Emily's House: Book 1 of the Akasha Chronicles

Chapter 23: Liam Searches for Clues

Chapter 23: Liam Searches for Clues

 Three notes. Three different handwriting styles. All pretty much saying the same thing. None said where the kids were going.

All three mentioned an urgent ‘mission’. What kind of mission could three fourteen-year-old kids from the Midwest be on?

Liam thought that if any of them would leave a clue it would be Jake. Liam observed the neat handwriting of Jake’s note.

‘I’m sorry Mom. I know this puts you in a bind. But I’ve got to go help Emily with her mission. I’m sorry for the trouble this is going to cause you, but it’s for the greater good. I know that when I return you’ll understand.’

 

So it’s Emily’s mission. What mission could Emily have (besides running away from Muriel)?

Next Liam looked at Fanny’s note. Sloppy handwriting. Poor grammar and incomplete sentences. She better hope for a sports scholarship.

‘Don’t worry mom and dad. Don’t send my brothers after me. Not running away. Em needs me for urgent mission. She’s my best friend. Know you’d do the same for a friend. Please forgive me and I know you’re going to ground me for life when I get home.’

 

Again with the “urgent mission.” And Emily needs her. It’s Emily’s deal, and they’re just along for the ride. But what could Emily possibly have going on?

Liam read over Emily’s note again. He hadn’t turned it over before, but for some reason, he did then. In even sloppier writing, she wrote more on the back.

‘Dad, I miss you so much.’

 

Miss me? She just left. As Liam thought about it more, he realized what she meant. Oh, she means she had been missing me, even before she left. Tears welled in Liam’s eyes and he didn’t will them not to fall.

‘If I told you where I was going and why I was going, you wouldn’t believe me. Something amazing has happened. I know you wouldn’t understand. The ancient blood that runs in my veins is calling me home. Please don’t come looking for me. I love you dad.’

Liam read the backside of the note over and over. There had to be a clue in there somewhere, but all he could see was a runaway note from his missing daughter. Guilt and shame threatened to blind him until he could see nothing else.

Liam dragged himself to the kitchen and rifled through the high cupboard above the refrigerator that only his 6’3” frame could reach. Liam hadn’t had a drink in years, but it seemed to him the right time for a stiff one. He retrieved a bottle of scotch and poured himself a shot.

He swallowed the amber juice down in one gulp. The fire liquid set his innards ablaze but did nothing to clear his mind. He sat with his head in his hands, waiting for something to click. As he sat and contemplated how drinking shots of scotch wasn’t going to help clear the thick fog in his brain, the words from the note suddenly shouted at him. ‘The ancient blood that runs in my veins is calling me home.’

In a flash he was sober and alert like he hadn’t been in years. There was a clue in that phrase. It was a big clue that Emily didn’t know she had given. She didn’t know she had left a clue because she didn’t know what he knew.

Liam ran to the attic, taking the steps by two. In the far corner, covered in dust and cobwebs, was a special box. He had hidden it under clothes and other junk. He’d hidden it from Muriel and from Emily too.

It was the box of Bridget. His own box. He hadn’t touched any of the things in over seven years. Liam’s hands shook as he took the little box from under the pile of stuff and wiped off the years of dust. It was only a mundane shoebox. It didn’t look like anything noteworthy would be inside, but the dusty, ratty box contained the contents of his heart.

When Emily spoke of her ancient blood, Liam knew that she was talking about Bridget’s side of the family. It was a lineage filled with Irish blood. Bridget had once shown him a family history, actually drawn out by her like a tree. She’d kept it in the box that Liam held in his hands.

He gently took off the lid. On top were letters Liam had sent Bridget when they were in college at two different universities. He couldn’t believe she had kept them all those years. She’d also kept pictures Emily had drawn for her while in preschool. There were crayon drawings of houses and flowers. The bright colors mimicked the paintings that Bridget had made. He sifted through concert ticket stubs and more letters and cards. It was strange to see someone’s memories of their life, now over, laid in a box that way. Bridget’s memories laid to rest in a shoebox coffin.

There were sketches she had done of orchids and other flowers. Finally Liam found what he’d been looking for. On the bottom was a small black notebook. He pulled the notebook out and laid the shoebox to the side. He opened the cover and only a few pages in he found the sketch of a family tree. Bridget’s family tree. It was a complex and convoluted drawing with lines going here and there and everywhere and notes in the margins. She had spent hours tracing her family history. Bridget had her mother’s side back to the 1500’s. And then there it was. Ireland.

As soon as he saw the word, scribbled in large letters in black ink, he knew it was where Emily had gone. Had she received contact from someone in Ireland and felt she had to go. But who? Liam looked at the names of ancestors long dead. Unless a ghost had haunted her, he had no idea who could have contacted her. But he knew he had to get on a plane and go to Ireland.

He didn’t know what he would do when he got there or where he would go. He knew only the single-minded thought to get on a plane and fly to Ireland. He knew only the need to search for his only daughter.

She’s got Bridget’s eyes.

Liam carefully put the cards, letters, ticket stubs and pictures back in the box and shoved it back under a pile of dusty clothes. He grabbed the little black notebook and as he stood up, a small sketch fell out of the notebook and landed on the floor. He picked it up and puzzled over it for a few minutes. It was an odd sketch of something that looked like a bracelet. Liam had never seen Bridget draw anything like it. She always drew and painted flowers and plants and trees. Her work was all about nature. Why did she draw this odd bracelet, all twisted and? Somehow it seemed to Liam that this drawing was related to Emily’s ‘mission’, but he didn’t know how or why he felt it.

As he looked at the sketch, fresh tears sprang to his eyes. It felt to Liam as though Bridget’s energy zoomed from the strange drawing and straight into him. Salty drops dripped from his eyes. Until that day, he hadn’t cried since the day she’d died.

“Bridget, I miss you so much. If only you were here, you’d know what to do. You’d know how to find our Emily. Let's face it, if you were here, she wouldn’t have run away, would she?

“Bridget, I don’t know if you can hear me. I don’t even know if I believe that you still exist. You know I’m not a spiritual man. I don’t know why I’m doing this.” Liam buried his head in his hands and let the long quashed tears flow in rivers down his cheeks.

“Bridget, if you can hear me – if you’re still there, somewhere, somehow – if you’re there, Bridge, our little girl needs you too. If you’re there, look over our Emily.”

After a few minutes, Liam wiped his tears and nose. He folded the little sketch and tucked it back into the notebook. He’d have time on the plane to puzzle over the drawing and the notebook, the only clues he had to find his daughter amongst the entire population of Earth.