Refuge on Leebrick (The Hills of Burlington Book 4)

by Jacie Middlemann

  “Take your time,” Casey couldn’t help herself as she gently ran her hand over her niece’s shoulder. She could literally feel the grief that Beth still remembered from what she spoke of to them.

  “In all her life she gave so much to any and all who needed her without ever having to be asked. And in death she brought so many to the place where she would be laid in her final rest, so many who would never have come together for any other reason. But she, who’d never asked anything of anyone, who gave unconditionally, unwaveringly, and so often before a request for her aid was asked for, was able to do what no one else could. Swords were sheathed, foresworn enemies walked side by side, leaders who’d battled the day before and would again in the days to follow walked together…on this single day. This one day the loss of one would bring about a uniting of so many in their grief, filled with a determination to show their respect and their promise to a woman who had asked so little of so many and given far more than any would every completely know, who’d sacrificed more than all would ever truly comprehend.”

  Beth struggled to rein in her emotions. Her heart was pounding as she recounted in her mind what she knew…what she’d seen. She turned the pages carefully to the one she sought. She gently ran her fingers along the written words that told the story that hundreds of years later still held the unbearable sorrow of the woman who’d written them. Then closed her eyes and allowed the remnants of all those centuries’ old emotions to fill her. In her mind’s eye she could see the hillside covered in flowers of every color waving in the air, reaching for the very heavens as the sun shone down on them in all their glory. In the distance was a village. Its small homes dotting the valley, places where hearts and love lived through good times and bad. Further beyond yet easily in view was a castle, sitting proudly on the edge of the hillside in the wake of the setting sun. A manor by any possible means of the word. Yet in that moment it like all the other structures regardless of size and purpose were empty. There were no children running and playing in the village. No women scurrying about in a rush to attend to their daily chores. No men stood guard at the manor gates protecting the place and its people. Each and everyone of them were walking, ever so slowly, in perfect step with each other. It was almost as if in their midst, in the silence, somehow the sound of the lilting music she so loved led their way. Yet there was silence but for the steady sounds of their footsteps.

  Beth let the images flow, unlike the day before when she’d shut it down. Closed it off. Incapable of dealing with the pain emanating from each person let alone the group as a whole. Hundreds of them walking along behind the single wagon carrying the woman all had loved. Hundreds walking in absolute silence in her honor. It had just been too much to bear. As it was now. But today she knew what to expect and knew she had to get beyond it. She needed to see. To understand what drove so many to stand behind…no, she corrected herself, to stand with a woman who’d chosen to live a simple life that had somehow touched so many in immeasurable ways.

  She looked at the details this time, those that she hadn’t even thought to the day before. She’d prepared by reading one of the daughter’s later accounts that spoke of how so many of all the numerous stations of life, such as it had been then, had come together for her mother’s funeral procession. Today she looked for them. Looked for what it was the daughter had written of. And she saw. Men and women wearing crowns, the designation of their royal status. So many of them. And they walked. They walked among those who farmed the land, their absolute opposites on the social strata of their time. They walked with men, tall and straight, wearing the uniform of the land they guarded. Land they fought for. Men used to being astride proud horses as was the privilege of their rank. Yet they walked. And she could feel their grief and knew it was real. The pain they felt at the passing of this one woman brought them to their knees as no sword ever could. They’d known her. Been her friend. Felt honored to have been so. Were humbly grateful that the path of their lives had crossed with hers. And they grieved. They all grieved. Mourned that this day had come though each understood that as with all things in life each had a time. A place. Yet knew too even this day was not the end. Only a new beginning. For each of them. For her. She had taught them this. Each and every one of them. Even in her loss she was with them. She had taught them this as well. Never truly apart but never again as it was. Ever would be. And so they grieved for what would never be again. Prayed to hold strong to what she’d taught…to live as she lived.

  Beth strained to hear…to feel their thoughts even as jumbled as they were. Some were clearer than others. Some were lost to her simply by the overwhelming depth of their grief. But there were some she sensed far stronger than others. Because they too were family? Or simply because their emotions were stronger…deeper than others? She would have to think that out later. For the moment she simply allowed herself to absorb as much as she could. She could feel her father’s hand on her shoulder. Resting lightly there so as not to disturb her. And she could still easily feel his worry. Had felt it since she’d spoken to him telling him of her plans. He wasn’t happy with this but as he had since the moment he’d walked out to her car, held his hand out to her when she’d been unable to make that first move on her own all those months ago, he was there for her…without reservation.

  As she opened herself even more, suddenly she felt the strongest of all those devastating emotions come from the woman near the front of the procession. The daughter. She couldn’t see her well but the way she walked reminded her of Carrie. Then in the space of time between one moment and the next, the woman turned her head slightly as if to look over her shoulder, her gaze wandered as if she felt watched and wanted to know by who. Beth waited. Wondered if her presence could somehow be felt. Then she heard a woman’s voice, her words as clear as if they were spoken from right beside her. Remember. Remember we walked with all. Beth struggled for more but couldn’t reach far enough…she could feel the swell of emotions almost as if they were directed at her. But she simply couldn’t get beyond the overwhelming grief of those who walked with her ancestors. She wasn’t able to focus in on that single voice that unexpectedly seemed to be able to reach out to her. Suddenly another presence was close, very close. Another hand gently gripped hers that was still laying flat on the page of the book that held this groundswell of centuries old pain. Not her father. He still held firm to her shoulder. Not Wes. She felt him close by but it wasn’t him.

  “It doesn’t matter.” She heard the words in her head. This time it was a man’s voice, clear as if he was standing beside her. And he was. “Do what you need to.”

  Even as she did what he’d practically demanded she knew who it was. Tom. Her father’s friend. Family. Somehow he was able to see as she could the images of the past. And just as she was able to see his thoughts he could see hers. None of that surprised her nearly as much as the realization that he was able to give her his strength. She let out a sigh, set aside her surprise and questions for later, and again tried to focus on the thoughts of the woman in the front of the procession.

  “The fields are silent but for the sounds of our movement. There is no laughter on this day as there has been for all the days of her life. Even in grief which she knew much of she brought joy with her being, filled our hearts and her own in even the blackest of times. We weep. We weep yet it does little to assuage our grief. We are empty. Her heart always reached out to all in need. To her there was no measure. Only love. Be they rich or poor, strong or weak, she felt their joy. She took their pain. In war, in peace, and all that came between, she loved. And was loved. We weep. Hearts grieve. Lands mourn. Realms lament. We weep.

  Yet there must be remembrance. So we walk. Remember that we walked. Hearts, lives, memories, all joined for one. Not one day. Not one moment. For one who made us whole. No grievance, only grief. No insularity, only forbearance. No hate, only love. Today we learn, tomorrow we continue forward. I weep. Remember. We walked. All walked on this day for the one. She who showed us the wa
y.”

  “Beth, talk to me.” She still felt her father’s hand, so strong, almost clenched on her shoulder now. Not his voice though. Another. She pulled deep within her, and as the past slowly eased away she could see his face before her. He was crouched down, practically on his knees, his face lined with worry. With love. Wes.

  “I’m okay,” she said softly, heard the tremors in her voice, knew there was little she could do about it. She took his offered hand in hers. His calm gave her the strength she felt drained of.

  “Like hell,” Jake snapped from where he still stood beside her. When she looked up at him as if to reassure him, the worry he’d felt almost broke him. Temper reigned before he could draw it back in. “We’re not doing this again.”

  “I’m not even certain how we did it this time,” Beth said lightly hoping to sway his mood. She knew him well enough to know his temper was mostly worry. She was grateful when Mary stood and moved over to stand next to her father, rubbed her hand up and down his arm in a soothing motion. Seeing that for the moment he was calm or close to it she turned her attention to the man now standing next to her father. “Do you know how we did that?” She knew without him the last couple of minutes wouldn’t have been possible.

  “Not a clue,” Tom said though his expression told her he was thinking about it. “I could hear and see what you were and realized that while everyone else was picking up something they weren’t picking up all that I was.” He paused, thought about those couple of moments where it had seemed as if he’d been prodded to do as he had. He wasn’t going to share that, not here, not yet. “I’m not certain what made me think I could help, call it instinct.” And that was the truth, just not all of it.

  Beth knew he was leaving something out. She also knew if she wanted to find out what that was she was going to have to wait. She took her gaze away from Tom and looked back to Wes. She could see the worry in his eyes and she knew if she looked up at her father she’d find the same. Before she could say anything to either of them Casey spoke into the silence.

  “I took notes. I’ll need to re-write them, I doubt anyone but me could read them as they are right now. It got to a point to where I was practically scribbling.”

  Beth looked at her aunt. Stunned that somehow she’d heard it as well. Looked around the room. No one but her seemed surprised.

  “Beth,” Mary waited until the young woman turned in her direction. “I don’t know how, I don’t know that any of us really have a clue, but the moment Tom put his hand on yours it was almost like you were….” she lifted her hands, palms up, looked around the small room to see if anyone else wanted to speak up, help her out in explaining what defied words. When everyone remained silent she did the best she could. “I don’t know, like you were broadcasting. Amplifying like a radio. Loudly. Carrie almost fell flat on the floor in surprise. I have to admit it threw me for a loop.” She looked over at Casey who was still looking over the paper on her lap, filling in whatever she felt she needed to, probably before she forgot anything. “Casey had the presence of mind to grab paper and pen and start writing what she heard…what I think many of us heard.”

  “Did you know you could do that?” Carrie asked quietly, still trying to fathom what it was they had all just experienced.

  “I knew I could feel their emotions but in this instance it went further. I could see and hear some of it, some of them,” Beth shrugged when she was unable to explain what she still wasn’t certain of herself. “A lot of it was jumbled until Tom laid his hand on mind.”

  Carrie turned to Tom and looked at him thoughtfully. “What about you?”

  Tom thought about her softly posed question as he rolled his shoulders then stretched his neck out. He had a pounding headache. He would bet his last dollar Beth did as well. Probably ten times worse than his. “I could see and hear what Beth did, some of it more than others, but I couldn’t feel all the emotions. Not like I could tell Beth was.” He glanced at Jake, knew he was worried and they would be having a private talk later on. “I figured it was worth a shot.”

  “That was one heck of a shot,” Casey said dryly. “I just filled in some of what I missed in the beginning as I was digging for paper and pen. I’ll type it up, make copies and get them to you tomorrow. If anyone sees anything that needs to be corrected or has something to add, feel free.”

  “Not going to email it?” her brother asked knowing what her answer would be and completely understanding her caution.

  “Not in this life time.” She laughed, shook her head back and forth at her words. “No pun intended.”

  “Beth.” Charlie spoke for the first time. She was still gripping Mallie’s hand in hers. “The man, the man with the shaky voice.” She closed her eyes. She could still hear it so clearly. “He spoke of a childhood spent together, years lost along the way, and how all he was…he was because of her. That their life together that they’d not been given as promised in this time would be spent together in another. That this too was promised.” She looked at her lost sister’s granddaughter. Tears in her eyes, her voice wavering almost weakly, surprising and worrying everyone in the room.

  “Mom.” Carrie leaned forward with worry in her eyes. Her mother had spoken almost verbatim the words they’d all heard. She couldn’t help but wonder why.

  “Grandma.” Mallie leaned into her grandmother almost as if to bear her weight if she was needed.

  “I’ll be fine.” Charlie patted her granddaughter’s cheek, leaned back against the daughter she so often was at odds with but could count on no matter what. Had always been able to. But she kept her eyes on Beth. “Who was he?” she asked again. Gently. Quietly. Firmly.

  “I don’t really know.” She paused. Thought of what she’d seen, what she’d heard. She knew exactly who it was Charlie was asking about. “He was tall. Elderly. But held himself so you wouldn’t know it except…I could feel it…I could feel the weight of the years on him.” She glanced at Tom to see what he knew. He must have heard as she had. And seen. “He wore a crown.” She watched his eyes narrow. He had picked it up as well but was leaving it to her whether to share it or not. “He walked with her daughter, her eldest daughter. I could tell they were close though not a word passed between them.” At least not out loud she thought to herself then sighed. It’s not like it made a difference now one way or another. “There was something else, something I’m not certain of.”

  “Go on.” Her father gently squeezed her shoulder that his hand still rested lightly on as if he couldn’t let that connection be broken yet.

  “At one point as they came into view of their destination, the graveyard, she felt the overwhelming truth of it. It simply devastated her. I could literally feel her grief as if she were being crushed beneath a hillside of stones.” She took a breath, the feeling had been so close to that of her own in the moments following her own mother’s death. Their connection at the time had been brief but long enough for them to share a final moment. For her to know that absolute moment her mother had gone into another life beyond her ability to reach. She felt her father’s hand on her shoulder, gently rubbing, letting her know he was there and shared her unspoken grief. “In those moments she reached out to him. Physically. She reached for his hand. And also to his thoughts.”

  “Telepathic?” Mallie asked.

  “I’m not certain that’s exactly what it was but close enough. He took her hand, they shared their thoughts with each other. They could communicate that way.” Beth swallowed hard. The grief shared between the two had been unbearable to witness and feel…even from a distance.

  Carrie sighed. Her cousin’s daughter reminded her tremendously of herself. And because of that she asked what everyone else seemed hesitant to considering all she’d been through. “Beth, when she reached out with her thoughts to him, what was it she said…what was communicated that you’re not certain you should tell us.” She caught Tom’s quick smile. The man knew more than he let on but was grateful she was pushing when he obviously wanted t
o but didn’t feel he had the right to. That was something else she needed to remember.

  Beth took a deep breath. Spoke the word that had passed between the two in that shared moment of overwhelming loss. “Father.”

  “Her father,” Mary practically whispered the word. But it reverberated around the small room.

  Beth simply nodded. There was nothing else to say. She looked at Tom. Somehow they had been connected in those moments. He may have heard the words himself, through her, or seen her thoughts about it but the emotions he’d felt himself in that instance had been because of his own strong ability. Stronger than she’d been aware of up until that moment when he’d laid his hand on hers.

  For several long drawn out minutes the only sound in the room was the tapping of Casey’s pencil. And when it was broken it was she who did so. “You’ve read her mother’s book.” It wasn’t a question but she waited for an answer.

  “Parts of it.”

  “Do you know their names?” Casey asked slowly. It might seem an obvious thing but she knew from reading some of the other journals herself that the person writing rarely referred to themselves by name. She looked thoughtfully at her niece as she answered with a slow shake of her head back and forth in the negative. It didn’t surprise her. “Does she mention his name? The man she called Father.”

  Beth shook her head back and forth slowly again. “She didn’t. And it’s pretty obvious in her writings she goes to great lengths not to. She only speaks of their relationship in vague terms though she isn’t nearly as cautious when she writes of her feelings for him.” She looked away from the book in front of her to her aunt. “I haven’t read all of it by any means but from what I have it’s obvious that she’s definitely careful not to mention him by name.”