The Blue Seal of Trinity Cove by Linda Maree Malcolm Page B

of memories came rushing into her mind and she reached for the chair to steady herself. She had suddenly remembered that this was indeed her home and this man was her father. She looked about the shack and swooned, but he tenderly took her by her arms.
    â€œVeronica – Veronica,” he said and then clapped his hand to his mouth. “Oh sweet Jesus, Mary, Mother of Christ, my prayers have been answered. It is you; I would recognise those eyes of my wife’s anywhere.” And then before Wanda had a chance to say anything else she was swept up into his arms and twirled around the room until she thought her mind might burst.
    â€œOh my girl, my girl, I cannot believe it. That you have even come back to me … but where have you been my lass?” He suddenly stopped spinning her and gingerly touched her matted hair with a questioning look in his eyes. He sat her at the table again with a look of concern on his face. “And who were those men who were chasing you?” He knelt down beside her and put his face into his hands again. “I dread to think, actually. I dread to know who they were and why they were chasing you like that – oh my goodness.” He stared at her with his hand over his mouth in horror and waited for her reply. Wanda felt happy for him that he was happy to see her and that the puzzle of her white skin was finally solved but because she already considered the native people her family, her feeling at being reunited with her father was comforting yet also strange.
    Still, he was expecting a reply and so in her own language she described going to the gorge and becoming a part of a new family. She left out the part of the Shaman’s magic turning them into shapeshifters because she still wasn’t sure she could trust this man. He was a white man after all. As she continued on through her story she noticed the look of rapture on the man’s face turn to a look of disbelief. She also recognised that he probably did not understand one word of what she was saying.
    â€œNever mind; never mind lass,” he said, smiling again. “There’s plenty of time for all of that,” and he held her two hands together inside his two, still shaking his head in disbelief. “The main thing is that you’re home, lass. After all these years. And –” he continued after going to a dresser drawer and taking out a pencil and paper, “never mind about the language thing because I’ll teach you how to speak my language and you can teach me how to speak your language.” He took the pencil and wrote his name. “Madden, lass,” he said and held his hand to his heart, “that’s me. Now you say it.”
    â€œMad – den,” she repeated.
    â€œYes, that’s right but I suppose you’ll call me Da,” and again he squeezed her hand, his eyes shining with new tears.
    â€œNow, what will I call you?” he asked. He took the paper and wrote her Christian name. “Ver-on-ic-a,” he said, breaking it down so that she could understand.
    â€œVer-on-ic-a,” she repeated and they both smiled to hear her say it.
    â€œWanda,” she said, in her own language, holding her hand to her heart.
    â€œWanda,” he repeated. “Yes, well, I’ll try to remember it. And now tell me where you’ve been all these years; draw it,” he picked up the photo and pointing to it and then to her he used his hands to ask the question. He handed her the paper and pencil. Wanda started to draw the gorge with its towering gums and rushing waterfall and rocky gully but all of a sudden, a chorus of barking and growling and scampering of paws on the wooden porch broke the peace and quiet of the shack. They looked at each other. There was no doubt; the men were back.

Chapter 11
Where is Home?
    â€œT hey’ll be some distance away yet lass, so don’t worry none,” her father said to comfort her and he stroked