Chapter Fourteen: Timeless by Rosaline Saul
I clasp my new necklace around my neck and when I look back at myself in the mirror, I finger the cross softly. The symbol of the Celtic cross dates back to pagan times. Thousands and thousands of years before the establishment of Christian churches. It is a cosmic symbol, a tree of life, connecting heaven and earth. The vertical arm symbolizes spirituality while the horizontal arm signifies the earthly dimension. The cross is often placed within a circle, which represents the sun and eternity. Together they symbolize the earth and the revolution of the four seasons. The Celtic cross is often used for luck and as protection against many forms of natural magic. I need luck right now.
Looking back at the clock next to my bed, it broadcasts the
hour is nine. If I did not leave soon, I will never make it to the mall before
ten o’clock.
At the front door, I unhook my new black coat from the coat
hanger. It feels warm and luxurious. It was an extravagant purchase, but in my
opinion well deserved.
My mom calls from her room, “Heather?”
I call back, “Yeah?”
“Are
you not staying for when your dad gets here?”
“No.
I have to meet a friend at the mall.” I hesitate and then say, “Sorry.” I
really am feeling sorry suddenly for leaving her to deal with it all on her
own.
Pulling the door open, I call up to her, “Okay, bye. I’ll
see you later.”
I wait for a few seconds, but she does not reply. I pull the
door closed until the latch catches and push once to make sure it is locked
tightly.
It is a bright day, but there is a nippy chill in the air,
so I pull the belt of my jacket tightly around my waist.
When I get to the mall, Kieran is waiting for me at the
entrance to the mall on the main road. He is wearing a dark cobalt pair of
jeans with a very light grey, almost white sweater. It fits snugly around his
shoulders and chest and then hangs loosely around his waist. He is staring deep
in thought at the church across the road.
I touch his forearm briefly and say, “Hey. Sorry I am late.”
He looks down at me startled, and then a smile lights up his
face when our eyes meet.
Casually he takes my hand into his. This gesture surprises
me, but his hand feels warm and holding it does not mean I am making a
commitment to him. It feels nice anyway.
We walk past the village and follow the road along the Boyne
River. We walk past the old Flour Mill, and under the traffic bridge, we stop
to read the graffiti on the walls. We walk past the park. It is a clear, bright
day and I notice a family with a kite. The dad is trying hard to keep the kite
in the air with his cheering children running a-muck around him.
We stop near the kiddies play park and then we lean across
the shiny, silver barrier and look down at the murky water in the river. The
swans swim toward us eagerly for scraps of bread.
Glancing back at him, past my shoulder, I see him already
looking at me. His face is full of concern when he says softly, “You look sad.”
I step back from the barrier surprised.
He asks quietly, “Why?”
I look into his greener than green eyes and then the words
burst out of me. I tell him everything. I do not really know him, but I tell
him about my dad. I tell him about the constant fighting and bickering. I do
not tell him how I believe love is lost. As I continue my monologue, he looks
at me forlornly, it is as if he actually understands my deep, deep hurt.
Embarrassed, I stop talking and he steps closer to me. He
folds his arms around my shoulders and then he pulls me into him gently. I go,
and it feels right to be in his arms. He comforts me, and when I move away from
him, I do feel better.
“Let’s
get something to eat. Are you hungry?”
“I
know this nice place in the village,” I suggest uncertainly.
He takes my hand into his and silently we walk back toward
the village. We turn away from the river and walk up a steep road, which will
bring us into the centre of town. As we walk past the shops, I tell him where
he can buy the best bread rolls, the latest CD’s, and rent the cheapest DVD’s.
As we walk past the old tower and broken-down archway, which
used to be the entrance into Drogheda, a very long time ago, I see a shadow
swoop toward me from the corner of my eye. I flinch when it looks as if it is
going to crash into me. Looking in the direction of the ruins, I see nothing
that could have caused me to cringe. I could have sworn there was a darkness
that crossed across my peripheral vision.
Feeling unexpected apprehension, I let go of his hand and
start to cross the quiet road. “Let’s walk on the other side.”
He starts to follow me and then I see a car roaring toward
me. It speeds at me. Everything around me slows down.
I hear Kieran scream, “No. Heather.” His voice sounds far away as if I am in a void of emptiness. He grabs me around my waist and twists me around, away from the car.
My legs twirl awkwardly through the air in front of me. I hear the screeching of tires on black-top. I feel the impact of the car, the scrunching of metal. I feel the strength and tautness in his muscles as he braces himself against the force of the car hitting into him. I feel a blast of wind in my face as a dark gloominess wash over me. It lifts my hair away from my face and takes a breath with it.
