Overcomer - The Journey, Judy Colella [book reader for pc txt] 📗

who was supposed play the harp to help him hold back “the darkness” while he fought off evil with a special kind of sword – or something like that.

Had Cian been under hypnosis, such a tale could have been attributed to one of those past-life things, only he’d been fully awake and aware of what he was saying, even if he’d been unable to control his words. This bizarre reaction could have been the result of never having taken drugs of any kind before, but was disturbing, to say the least, displaying the possibility of a dissociative personality disorder, a fairly common condition among those who had experienced extreme child abuse.

Once the drug had worn off, he had had tried to discuss with Cian what was clearly a defensive fantasy, but the young man – who of course remembered everything he’d told the doctor – had retreated into himself. Almost literally. He had curled up on the chair, head covered by his arms, and refused to continue. Nothing the doctor said helped, and it wasn’t until he’d asked Josiah to come to the office and talk to the boy, after explaining what had occurred, that Cian had uncoiled from the chair, stood, and walked out of the office without even looking back.

None of that mattered now. He’d be going to the Institute where he’d be well treated and given the best of care, but where emotional attachments rarely occurred. The doctors and caseworkers knew better, and most of their patients were too self-absorbed. Yet sadly, that was probably the one thing this young man needed most – genuine, unconditional love. Emotional attachments of that kind would probably dissolve most of his problems.

A knock on the doorframe disturbed his musings, and he turned around to see Miss Markwood. She rarely came to his office, and he suspected this had to do with Cian. “Felicity? Everything okay?”

“I don’t know – maybe. You’re having Cian transferred to the Institute?”

“I am. After his last session with me, I had no choice.”

“I understand.” She came into the office crossed her arms. “But I’m wondering if it’s wise to put him in that kind of environment. It can be so impersonal.”

“That’s the idea. He’s got to get over a lot of fear and all those rotten beliefs they gave him about his looks and intelligence. And I don’t think that can happen unless he has virtually no distractions, emotional or otherwise. Well, at least for now.”

She pursed her lips for a moment, and then nodded. “You may have a point. When does he go?”

“They’ll call me this afternoon some time and let me know. Probably no later than tomorrow.”

“Should Mr. Bell and I drive him over there?”

“No. He’s going back into the unknown, and I think he’s had to say good-bye to people he trusted far too many times already.”

She sighed. “You’re right, of course. Thank you, Doctor. And now,” she added, smiling, “I have a lunch date with Josiah.”

“A date, you say! When did this happen?”

“About an hour ago.”

Libman nodded. “I’d always had a good feeling about you two.”

“You did not!” She laughed. “Well, I’d better go – don’t want to keep the dear man waiting.”

TWENTY-TWO

 

Connecticut – Present Day

 

“I believe,” Cian said, picking up the story, “I’d gotten to the part where we were going into the Center for Resources and Support, yes? An older woman met us when we went inside, and introduced herself as Olivia Bolton. She greeted Niall like an old friend, which surprised me at first until I realized what she was – this was the first time I’d met a Servant Helper who wasn’t fairly young, other than the Breslin himself. Niall told her who my parents were and why they’d come with us, and then she had stooped down and put her hands on either side of my face.

“‘My, my,’ she’d said. I think. Anyway, it was something like that, and she smiled. ‘Celesta was absolutely right,’ she told Niall, making me wonder when the angel had had the time to talk to all these people about me. She straightened and told him that everything had been arranged, that I would be living with her and her husband, and that she’d help me adjust to life in this century and decade. Once I got settled, I would be going to school near where they lived, and was expected to learn all the customs and such that would keep me from being even more noticeable. I had no idea what she meant by that, but now, of course, I do, even if I still don’t understand it… and I find it embarrassing, if you want to know the truth.

“At the end of the afternoon, she drove us to her home on a quiet side street in a part of the city she called Jonesboro. All of the houses there were large, but hers was gigantic and set far back from the road. It was white and had huge columns across the front with a porch that ran the entire width of the building. The windows went from about ankle-level to almost the height of the ceiling of the porch overhang, and there were chairs and tables arranged here and there down both sides.” Cian stopped, smiling at the memory, and sorry he’d forgotten this one for so long. “By this time, I’d been inside many houses and was used to the way they were constructed, but none had ever been so lovely and full of light.

“The double front doors opened onto a grand entrance – not unlike yours, Mrs. Kelly, but about five times larger. A wide staircase with outward-curving railings at the bottom ran up to the second floor. They had flowers and rich green plants inside, dark wood furniture that shone like the Croghan’s Harp, and floors that I later learned were made of marble tile in some rooms and oak in others.

“Mr. Bolton was sitting in a room to the left of the entrance hall when we came in; later, I learned this was the library. He was sitting by one of the windows in a big, cushiony chair and reading a small book. He looked up as we came into the room, smiled and stood. Mrs. Bolton went to him, and they hugged with the same look in their eyes my parents gave each other every day. I do remember that about my parents, as well as some of the advice they’d given me when I was a child, but not their faces.

“I knew right away that these people would be good to me and that my being with them was okay. That evening, after a big meal, Niall and my parents followed the Boltons and me upstairs to my new bedroom. My new foster parents and Niall said good night, and as he left the room, he promised he’d see me again some day.

“I – I remember my parents holding me for a long time, then putting me to bed. They told me to be brave; my father said I must never forget my training or my native language, that I had to be strong, and my mother told me she and my dad would be fine. She reminded me that Celesta had promised to take away the hurt of losing me, and said she was glad to know this was happening for such a good reason. I’m sure other things were said as well, only I can’t remember what they were any more. But I do know that as they went out, I acknowledged that when I awoke in the morning, they would never be a part of my life again.”

A loud sob filled the family room.

“Niall?” Cian stared at him, shocked.

“I’m so sorry,” he managed in a strangled voice. “I’d for-forgotten how sad that part was.” He dabbed at his eyes with his sleeve.

Mrs. Kelly, whose eyes Cian could see were bright with tears, got up and fetched the box of tissues again from the table by the far wall. She gave one to the Breslin, used one herself to wipe her tears and blow her nose, and started back to the sofa, but as she passed the loveseat, Katie snatched it from her hand.

“Sorry.” Snagging a tissue from the box, she handed it back.

Mrs. Kelly sat. “It’s all right, Katie. Cian, uh, is there a whole lot more to this? I mean, should I hang on to the tissues?”

“I would recommend it,” said Croghan. He turned to Niall. “No offense to the ladies present, but I’m used to women weeping over sad things, but you?” He chuckled and stood. “I think I need to take over in a few minutes to fill in the details about how I found Cian again, and considering how awful the whole episode was, I do expect a great deal of emotion.”

“Oh, dear.” Eileen put her arm around Celeste once more, snuggling her close, and handed her a tissue.

Croghan nodded at Cian. “Please continue.”

“Right. I was treated very well, as I expected; Mr. and Mrs. Bolton took a lot of time explaining things to me, talking about good manners and etiquette – a word I’d never heard before – and telling me that kindness would always win over a mean spirit. They knew I’d been trained to fight, and explained that while brutality had been considered normal in my own time, in this time period I would have to use my skills with great care.

“They enrolled me in a martial arts school, however, since it had been mandated that I continue my training with the sword, but in that environment, I would learn to use it as a defensive weapon only. I learned a lot of interesting methods in the brief time I was there, including self-discipline and control, and thoroughly enjoyed it, but the Boltons continued to remind me to banish any thoughts that might arise of using my ability against others.

“Considering I was only ten years old, it wasn’t too difficult. I mean, whom would I have attacked? One of her plants? But I’m sure they were preparing me for when I got older... they were such soft-spoken, loving people. I enjoyed talking with them, learning from them. At the school where they sent me, the other children were nice. They never made fun of my accent, which at that time was heavier than Niall’s, even though my English was fine.

“After nearly three months, the Irish sounds of my speech had begun to give way to the inflections of the South, and while I continued thinking and dreaming in Gaelic, I didn’t mind the new merge of accents. The Boltons only spoke English, but they had purchased several books for me in Gaelic. I’d learned to read during our journey through the various time periods, but had never read much in my native tongue, so it was a struggle to get through them. Eventually, though, I got the hang of it, as you say, and could read as easily as speak it.

“And then... then one day I came home from school... I don’t want to do this. I – I wish to God I didn’t remember... one day toward the end of the third month I came home from school