they were arguing, and they resolved issues they had with each other very quickly. She longed for a relationship like that, but a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that it was out of the question. There was no one in this world she could imagine trusting that much, not even David McGuire, the object of her fantasies since she was twenty.
Aloysius turned away from his wife, sneaking a slice of carrot off the tray. It earned him another swat as he popped it into his mouth and scooted away. Settling at his seat at the table, he finally looked Aiofe in the eyes. She met them without flinching, focusing on him as she would an enemy. Never look away, never show fear.
He pursed his lips momentarily as if trying to decide what to say, then he lowered his gaze and reached into the pocket of the flannel shirt he wore. He pulled out a small box covered in faded blue velvet and set it on the table in front of Aiofe. Maureen, hearing the clunk of the box, set the fresh bread she had pulled out of the oven on the counter and moved over to stand behind her husband. Her hands went to his shoulders as her eyes settled on her granddaughter.
Aiofe's resolve began to fail and she felt her anger turning into curiosity. Eyeing her grandfather suspiciously, she reached for the box. She slid it off the table and onto her lap before opening it. The hinge was rusted and the box opened hard, but once it snapped apart, she gasped.
Inside lay a beautiful oval locket attached to a chain of hand-crafted links made from the same silver-colored material. She scooped the locket up carefully and examined it. It was larger than most, about the size of silver dollar. A woman's profile was etched onto the cover in astounding detail. She was ageless, carrying a beauty beyond measure, glancing sidelong at the viewer. Despite the woman being inanimate, Aiofe could not help but feel that the image watched her with a knowing look.
The young woman flipped the locket over. On the back was written a simple phrase in delicate handwriting: To my faithful protector of the world . Aiofe frowned. What a strange message.
She glanced up at her grandfather. He said nothing, but he nodded slightly, urging her on. She pressed the tiny latch on the side and the locket popped open without a sound. A hand went unbidden to her mouth and she fought back the tears that flooded to her eyes. Unsuccessful in her war against them, the tears broke over the dam of her eyelashes and poured in streams down her cheeks.
On one side of the locket was a picture Aiofe would recognize anywhere. The long copper hair mirrored her own, as did the green eyes and pouting lips. Caena stared out from the locket, sadness heavy on her beautiful face. Aiofe could easily see the rest of the picture the face was taken from. It was in her room, stuck in the side of the mirror on the dresser. Aiofe was but a baby, tucked into her mother's arms, her own shock of red hair standing out in all directions.
The picture was most stunning, not because of the girl's astounding beauty, but due to the differences in their countenances. Aiofe, the child who was not yet a year old, grinned stupidly at the camera, her innocence protecting her from all the hurts the world would throw at her. Caena, just seventeen, stared unseeing into the invisible lens, her thoughts shielded behind an impenetrable wall. Aiofe sniffed and looked away, clearing her throat and blinking rapidly to force the tears from her eyes.
The other image in the locket was a delicately painted portrait of an older woman. She had the same green eyes and round nose as Caena, but her hair was black through and through. She stared out of the frame, her eyes full of knowledge and determination. Aiofe had a feeling that the woman could accomplish anything she put her mind to.
"Who is this," Aiofe asked, raising her eyes to her grandparents.
Her grandfather smiled. "That is Caoimhe, your great, great... well, I have no idea how many greats,
Aloysius turned away from his wife, sneaking a slice of carrot off the tray. It earned him another swat as he popped it into his mouth and scooted away. Settling at his seat at the table, he finally looked Aiofe in the eyes. She met them without flinching, focusing on him as she would an enemy. Never look away, never show fear.
He pursed his lips momentarily as if trying to decide what to say, then he lowered his gaze and reached into the pocket of the flannel shirt he wore. He pulled out a small box covered in faded blue velvet and set it on the table in front of Aiofe. Maureen, hearing the clunk of the box, set the fresh bread she had pulled out of the oven on the counter and moved over to stand behind her husband. Her hands went to his shoulders as her eyes settled on her granddaughter.
Aiofe's resolve began to fail and she felt her anger turning into curiosity. Eyeing her grandfather suspiciously, she reached for the box. She slid it off the table and onto her lap before opening it. The hinge was rusted and the box opened hard, but once it snapped apart, she gasped.
Inside lay a beautiful oval locket attached to a chain of hand-crafted links made from the same silver-colored material. She scooped the locket up carefully and examined it. It was larger than most, about the size of silver dollar. A woman's profile was etched onto the cover in astounding detail. She was ageless, carrying a beauty beyond measure, glancing sidelong at the viewer. Despite the woman being inanimate, Aiofe could not help but feel that the image watched her with a knowing look.
The young woman flipped the locket over. On the back was written a simple phrase in delicate handwriting: To my faithful protector of the world . Aiofe frowned. What a strange message.
She glanced up at her grandfather. He said nothing, but he nodded slightly, urging her on. She pressed the tiny latch on the side and the locket popped open without a sound. A hand went unbidden to her mouth and she fought back the tears that flooded to her eyes. Unsuccessful in her war against them, the tears broke over the dam of her eyelashes and poured in streams down her cheeks.
On one side of the locket was a picture Aiofe would recognize anywhere. The long copper hair mirrored her own, as did the green eyes and pouting lips. Caena stared out from the locket, sadness heavy on her beautiful face. Aiofe could easily see the rest of the picture the face was taken from. It was in her room, stuck in the side of the mirror on the dresser. Aiofe was but a baby, tucked into her mother's arms, her own shock of red hair standing out in all directions.
The picture was most stunning, not because of the girl's astounding beauty, but due to the differences in their countenances. Aiofe, the child who was not yet a year old, grinned stupidly at the camera, her innocence protecting her from all the hurts the world would throw at her. Caena, just seventeen, stared unseeing into the invisible lens, her thoughts shielded behind an impenetrable wall. Aiofe sniffed and looked away, clearing her throat and blinking rapidly to force the tears from her eyes.
The other image in the locket was a delicately painted portrait of an older woman. She had the same green eyes and round nose as Caena, but her hair was black through and through. She stared out of the frame, her eyes full of knowledge and determination. Aiofe had a feeling that the woman could accomplish anything she put her mind to.
"Who is this," Aiofe asked, raising her eyes to her grandparents.
Her grandfather smiled. "That is Caoimhe, your great, great... well, I have no idea how many greats,
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