"So Ciaran loved your mum and then killed her, and Ciaran loved you and tried to kill you, and then you bound him and had his powers stripped." Moira shook her head. "And this is my family," she murmured. "This is who you are-who I am."
Morgan jumped up and went to Moira, gripping her shoulders firmly and looking deep into her eyes. "There's more to your family than that," she said. "Maeve was a good, strong witch. She didn't know Ciaran was married when she got involved with him. She loved me so much, she gave me away rather than see harm come to me. You have your gran and Poppy and Nana. You had your dad. I loved your dad, and he loved me, and it was good. Good and safe and true."
"Gran-did you know all this, all about Mum's past?" Moira's voice trembled.
Katrina nodded evenly. "As Killian said, it isn't Morgan's fault who her parents were and what they did. Morgan is a good witch and a good person. The best daughter-in-law one could hope for. One's heritage is important, but one's own choices are more so. Morgan's got nothing to be ashamed of, and neither have you."
Moira just sat and stared at Morgan. "If you've got nothing to be ashamed of," she said, "why haven't you told me any of this? Why am I finding out about it from strangers in tea shops? How could you have lied to me all this time? What's next?" She looked away. "I don't know who you are anymore," she told Morgan, and Morgan felt tears come to her eyes. "I–I need some air." She strode to the front door and pulled it open, pushing through it into the night outside.
"Moira, wait!" Morgan cried, immediately heading after her.
Katrina stopped her, holding her by the shoulders, as Morgan had just held Moira. Morgan started crying, hanging her head. "I'll go after her," Katrina said. "You're both too upset. You stay here. We'll be back soon." She moved toward the door, her arthritis making her limp slightly.
"No, she's my daughter. I need to go," Morgan insisted.
Katrina fixed Morgan with a calm, steady gaze. "If you want what's best for her, you'll let me go," she said. "Moira needs a bit of space right now if she's going to come back to you. Do you understand?"
It went against her every instinct not to go after Moira herself, but Katrina was right-Moira didn't want to see her right now, and if Morgan chased her, Moira would keep running. There was too much danger out there now, danger Morgan didn't yet understand. Moira trusted her grand-mother, and Morgan would have to do the same. "Just… keep her safe," Morgan told Katrina.
Katrina nodded and headed out.
When the door closed behind her, Morgan sat down weakly. She wiped a napkin across her eyes, then dropped her head into her hands. "How many stupid mistakes can I make with her?"
"Quite a few, I should imagine," Killian said, not unkindly. "You'll see… things will be all right in the end."
If only things were that easy, Morgan thought dully.
9. Moira
Once outside, Moira stared around blankly, realizing there wasn't really anywhere to go. She had no car, and Vita and Tess both lived a good distance away.
The front door opened, and Gran came out. She walked over to Moira, limping slightly, and Moira realized that her grandmother was getting older. In fact, she'd seemed a lot older since Dad had died.
"Come sit here with me," Katrina said, patting the small iron bench that stood next to the front gate. Moira paused, then sat. Everything was wet out here from the rain, but neither of them said anything about their pants getting soaked.
"Did Dad know?" Moira asked. "About… about Mum's family?"
Gran smiled at her kindly. "Yes, your dad knew," she said. "He loved Morgan for who she is, not for who her people were. Tell me… what would you think of someone who married a man just because his family was rich and powerful and she was poor? She didn't love him, she just loved who his people were, what he had." "I'd think she was awful," Moira said, frowning.
"What about the opposite, to not marry someone just because their people weren't who you wanted them to be? To think that someone's family is beneath them, not good enough?"
Moira sighed. "That's not good either, I guess."
"Morgan is Morgan," her gran said. "We searched her out years ago because she was Maeve's daughter, a Riordan, and we hoped she'd have the Riordan powers. But if she hadn't been a good person, we never would have invited her to help us rebuild Belwicket, no matter how powerful she was."
"But she's been lying to me all these years," Moira said, her feelings still raw and hurt. "Or at least not bothering to tell me the truth."
"You don't have to know every detail of your mother's past," Gran said reasonably. "No child does. It's your mother's job to love you and try to do the best she can to bring you up well. She isn't obligated to tell you every secret and make sure it's fine with you. All she can do is her best. If she makes mistakes, well, everyone does."
"But not everyone has Ciaran MacEwan for a father," Moira cried. "He's my grandfather! How am I supposed to live with that? What will people think about me when they find out?" A terrible thought occurred to her. "Oh, Goddess-tell me no one else knows about this. Does anyone in the village know?"
"Some of the coven. I'm sure others as well," Katrina said gently.
Moira moaned and put her face in her hands. "I'm Ciaran's granddaughter. I have his blood. What does that mean?" "It means you face choices every day, like everyone else," Katrina said. "You will have to choose goodness over and over again your whole life. And you'd have to do that even if all your relatives were saints who had led blameless lives."
"When you first met Mum, did you know who she was?"
"Yes, of course. I sought her out, remember? When I found out a child of Maeve's existed, I learned all I could about her. I knew about Ciaran and everything else. When I met Morgan, I knew she was for Belwicket."
"You didn't mind her marrying Dad?"
"Heavens, no." Katrina paused for a moment, thinking. "I was thankful when she agreed to marry Colm, grateful that she would stay among us and help bring Belwicket back up to speed. I was grateful I was able to help her."
"Help her?" Moira looked at her gran. "How did you help her?"
"Your mum went through a bad time," Gran said, weighing her words carefully. "A friend of hers had died in an accident, and she was very, very upset. She'd already done so much to invigorate Belwicket. I knew that with her strength and positive energy, our coven could be strong once again. We could triumph over those who'd tried to destroy us. We needed Morgan, and she helped us." Gran paused and looked down. "So when I could help her, I was happy to smooth her troubles away," she said softly. "To help her adjust to her new life."
Something feels off. Gran's uncomfortable. Moira'd had no idea that her mum had ever gone through a "bad time" and that she'd had troubles. "What kind of troubles?" she asked, intrigued. "How could you smooth them away?"
Katrina frowned, as though she regretted saying anything. "Sadness. Troubles from her life before. We all loved her so much and wanted her to be able to heal. Our love did a lot to smooth the way for her here." She stood up, slowly straightening. "The important thing is not to judge your mother, love. Try not to judge anyone. You can never know what causes another person to act, can never tell how true their motivations are. Now, I'm going in to help your mum get dinner together. Looks like Killian will be staying for it. You come in when you're ready, but don't stay out too long-your mother is quite worried about you. All right?"
"All right." Moira sat on the wet bench for a minute after her grandmother had gone inside. She couldn't shake the feeling that Gran had been keeping something back, something major. Had Mum had a nervous breakdown? Had she been in trouble with the police? Moira couldn't believe that. Had it had something to do with Ciaran? Who was the friend who'd died? She had so many questions and no answers.