It’s not my mother.
My mother’s not ill. I feel that, and I know it in my heart, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Because the first word on the list of anagrams for Darth Morgen is…
Grandmother.
Grandmother?
I wrinkle my forehead as I stare at the word.
I never knew my paternal grandmother. She died before I was born.
My maternal grandmother died when I was a little girl, but I do remember her. She had the worn and wrinkled face of a woman who was once a classic beauty before hardships had taken their toll. Diamond Lee Thornbush, who named her only daughter Ruby. My mother used to make fun of her mother’s—and her own—gemstone name, but I always thought they were pretty.
Grandma Didi—what Gina and I called her—used to read to us in that raspy voice of hers. It wasn’t until later that I learned her voice was the result of decades of smoking. She eventually quit, but the damage was done. She succumbed to lung cancer.
She gave me the pink silk scarf with the daisy pattern that I use to wrap my tarot deck. I glance at it on the side of the table. It helps me feel close to the feminine energy of my ancestors.
My ancestors on my mother’s side, that is. But my other grandmother? Daphne Steel?
I never knew her, so it’s impossible to feel any energy from her. Perhaps if I had more information about her, I could feel something, but my father doesn’t talk about her, and neither do my aunts and uncles. At least not to me.
Dale, Donny, and Henry were all alive when she died, and so was Brad, although he was only a few months old. None of them ever met Daphne Steel, though. She was in the hospital, a mental health facility. She had broken away from reality years before.
Again…that’s all I know. That’s all any of us know.
It’s odd, really. Mental illness. I’ve never understood it, which I suppose is a good thing. Like I said, my father doesn’t talk about it. None of them do, but it must’ve gone through their minds at some point. Might they inherit the mental illness from which their mother suffered?
None of them have, thank goodness. Perhaps what she suffered from wasn’t genetic.
I should ask Aunt Melanie. She’s a retired psychiatrist and therapist, but already I know she won’t go into any detail with me.
Daphne Steel is not someone our family talks about. Funny that it never occurred to me to wonder why.
She is my grandmother. She and Diamond Thornbush.
This message must be referring to one of them. Except that Brendan and his family got the same message.
An anvil settles in my gut.
This can’t possibly mean…
I shake my head vehemently.
No. No way. We’re not related to the Murphys. Not at all. The idea forces nausea up my throat. Brendan and I…
No.
Just no.
The message must have some different meaning. Or it refers to a person other than a grandmother.
I scan the list of words the anagram maker came up with, narrowing my eyes.
grandmother
arm thronged
armed throng
Darth monger
grander moth
grander Thom
mar thronged
marred thong
month regard
I stop. The list goes on for what seems like forever.
Most of the anagrams make no sense at all, but I can’t help a slight giggle at marred thong. Grander moth? No. Darth Monger? Possibly a Star Wars reference. I could ask Dave, but already I know I won’t.
It’s got to mean grandmother.
When I saw the word, a feeling of relief settled in me—a relief that my own mother isn’t ill. That was my fear—that Mom and Dad were acting strangely, keeping me at arm’s distance, because Mom’s breast cancer had recurred.
That fear dissipated instantly when I saw the word grandmother. My mom isn’t ill. This message refers to a grandmother, and not my mother.
My grandmother?
Or Brendan’s?
Or someone else’s?
I know for a fact that both my grandmothers are dead, so it can’t refer to my grandmother.
Or…perhaps is alive, as part of the message, is also part of the anagram.
I return to the anagram maker program and type in Darth Morgen is alive.
Again, hundreds of results.
The first is alderamin oversight.
I have no idea what alderamin means, and when I search the term, I find it’s the name of the brightest star in the constellation Cepheus and an anime series.
No. My gut again. It’s telling me that is alive means what it says. Darth Morgen is the puzzle…and I figured it out.
It’s grandmother.
But whose grandmother? Both of mine have been dead and buried for years. Decades, in the case of Daphne Steel.
What can it possibly mean?
And what does it mean in relationship to the tower card that I drew, which left me with goose bumps of fear dashing over me?
My mother isn’t ill.
My grandmothers are dead.
I assume Brendan’s are as well.
So what does this mean? And why did Brendan and his father get the same message?
I don’t know.
But with everything that’s going on? With my family keeping things from me and the rest of the cousins, and with the cards I’ve drawn…
I’m frightened.
Very, very frightened.
Chapter Two
Brendan
“I’d prefer to speak to you alone,” Ryan says.
“So would I,” Pat agrees.
“Fine. That gives you a minute and a half each.” I shrug. “Which one of you wants to go first?”
“Since you’re dating my daughter, I’m going first.” Ryan walks to the other side of the bar.
“You got a problem with that?” I say to Pat.
“I suppose not. Would it matter if I did?”
“I don’t fucking care what either of you has to talk to me about. Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute and a half.” I follow Ryan to where he has settled himself at a table near the pool tables in the back of the bar.
He sits, his hands clasped in front of him. I take the seat across from him, and he meets my gaze. His light-brown eyes seem troubled. I’ve seen the look. Every bartender has. Eyes slightly narrowed, a gaze that seems unfocused. It’s the classic look of someone who’s distressed about something. Could be anything. I’ve heard it all from across the bar. But Ryan Steel isn’t troubled because of a work conflict, a bill he can’t pay—he’s a Steel after all—or a doomed relationship.
“Spill it,” I say. “You’re down to a minute and fifteen seconds. And if this is about your mandate that I take you to my safe-deposit box in Grand Junction for those documents, it’s not happening. I don’t take orders from anyone. Not even Ryan Steel.”
In truth, the documents were in a safe at my parents’ house, but I brought them to my place after Thanksgiving dinner. I lied to Ryan yesterday, but he’s still not getting them. I expect an argument, especially since I laced the last part with sarcasm, so I brace myself.
“It’s not about that.”
No argument? Color me surprised.
“Good.” I check my watch. “A minute and ten seconds.”