Overcomer - The Journey by Judy Colella (top 10 non fiction books of all time txt) 📕

He was being regal again, Celeste thought.

“The family room will do.” Eileen had come into the foyer smiling, hand extended. “How do you do, Mr. Croghan – I’m Mrs. Kelly.”

“Mrs. Kelly.” He nodded as he shook her hand. “A distinct pleasure. You have a lovely home,” he added with a sweeping glance at the front hall.

“Thank you.” She gave him a warm smile. “Please – the family room is this way – "

When Mr. Croghan had settled in front of the fireplace and Tara was seated on the sofa, Donal drew the harp out of its box and handed it to Croghan. “I picked this up at an estate sale, believe it or not.”

As momentary as a camera flash, a look crossed Gerald Croghan’s face that struck Celeste as being one of satisfaction. Brief as it had been, Celeste felt it somehow had to do with her father’s statement.

“May I?” The teacher reached for the harp.

“Of course!” Donal held it out and Mr. Croghan took it with a tenderness and care that made Celeste think of a mother taking her newborn back from the arms of a well-meaning but annoying mother-in-law, something she’d witnessed at Katie’s aunt’s home. More strangeness. What was going on?

Croghan sat on the edge of the loveseat, holding it against his shoulder in exactly the way Celeste had, and closed his eyes. Bending his head close to the strings he murmured something – Celeste would have sworn on a mountain of Bibles it was some form of Gaelic – and began to play.

As far as Celeste knew, nothing strange happened while she listened to the magnificent sounds shimmering from beneath the man’s well-shaped hands, except that the music made her want to weep, it was so lovely.

When the melody ended, everyone, including Celeste, sighed as though they’d been holding their collective breath.

“Bravo!” Donal exclaimed. “What do you think, Tara?”

“About what? I mean, wow and all – I’d love to be able to play like that! But... is that what you meant?”

Her father chuckled. “Pretty much. All right – let’s leave them alone.” He headed back toward the stairs.

“Celeste?” Eileen waved her toward the kitchen.

“Right.” She was going to follow her anyway to discuss what she was feeling.

Eileen went to the counter, turned around and crossed her arms. She was frowning.

“What?” Celeste could sense tension from her mother as the sound of the teacher’s deep voice tumbled from the other room.

“Did you recognize the song he played, by any chance?”

“No, I’ve never heard it before. Why?”

Mrs. Kelly stared hard at her daughter. “Because that’s the exact same tune you were playing earlier.”

When he’d been hired to work at the mall, Cian had learned that on Saturday mornings it didn’t open for business until eleven o’clock, but as one of the maintenance staff members, he was required to be there several hours earlier. Mr. Halloran had met him at a maintenance entrance in the back of the huge building, and before leaving to take care of something in another part of the mall, instructed Cian to go to the Maintenance Office to clock in.

The quiet that greeted him as he entered the public area upstairs gave a sepulchral feel to the empty walkways, his rubber-soled footsteps echoing like a remote whisper as he made his way to the office. Despite the peaceful silence, Cian was tense, his mind focused on how to resolve what had begun on Thursday afternoon, frustration weighing on him like a wet quilt.

“Meeting with Celeste and Katie should be my priority, not this job. I need to call Celeste, but how?” Grateful no one was around to catch him talking out loud to himself, he continued in silence. There has to be a way to reach her, but without her number or that of anyone who would know it, that will be impossible!

Reaching the office a few minutes later, he started toward the time clock but stopped, frowning. Looks like the only way to speak her is to go to her house… wherever that may be.

A Celtic expletive escaped his throat and he closed his eyes. Now what?

“Have you forgotten where the time clock is?”

Startled, Cian turned to find Mr. Halloran standing in the doorway giving him a crooked smile.

“No, sir. Sorry. I was trying to figure something out.” He went to the other side of the room, hung his coat on a peg, and punched in, feeling silly.

“Anything I can help you with?”

“I doubt it. I need to find the phone number of someone from school and don’t have any idea how to do that.”           

Halloran’s eyebrows shot up. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you about the phone book, or the online version?”

Oh, my God – of course! What an idiot he must think me!

“It’s okay, kid. I know there are a lot of things that aren’t familiar to you yet. I take it you’ve never looked up someone’s number before?”

“I… no – what a fool I must look... ”

“Never mind.” Chuckling, Mr. Halloran ducked into his office, a small area enclosed on two sides, and came back out with a thick, soft-covered volume. “Here you go – the residential White Pages. If the person is not unlisted, you should be able to find the number with no problem, assuming you know the last name. If not, you can Google it, okay?”

“Yes, sir. I do know the last name, though. It’s Kelly.” Google? Not sure what-

“Ah! Another good Irish name!”

Cian smiled and opened the book. When he got to the page of Kellys, the smile faded. “There must be hundreds! How can I possibly find the right one?”

“Good question.” Mr. Halloran peered over Cian’s shoulder. “You don’t know your schoolmate’s father’s first name or their address by any chance, do you?”

“No.” He was about to give up but remembered something – Katie’s last name, Grandol. He’d heard it dozens of times during roll-call and hoped it wasn’t as common as “Kelly.” Flipping to the G section, he scanned the pages until he got to “Gr,” and ran a finger down the list.

Grand… Grande… Grandesky… Grandle…“Ha!” It was the only one, and was worth a try. “Might I borrow the phone, sir?”

“I thought you had a cell phone.”

“What? I – as ucht Dé! I think I left my brain on the pillow this morning.” He took it from his back pocket. “I’m so stupid.”

“No, you’re not.” Mr. Halloran’s tone was sharp and Cian almost took a step back. “Mr. Geller told me some of your background, about the abuse, and how they made you believe you were ugly and stupid. You know none of that is true, and I’m not about to let you lapse into self-criticism. You’re a fine young man, Cian, remember that.”

Cian sighed and nodded. “You’re right – thank you. I shouldn't say such things anymore.”

“No, you shouldn't. Now – are you going to make that phone call? It’s getting late and you’ve already clocked in.”

“Right. Sorry.” He tapped the number onto the pad on the screen, put it to his ear, waited.

“Hmmmmph. What… ”

The voice, for all its sleepiness, was recognizable. Cian almost cried with relief. “Katie?”

“Uh… Cian? Great – first Celeste wakes me up, so I turn off my cell, but then you call the house – leave it to my Dad to put us in the stupid phone book instead of leaving our number unlisted – something about business…. sorry. I’m a real grouch in the morning.”

“Listen – I apologize for having to disturb you like this, but I need to talk to Celeste as soon as possible. In fact, I have to see her.”

A moment of silence followed, and Cian thought that she’d hung up, but then she said, “She’s home, but she’s probably having a harp lesson right now.”

“Harp…. oh, God. Who is her teacher?”

“Huh? Geez, I don’t know, uh wait. I was there when her father told her about the lessons, um, Gerald Something, a weird name… Crow? Crow-an?”

“Katie, thank you! Go back to sleep!” He hung up.

“Another problem?”

Upon hearing the name of the harp teacher, Cian had gone cold, his heartbeat quickening, and he was finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden.

“Hey, don’t hyperventilate, kiddo – what is it?”

Swallowing hard, Cian tried to think of an explanation. Failed. “I – I – it… I have to go.”

“All right, sure. You need a ride somewhere?”

“What? Yes! I – Oh, no!” He looked at his phone again, and tapped Katie’s number.

“Aw crap, now wh- "

“Katie! Where does she live?”

“In Westfield, like me.”

“No! I mean what’s her address?”

“Uh, 2579 Gardener Circle.”

“Thank you!” He hung up and turned to his boss. "Can you take me to 2579 Gardener Circle in Westfield?”

“Well no, but I can have someone else drive you there. Hold on.” He went back into the office and came out, his walkie-talkie in one hand. “Jack?” He was answered by a few seconds of loud static, followed by a tinny-sounding voice.

“Jim? What you got?” More static.

“I need someone to give one of my maintenance guys a ride – I don’t think it’s too far – know where Gardener Circle in Westfield is?”

“No – let me Google it.” Static, then, “Okay, got it. It’s only about ten minutes away, maybe less. Tell him to meet me at the Sears loading dock, okay?”

Forgetting to grab his jacket, Cian took off, sprinting across the mall to the side exit, heart still pounding with something besides exertion.

Jack hadn’t arrived yet, and oblivious to the cold, Cian controlled the urge to shout in frustration. A few minutes passed before an old, rust-eaten car pulled up next to him. The driver leaned over and rolled down the passenger window. “Let’s go,” he said, revving the engine a little.

Cian all but dove in. “Thank you so much,” he said, pulling the door shut.

“Emergency?”

“Well, yes, in a way… yes, actually.” Cian hoped the man wouldn’t ask for a further explanation.

“Okay. Hang on – and put your seatbelt on, please. I’m Jack, the East Mall Supervisor, by the way.”

“Cian MacDara. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

Jack smiled and nodded. “According to the GPS, we’ll be there soon.”

Within ten minutes they were pulling up in front of a pretty fieldstone and stucco two-story house.

Cian got out. “Thanks again.”

“No sweat. Just call Mr. Halloran if you needed a ride back.”

As Jack drove off, Cian stared at the house for a moment, took a deep breath, and strode to the front door. He pressed the bell and stepped back to wait.

A middle-aged man opened the door a few seconds later. Raised brows, a pause. “May I help you?”

The man’s faint Irish accent registered, but Cian couldn’t think about that right then. “My name is Cian MacDara, sir, and I was wondering if I might speak with Celeste. We’re in school together.”

“I see... was she expecting you?”

“I doubt that, sir. But this is very important, or I would never bother you like this, Mr., um…”

“Mr. Kelly. I’m her father.” He stepped back. “It’s freezing out there, and I’ll not be leaving you on the doorstep to catch your death, so come in.”

Cian entered the foyer, finally noticing how chilly he was as the warmth of the house surrounded him.

“Her sister is having a harp lesson at