Page 12 of The Healer

“Ilona, please come into the dining room,” Gran called.

After dabbing her cheeks with the cloth, Ilona draped it over the sink and peeked into the dining room. On the table sat a black box with antique brass butterfly brackets in detailed filigree. In the diminishing light, the polished black wood shimmered.

“What’s this?” She ran a finger along the smooth wood.

“A box.” Gran’s lips twisted before she chuckled. “Made in African Blackwood and was a gift from your grandfather.”

“Gramps gave you this?” She furrowed her brow in confusion. Gramps wasn’t a sentimental man, and this little chest looked like it would hold something precious.

“No, not your gramps, your biological grandfather.”

Ice drenched Ilona’s scalp, spreading tingles down to her toes. “What?”

“Before I met Henry, I fell in love.”

She clasped her hands over her ears. “Oh, no, you don’t.”

“I was young and stupid. I didn’t know I was pregnant when I left him. Henry loved Elise as if she was his own.”

Ilona blinked, ice and fire taking turns to rack her body. Her heart thumped so hard it vibrated in her chest, fluttering butterflies in the pit of her stomach. “Did…Mom know?”

Gran stiffened, her fingers twitching where they rested on the dining room table. “No, I never told her.”

“Then why tell me?” Ilona thumped her chest, finding comfort in the familiar ache her fist inflicted. “Why now?”

“His name is Amos Denton. I need you to take this box to him and—”

“Introduce myself to an absolute stranger?” Ilona shook her head, sending her gold earrings swirling. “Hi, I’m your granddaughter. Oh, you want evidence? Here are my DNA test results.”

“Don’t get sassy with me, Ilona Strickland.”

“You can’t just spring this on me, Gran. Now? After everything?” She slumped into a chair, holding a palm to her cheek. Her wound itched around the dissolvable stitches, which was a good sign, and touching it soothed the urge to scratch.

“You need time away from all this.” Gran swirled a finger, indicating the house. “I’m locking this up. You can deal with it when you’re ready. Go to Coedwig, deliver this to Amos, and stay there for a while. Take a break, a vacation. Do it for me, sweet pea.”

Time away did sound blissful, and with nothing to do but sleep, Ilona couldn’t think of something she wanted more. Her body, mind, and soul held no more life and purpose. She was lost and exhausted. Time alone where no one knew her, knew about her parents…

More than this, a trip would delay the Great Cleanse she dreaded. This house was hers now, as well as the fortune her parents had left her. She didn’t need to sort through their things anytime soon.

She rolled her stiff shoulders, trying to ease the tension. “I’ll clear out the perishables.”

Gran beamed, darting around the table to crush her in a tight embrace. “You’ll love it there.”

She returned the hug, inhaling Gran’s sweet lavender fragrance that she hadn’t changed since Ilona was a little girl. “Why don’t you come with? Speak to Amos yourself?”

“Hell, no.” Gran shuddered. “These bones can’t handle the cold.”

“Cold?” Ilona smiled. “As in snow-covered hills and pine trees?”

“Icy winds slipping through gaps in your clothing, sludge underfoot, flurries and snowflakes stinging your cheeks? Yes, that cold.”

“Where is Coedwig?” Ilona had never heard of it. Fenneg’s warm clime and mild winters with not a snowflake in sight confirmed Coedwig was nowhere near this city.

“It’s a fourteen-hour drive east. Take a flight to Inner City, then rent a car and head north for a few hours.”

“Whoa. When were you east?”

Gran tried to shrug away the question, but Ilona maintained eye contact. “The Devereauxs are from Inner City or thereabouts.”

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