The Last Killiney

by J. Jay Kamp

  * * *

  All too soon it was time to leave London. Everyone went to bed early that night. Paul went first. Along with Sarah, James was next; he and his workmen finished with hanging the portrait he’d sat to in Edinburgh, a painting by Raeburn which James had commissioned several months before. No sooner had it been hung in the dining room when James went to bed, near ten o’clock.

  They were to leave in the morning for Falmouth Bay where Discovery had put in to wait for her consort. Ravenna was more than ready to go, but as one o’clock neared, she checked her baggage a final time. Books, warm clothes, and fur-lined boots were all in order. She hoped she’d not forgotten anything, but as she went over the mental check list, she heard the piano’s tone, mingling with the chimes as the clock struck the hour.

  Paul was calling her.

  She stopped what she was doing and listened. The song, although not Mozart, was still mournfully sweet as it wound its way up through the hallways to find her chamber’s door. It was Beethoven, the Moonlight Sonata, a song not yet even conceived of in 1791. The music filled Ravenna with longing, made her melancholy grow with the beginning of each new passage played a little louder than the last, a little stronger. With the inflection of sadness in the notes, she knew where Paul’s mind was. He was calling her. This was his way, much more personal than knocking at her door.

  She arrived at his side suddenly, not remembering how she’d made her way down to the piano. All she recalled was music, grand, soul-filling music, and stepping closer to him, she dared to lay her hand on his firm, broad shoulder.

  In the near darkness, Paul stopped with his playing. The bench creaked as he moved, stood up to set the cover down carefully on the piano’s top.

  Then he turned to her. “Mary,” he whispered, and his hand slipped tenderly around her back. “My Mary of the river.”

  Ravenna kept still beneath his touch. She waited for him to explain, and when he didn’t, when he seemed to sink into his own thoughts, she coaxed him softly.

  “I’ve just had a dream,” he said, and as if to awaken himself, he shook his head the smallest bit. “An awful, horrible dream.”

  Silence for a moment. She thought he’d fallen into it again, for where he stood beside her, Paul didn’t move. He stared at the piano, and only his fingers stirred where they curled around her hip.

  “Was it about me, this dream?” she asked.

  No response.

  “Will you tell me about it? Why was I Mary of the river?”

  “You were on the banks of a river, that’s why, in a forest, like in Alaska, with big trees and mountains an’ that, just like they show in the advertisements back home.”

  “What’s so horrible about that?” she asked.

  For the first time, he lifted his eyes. “You were searching that river. You were looking for a body, for blood, for whatever you might find, and it was me you were searchin’ for. Me. Like it had all gone terribly wrong, but I hadn’t yet figured it out as such, because…because I could still see you, y’know? I tried callin’ out to you, sort of cried out your name, but m’voice, it wouldn’t…wouldn’t make a sound, not a word. All I could do was lay there, watch you go on up the river without me. And I knew I’d never see you again.”

  “I’m here.” Leaning against him, she tried to reassure him.

  He shifted his jaw nervously.

  “Listen,” she said, “you’re smarter than Killiney. You know what’s ahead of you; just because you had a dream you died—”

  “But what if I do?” He gazed at her determinedly, and his eyes were filled with unconcealed pain. “You’ll be stuck here, won’t you? You’ll be Mary of the river forever in this place.”

  “Paul, you’re not going to even see an Indian, if I have anything to say about it.”

  “But if it should happen—,” and he stopped, for he’d pulled her closer still. It seemed then that his final remembrances of Fiona were laid to rest, having taken Ravenna so readily in his arms. Venturing to lift his gaze, he acknowledged it, let his hand slide around her hip a little tighter, a bit more intimately. “It’s not that I’m scared of dying,” he said. “It’s just that I’m scared for you, that’s all.”

  “You’re saying that I’m in danger now?”

  “I’m saying that since I’ve stopped broodin’ over myself, I’ve come to realize what’ll happen t’you if God decides He wants me someplace else. My death will only be the beginning for you. If my destiny’s written out, then you’ll be marrying Christian after I’m gone, and I don’t want to be responsible for that. I don’t like t’think of you being abused by him, being widowed and alone and raising a son in this place with no way t’get back. I mean, is Fiona worth it? Not for my life, but yours?”

  “So now you’ve changed your mind? You want to stay here and wait for James to bring the potion?”

  Paul looked sheepish when he answered. “I know you’ve asked me a dozen times, but I don’t mind so much anymore, waitin’ those four years.”

  “And every day of those four years I’ll have to wonder if you think about her, if you still love her and wish you’d—”

  “I don’t love her, I’ve told you. The only reason I was gonna go back was t’tell her as much.”

  “So go on the voyage. Then sometime next year we’ll find the potion, we’ll drink it, and everyone will be happy.”

  “No, I don’t think you understand. You see, death…death has a way of following me around. If history says I’m supposed to die, then I reckon God means business this time, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to—”

  “You mean you’re scared?”

  “Ravenna, you can’t know what it’s like to…to lose someone. You’ve never had that. And I certainly wouldn’t want you t’be having it now, on account of me.”

  His hand fidgeted behind her back as she considered, as she remembered the days when he’d so violently protested the idea of spending even five minutes alone with her, let alone four years. Now all he wanted to do was stay?

  Turning toward the window behind them, out of nervousness, out of fear to see that emotion in his eyes, she avoided his stare. “I can’t believe you. This is your dream making you say these things—”

  With a firmness that startled her, he caught her up in his other hand, forced her to look at him. Pain flashed between them as they gazed at each other. He held her tightly, making her see his grim determination, and Ravenna thought he’d scold her then.

  Instead, slowly, letting his hand relax at her arm, Paul’s eyes softened. “Get your coat,” he said. “We’re going for a walk.”