Page 2 of Broken Veil
He shook his head. “I can’t tell you that.”
“She knew,” Carys whispered. “Mom knew there would be another child.”
“We both knew.” Gareth blinked hard. “But we couldn’t cross over. That was part of the price.”
“For what? Me?”
He shook his head. “You were a gift. But we couldn’t be selfish and ask for both of you. If we did, we’d be tempting?—”
“The gods.”
Gareth nodded silently.
“Was it worth it?”
Gareth’s eyes glowed. “What do you think?”
There was nothing melancholy about this dream, which felt like far more than a dream.
“Where are you, Dad?” Carys looked over her shoulder at the open door. Light poured in from the afternoon sun, and in the distance she saw the familiar outline of Gareth and Tegan’s small wooden house in the shadow of the redwood forest. “Is this heaven? Some kind of… otherworld? Is Mom here too?”
“I’m here, my girl.” Gareth smiled. “I can hear her in the house. Can’t you?”
Carys held her breath, but she heard nothing from the distant home. Not a song or the chirping of birds.
She whispered, “Doyouhear her?”
“Oh yes.” He nodded. “Every moment.”
“Okay.” She let out a slow breath. “That’s what’s important.”
Her father smiled. “What’s scurrying about your brain? Such a busy mind you have.” He lifted his hand and circled his finger in the air like a wheel. “Your mother and I joked about that gear in your head. The one that never stopped turning. What are you wondering now?”
Carys looked around the shop. “Was this home to you? The house in the woods. Teaching punk teenagers. Building yet another bookcase for yet another classroom?”
“And where else would home be?” He chuckled a little. “Home is where love is. You and your mother, Carys. You were all I needed of home.”
“I miss you, Dad.”
“I’m right here, my girl.” His voice was soft. “Don’t you know? I’m just on the other side of your dreams.”
She openedher eyes as the blurry memory of a dream faded away, stared into the darkness until her eyes adjusted to the dim blue light sneaking through the shutters on the windows. She focused on a dignified navy strip draped over a dark canopy held up by four mahogany posters.
Next to her, sound asleep, was the laird of Murrayshall, her knight in blacksmith’s clothing, Duncan Murray.
“Mother, you should meet Carys. She’s a mythology professor and she’s my girlfriend, so you’ll be seeing her again.”
Right.
Duncan was her boyfriend.
Boyfriend.
Her boyfriend was a Scottish laird who wielded a dragon-steel sword.
That was so… kick-ass.
The bookish teenage nerd who lived inside her was squealing uncontrollably while the mature adult part of her tried to play it cool.
