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Category:
Fantasy
Publisher: Woofie
ISBN-10: 0985417072
Type: Fiction
Pages: 189
Copyright: November 6, 2012
ISBN-13: 9780985417079
Price: $2.50 (eBook)
Antonia is in love for the first time, but her time on Mount Olympus is drawing to a close. Can she live without the man she loves?
Antonia had a miserable life. As a child, she was rejected by her father, abused by her brothers, and sold to an abusive man whom she murdered on their wedding night. She was arrested and sent to Pello Island. Then Neptune blew that rocky island to smithereens, killing all its residents and prompting the Roman gods to give each of them a second chance. All but Antonia – they had forgotten her.
Seventeen hundred years following the destruction of Pello Island Antonia is still on Mount Olympus, but she has changed. She’s in love with Janus, a mortal who helps the gods settle the Pello Islanders in their new lives, and she doesn’t want to leave Olympus. She has no choice, however, for she was pregnant when the island exploded and that child is waiting to be born. Now the gods have found a body for her and her child, and she must go, leaving the only love she’s ever known to start a new life in eighteenth century Ireland.
In Ireland, Antonia finds friendship for the first time in the form of Maggie, a spunky woman who helps her with her newborn babe and introduces her to the joys of familial love. For a short time Antonia is happy, but there’s one thing missing from her new life – Janus. Is there a way to be with him in this new life or will she have to live without him forever?
Antonia Pello Island 3 is the heart-warming story of a woman who is transformed by love. Full of colorful characters and new locations, this third part of the Pello Island series will leave you wanting more.
Excerpt
Chapter 11
The nights spent at Maggie’s table worked their magic on Antonia. Even the children, Fiona and Meghan, who would have driven her crazy with their noise and questions at any other time in her life, didn’t seem to bother her at all. She would watch their father patiently teach them their letters, and Kevin’s calm demeanor always amazed her. This is what a father should be, she thought.
As the weeks went by, Antonia slowly began to open up to Maggie, deleting certain pertinent details, but still letting her know that until now, her life hadn’t been a pretty picture. Maggie would always listen with a sympathetic ear and would never make Antonia feel inferior in any way. As her time approached, Maggie assured her that there was nothing to worry about, that she’d delivered almost every baby in the village and hadn’t lost a soul yet.
Kevin cleaned up Meghan’s old cradle and Maggie knitted a new blanket for the wee one. Antonia hated the feel of straw under her back, so instead she lined the cradle with a down pillow one of the village women had given her. Maggie took it out and scolded her, saying the baby could smother if it sank too low in the pillow. Antonia felt foolish, but Maggie said it was a common mistake and not to fret. She found some soft felt at the bottom of her hope chest and fashioned a mattress for the cradle.
“There, he won’t die now,” Maggie proclaimed. She saw the sad look on Antonia’s face. “You’ll learn, lass, you’ll know all this stuff someday, just as if you was born to it.”
One night when the moon was full, Antonia woke and found her bed was soaking wet. She got out and went to the chamber pot, but before she could get there, a pain ripped across her abdomen. She screamed out so loud that she woke Maggie, and she in turn went to find Maura Flynn. Both women then hurried to the house at the end of the road.
Antonia was on the floor when they found her, her head full of sweat and her nightgown soaked through. Maggie changed the linens on the bed, but the straw underneath was still damp.
“We’ll have to put a blanket under her,” she said, and sent Maura to get one from her house. Maura, a stout gray-haired mother of six, ran as fast as her chubby legs could take her to Maggie’s house. Maggie turned to Antonia and sighed.
“What a mess you’ve gotten yourself into, aye? Come, we can fix it,” she said, and helped Antonia off the floor. Another pain crossed her abdomen and Antonia stood, with Maggie’s arm around her waist, until it passed.
“Do you have another gown?” she asked, and Antonia shook her head. “I should have told her to grab one of Kevin’s nightshirts.”
“I think there’s a nightshirt in there,” Antonia said, pointing to the old dresser in the corner of the bedroom. Maggie left her standing and opened each drawer. There were some old nightshirts, but they smelled so of mildew that Maggie slammed the drawer shut.
“No, I’ll have to go get you something. Let’s sit you in the kitchen for now.”
Maggie ran to her house and arrived just as Maura was bringing the blanket. She told her to hurry and get the bed ready, and Maura waddled to the bedroom. When Maggie returned, nightshirt in hand, she helped Antonia change.
“There, that’s better for you,” she said, and Antonia smiled up at her gratefully. “Let’s get you into bed.”
Maura had just settled the blanket when Maggie brought Antonia into the bedroom. She lay down and Maggie put the down pillow under her head.
“It may be a while,” she said. “This is your first, after all.”
“Aye, but it might just pop out,” said Maura hopefully, for she didn’t fancy spending the whole night away from her bed.
“Well, let’s agree on that, shall we?” Maggie said, and went to the kitchen to brew some tea. Maura followed her and sat at the kitchen table.
“Where do you think her husband is?” she asked Maggie.
“I’ve never asked and she’s never said.”
“But a woman, alone like that, and no man, it makes you wonder.” Maura pursed her lips.
“It’s best not to talk about others, Maura, for it may come back to bite you.”
“But Maggie,” Maura lowered her voice to a whisper, “a bastard child in the village.”
“We’ll have none of that talk,” Maggie said quietly. “As far as we’re concerned, the babe’s da died and she came to her uncle’s house to raise him. There’s nothing else need be said.”
“Do you believe that?”
“What I believe makes no never mind. You listen to me, Maura Flynn,” Maggie bent down over her, “she may have been taken against her will, do you understand, and pregnant through no fault of her own. I’ll not have you spreading vicious lies about her, do you hear me? If I hear anyone saying a word against her, I’ll tell how you nicked Katie Kiernan’s pie at the church Christmas dinner.”
Maura’s eyes opened wide and her head went down.
“You didn’t think I saw, did you? Now, there’s no reason to fret, darlin’, just remember to keep good thoughts about our Antonia, right?”
Maura shyly nodded her head, and as the kettle boiled, she walked back into Antonia’s room at Maggie’s behest and took a kitchen chair with her. Maura was a good old soul, but she feared God’s wrath and hoped that Antonia had come by the baby legitimately. If not, lightning might strike this house tonight, dragging them all to hell.
Maggie brought two cups of tea to the room and then retrieved another chair. She offered Antonia the tea and she shook her head.
“Can I get you anything at all?” Maggie asked.
“No, me stomach is all jumbled,” Antonia replied.
“Well, we may be here a while, so relax as best you can,” Maggie said, trying to sound optimistic.
“But it may just pop out,” Maura said.
The child was born just before dawn. Maggie held it up for Antonia to see, and when she saw his small manhood, she began to cry.
“Now, you stop that, do you hear me?” Maggie yelled. “You’ll not be cursing this wee babe with your foolishness. He’s a fine, healthy boy, and you’ve no right to act this way. Now, wipe the tears and hold your son.”
Maggie laid the baby on Antonia’s chest. Antonia looked down at his sweet face and fell in love. She’d never seen a baby so beautiful. His face was smooth as silk, and his cheeks were rosy.
“He’s beautiful,” she said. Maggie smiled and glanced at Maura, who was looking to the heavens.
“You waitin’ on the lightning, Maura?” she said, and Maura stopped. “He’s a fine young man, he is. What’s his name, Antonia?”
“I don’t know any Irish names.”
“But you come from Dublin,” Maura said.
“As I was saying to Katie Kiernan the other day, if I had a son, I’d name him Brian,” Maggie said, and Maura pursed her lips again.
“I like the name, it suits him,” Antonia said. “Brian O’Grady.”
Maggie flinched at the sound of the surname. The memories of Baylor O’Grady raiding the village were still too real, and she didn’t like the thought of this small boy bearing that legacy.
“Are you sure you want to name him O’Grady? Was his da an O’Grady, too?”
Antonia wavered, not sure how to answer. “It’s me family name.”
“Ah, that’s right. It’s just that the name O’Grady brings to mind Baylor O’Grady, and folks around here have long memories. If his da is gone, you could name him anything you like.”
“That’s not true, Maggie,” Maura said.
Maggie pulled her aside and into the kitchen.
“Do you really want that wee babe associated with that evil name?”
“Well, no, but isn’t it the law?”
“I don’t care about the law, Maura, I care about the boy. He deserves a chance at a good life. Now hold your tongue or I’ll take it out of your mouth!”
Maura put her hand to her mouth and followed Maggie as she went back to Antonia.
“What name should I give him then?” Antonia asked.
Maggie thought hard for a few minutes.
“Why don’t we name him after the village? Brian Donagh?”
Antonia smiled and nodded her head. Maura looked to the heavens.
“When the new priest gets here, we’ll set a christening date,” Maggie said, and Maura’s eyes grew round. Maggie once again dragged the older woman to the kitchen.
“What, Maura?”
“Can he be christened? We don’t know if his da was a Catholic.”
“I’m going to tell you something right now, Maggie Flynn. Jesus doesn’t care if his da was Catholic or not. He just wants the wee one protected and loved, do you hear me?”
“You blaspheme, Maggie O’Connell. I’ll not hear another word.”
As Maura was leaving the house, Maggie yelled across the room.
“I’ll let Katie Kiernan know how much you loved that pie, Maura.”
Maura stopped and stood as if trying to decide what to do. She turned and said, “And you’re a blackmailer to boot.” Then she slammed the door.
Maggie laughed and walked back to Antonia, who had fallen asleep with Brian in her arms. Maggie gently picked him up and laid him in his cradle. The dawn was breaking over the eastern hill, and Maggie was suddenly very tired. She touched Brian’s forehead with her finger.
“I bless you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, Brian Donagh, and let no man say otherwise. Amen.”
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