“What would she think of you now? Do you ever wonder?”
He frowned. “Not really. It was so long ago. I think she would appreciate my faith and devotion to my family. Family was very important to both of us. But I was much more serious when I was young.”
“Really?” Beatrice laughed. “Isn’t it usually the opposite?”
“Not if you live long enough.” A sudden pain swept over him. “After about five hundred years or so, you have to laugh at yourself or you’d go mad.” He looked into the fire again, contemplating his human love, who had become such a faint memory. “Efa was a beautiful wife. Wonderful mother. Quiet. I wonder if she’d even recognize me now.”
“Quiet, huh?” Beatrice grinned at him. “That’s probably only because she couldn’t get a word in around you, blabbermouth.”
Carwyn’s sudden melancholy lifted and his laugh filled the quiet beach. “You’re probably right! I can only imagine.”
“When you were gone, she probably had plenty to say.”
“Tales of putting up with my obnoxious young self. Poor thing.” He smiled again and threw an arm over Beatrice’s shoulders.
“Why haven’t you ever married again? You’re a good-looking guy. And you have one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever known.”
He winked. “Besides the obvious, collar-type reasons?”
“I don’t think God would get pissed off at this point. You’ve worked for him for a long time.”
“And I’ll work for him until the day I leave this earth.” He squeezed her shoulders. “I don’t know. Just never found the right woman, I suppose.”
“Ah.”
“And who would put up with me, honestly?”
“You can be pretty charming when you want to be.”
He looked down and wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Oh, really?”
Beatrice burst into laughter and tugged at the collar of his garish Hawaiian shirt. “Yep, you’re a regular knight in flowered armor. You just need to find your damsel.”
“Oh,” he groaned. “I don’t know. I’ve never really seen the appeal of the ‘damsel-in-distress,’ to be totally honest. I’m not really the damsel type.”
“Well, maybe you need to find a knight, then.”
He grimaced. “Definitely never seen the appeal of those.”
Beatrice leaned into his shoulder. “You’ll find the right one someday. I have faith.”
Carwyn smiled and leaned over to kiss her forehead as the rainbow pyrotechnics flashed in the distance. “Well, I’m glad one of us does.”
Chapter Four
Dublin, Ireland
July 2005
Brigid sat stoically in the antiseptic air of the doctor’s office, only half-listening to the understanding voice of the physician.
“So, the combination of the MDMA, or Ecstasy, along with the intermittent heroin use was creating in your brain the false feeling of contentment and depressing your symptoms of social anxiety through manipulation of serotonin levels. Though the short-term benefits of the drugs would mimic prescription medications for the disorder, long term use…”
Blah.
Blah.
Blah.
The grey-haired physician droned on. She finally lifted her eyes to Ioan’s as he sat watching from across the small exam room. He was furious. Disappointed. But the emotion that pierced her heart, the one that had convinced her to follow him to the grey building in the city suburbs, was fear.
Her protector couldn’t be afraid. He was too strong. Too sure.
Brigid could never think of Ioan as a father. She had no father, and even the hint of one was enough to make her stomach churn. Ioan was the older brother she’d always wished for. The one who would defend her. And her protector was staring at her with dark, fearful eyes.
Brigid blinked back tears and looked away.
Ioan interrupted softly, “Dr. McTierney, I think that’s enough. Thank you. Brigid’s health appears normal?”
“Brigid?” The doctor spoke to her softly, his tone asking permission. She just shrugged, and the doctor turned back to Ioan. “All her blood tests came back normal except for the drugs in her system. The levels match the use she described in her interview.”
The doctor sat down on the chair across from her. Brigid curled into herself and stared at his hands and the small, dark hairs that sprinkled the back of them. Thick veins crossed the top of hands that he folded in studied, professional concern. “Brigid, I’m a physician, but I am familiar with social anxiety and depression. There are prescription medications that can help you. Your symptoms and history are classic—”
“Piss off and leave me alone.” Her voice was soft, but clear. She had nothing to say to the human. She wanted to be left alone.
“Brenden, if you could give us some privacy, I’d appreciate it.”
The doctor rose and shook Ioan’s hand before he left the small examination room, leaving Brigid and Ioan alone. Ioan often worked in the city doing clinics for the underprivileged. The doctor was a friend who helped and had agreed to perform the lab work confidentially during hours that Ioan could accompany her. She could hear Ioan heave a deep sigh, and she closed her eyes.
“Christ, Brigid, when I think how bad this could have been—”
“Are you going to make me quit school?”
She was still doing well in school. After her first experience at the club, she researched Ecstasy. Illegal drugs weren’t something she had ever considered taking, but the effects of the MDMA had been so soothing she had to learn more. She paced herself. She was careful to only use them in social situations, and never too often. And when the MDMA had stopped being quite as effective, a small dose of heroin did the trick. Never too much. She was still in control.