making oatmeal, bacon, and eggs. She motioned for me to sit down and brought me a plate with a bowl.
