THE INHERITANCE - part twenty-nine

I WROTE THIS AS THE SPARK IN MY IMAGINATION ILLUMINATED.

PLEASE GO BACK TO THE BEGINNING AND READ THROUGH.

I APPRECIATE IT. THANKS.

THE INHERITANCE (part one) | Fiction (vocal.media)

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THE INHERITANCE – part twenty-nine ………

Welcome home

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The house was almost dark when they walked inside and instinctively, Kate said, “light on” and the lamp on the table illuminated.

Patti, Kate’s mother stopped short and gasped.

“Mom, there is so much to tell you and so much I’ve learned since I first walked inside Kathleen’s cottage. I know Dad’s diary is going to be a huge help to me but the first thing I can absolutely tell you, without a doubt, is that I inherited Kathleen’s ability. Yes, mom, I’m a witch.”

Her mother didn’t know what to say. For the past fourteen years, they rarely spoke of Kate’s father’s side of the family. Her father Aaiden died in a horrible car crash when Kate was only ten years old and at that time, Patti wasn’t sure how to tell her only child that her father had come from a long line of witches, especially, since he rarely practiced his magic or, for that matter, spoke of it.

Kate had questions since there had been many instances in her younger life that demanded answers, and yet, there were none.

She wanted to understand how she knew certain things without being told. Why did she know, long before the crash, that her father wouldn’t be around as she was growing up? How did she know many answers on the tests in school when she rarely found it necessary to open a book to study? How, once in Ireland, did she easily navigate her way around when she had never been to the Emerald Isle? There were so many more questions and no one to ask.

All these years later, she finally understood. It both thrilled and terrified her. She’d learned that her great-grandmother, Kathleen Sullivan had been a white witch but what the heck was a white witch? Weren’t witches all the same?

The only way to find out was to read her father’s diary. She’d tackle that later, once her mother was asleep and Kate was alone in her bedroom.

For now, she lit the wood in her stove, and as it heated, put water in the kettle.

She made some mental notes: clean the ash from inside the stove, bring in more firewood, pump more water. She smiled as she thought, “Good thing I bought that old clay pitcher from the pottery shop.”

After they enjoyed their tea, Patti yawned and said, “Well, Kate, I am truly exhausted. I think I’ll go up now and plop on the bed. I’m sure I’ll be fast asleep before my head hits the pillow.”

Kate stood and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Go on up, mom. I have a thing or two I’d like to do, then I’m going up also.”

As her mother climbed the stairs, Kate was thankful that she had the foresight to spell electricity and water to the room where her mother would spend the next two weeks. “Don’t want to push her into a culture shock too fast, now do we?” Her little cross vibrated. She touched it and said, “Thank you, grandmother for that foresight.”

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Before heading up the stairs to her bedroom, Kate poured a glass of the sweet cabernet she kept in her cold room, then carried the wine and her father’s diary upstairs and into her bedroom.

Sitting on the small settee near the window, she opened the leather-bound book and began to read.

“My dearest Katie-bug,

Oh, my darling, you’re more than beautiful. You’re like a ray of sunshine peaking through a dark and cloudy day.

I am utterly amazed as I hold you so tenderly in my arms and you look up at me with those keen green eyes as if you know, and yet, still don’t.

There is so much to tell you and as of now, I have no idea where to begin.

You came into our lives only three hours ago and I knew in my heart that you would truly be my grandmother’s granddaughter. As you continue to read this, you’ll understand.

The first thing I can tell you is that you are a witch, just as I am, my da was, and so many others in my family. Yes, my daughter, we come from a long line of witches.

Oh, dearest, don’t panic. We’re all good, white witches and now you’re really perplexed.

There is a difference between the white witches and dark witches. I’ll go into the dark witches later on in my diary.

As of today, I can’t apologize enough that Fate is about to take a cruel turn which will prevent me from sharing in what I know will be a wonderous life for you.

I wish I would have been able to have more time with you, to allow you to get to know me and what I can, can’t, will, and won’t do regarding the powers I inherited from my family.

It’s unfortunate that I hid most of this from your mother. As much as I love her, and I do with all my heart, she’d never understand what I am and what you are. This is why, on your birthday, May 18, 1999, I decided to begin this journal, hoping that once you’re old enough to understand, your mom will give it to you.

How I wish I had family around to help and guide you but unfortunately for us, again, Fate left us to ourselves.

I lost touch with my cousins years ago and while I will include their last known addresses, whether they’ve moved remains to be seen.

Should you ever decide to visit Ireland, please consider going to Aughacasla and visiting my grandmother’s old cottage or at least the land it once sat on. At this point, I’m not sure if it’s still standing. But please try.

Now, with this much said, let me tell you about being a witch.”