Epilogue
Griffin pushed the wheelchair carrying his father into his grandfather’s study. It was time for everyone to come together and air out the tragic events or predictions chronicled in the Green Notebook.
Portraits of Griffin’s ancestors graced the wood-paneled wallsof the study. He parked his father in front of an oil painting of a red-haired woman surrounded by greenery.
“Do you remember her?” he asked the cadaverous figure whose limbs were twisted and bent.
His father grimaced, but his eyes lit in recognition and softened with an expression of devotion. “It’s my fairest Erin, the handmaiden of Ireland.”
“Ah yes, she was my mother,”Griffin said. He wheeled the chair to the desk where Clare sat in front of a leather-bound book.
She stood and greeted his father, who was cleared from murder charges concerning his mother when they discovered new evidence in one of the leather-bound books hidden in the underground bedchamber.
Griffin suppressed a growl when his father held onto Clare’s hand a little too long.
“Morrigan,” he hissed. “You beguiled my son, and he failed like I knew he would. Look at me, still withered and diseased. I told him to snuff out my life so I could come back hearty and hale, but no, he chickened out.”
“Father, you are remembering again,” Griffin said.
His gaze went blank, and he blinked. “Who are you? How dare you call me Father?”
Griffin’s grandfathertottered to their side, tapping his cane. “We are here to celebrate a new story by finishing an old one.”
“I don’t like story time,” Griffin’s father said. “You all think I’ve forgotten everything, but I was only pretending.”
“Oh?” Grandfather raised an eyebrow. “Then tell me, Son, what did you do with Erin’s bones?”
Goosebumps attacked Griffin’s exposed skin. He’d had suspicionsthat he never wanted to face.
“I killed your mom,” Griffin’s father said. “I thought she was my true love, but she would not give the Heart of Brigid to me like your Clare gave to you.”
“No, Father, you must face the truth,” Griffin said. “You loved my mother so much, you made up a story to condemn yourself. We brought you back from America to show you that you are not guilty.”
Grandfather opened the leather-bound book and put it on the table in front of the wheelchair. “Erin had her annals, too. You might have driven her to her death, but it was not by your hand.”
“I killed her. I did!” Griffin’s father wailed.
“You loved her so much, you couldn’t face what happened,” Clare said, rubbing his withered hands. “I read Erin’s annals. I know what shefelt and believed. She was sure she was cursed, but she was determined to try and bring your Brigid back.”
“Do we have to confront him like this?” Griffin asked. “We already fictionalized this tragic love story.”
“We must, out of respect,” Clare said. “If you want it in the movie, your father must consent.”
“My Erin would never kill herself,” Griffin’s father said.
“She did it because she loved you so much,” Clare said. “She did it to bring Brigid back. She wanted the story of the Heart of Brigid to be true. Don’t you see? She loved you so much. She never wanted you to blame yourself.”
Griffin’s father’s jaw trembled, and his bulging eyes locked onto Clare. “Are you daft, lass? If I hadn’t shown her the Green Notebook, she would not be that beautifulskeleton lying in a bedchamber for the last thirty odd years. You are the one who failed to bring her back to life.”
“You did everything you could have done,” Clare said. “You followed her instructions to the letter. Her bedchamber is exquisite. Her red wig is lustrous and fine. Her bones are sturdy and clean, and her teeth are polished white. She took her own life to fulfill your dream,and you spent the rest of your life taking the blame. You built her mausoleum to her specifications. Don’t you think it’s time to let the past go and celebrate the great love story you had?”
“It’s like that crazy O’Henry Gift of the Magi story,” Griffin’s grandfather said. “She sacrificed her life for your Heart of Brigid, and you pawned off the Heart of Brigid to construct her bedchambershrine.”
“You were supposed to kill me after you redeemed the Heart of Brigid.” Griffin’s father stabbed a bony finger at him.
“Wouldn’t you rather have a tragic love story instead?” Grandfather asked. “Clare dear has written a movie script and wants to memorialize your Gift of the Magi style love story. It will keep Erin’s great sacrifice alive as a work of true love.”
Griffin’sfather put his hands over his eyes and nodded. “Erin was a true believer in Brigid. Erin loved Ireland more than life itself. Erin wanted to make a new, green Ireland great again. Yes, yes, remember Erin, always.”
