Down to Earth A Ghra Mo Chroi (Love of My Heart) for Kelly and Kevin by Andrea Lena DiMaggio   If you were to see me the way that I see you... Happy the eyes.. the eyes they would be...

This story is a continuation of A Question of Balance. Thus far: Three women, centuries old and practitioners of Draihoidel, the old arts, had come along side a girl in desperate need of understanding and encouragement. Each had taken the form of mortals to influence three souls close to the girl. The fourth member of the group, the girl’s brother had been a practitioner of the old arts for only a few days. The women have returned to help the family once again, along with others that need the healing that only love can provide...

Previously...

Emotions can arise at the most inopportune moments. Paul had sworn, despite Kate’s insistance, that he would never find another love. Breena looked everyday in the mirror above her dresser and wept silently to herself, consigned to living without love or even friendship; inauthentic and therefore unworthy. Both took notice of the other; possibly with a bit of magic, but really the only magic was that the two were such nice people, they really deserved each other.

Paul took Breena’s hand and led her into the office across the hall. It was only after a few seconds that both of them noticed that he had yet to let her hand go. And without even thinking, he squeezed her hand as he released it; almost as a way of welcome...

Moments later...

The sound of the fire alarm caught the two by surprise. Paul quickly grabbed Breena by the hand and ushered her out the door, into the hallway and quickly thorough the exit into the parking lot in the front of the school.

"Probably a drill." Paul said as he looked over the crowd of students still walking out of the building.

"Mr. Giambrone?" Breena spoke up; a soft brogue only hinted at earlier became more apparent as she continued,

"Yoo've stell got me hand in yours." She blushed at the words as he let go, his fingers lingering only a short while before he raised his hand.

"You kids have to move back and give these guys room to get out." He quickly forgot the moment and assumed his responsibility. After about fifteen minutes, the all clear was given and the students made their way back into the building only to be turned around for the late dismissal as several teachers ushered them toward the waiting school buses and to the parking lot. Paul turned around and was disappointed to find Breena had left. And he was surprised to find he was disappointed.

If you were to love me...
the way that I love you...
happy the heart...
the heart it would be...

The McCarthy home...later that afternoon...

Michael sat down in the living room, his feet free from the calf-high boots, which he had borrowed from his sister Patty. His longish hair remained pulled back in a short pony-tail and the traces of the days makeup were nearly wiped off, leaving his eyelids looking merely smudgy rather than made up. He sat back and sighed; feeling disappointed for the first time in a long while with himself; a good thing but troubling none the less.

“Would you be wanting something to drink, Michael?” His Aunt Breena said as she passed through from the front porch to the kitchen.

“That would be very nice, Aunt Breena…thank you.” He watched her walk to the fridge from the open doorway and something struck him; something he hadn’t noticed before. Only a few months ago, he had learned that she had started out…not as his aunt, but as his mother’s brother; her only sibling. From that point on, there was an almost tension between him and her; as if he was testing her to see if she was ‘authentic.’ He sighed as something touched him in a way that made him feel convicted, realizing that it wasn’t his place to judge her; neither as her nephew or even as another human being.

“Will a bottle of water do? We have cranberry juice as well?” She called.

“Water is fine.” He called back. She walked into the living room with two bottles and offered him one as she sat down. She looked very tired and somewhat upset.

“Aunt Breena, can we talk?” He half- smiled, hoping that she had the time and the energy; he had been wanting to talk with her for several days, but the events of the week seemed to spur him into a greater urgency.

“Sure, Michael…”

The last few months had changed her as well. The past few years had been a struggle for them all with Michael and Patty’s mother finally coming home only to die. That she was resurrected as an immortal woman of the old Arts made things all the more intriguing, but it was really her revelation of who their aunt had been that caused things to change.

“Michael…I think it’s really kind and brave of you to stick by that woman at your school.”

“I think that’s sorta what I wanted to talk with you about, Aunt Breena…if that’s okay?” He pulled back a bit, fearing he’d crossed some sort of line. Her smile indicated otherwise and he continued.

“I think it’s not just because Mom is doing her magic thing….it helps to know she’s helping Patty, but really, it’s because of you that I’m doing this.” Breena peered at him in confusion.

“You…you’ve been such an example to me and Patty…you know?” She shook her head and gasped,

“No…not me…your mother…she’s the one….”

“No…seriously…you’ve…”

“Now don’t go startin’ with me, Michael. I’m nothing special...”

“No! Please stop…I have to get this out, please?” He got up from the chair in the corner
and walked over and sat down on the couch next to her, grabbing both of her hands. It was the most physical contact he had with her in years, and it showed as she went to pull away.

“No…please….listen…I have to say this…for both our sakes and for Patty as well.” He smiled at her and she turned away slightly, looking down.

“Aunt Breena…my Mom….she gave me life, and I’ll always be grateful to her…we’ve talked, and she understands what I’m about to say.”

“No…Michael…don’t…I can’t…” Breena knew where he was going with this, and it felt wrong. She was wrong…inauthentic…a pretender. She wasn’t an emotional woman from what he remembered because she hid her tears and her heartache. She couldn’t then, since he wouldn’t let go of her hands.

“Ever since she started going away…and when Daddy never stayed…you were the one who took care of me and Patty….when she cried all the time after the kids started teasing her…when I broke my arm and couldn’t play baseball…when Mommy would promise and not come home…you held my hand and dried my tears. You showed Patty how to be a girl.” She winced.

“Yes…you….you were the one who helped her see who she was…the one who held her at night when she had fears and doubts. You’re the one who showed me how to be kind and caring, even as you pretended you weren’t…My Mom may have given birth to us, but you’ve been our mother all along, and you need to know that.” For only the second time in his life, Michael saw his Aunt cry. He touched her cheek.

“Please, Michael…I don’t deserve this.” She began to sob. He gathered her into his arms and spoke softly.

“I don’t know how to say stuff like this, but I have to say something, ‘cause I think you need to hear it. You’re just as much a woman as any woman I know, even Mom. You’re talented and resourceful and clever. You have a great sense of humor.” She shook her head but smiled a bit at the last part.

"Knowing about you what I know now? You're the bravest person I know, Aunt Breena ... really." She continued to sob and pulled against his embrace, but he wouldn't let go.

“And you’re pretty…one of the prettiest women I’ve ever met, really.” He was exaggerating only a wee bit as relatives do, but he recalled that when he was little, he had a crush on his her. At one time that would have made him feel uncomfortable, knowing her past, but now…it was something that brought them closer; a special bond between nephew and aunt.

“Michael…I’m not…you don’t know what you’re saying.” She argued, even as the tears continued to flow.

“And I’m not the only one, Aunt Breena…you know who I’m talking about…” He wasn’t trying to tease at all, but she was still too sensitive and too self-critical to receive any complement regarding herself. She stood up and ran to her room, slamming the door, not in
anger, but in embarrassment and shame. Michael wiped the tears out of his own eyes, weighing whether or not to follow her and continue his attempts to encourage her. As he stood up, he noticed his sister leaning against the kitchen doorway, her own eyes filled with tears.

“Michael…that was the sweetest thing you’ve ever done…I am so proud of you, big brother. But I think I should go talk to her now, okay?” He looked toward her bedroom before nodding reluctantly.

“You may look like a girl right now…and that’s nice and all, but I think it’s better if I have a girl-to-girl talk with her.” She took a few steps toward him and kissed him on the cheek, causing his blushed cheeks to grow redder before she said,

“I think the copper eyeshadow suits you just fine!” She laughed before kissing him again. She turned and walked slowly to Breena’s bedroom door and knocked softly.

"Go away, please..." Breena called from inside. Patty tested the door and found it wasn't locked. She knocked softly on the inside of the door as she leaned into the darkened room

"Aunt Breena...please...may I come in?" Even as she asked, she had entered and stepped closer to the bed where Breena lay crying.

"I don't want to talk...please, Patty." It was surprising. At one time, Breena would have been abrupt and dismissive, but the last few months had proved that she was not an angry woman, but a scared woman whose defenses had been shredded as she moved closer and closer to the truth about herself; her discovery was painful but necessary. Her guard was still up but about to topple.

"I'm not here to talk, Bree..." A bit familiar for a girl to call her aunt, but it felt right, and it was what she needed to hear as her niece sat on the bed.

"I'm here to cry." The girl lay on top of her prostrate aunt and began to weep.

"I love you, Mom...." She kept saying it over and over, and nearly every time, it was answered by,

"No...no me...I don't deserve this...no." Breena cried harder than she ever had as her niece's tears were cleansing and healing. The girl kissed her over and over like a little child kisses her mother, for Breena was truly her mother, if not in name, certainly in reality.

"I love you." The girl sobbed, nearly matching the intensity of her aunt's weeping, but the intensity was not in the shadow of sadness that the two shared in common, but in the light of healing that both were bringing about in each other. And at the doorway, it was Michael's turn to weep in witness to the miracle that was taking place in his own family; not with magic, but with real live love and acceptance and healing.

Paul Giambrone's home...that night...

He sat in the dimly lit living room. The sound of Dervish playing in the background softly..."My Bride." In his hands he held a picture; the last picture taken of Kate and him together. She looked playful with his old Phillie's cap covering her hairless scalp. Even though she was near the end, the life in her eyes shown out almost like a beacon in the darkened room. He put his hand to his face and wept; mostly from lingering grief, but some from a feeling of guilt. As he wept, two figures stood close by, both crying softly in unison with the man before them. Fiona held the other woman's hand and nodded in encouragement. The woman stepped next to Paul and leaned over, whispering softly in his ear,

"I love you...don't feel bad...she's nice...just like I hoped she'd be. And it's time." As the tears rolled off of his face, he felt something; almost like a kiss, brush his cheek. He looked once again at Kate's face and nodded as he thought he heard the words in the back of his mind,

"It's time...."

If you were to love me...
the way that I love you...
happy the heart...
the heart it would be...

Gra mo Chroi!
(Love of my Heart)
Go deirigh mo sli
(Til the end of my life)

Next...Miracles Do Happen!

My Bride and I
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PEfXDRFX7IY