Wild Irish Roots (The Mystic Cove Series) Read Online Free PDF Page B

her heart. She saw the pain flash across Fiona's face and wished that she could do anything to feel differently, to be able to accept what was.
    "Well, I suppose that is your problem then, not mine," Fiona said stiffly and passed Margaret. Her hand on the door to the cottage, Fiona turned and looked Margaret up and down. "I only hope that someday you will stop running from yourself."
    "I don't have to be what you want me to be!" Margaret shouted.
    A small smile flitted across Fiona's face and she shook her head at Margaret, disappearing into the cottage. Margaret watched her go, feeling disconnected from this woman that she called mother. Who was this person? How was it possible that she could heal with her hands? It defied all laws of science.
    Shaken to the core, Margaret looked down at her hands. They looked simple. Innocuous. How could something like that work? She watched as her hands shook with emotion. Tucking them in her pockets, she stumbled across the field leading to the cove, tears blinding her vision. Her breath hitched as she struggled to comprehend how her entire world had shifted in an instant.
    Margaret came to a stop at the edge of the cliffs that lined the cove. Staring down at the peaceful water, she tried to regain the feeling of happiness that she had felt there just that morning. Instead, her angst and displeasure grew. Glaring at the cove, she raised her hands and shouted to the water.
    "Why? Why me? I just want a normal life!"
    Margaret dropped her hands down by her sides and glanced over her shoulder, realizing that she probably looked a little crazy. Margaret eyed the waters of the cove, looking for any change, any indication that the cove had heard.
    "I'm done here. Understand? I will have no part of this," Margaret threatened the cove. The waters continued to move gently, a contrast to the storm that raged inside of her. Margaret shook her head. What was she waiting for? Grace O'Malley to rise from the water and tell her that she'd be okay?
    On a sigh, Margaret turned her back to the cove, vowing it would be for the last time. Tomorrow she would pack for Dublin. She could go ahead of Sean and get a job, find a place to live, and start a new life. Determination threaded through her, and Margaret moved towards the cottage, ready to throw off the bonds of the cove and what Fiona expected of her. 

Chapter Nine
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    M argaret deliberately stayed in bed late the next morning, continuing to turn over and bury her head in the covers until she heard Fiona leave the cottage. Her resolve to leave had only strengthened after a night laced with dreams of magick and healing hands. Getting up, she leaned over her bed to peek out the window. Fiona's car was gone and Margaret breathed a sigh of relief. Her emotions were too mixed...too raw...for her to have a discussion with Fiona now. It was as though she had reached a crossroads and neither direction was clear for Margaret. She only knew that she needed to take the next major step in her life.
    Grateful that she only had a short afternoon shift at the café, Margaret moved into the kitchen to pour herself a cup of tea. Finding fresh baked scones on the table, Margaret smiled. Somehow, Fiona always knew how to comfort her even when Fiona was the one she was mad at. Margaret snagged a scone and took that and her teacup back into her childhood room.
    Standing in the small room, she turned and examined the years of her life accumulated in posters, drawings, pictures, and various knickknacks that covered the room. Crossing the room, she stared at her favorite picture of her and Fiona. It had been taken when the sun was just beginning to set and the light warmed their laughing faces. They stood together, as similar as two peas in a pod, laughing at a private joke, the ocean open behind them. Margaret felt a tug in her heart for Fiona and what she was leaving behind her. Convinced that she was in the right, Margaret pulled the picture from the