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

attracted to him, of course.”

“Me, too.” Katie sighed. “I’d have to be either a robot or a blind not to be.”

“What do you think he wants to talk to us about?”

“Whatever it is, I hope it isn’t something creepy.”

“Or illegal.”

“Yeah, that too.”

Nothing further was said about it, but Celeste sensed something was coming, something that had to do with what had happened in class. Something she hoped she could handle.

FOUR

 

Cian sat in the library at a table near the main doors, and tapped his fingers on top of his books. Stared at them to shut out the longing gazes of every girl who entered, the horrible adult version of the same from the Librarian. What was going on? Yes, he’d experienced this kind of attention several times before while in Georgia, had even been given what the doctor, and everyone working with him, must have believed was a logical explanation. Still…

Someone behind him giggled. Hoping the reaction had nothing to do with him, he stopped drumming his fingers and closed his eyes. The mirror. He thought about the mirror, the one the social worker had made him look into. Expecting to be horrified, to see someone whose ugliness defied description, he had instead been shocked by the normality of his reflection. A six-year lie. Nonetheless, he had to convince himself even now that he wasn’t grotesque – the part of him that had been so badly wounded during those years continued to fight against letting go of the cruel deception.

Another thing – his true origins. That other place and time where people rode horses, kept cattle and sheep, and fought with swords. With swords! How could those memories be real, memories about other lands, times and languages? Yet he still knew those languages, was still proficient with a sword. Recollections about being from another country, of traveling a lot when he could only see adults’ faces if he looked up, instruction with a variety of blades, some curved, most straight. Why?

Until recently, he’d forgotten about the people who’d been key in changing his life – the harper, the Brehon, and that unspeakably beautiful being – had they been imagined? Or the instruction to find a girl named Celeste – was that part of his quest?

Whispers. People around him probably wondering if he’d fallen asleep. He opened his eyes and the book to make it look like he was reading. Appearances could dispel uncomfortable opinions…

Another question made the words on the page meaningless, invisible. Why was he planning to talk to Celeste and Katie about this quest of his? Was he right to think that because she was Irish and had the correct first name that Celeste would understand and believe him, and further, prove to be the same person he’d been told to find?

Other than his foster brother and sister, and one or two patients at the Marcus Institute in Georgia where he’d been brought after being taken from the Pettijohn’s home, Cian had met few others his age. The majority of the girls he’d met in this school so far had said little to him, only staring at him in a disturbing way all the time, whereas the boys never did. Nor did Celeste and Katie, which fascinated him, but he wasn’t sure how to behave around their simple friendliness. Not an auspicious state of mind for convincing them that he was from a long-dead century and needed their help in this one.

Katie. She seemed quick-witted and smart, while Celeste impressed him as being gentler but Katie’s intellectual equal. Both were pleasant, likeable, but how could he form an honest opinion while trying to remember why he was there in the first place? Was it just to get back? That made no sense.

Cian had been encouraged by the social worker running the foster home where he currently lived to make at least one or two good friends he could confide in at school. None of the boys he’d met so far fit that requirement; they were too preoccupied with something called football, with parties, and perhaps with their most constant topic of discussion: impressing girls. Cian knew nothing about football, had never gone to a party, and somehow, all he need to do to impress girls was show up in class. That last one bothered him more than the other two.

But Celeste… she seemed to know about the village priests and what they did. How? Did they still exist? What was her connection with such things? Her knowledge – and her name – had convinced him to approach her, and since she and her friend appeared to be inseparable, it made sense to include Katie.

So what am I going to say to them? Hi. I’m looking for someone who can help me get back through a magical Door… ?

A glance at the wall clock behind the Librarian’s desk reminded him they would be arriving at any moment. Sitting straighter, Cian focused his gaze on the open page and tried to read for real, but all he could see were the faces of the two pretty girls who had agreed to meet him. Katie: blonde with light blue-green eyes, skin like cream with features that were delicate and even. Celeste: red-gold hair, dark blue eyes, a pale, slightly freckled complexion, angelic features, and possibly the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Both were slender, but while Katie looked athletic, Celeste was more willowy and moved like a melody.

I can’t believe they would even speak to me... no! Stop it! Damn that woman! Why did she do this to me? Was it jealousy like the psychiatrist explained? But why? Because she thought I was more attractive than her own children? How insane.

Bemused, he shook his head, smirked. Insane? What he was about to do was anything but normal – admit to a past that defied logic or reason, and couldn’t be explained in a rational way. Was any of it –

“Hey, Cian.”

He looked up. Katie and Celeste stood in front of the table, smiling. Here goes. “Thank you so much for meeting with me. Please sit down?” He got up and went around to the other side to pull out the two chairs facing his.

“Wow – thank you,” Katie said, sitting.

Celeste smiled. “Most guys would never even think to do that. Guess that stuff about ‘Southern charm’ is true.”

Cian had no idea what that was. The Boltons, serious about good manners, had impressed upon him the importance of maintaining them throughout his life. Was that “Southern charm?” Letitia Pettijohn, on the other hand, wouldn’t have recognized good manners if they’d bumped into her in broad daylight and introduced themselves. Uncertain, unable to find a reply, he shrugged and went back to his seat.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Celeste brushed a stray wisp of hair off her cheek.

Could she tell he was finding it hard to breathe? Like the first time he’d seen her at the mall… “I hardly know where or how to start. It has to do with... with my past. With Ireland. I need help with something I’m trying to do.”

The girls looked at each other, their frowns identical.

“I suppose that really doesn’t explain anything, does it.”

Celeste tilted her head. “No.”

“Anyway,” Katie added, “I’m not Irish, so I really don’t see what I can do – ?”

“Maybe not, but you know your friend so well, I’m sure you can help her to help me.”

“Um, what?”

Cian looked down at his hands for a moment, made a decision. “The people you mentioned in class…” He looked back up at Celeste. “How do you know about them?”

“About them? Them who?”

“The village priests. The Druids.”

“Oh. Right.” She cast a wide-eyed glance at Katie.

Katie sat straighter. “She doesn’t know how she knows. See, every once in a while she kind of goes into one of these off-the-wall trance-like things, and when she comes out of it, doesn’t remember it happening.” She shot a sudden glare at Celeste, whispered, “Ow!” and leaned down to rub her lower leg. “Anyhow, what I think is that when she’s in that state, she sees stuff and then suddenly starts spouting it off like a robot, but can’t tell you how or where she learned it because she forgets whatever happened when she was tranced-out.”

Cian nodded, unsure how to respond. He’d only understood about half of what Katie had said, but if he was right about the half that made sense, then he may well have found who – and what – he’d been looking for since the day he’d gone through that cursed Door. “So you’re saying that… what? That Celeste has visions?”

The girls did their bookend expressions again, this time with raised brows. “Visions?” they asked at the same time.

“You’re not sisters?”

“We know each other ridiculously well, is all,” Katie explained. “We’ve been friends since pre-school.”

Pre-school? How does that work? “Oh. Anyway –”

“I never thought of them as visions.” Katie turned to Celeste. “I mean, that sounds better than the trance idea.”

Celeste crossed her arms on the table and frowned at Katie. “But visions of what? And why am I getting them, and who’s giving them to me? And like you said, I never even remember having them. Besides, I thought visions dealt with the future, not the past.”

“I’m pretty sure it can be either, or even of something happening elsewhere in the present. Maybe. Or not.”

“Time is… slippery,” said Cian. “I don’t understand its nature myself, but I’ve seen how it works and how confusing it can be.”

Celeste stared at him for a second. “Yeah, I’ve seen how it works, too. I own a watch and can see myself getting older and all that.”

“No, no – not regular time. I’m talking about… ” Waving both arms in opposite circles, he indicated something bigger. “Time.”

Katie chuckled. “You mean like Marty McFly?”

“Who?”

“What? You know – ‘Back To The Future.’ The flux capacitor. The DeLorean?”

Cian was silent for a few moments, trying not to look like an idiot. Not only didn’t he know the reference, he wasn’t even sure she'd been speaking English. They’ll know I’m baffled. Maybe I should just leave… oh, great, Cian – how mature of you! Stop it. He chose a better option. “I’m not sure.”

Katie sat back, tucking hair behind her ears. “Where did you grow up, Cian?”

Terrific – another question I can’t answer without lying. “I… uh, I mean… ”

“Where were you born?” Celeste’s smile snatched away his breath again.

“Ireland.” He cleared his throat, mortified.

“Cool. How long did you live there?”

“Until I was eight.”

“And then where did you live?”

Bless you, Celeste – how kind you are for giving my ignorance an excuse. “We left Ireland and... traveled some, and then we came to this country. I grew up in Georgia after that.”

“Then you came here,” Katie continued.

“Exactly.”

“Pardon me?” The librarian had come up behind the girls and was batting her eyes at Cian. “I’m so sorry, but the Library will be closing in about three minutes.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Cian got to his feet.

“Oh, it’s all right!” She waved a limp-wristed hand at him.

Katie and Celeste also rose, hoisting backpacks onto their shoulders, and pushed in their chairs, looking, Cian thought, like they were about to explode. How bizarre...

“Good bye, children!” The librarian’s voice had risen