Overcomer - The Journey by Judy Colella (novels to improve english .txt) 📖

of what eventually became English. Still, it was a useful language, which I later found had influenced many of the tongues I would learn, like Saxon, the language of the Picts, even Latin and, eventually, English.” He shrugged.

“You learned all those?” asked Katie.

“I did, but I’m not sure I can speak them all now. So. The next few weeks were spent mostly in this house, where Niall began tutoring me in the Cornish tongue. Naturally, my parents had begun to learn as well, and when we were able to formulate short sentences, Niall took us into the nearby village. He had provided us with new clothing, but while my mother’s garb was not unlike what she already had, my father and I were given items that looked and felt like nothing we had worn before. Instead of a comfortable, simple tunic, I was given what he called a ‘shirt.’ And instead of leggings, I had to wear ‘britches.’ I, uh, don’t think, well, I won’t go into why they were so uncomfortable at the outset. Um, I eventually got used to them, of course.

“Right.” He felt a blush rise and cleared his throat. “I’ll stop embarrassing myself now. Well, we found ourselves in a place that was more populated than the villages back home. The people were using items and implements we’d never seen before, and when we asked Niall about it, he explained that we had not only come to a different place, but a different time as well – over two hundred years later, in fact, making it around 750 A.D.

“We traveled a lot over the next two years, visiting other continents altogether, including Asia. In China I learned some things about the sword that were different from anything I’d learned elsewhere. The language, too, was difficult and strange sounding, but I had to understand what I was being taught about swordplay. I returned to the Hub several times to be instructed in these new tongues because it would have taken too long in real time.

“As I was learning to use a sword, my parents learned new ways of doing old things. My mother, I think… yes. She was delighted with the progress of making dyes, while my father learned some new methods of weaving and sheep farming. At one point, my father and Niall negotiated – I’ve no idea with what – to have a small, iron sword forged for me by a smith in one of the towns. He let me watch him at his work, explaining everything he was doing, even letting me do some of it.

“Later, I would be given short swords made of steel, the forging of which was somewhat different. By the time I was ten, I had become proficient with these, especially after the trip to China, and while I still spoke Gaelic with my parents and Niall, we used English more and more. As we continued going forward in time, we were introduced to various machines that did the work of many. And then we came to America. I’m sorry to have rushed through all that, but honestly, most of it is still hazy. I probably remember that first place in more detail because it was part of the whole trauma of leaving Ireland the way we did.

“By the time we got here again – we’d been to America twice before during earlier times – my English was nearly perfect. In fact, the only thing that gave away my origins was my accent. I still haven’t completely lost the sound of it, but the influence of being in the South has affected… well, you hear how I talk. We got here through a Door that led out into Elberton, Georgia. When we passed through the gold curtain, we were not in one of the ancient places, like a cave or tomb as we usually found ourselves, but standing in front of a stone structure on top of a low hill. Niall told us this was of fairly recent construction, unlike the others, which were older than written history. He said the local people called this the ‘Georgia Guide Stones’ but didn’t give any details about them. By the way he was shaking his head as he said their name, I got the impression he was disgusted about them for some reason.

“Wait a second,” Katie interrupted. “Sorry, but may I ask about a few things?”

“Of course.”

“Cool. Okay, working backward, if you don’t mind – did Niall still have that crazy long beard when you guys got to this time period?”

“What?” Cian stared for a second, then laughed. “I really didn’t think Niall’s beard... well, yes, he did.”

“Didn’t he, like, look kinda out of place?”

“To be honest, he looked a little insane.”

She grinned. “Thought so. And what about transportation? When was the first time you saw a car?”

He frowned. “I believe it was in the beginning of the 1900s, in England.”

“That must’ve been cool.”

“No, Katie, it wasn’t cool at all. In fact, it was – it was frightening.”

“Why?”

“Remember,” said Mr. Kelly, “you grew up around cars and buses and airplanes and all that. Apparently – if I believe all this nonsense – your friend here only knew about sheep.”

Croghan uncrossed his legs and stood. “Celeste, hand me the Harp, will you please?”

“Are you going to sing?”

Cian sat, suspecting what his mentor was about to do.

“Oh, no, not... well, not a song.” He turned to Mr. Kelly. “Tell me, Donal, how would you feel about meeting Niall? The Servant Helpers from this time were murdered, and so far we’ve not replaced them. I have the freedom, therefore, to summon any of the others I choose – and since you’ve been hearing about the Brehon throughout this tale, it would make sense to call him here, yes?”

Mr. Kelly’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, I see. And how far in advance did you and this Niall set up your little trick? You know, you almost had me.”

“Trick, is it?” The Keeper took the Harp from Celeste. “Look well to this room, Mr. Kelly. Be sure all the doors and windows are locked, the shadows uninhabited. Look behind the chairs, and close the door between this room and the kitchen.”

Frowning, Mr. Kelly got up and shut the sliding door between rooms, went out to the foyer where Cian could hear him rattling the front door, followed by several clicking sounds. When he returned, he headed back to his seat.

“Wait. Stand beside me, Donal,” Croghan instructed. When Mr. Kelly had joined him, the harper stroked the gleaming strings and sang out the name of the Brehon.

No one moved, but Cian could see they were trying to look everywhere at once. A moment later, the only place to look was about five feet in front of the Croghan, between the sofa and the loveseat. A shower of brilliant blue-green specks appeared, faded, and resolved into a familiar man in a coarse robe tied at the waist with rope, wearing leggings and sandals, a full water bucket in one hand. He glared from under shaggy grey brows that matched the beard flowing over his chest.

“Will ye stop that, ye mad Croghan!” he exclaimed, his Irish brogue thick. “I’m done with bein’ yanked away from me well and me wife! Someone needs to take that harp away from ye and slap ye’r wrists, for ye’r a dangerous man with the bloody thing in ye’r hands!” He thumped the bucket onto the floor, sloshing some of its contents on the carpet, and crossed his arms over his beard.

Everyone except Cian and Croghan stared, bug-eyed.

Katie shrieked.

“What the hell?” The Brehon jumped and spun to face her.

“Oh my God! You’re real! Oh my God!”

Niall put his head to one side, regarding for a moment, then glanced up at the Croghan. “And who, exactly, is this young... young person?”

“Allow me to introduce everyone, and by the way, sorry about pulling you out of Time like this.”

“Crazy Croghan,” Niall mumbled. “Well, fine – I’m sure ye had a good reason as always.”

“How did you know to speak English?” Katie asked before Croghan could respond.

Niall pointed at her, eyes narrowed. “Better watch this one. She’s sharper than a wolf’s tooth. And to answer ye’r question,” he went on, “I knew where this lunatic has been.” He nodded sideways at Croghan, “So what other language would I be speakin’ now, eh?”

“Okay. Fair enough.” She sat back.

“Hmph. So who are these people, Keeper?”

“Katie you’ve met. She’s good friends with this young lady, whose name should be familiar to you – this is Celeste.”

The Brehon’s beard split with his smile. “Ah, now, and every bit as lovely as she should be. Do ye play the harp, lass?”

“N-not really. I – ”

“She can play the things Celesta put into her head and hands, and because there’s a strong natural talent there, I’ve a feeling it won’t take long at all to teach her the rest.”

“Incredible,” Donal murmured.

“Ah, and this is the young lady’s father – Donal Kelly. And her mother, Eileen.” He put the harp on the floor beside Mr. Kelly’s chair and waved a hand at Cian. “And this is someone I believe you know, even if it has been a while.”

Cian stood, glad to see his former guide, and gave the Brehon a bow. “Good to be with you again, sir.”

Niall stared for a few seconds. “By all the saints. Would ye look at yerself! And – and so tall, too! Like yer father, ye are!” He broke into a hearty laugh, clapped Cian on the shoulder and pumped his hand in a vigorous shake. “Ye’r all grown, aren’t ye, boy. It certainly is a pleasure to see ye lookin’ so well.”

“Thank you. I hope you’ve been well, too?”

“Fine – until I got yanked into the future, that is.” Another glare was aimed at Croghan.

“Cian was in the middle of telling us the story of his journey,” Croghan said, “and I believe we were coming to the part where the two of you and his parents parted company.”

“Ah. I’d be interested in hearin’ this part to be sure.” He looked over at Eileen. “Might I sit down, good lady?”

“Uh, sure – but if you don’t mind, please… put that bucket somewhere out of the way.”

NINETEEN

 

Georgia – One Year Earlier

 

Letitia Pettijohn checked her purse again. Where were those stupid keys? She had separated them so Buddy could drive the car, and thrown the house keys into her purse. She dug around the bottom of the garish yellow bag, and this time felt their shape through the imitation silk lining. “Well, dang,” she muttered. “Must have a hole somewheres.”

“Hurry up, Ma, we’re hungry,” Retta complained next to her in the back seat.

They were parked in the driveway in the mid-afternoon silence. Two weeks was certainly long enough for that infuriating boy to have starved to death, Letitia figured, unless he’d been eating cockroaches. She found the tear in the lining, put in two fingers, and snagged the keys. “Okay, got ‘em. Let’s go.”

“Who’s gonna check the basement, Ma?” Buddy, arms crossed over his chest, looked up into the rear view mirror and raised thick eyebrows at her.

Letitia glared at the back of his head, then into the mirror to see him gazing at her with a challenge