“Of course,” Beatrice continued before Jasmine could make sense of her words, “If it does not take with you, then it will fall to your future daughter. But I feel that it will take with you. You, Jasmine Lea, are meant to break the curse.”
Curse? She stared at her grandmother on the screen, confused. Her father said her grandmother’s brain had addled and that was why he moved her and his sons to the United States. Was this what he was talking about?
Beatrice picked up a glass and took a drink before looking back into the camera. “Child, I donn’a have much time left in this life. Ye are the next one to try. And hopefully succeed. Do ye remember all the songs I taught ye as a wee one? In Gaelic?” she pressed.
Gasping, Jasmine sat up straight as a memory came back to her of the one song she remembered. Her grandmother had taught her many, but this one particularly had suited her fancy and she had repeated it in her head so many times that it could never be forgotten.
“Only one,” she whispered as if her grandmother was actually seated in front of her.