Wild Irish Roots (The Mystic Cove Series) by Tricia O'Malley
Authors: Tricia O'Malley
Tags: Baby, paranormal romance, new adult, witch, International, psychic, healer, beach, Celtic, Pirate, mystical, gaelic
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Chapter One
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"M um, that man is lying." Margaret Grainne O'Brien tugged on Fiona's hand and pointed. At nine years old, Margaret was a precocious, intelligent child. She watched people closely and often offered her unfiltered opinions of their behavior.
"Shh, Margaret. Just because you can see that about him doesn't mean that other people can," Fiona said gently to her daughter. Margaret looked up at her quizzically.
"But, he is," Margaret insisted.
The man in question was, luckily, too far away for Margaret's small voice to reach him. He leaned across the table and held the hand of a blonde woman, looking searchingly into her eyes.
"Yes, he is. But some things we must allow to unfold naturally," Fiona cautioned and pulled her daughter away.
Margaret looked over her shoulder at the man as Fiona dragged her from the small restaurant. If someone had asked her, she would have been unable to explain why she knew when people were lying, in love, or hiding something. It was just how she saw the world. She'd never been told that she was different.
"Margaret, honey, let's get a cup of tea and sit outside, okay?" Fiona asked and stopped at a coffee shop next to the restaurant. She ordered cinnamon scones for the both of them and a pot of tea, motioning for Margaret to pick a table outside. Margaret picked one where she still had a view of the restaurant. Her nine-year-old brain was a curious one and she wanted to know what happened with the lying man.
Fiona came to join her at the table. Margaret smiled up at her mom, admiring her strawberry-blonde hair and sherry-brown eyes. Margaret took after her mother in that respect and she loved having Fiona braid her long hair. Even at this age, she had some vanity with her appearance.
Fiona smiled at Margaret and poured her a cup of tea, before spooning some clotted cream onto a scone for her. Together, they sat in silence for a moment as the small village of Grace's Cove bustled around them. A lovely spring day, the air was gentle with the promise of summer. The sun warmed the colorful buildings that jostled for attention on the main street that led to the harbor. At the bottom of the hill, the water spread out, the waves dancing in the sunlight.
"Margaret, honey, we need to talk," Fiona began.
Margaret tensed up. She could already tell that Fiona had something serious, if not scary, to tell her. She could read her mother's emotions and sensed her trepidation. Margaret put her scone down.
"What? What did I do wrong?"
"No, nothing like that. I want to talk to you about that man in the restaurant," Fiona said.
"Oh. Do you know why he was lying?" Margaret asked and took a bite from the cinnamon scone, letting the flavors settle over her tongue before taking a small sip of her tea.
"No. And, most people don't know that he is lying. It's time that we talked about your ability," Fiona said carefully.
Margaret felt her stomach knot up. She wasn't sure what was going on, but could tell that Fiona was tense.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, do you know how the other little girls that you play with sometimes get upset when you say things? Like how you know if they have a crush on a boy or if they are keeping a secret?"
Margaret shrugged her shoulders and looked stonily at her plate. Lately, she'd been having more and more trouble with her friends. It was hard for her to keep her mouth shut about the things that she saw. She didn't mean to blurt out the things that she knew; Margaret thought that she was helping her friends.
"Are they mad at me? Did their mums say something to you?" Margaret whispered.
"No, honey, not at all. First, I want you to know that I love you very much and always will. But, it is time to learn the truth about yourself. About us. You are an extra special girl. Just like me. Just like all of the females of our family." Fiona smiled warmly at Margaret and Margaret couldn't help but smile back even though her stomach was in knots. She could
––––––––
"M um, that man is lying." Margaret Grainne O'Brien tugged on Fiona's hand and pointed. At nine years old, Margaret was a precocious, intelligent child. She watched people closely and often offered her unfiltered opinions of their behavior.
"Shh, Margaret. Just because you can see that about him doesn't mean that other people can," Fiona said gently to her daughter. Margaret looked up at her quizzically.
"But, he is," Margaret insisted.
The man in question was, luckily, too far away for Margaret's small voice to reach him. He leaned across the table and held the hand of a blonde woman, looking searchingly into her eyes.
"Yes, he is. But some things we must allow to unfold naturally," Fiona cautioned and pulled her daughter away.
Margaret looked over her shoulder at the man as Fiona dragged her from the small restaurant. If someone had asked her, she would have been unable to explain why she knew when people were lying, in love, or hiding something. It was just how she saw the world. She'd never been told that she was different.
"Margaret, honey, let's get a cup of tea and sit outside, okay?" Fiona asked and stopped at a coffee shop next to the restaurant. She ordered cinnamon scones for the both of them and a pot of tea, motioning for Margaret to pick a table outside. Margaret picked one where she still had a view of the restaurant. Her nine-year-old brain was a curious one and she wanted to know what happened with the lying man.
Fiona came to join her at the table. Margaret smiled up at her mom, admiring her strawberry-blonde hair and sherry-brown eyes. Margaret took after her mother in that respect and she loved having Fiona braid her long hair. Even at this age, she had some vanity with her appearance.
Fiona smiled at Margaret and poured her a cup of tea, before spooning some clotted cream onto a scone for her. Together, they sat in silence for a moment as the small village of Grace's Cove bustled around them. A lovely spring day, the air was gentle with the promise of summer. The sun warmed the colorful buildings that jostled for attention on the main street that led to the harbor. At the bottom of the hill, the water spread out, the waves dancing in the sunlight.
"Margaret, honey, we need to talk," Fiona began.
Margaret tensed up. She could already tell that Fiona had something serious, if not scary, to tell her. She could read her mother's emotions and sensed her trepidation. Margaret put her scone down.
"What? What did I do wrong?"
"No, nothing like that. I want to talk to you about that man in the restaurant," Fiona said.
"Oh. Do you know why he was lying?" Margaret asked and took a bite from the cinnamon scone, letting the flavors settle over her tongue before taking a small sip of her tea.
"No. And, most people don't know that he is lying. It's time that we talked about your ability," Fiona said carefully.
Margaret felt her stomach knot up. She wasn't sure what was going on, but could tell that Fiona was tense.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, do you know how the other little girls that you play with sometimes get upset when you say things? Like how you know if they have a crush on a boy or if they are keeping a secret?"
Margaret shrugged her shoulders and looked stonily at her plate. Lately, she'd been having more and more trouble with her friends. It was hard for her to keep her mouth shut about the things that she saw. She didn't mean to blurt out the things that she knew; Margaret thought that she was helping her friends.
"Are they mad at me? Did their mums say something to you?" Margaret whispered.
"No, honey, not at all. First, I want you to know that I love you very much and always will. But, it is time to learn the truth about yourself. About us. You are an extra special girl. Just like me. Just like all of the females of our family." Fiona smiled warmly at Margaret and Margaret couldn't help but smile back even though her stomach was in knots. She could
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