My Little Shadow: Chapter 2

Truth has a way of revealing itself

“Wendy, can I interrupt you for a moment?” Her questioning gaze met my confused one. “You told me your grandmother passed away when you were a baby, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.” She looked taken back at my question, but explained further. “My mother’s mother died when I was around eight months old. The only grandmother I knew was my father’s mother, and I am so glad I grew up next door to her. She is a blessing in my life, that’s for sure.”

The older woman sitting with Wendy sat up straight, shoulders back, chin raised indignantly. Wendy, alarmed by the change in the room’s energy, tried to find what was giving her the feeling of apprehension.

No, not HIS mother. Not Joseph’s mother. I am her father’s mother. Patrick’s mother. My name is Agnes Walsh. Eyes flashing, Wendy’s grandmother let me know what she thought of the man who’d raised her granddaughter. Joseph Byrne isn’t her father, he is her stepfather. Tell her to talk to her mother. She needs to ask Deirdre who Patrick Walsh was. Deirdre won’t lie to her. She is tired of lying and wants Wendy to know the truth. She settled herself back on the chair, taking Wendy’s hand in hers. Joseph is the one who doesn’t want Wendy to know the truth. He wants to bury my son forever and keep Wendy’s ancestry shrouded in lies. You can also tell Wendy her mother’s mother died from a massive heart attack a week after Deirdre and Joseph’s wedding. It was nice that she got to make it to one last family wedding.

I blew out a surprised breath. This wasn’t going to be an easy message to deliver. Wendy was close with her family, especially her father. She was definitely Daddy’s Little Princess. It took me a moment to gather my thoughts.

“Um… Wendy? I have someone here who says she’s your grandmother. She has a message for you.” Wendy’s eyebrows shot up at my words. “She’s on your right, sitting on the arm of the chair. Her hand is on top of yours.” She looked to her right, trying to get a sense of the spirit with her, before looking back to me expectantly. “Her name is Agnes Walsh, and she is your biological father’s mother. Patrick’s mother. Patrick died when you were three months old. Your mother met Joseph when you were seven months old, marrying him two months later.”

Wendy shook her head, unable to reconcile what I was telling her with what she’d been told her entire life.

“Joseph is your stepfather, not your father. Your mother cut your grandmother, Agnes, out of your life a month after her and Joseph got married. She cherished you and has missed out on so much.”

Wendy, visibly shaken by the message I delivered to her, put one hand to her throat, face pale as she processed the information she’d received. I sat back, arching an eyebrow at Agnes, and continued to deliver her messages to her granddaughter.

“Patrick Walsh was your biological father, Wendy, and you are Gwendolyn Walsh. Everyone has always called you Wendy. Agnes also wants me to tell you your mother’s mother was the one who died from a massive heart attack a week after your mother and Joseph’s wedding. She says it was nice that she got to make it to one last family wedding before she died.”

Agnes shot me a nod and a smile as she thanked me for passing her messages along to Wendy, who stared at me like I was a three-headed monster. Shaking her head, Wendy stayed true to the story she’d grown up with.

“No. No, that can’t be right. Agnes Walsh was my Aunt. My Grand-Aunt. She was my grandfather’s sister. I have a picture of her and I together when I was a baby, a month or so before she died. We were all dressed up for a family wedding.” Wendy smiled sadly through her confusion. “I always felt a loss when I looked at that picture. Never understood why.”

“Mom always said it was nice that Auntie Agnes got to make it to one last family wedding before she died.”

Wendy’s voice faded into disbelief. Her paraphrasing what I’d just told her from Agnes making her doubt her own words. I could have said it many different ways. Why did I phrase it the way her mother always had? There was no way I could have known what I did, for she never mentioned her Auntie Agnes in our sessions.

My derisive chuckle, shrug of my shoulders, and hands up in defeat made Wendy smile through the tears welling up in her eyes. She cocked her head, inviting whatever the rest of the message was.

“Wendy, I don’t know what to say. I know what I’m seeing, what she’s telling me and the things I just know are true. You know how spirit works. You may not get the message you want, but you always get the message you need. I think you should do as she suggests and ask your Mom.” She laughed at my words, wiping tears away and swearing softly as I described Agnes to her.

“The woman before me is beautiful. Elegant. Timeless. She very much resembles you. Her beautifully done up auburn hair is complimented by her deep grey eyes and a smile that lights up the room. She is wearing a long, seventies-style dress with a capelet around her shoulders.” I winked at Agnes. “We should all grow older as gracefully as she did.”

You flatter me, Sarah, but you’re right. Wendy does resemble me, and her father, quite a bit. She always looked like Patrick’s side of the family. Tell her the picture she’s been using as a bookmark is the one she should show her mother when she asks about Patrick and me.

Agnes showed me an image of the picture she spoke of. Faded with age, it depicted Agnes sitting on a bench holding a baby. They sat in front of a church, judging by the stained glass windows in the building behind them.

I bit my lip, my soft laugh breaking Wendy’s moment of contemplation.

“Agnes is saying to have another look at the picture you use as a bookmark. The one where she is holding you and sitting on the bench beside the statue of the Virgin Mary in the churchyard.” A belly laugh burst out of me at the look on Wendy’s face. My words must have struck a chord. “She’s wearing the same dress here, today. That picture is the one you need to take to show your Mom when you ask about Agnes Walsh and who her son Patrick was to you.”

I now repeated Agnes’ words to Wendy as she spoke them to me. “Agnes is telling me they took it outside the church your Mom and Dad (Joseph) were married in. It was just after the ceremony finished and a little over a month before they cut her out of your life.” I teared up, understanding how that situation would have broken a grandmother’s heart. “The three of you had a week or so at home before your parents left for their honeymoon in England. They picked you up from her house when they returned and systematically removed her from your life. She loved and supported your mother through losing Patrick and remarrying Joseph. Never had a negative thing to say as she moved on with her life. And they repaid her by taking you away from her.”

Head cocked to one side, I stopped to listen as Agnes filled in more blanks in Wendy’s story.

Bogey stretched as he left his comfy bed in the corner to sit beside Wendy, head resting on her knee, making ‘pet me’ eyes at her. He nudged her hand, which started absently scrubbing between his ears. Smiling down at him, she took a deep, cleansing breath, and waited for me to finish.

“Your Mom and Joseph keeping you from your grandmother left a hole in her heart that never healed. She tried talking to your Mom for months. It didn’t make any difference. She only stopped trying when Joseph threatened to move everyone so far away she’d never be able to see you again. At least with you here, in town, she could see you from afar every once in a while.”

Bogey’s contented groan made us laugh, prompting Wendy to coo at him. “You are such a little attention hog, aren’t you my big boy?”

“He is, Wendy. You’d think he never got any attention at all around here.” I shook my head, giggling. “Agnes is telling me she died when you were fourteen. A few weeks after she received her usual Christmas letter and pictures from your Mom.” I nodded at Agnes and finished relaying her words to her beloved granddaughter. “Your Mom is ready to tell you the truth now, Wendy. Agnes says Deirdre wants the lying to stop. She also wants to take you to visit your father and grandmother’s graves, but she’s afraid telling you all this now will make you hate her.”

Wendy’s eyes filled with tears, nervous fingers twisting the tissue in her hands into tight knot, loving up the dog forgotten. I placed my hand on top of hers, putting a momentary stop to the knotting she was doing.

“Agnes has stepped back, but she is still here. She is smiling as she says she will never leave you again.” I let my words sink in. “Do you have any questions you wish to ask her? I can help you talk to her, if you wish.” Raised eyebrows and a soft smile told her whichever she decided was fine by me. “Or we can move on with our session now, if you still want to finish it. I’ll understand if you need to cut it short. It’s been an emotional morning. The choice is yours.”

With a deep breath and nod of her head, Wendy left her grandmother to watch the rest of our session. Unable to process any more revelations, we continued on with our usual guided meditation before moving on to some pendulum work. I gave her two things to work on before Bogey and I walked her out to her car to say goodbye.

“I’m not sure what to do with the message you delivered this morning, Sarah. Kevin and I had a lot of heart-to-heart talks when I was down East, but we never touched on this. I’m going to think things through before I go to Mom about it.” She looked up at the bird’s nest in the tree beside the road. “I just… just don’t know what to make of it all.”

Agnes pursed her lips and shook her head before commenting.

Of course they didn’t touch on it. Kevin is her half-brother. He is Deirdre’s son with Joseph. She conceived him on her wedding night and he was born when Wendy was eighteen months old. Kevin wouldn’t know any different. What she has always been told of her family is true for him. She needs to go straight to Deirdre so Joseph doesn’t persuade her to keep the lies going. Wendy needs to see her mother alone, too. She won’t get the truth if anyone else is there.

Nodding in acknowledgement, I passed Agnes’ newest message and warnings onto Wendy. I made it as clear as I could that she wasn’t to involve Joseph in the conversation if she wanted the truth. He’d been the driving force behind the lies over the years and would stall the process.

Wendy appeared to understand the gravity of that, but mentioned she’d always been a Daddy’s girl, so leaving him out of something so monumental seemed wrong to her.

I reminded her I was always there for her, should she need me, and gave her a hug before waving her on her way.

Wendy left overwhelmed, but there was nothing I could do to help her with this now. To hear from a grandmother she didn’t know she’d lost, and to receive the messages from her that she did, was a lot to absorb. It had been a lot for me to take in, I could only imagine how she was feeling.

A shadow dashed across the front porch as I walked up the driveway, leaving a tight, fearful feeling in my chest. The shadow, size of a pre-teen child, felt female and left a negative energy behind it. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t like it.

The invasive, sneaky feeling it left in its wake told me I needed to figure out what it was, what it wanted and how to help it move along its journey.

A shudder rippled through my body as I crossed the porch and entered the house. My house felt different all of a sudden. As if there was an unwanted visitor waiting to see if I found them.

The situation made me uncomfortable. I didn’t like it when there were unwelcome spiritual visitors in my home and I intended to find out who they were.

I shook it off and headed into the kitchen to get lunch for Geordie and I underway.

To keep reading, check out chapter 3 here:

To start at the beginning, here’s My Little Shadow: Chapter 1: