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

“Josiah, hold on,” said Miss Markwood. “I think you have the right idea, but we have to wait until we’re back at the office.”

“Fine. Here’s your compact. Listen, Cian. It’s going to be okay. And stop thinking of yourself as ugly, please, because you’re not.”

“Maybe a restaurant isn’t such a good idea. Besides, he’s going to need something light like soup if he hasn’t eaten in four days. We can buy him a nice, big steak later. Would you like that, Cian?”

He bobbed his head and murmured a thank-you. He heard her sigh, then a rustle. A moment later she spoke, but Cian had no idea who she was addressing this time. What she said couldn’t have been to the man driving. He glanced up and saw her holding something shiny and rectangular to her ear.

“Good afternoon, sir,” she was saying. “We found him – he’s, well, he’s alive but it’s clear he’s been through something terrible… no, he was there alone… on the house? Okay, I’ll tell – twenty-four/seven? Yes, Mr. C. I’ll let him know… thank you, sir.”

“What did he say?” asked Mr. Bell, leaning forward.

“He wants you to contact the FBI and arrange a stake-out on the house. If the woman returns, she’s to be arrested immediately.”

“My plan exactly. I’ll call them now. Did he say what the charge would be?”

“Fraud, child abuse, attempted murder, and murder.”

“Uh, I get the first three, but – ”

“That’s what he said.”

“I don’t get it. How does he even know what happened? Besides, he’s new at the Agency and maybe doesn’t… I mean, isn’t he being a bit too zealous about all this?”

“He sounded awfully sure.”

“Well, all right.” Mr. Bell sat back, taking a device from his pocket that was the same shape as the one into which Felicity had been speaking.

Cian hadn’t understood much of what they’d said, but he did get that his foster mother was finally going to have to give an account for what she’d done to him. Regardless of anything else that happened to him, Cian felt satisfaction that this, at least, was an injustice that was going to be corrected, and he allowed himself a tiny smile.

*******

Connecticut – Present Day

“Where was I? Ah!” Gerald Croghan nodded and stood, going to the fireplace and thrusting his hands into his pockets. “The morning after my meeting with Niall, I arose early, but not earlier than Fianna. The sun was barely up and she had already been to the nearby spring at least twice; three buckets full of fresh water were lined up under the table by the window and she was hefting the fourth to pour its contents into her cooking pot. I asked if I could help, but she shushed me with a smile and went about her work.

    “Soon after, Dara was up and getting dressed; Cian, I noticed, was still sound asleep despite the noises around him. I asked if I might have a word or two with them concerning their son. Fianna worried that he’d done something wrong, but I assured her this wasn’t the case. ‘It has to do with something else entirely,’ I said, adding that it was a matter of great importance.

    “Fianna insisted we eat first, so set about preparing the morning meal while Dara, a man of considerable strength, lifted the bench by the hearth and brought it to the table. Cian was awakened by all this activity. Now keep in mind that everyone slept on straw pallets on the floor back then, so after gathering up his, Cian placed the armful of straw against the wall by the rest. Then the industrious little fellow swept the floor, went outside, and came back in a few minutes later, his arms full of fresh rushes, which he spread around on the floor.”

Celeste turned to Cian. “Why did you do that?”

He gave a short laugh. “I didn’t remember any of those details, but now with the Croghan telling of it, I remember that the floor of the cottage was hard-packed earth. The rushes kept the dirt from being kicked up and getting into everything, and they made the room smell fresh.”

“And having done that, you put on fresh clothes and asked your mother if she needed any help.”

“I don’t remember that either.”

“Well, it was nothing anyone would make a point of remembering, eh?” Croghan had been watching Cian as he’d been speaking to see the young man’s reactions, hoping the things buried by nearly seven years of agony and sorrow were being exhumed in reasonable quantities. Too much too soon wouldn’t be good.

“So now Cian was dressed, and…?” Donald put his head to one side, brows up.

Croghan grinned. “Right. But I have to tell you, I was already regretting what I had to do next. They seemed such a happy, contented family, and here I was about to destroy it all with a few words.

“I started by asking Dara how much he knew of his ancestry. While he said hadn’t thought about any of that for a long time, it turned out he’d been told that his family’s founder had been a pagan priest of some sort who got in trouble with his sect, and had sought help from the great Amergin. The Druid had relocated his ancestor here, and that was all he knew. Naturally, he asked me why I’d asked.

“Dreading what was sure to come, I told him that I knew why that ancestor had come there from the region of Tara. That last bit was a detail he hadn’t mentioned and I could see him about to say something, but I cut him off and said that not only was I familiar with his family, but had been sent on a quest that involved his son. I offered to give them a nice, long tale without music to explain it all, but Dara wasn’t having it. He gave me fifteen minutes and no more.

    “I appreciated how he felt, and told him pretty much the same as I told you about the Drunes, their priest, how he had to flee with his family, and up to that point they were with me. You see, the old gods were still with them, and they believed in Dagda as much as they did this new God introduced by Christianity.

   “I see that look in your eye, Cian – you still pray to the old gods, too, don’t you... thought so. But to continue: as I said, up to that point they were with me. But after expounding upon the effect his ancestor’s actions would have on Time and the attack that could be made against the Light, I revealed that someone was needed to fight the oncoming Darkness, that it had to be a descendant of their family’s founder, and that one of the angels of heaven had chosen their son – with, of course, the approval of the Glorious Creator. Neither Dara nor his wife liked that part. In fact, if I could have left right then, I would have. The look on Dara’s face... well, I suddenly found myself remembering how he had picked up that heavy wooden bench as though it were made of straw, and pictured myself being knocked into another dimension. So I stood, took a few steps back, and said something like, ‘I am not asking you to relinquish your son based on my words alone.’ I believe that was when Dara told me I was insane and got to his feet.”

“I know how he felt,” Donal muttered.

“Yes, well, I told him that I could prove what I’d told him, but that they would have to come with me to the Hub of Time, and that I was its Keeper.

“When Dara asked who was ‘keeping’ an eye on things if I was in his house, I told him about Celesta. He asked if she was the one who thought it was a good idea that his eight-year-old son should fight for the Light I’d spoken of. And did both the angel and I imagine that one so young could do battle with beings much older and greater… he was furious, but I stood my ground. Told him that Cian would only be going through training at that point.

“Fianna wanted to know who would train him and with what kind of weapons. Not expecting them to know what I was talking about, I nonetheless described the Sword of Light, and how it represented Truth, Time and Power. I also admitted that for a number of reasons – including the obvious – Cian would not yet be expected to wield it and would train with weapons appropriate for his size.

    “Their answer was a stony silence, so I offered to introduce him to the Brehon who would be coming with us, and who they would be more likely to respect than me at that moment.

    “Dara was practically sneering now as he said my quarter of an hour was up, and that it would certainly take more than a few seconds to go fetch the Brehon. He went to push past me, but I put out a hand, begging him to wait for only those few seconds longer so I could call Niall to us.

“He asked me if I could really yell that loud.” Croghan chuckled, shaking his head. “I can’t, you know. What I could do, though, was summon my friend much in the same way as I summon Celesta. Taking my harp from the place I’d put it the night before, I played a chord, sang out Niall’s name, and a second later, there was a knock at the door. When Fianna opened it, Niall stomped into the room and glared at me, hands on his hips. I was being glared at a lot that day.”

“I wonder why?” Katie gave him a wide-eyed stare, her mouth twisted.

“Why indeed. I’ve gotten used to it over the years, so it doesn’t bother me.”

Celeste giggled. “Sounds like you do this sort of thing a lot!”

“Not really.”

Now Eileen spoke. “Hold on. You say you summoned a human being with… with harp music?”

“Something like that.”

“That has to be terrifying! What did he say?”

“Ah, I suspect you don’t believe me, madam. No matter. He said, ‘In the name of all that’s green, what in blazes – good morning ma’am – am I doing here again?!’

“I apologized and asked if I’d interrupted anything important. 'Oh, no, no,’ said he. ‘Hauling up a bucket from the well is all,’ said he, ‘and now it’s probably spilt!’ He chewed on his beard for a few seconds while the family stared, their mouths hanging open. But at least they were no longer glaring at me.

“After that, he introduced himself to the family as the Breslin of Letterkenny, which was a social position they respected enough to calm them down. You see, they believed in the ancient magic as well, so all of this summoning was not as shocking as it would be today.

“I explained to Niall why I’d summoned him, and from there, he more or less took over, explaining about their son’s destiny and using the analogy of weaving with regard to the fabric of time, which was much easier to comprehend than the more abstract explanation I had been prepared to give.

“After that, there was nothing left but to prepare for the journey. I promised that they needn’t fear for their sheep or farmstead because I’d have the two of them back only minutes later than when we would be leaving. I daresay they accepted all of this because of the Brehon’s presence, and how he had gotten there. I took them to Tory Island directly north of Tír Conaill. Today, the distance between there and Donegal is a couple of hours’ ride, but we walked, which meant taking enough supplies and food for several days.

“Fianna