Hunter Moon: A Grazi Kelly Novel #2 (17 page)

As a matter of fact I don’t think he has told
Patrick anything about me or the baby. I know what I’m going to do.
Patrick told me his uncle was the parish priest in his village and
I’m going to send him a letter, maybe I’ll have more luck that
way.

It’s been weeks and I was beginning to think
I’ve run out of choices but the most amazing thing has happened. I
got a phone call today from Ireland and it was Patrick’s uncle, the
priest.

He told me he had no idea of my situation and
he didn’t believe Patrick did either. He was very grateful I
contacted him. He promised to get Patrick in touch with me right
away and that all would be made right. I’m so happy I cried the
whole afternoon.

Do you hear that my little princess? Daddy is
going to finally learn about you. I promise!

A soft knock on my door had me turning
around. Nonna stood at the door with a mug of cocoa and some
cookies on a plate. I had been sitting up in my room for a couple
of hours so absorbed in my mother’s journal that I hadn’t even
heard her come home.

“I bring you a small snack,
si
?”

“Thanks Nonna.” I reached out to take the
tray and she sat down on my bed facing me.

“You’re reading Lilliana’s diary,
si
?”

“Yeah. Um, I didn’t realize that she was
still in school when she learned about, you know,
me
. I
guess I never thought how difficult it was for you and her.”

“It’s a shock, you know, when your baby tells
you something like this and the boy is not around. It was very hard
for your grandfather. He thought he had failed her somehow.”

“I never knew that.”

“Yes, well. I must say it was not Patrick’s
fault. His father took him away, but your mama. She was always so
stubborn and determined. Vito, hah, he wanted to go to Ireland and
beat him up.” She laughed and I nodded. My uncle was always
protective of her. I guess that’s why he has a soft spot for
me.

“
Mia bambina.
Your mama, her faith in
your father never wavered. She believed he didn’t know and she sent
a letter every single week to Ireland with sonogram pictures and
love notes. Pictures of her round belly.” She sighed and shifted
her small frame on my bed.

“She was so petite you know, she looked like
she had a little basketball right under her shirt. She glowed, my
Lilliana, she glowed. Then she got the idea to send one to the
priest, his uncle.” Nonna reached out and took my hand. I held onto
hers as she continued.

“Some nights I thought she’d walk a hole
right through the floor pacing back and forth. I’d make her tea and
she’d settle down and read a little.” Nonna’s eyes grew misty, she
released my hand and took her old lace handkerchief from the pocket
of her soft wool sweater. She sniffed and looked at me with an
unsteady smile on her face.

“She loved you so much, Maria. Even before
you were born. She was a good girl. A good mother. The night you
were born, I will never forget. We had just finished dinner. It was
still warm in the evening for November. Lilliana went to bring the
garbage outside with Nonno. He told her to go sit down, rest. Her
belly was so big by then, but still she had weeks to go.”

She cleared her throat, lost in her memory. I
made no sudden moves, I wanted her to continue. I was desperate for
her to tell me more. Having never heard this version of the story
of my birth.

“Her water broke and Nonno, he ran into the
kitchen yelling and pulling dish towels out of the drawer. Telling
me to hurry up, don’t I know I got a grandbaby coming now! Oh boy!
He was so proud and terrified for her.” She smiled though I could
hear the pain in her voice.

“While we were checking her into the
Emergency Room at St. Brigit’s Hospital your father comes bursting
through the door. Like a wild man. Right from the airport, a duffle
bag on his back. Your mother, she was no fool, and this was a
handsome boy.
Como tu, bellisimo, si?
He ran right to her
side and he says ‘Why didn’t you wait for me?’ Ah! My daughter she
smiles and said, ‘I am waiting, Patrick, but I think your daughter
is impatient.’ Two hours later you came into the world right into
your father’s arms. An hour after that your father’s uncle, the
priest, who came with him from Ireland, he married them right in
the hospital. A few weeks afterwards they had a party, you know a
big reception for family and friends. Nonna, he don’t let me cook,
but the caterer was good. I baked the cake. Three tiers. One
chocolate, one vanilla, and one cinnamon swirl. All buttercream, I
make it so nice, you know. With yellow and white roses. Your mama’s
favorite.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. I looked at my
parents wedding photo almost every day. I had it in my room. How
could I have never put it together that I was born already? I took
the frame down and looked at it.

“
Si
, that is a nice one.
Bellisima
. But look here. I carry this one always.” Nonna
took a folded piece of paper from her pocket and opened it to
reveal a small photograph.

It was my mother in her wedding gown standing
next to my father, handsome in his tuxedo. She was smiling and
holding a tiny pink faced baby wrapped in a fluffy white blanket.
It was me.
I touched the photo with a shaking hand and Nonna
pressed it into my palm.

“You keep it, Maria. I have it here.” She
tapped her forehead and stood up. She gave me a squeeze and I bent
and let her kiss my forehead.

“Bring down the tray later,
si
? I’m
going to watch my shows and maybe nap before dinner.
Ciao,
bella.
”

She left as quietly as she had come in
leaving my room with the faint smell of rosemary and basil. I
stared at the photograph of my parents holding me. I must have been
less than a month old. So tiny. I couldn’t believe how small. And I
was
pretty
.

My face was round and soft, not wrinkled and
squished looking like my cousins pics. I guess they got the better
end of it because they were both model gorgeous now, but
I
was a pretty baby. I smiled and let the tears flow.

My phone vibrated, shaking me from my
reverie. I gently placed the picture on my desk and looked at my
cell phone as it continued to buzz. It was Sebastian.
Oops.
I forgot to call him back. I wiped my eyes with a tissue and
answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, um, Grazi. It’s me, Sebby.”

“Yeah, hi. How are you feeling?”

“Um, I don’t know. Things got sort of weird
last night. I don’t really know what happened. I was wondering if
maybe I did or said something inappropriate to you? I can’t really
remember, you know, it’s all kind of foggy.”

“Well, you just didn’t seem yourself-”

“Yeah, I heard you helped with the sheriff
when he raided the party and you got him to take me home and talk
to my dad. How did you do that anyway?”

“Oh, it wasn’t really me. The uh, the bouncer
at the party insisted and then the cop knew your dad so I figured
you’d be okay. Are you? Okay, that is.”

“I don’t know, you know. It’s weird cause I
don’t drink or do drugs, but I swear this is what having a hangover
must feel like. I am like dying of thirst and my head is killing
me.”

“Jeez, I’m so sorry Sebby. Make sure you, uh,
stay hydrated. Maybe it was something you ate?”

“Nah, my
tia
thinks I was drugged,
like someone put something in my water bottle at the party. I had
some blood tests, but it’ll be a while before they come back.”

“I hope you feel better. I really do and I am
really, really sorry.”

“Nah, no worries. How could it be your fault?
Some jerk playing pranks is all. Thanks for talking to me though. I
was worried I did something, you know, to you.”

“It’s alright, I knew you weren’t yourself.
Um, are you up for visits?”

“No way, um, that is I think I’ll just rest,
but thanks.”

“Okay, goodbye.”

“Bye.”

I hung up feeling uneasy. He sounded off.
Could have been the after effects of the purging potion Sherry had
given him, but I didn’t think so. He sounded distant. Afraid even.
Maybe it was for the better.

A boy that beautiful didn’t deserve to get
mixed up in my crazy world. He should have a normal girlfriend, a
pretty one. Like Julianna. If only she would stop talking about
making out with Ronan. My Wolf growled at that and I agreed with
her. I wanted to rip my cousin’s face off when she talked about
that.
Hmm, pretty violent reaction for a friend.

I stood up and paced. Okay, I definitely
wasn’t tired. I had so much information swimming around my head
that I couldn’t make one single coherent thought. I knew what I
needed.

Thwack!
Cara came swinging at me full
force with the bamboo staff. She was like a whirlwind and had I not
been defending my life at the time I would have appreciated her
skill more.

Crack!
My own bamboo staff split in
the middle. Better it than my face, I thought as I backed up a few
steps. I mean hello! It’s not going to win me any prizes, but it’s
still my face!

I held the two shortened sticks, one in each
hand and I began my attack. Left, right, high, low.
Was she
kidding me! This was practice, not try and get Grazi some plastic
surgery before she turns sixteen. WTH!

I swung and swung and swung. All my
frustrations, all my recent revelations. Everything coming out with
each swing of my sticks.
Swoosh
,
swish
,
swoosh
. Faster and faster I advanced until Cara landed on
her butt. I put my foot on her chest and tossed her staff far off
to the side.

“Match.”

“Good work, Grazi.” Uncle Sean applauded as I
immediately backed off Cara. Just cause I got her down didn’t mean
she acknowledged the fight was over. I still held my sticks and
waited as she got up, picked up her staff and hung it back up on
the rack.

“Good work.” She said and walked away wiping
the sweat from her brow with a small towel.

Ronan watched from the sidelines and nodded
at her as she left the sparring room. He trotted over to me and I
handed him the two sticks.

“Well, they can be sanded and used as short
batons. What do you think, Sean?”

“Why not, then? Grazi, it’s about time you
start learning to fire a real weapon. I was going to take Ronan
over to the outdoor range tomorrow morning, what do you say?”

“Sure.” I had never fired a gun and admit to
never really wanting to. But hey, I’m a Werewolf. My friends were
being targeted by witches. I was having dreams about some poor boy
held prisoner and memories of my mom that I had buried. Things
change I guess. There was no place in my life for pacifism. Not
when there was a battle to prepare for and people I cared about to
keep safe.

I met Uncle Sean, Dimitri, Sascha and Ronan
after Mass on Sunday morning. Fr. Verrell spoke mass beautifully.
It hit me as I sat in church and stared at the beautiful stained
glass windows and the gold etched murals on the walls, I truly love
the Catholic faith.

Not the politics, but the religion itself,
the tradition, the wonderful stories, the mysteries and miracles.
It was a privilege and a miracle, I realized to have grown up with
these connections. Sure, it was hard for me to reconcile what I was
learning about the world,
my new world
, and the things I had
been taught as a child.

But still. That didn’t mean I couldn’t do it.
It certainly didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate a well-spoken homily
and the beautifully written scriptures that were part of today’s
readings. With the approach of Thanksgiving, Fr. Verrell liked to
remind us of the wonder of God’s creation and the duty of us all to
serve in the care of that creation. Beautiful really. I wondered
how he felt about guns.

I rode in the back seat of the large SUV with
Ronan and Uncle Sean to the gun range. It was about twenty minutes
away.
Go figure.
We were silent most of the way. I mean,
what could we talk about? Uncle Sean, Dimitri and Sascha were too
close for that. So, we just sat there.

The smells and sounds of the shooting range
were like nothing I had ever experienced. It was vast with both
inside and outside target stations set up. Quite a few people were
using the outdoor section of the range despite the cold
weather.

A lot of men, dads I guess, were teaching
their sons to shoot with rifles.
Hunters
. New Jersey often
sanctioned deer and bear hunts when the populations got too large.
I guess they were getting ready.

“Grazi, come here.” Uncle Sean called me
over. There were a variety of weapons in our outside stall. They
must have been expecting us. We didn’t register or anything. The
guy behind the counter simply nodded when we walked in.

My uncle handed me one of the guns. I’m not
sure which one. It was heavy and cool to the touch. He nodded at
me. After a few short instructions I lifted the weapon. I took a
breath, aimed and fired. The day passed far too quickly after
that.

We returned from the range late in the
afternoon. It had been cold, but the heat from the weapons and the
excitement of target practice kept me warm. The smell of gun
powder, which Dimitri told me was made up of mostly nitrocellulose
and diphenylamine and not actually cordite like I thought, was
fresh in my nostrils.

I wondered if regular humans smelled it this
strongly or if it was just me. All I knew was I desperately wanted
to wash the smoke smell from my hair and change my clothes.

“So what’d ya think?” Ronan asked when we got
home.

“Well, it didn’t suck.” He smiled and I
returned the gesture.

I had thought the entire way there that I was
going to be a terrible shot. I mean I
never
fired a weapon
before in my entire life. Turns out that, like with my newfound
prowess in Phys. Ed., I had great aim.