Cienna's Amulet, A Christmas Romance (Raymara Barwil Romance) by Raymara Barwil Read Free Book Online
Authors: Raymara Barwil
CIENNA’S AMULET
A Christmas Romance
Chapter One
“Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus...”
Cienna groaned, grabbed her phone from under her pillow and pressed the button to dismiss the alarm. She remembered last year’s New Years’ Eve when she had excitedly set the alarm in advance for this Christmas Day. Damawyn had watched her, laughing at her granddaughter’s enthusiasm.
“Cienna, you’re twenty-five and you still love Christmas like when you were a little girl,” she had said, before grabbing Cienna’s hand an d giving it an impulsive kiss.
“Damawyn, you gotta plan ahead,” Cienna had said, tossing back her black curls and laughing along with her Damawyn.
As Cienna recalled those words, she saw how naive she had been. You could plan ahead but the universe had its own plans. In the springtime, her beloved Damawyn had suddenly passed away, a few weeks after suffering a heart attack during her daily walk in the park. It had been a shock to Cienna who had lived alone with her grandmother since she was a year old. Her mother had died soon after her birth and her father, Damawyn’s son, had been heartbroken and left Cienna with his mother before disappearing into the night, never to be seen again.
Every year on Cienna’s birthday, they would receive a card with a Spanish postmark and the simple message, “My heart still burns for you, darling daughter.” Damawyn assumed that her son was somewhere in Spain, where the family had originated before moving to the United Kingdom in the early nineteenth century. They still had family there, although none of them had seen her son Joseph.
As she got older, Cienna grew more and more angry at her father for abandoning her and she refused to open or allow Damawyn to open the envelopes. The anger was always bubbling away deep inside her and would sometimes spill to the surface when she would explode into wild anger at the slightest provocation. She was a fiery girl and her Damawyn had been the only one who knew how to calm or prevent her outbursts of temper.
Cienna now lived all alone in her grandmother’s two bedroomed house, in a small town in Cornwall where her grandmother’s family had settled when they arrived in England. Damawyn’s cousins had moved to other areas in England and Europe until she was the only one left. She had been an only child. Cienna had become her only family; they were everything to each other. Now it was Christmas Day, Cienna felt lost.
How do I do this without you, Damawyn?
Tears welled in Cienna’s steel grey eyes, as she stared up at the ceiling. She then became angry at herself for being weak, wiped her eyes and jumped out of bed. Sh e would get through the morning; there was no point wallowing in grief. Besides, the girls were coming later to take her to lunch. As she headed to the bathroom, she suddenly remembered the package that Damawyn had told her about, as she lay close to death in the hospital.
“Cienna, darling, I already wrapped your Christmas present,” she had whispered, “If I’m...not around, please look in the top drawer of my dressing table. You’ll find it there.”
Cienna had told her grandmother not to be silly, that she would be there to give it to her.
I was wrong Damawyn; you must have known you were about to leave me.
Cienna turned to the door across the hall. Damawyn’s room. She had avoided going in there after the funeral, although she knew she would have to deal with any paperwork at some point. It was just so painful.
She gasped as she opened the door. The room still smelled of Damawyn’s favourite perfume. The curtains were closed; Cienna opened them quickly and waved away the dust that fell from them. She pulled out the old fashioned quilted stool, sat down and pulled open the draw with trembling hands. Amidst a few lipstick tubes and powder puffs was a small shiny gold package, decorated with a silver stick-on bow. Cienna carefully
A Christmas Romance
Chapter One
“Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus...”
Cienna groaned, grabbed her phone from under her pillow and pressed the button to dismiss the alarm. She remembered last year’s New Years’ Eve when she had excitedly set the alarm in advance for this Christmas Day. Damawyn had watched her, laughing at her granddaughter’s enthusiasm.
“Cienna, you’re twenty-five and you still love Christmas like when you were a little girl,” she had said, before grabbing Cienna’s hand an d giving it an impulsive kiss.
“Damawyn, you gotta plan ahead,” Cienna had said, tossing back her black curls and laughing along with her Damawyn.
As Cienna recalled those words, she saw how naive she had been. You could plan ahead but the universe had its own plans. In the springtime, her beloved Damawyn had suddenly passed away, a few weeks after suffering a heart attack during her daily walk in the park. It had been a shock to Cienna who had lived alone with her grandmother since she was a year old. Her mother had died soon after her birth and her father, Damawyn’s son, had been heartbroken and left Cienna with his mother before disappearing into the night, never to be seen again.
Every year on Cienna’s birthday, they would receive a card with a Spanish postmark and the simple message, “My heart still burns for you, darling daughter.” Damawyn assumed that her son was somewhere in Spain, where the family had originated before moving to the United Kingdom in the early nineteenth century. They still had family there, although none of them had seen her son Joseph.
As she got older, Cienna grew more and more angry at her father for abandoning her and she refused to open or allow Damawyn to open the envelopes. The anger was always bubbling away deep inside her and would sometimes spill to the surface when she would explode into wild anger at the slightest provocation. She was a fiery girl and her Damawyn had been the only one who knew how to calm or prevent her outbursts of temper.
Cienna now lived all alone in her grandmother’s two bedroomed house, in a small town in Cornwall where her grandmother’s family had settled when they arrived in England. Damawyn’s cousins had moved to other areas in England and Europe until she was the only one left. She had been an only child. Cienna had become her only family; they were everything to each other. Now it was Christmas Day, Cienna felt lost.
How do I do this without you, Damawyn?
Tears welled in Cienna’s steel grey eyes, as she stared up at the ceiling. She then became angry at herself for being weak, wiped her eyes and jumped out of bed. Sh e would get through the morning; there was no point wallowing in grief. Besides, the girls were coming later to take her to lunch. As she headed to the bathroom, she suddenly remembered the package that Damawyn had told her about, as she lay close to death in the hospital.
“Cienna, darling, I already wrapped your Christmas present,” she had whispered, “If I’m...not around, please look in the top drawer of my dressing table. You’ll find it there.”
Cienna had told her grandmother not to be silly, that she would be there to give it to her.
I was wrong Damawyn; you must have known you were about to leave me.
Cienna turned to the door across the hall. Damawyn’s room. She had avoided going in there after the funeral, although she knew she would have to deal with any paperwork at some point. It was just so painful.
She gasped as she opened the door. The room still smelled of Damawyn’s favourite perfume. The curtains were closed; Cienna opened them quickly and waved away the dust that fell from them. She pulled out the old fashioned quilted stool, sat down and pulled open the draw with trembling hands. Amidst a few lipstick tubes and powder puffs was a small shiny gold package, decorated with a silver stick-on bow. Cienna carefully
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