“Thank you, Brian, I appreciate that.” William stepped forward and hugged the man.
***
Roan stuffed another brick of sod on the fire and threw a glance over his shoulder. He knew Will enjoyed its rich, earthy scent.
William sat at the end of the sagging couch, his shoeless feet propped on the old ottoman and a bottle of ale in his hand. Penelope lay curled up next to him, covered with an afghan, her head in his lap, sound asleep. She’d been dozing off and on since the dinner.
“Penelope’s all right? Just tired?” Roan eyed her with a wary look as he settled into the overstuffed chair facing the crackling fire.
“Penny thinks she might be pregnant, though it’s far too early to tell yet.” William brushed a strand of his wife’s hair from her cheek, his gaze filled with love.
“That’s wonderful news, Will. Blessings to…well, to all of you.” Roan smiled and tapped his bottle of ale to his godson’s.
“Yeah, I hope it’s a girl. I’d like to name her after her grandmother Meghan.” Will cleared his throat and took another swallow of his drink.
“I’m sure that would’ve pleased your mother no end to hear that.” Roan stared into the fire, his thoughts drifting to the night Meghan showed up here at the house with nowhere to go, already ripe with child. She’d sat where Roan did now, as he held her hands and looked into her frightened face and told her she and the child were welcome as long as they liked. He’d see they were cared for.
“Thing is, it’s a miracle of sorts. Doctors told Penny that she wasn’t able to conceive. Apparently, it was some rare childhood disease that caused the problem.”
Roan blinked from his reverie, coming back to their conversation. Miracles were nothing new to him. He’d seen a lot of things he couldn’t explain. Nevertheless, he was a firm believer in the power of love.
“It will all be well, you’ll see. The important thing is that you have each other. The rest by the grace of God will be as it’s meant to be.”
Will chuckled, his dark eyes dancing with mischief in much the same vein as his father’s once did.
“I didn’t figure you to be a God-fearing man, Roan. Ma told me once that you didn’t take kindly to being pigeon-holed into any man’s religion.
Roan grabbed a book from the high stack of those on his reading table. This one was covered hardbound in rich, mahogany leather; the title was embossed in gold on its spine. He handed it to Will.
“You’re Ma was…is, right. I don’t adhere to man’s slaughter of the truth. If you read the Bible enough times through, you’ll begin to see the history of your ancestry and then the stories begin to shape your life. I happen to think God, whoever She is, is all around us, immersing us daily—waiting for us to wake up and smell the coffee.”
“There’s no doubt, sir, you have a way with words.” He grinned as he turned the book in his hands. “So what is this, then, a Bible?” Will placed the bottle on the floor beside him.
Penelope stirred and Will tucked the afghan around her shoulders.
“I’m sorry the old place is drafty in spots,” Roan apologized. He should really take some of his royalties and do some repairs.
“It’s home to me.” Will thumbed through the book’s pages, pausing now and again to read a passage. “These are more stories?” he asked, glancing up at Roan.
“I just got those. The publisher’s decided to go leather bound for the next few volumes. He thought they would market better looking like a classic read.”
“They are classic reads,” Will responded.
Roan shrugged. As long as they were being bought and read, he’d leave the marketing decisions to those better qualified.
“This is impressive. A beautiful book, Roan.” Will handed it back. “I’d like to read more when I’ve rested a bit. My eyes are as dry as that fire.”
Roan waved his hand toward the book. “Go on now, that’s your copy, which I’ll be happy to sign a little something inside for posterity’s sake later. It’s the first copy from the box and I want it to be the first gift to your little one.”
Will’s expression softened and Roan knew if he started to cry, he would too, and there’d be no end to them drowning their sorrows until they passed out from too much ale. A blubbering, inhiberated clout was not the impression Roan wanted to give William’s new bride.
“Now you’d best be getting that wife of yours to a more comfortable bed.” Roan cleared his throat with a swallow of his ale.
“I thought maybe if Penny is feeling better tomorrow we’d go take a walk over by the pond. Maybe see if the fish are biting?” Will swiped his hand quick under his nose before glancing over at Roan.
Roan gave him a smile. “Does your wife like to fish?”
Penelope pushed upright, a groggy grin on her sweet face. “He’s teaching me to bait using tomato and mayo instead of worms.”
Roan laughed aloud, his heart lighter than it had been in days.
***
As he finished turning out the lights and smothering the fire in the fireplace, Roan paused on the landing, aware of the brilliant full moon shining in the clear night sky. “Thanks Meg,” he whispered into the darkness. “Thanks for coming to me that night. I’ll watch out for him now. You just keep your eye on all of us. I’m countin’ on it, Meg.” He trudged down the back hall to the smaller bedroom off the kitchen. His lab, Lucy, her ears now graying with age, lay curled up on the braided rug at the end of his bed. A nearby farmer had given him the puppy back in 1985 with a note that no one should ever be completely alone.
That night, Roan dreamt of the afternoon of the picnic and how carefree they’d all been in their reckless youth. Will, perhaps more than the rest of them. And yet, were it not for William’s adventuresome spirit, his ultimate risk-taking, would Roan have had the chance encounter with Feeorin? He doubted as much and for that, he would always be grateful to William’s flights of fancy.
Sometime during the night, he awoke without provocation and sat upright in his bed, his body drenched in a cold sweat. He couldn’t have been asleep that long, though it seemed as though he’d slept like the dead. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember the dream, only that it left a sense of loss inside him. The moon still shone bright and full outside his bedroom window. Roan rubbed his hand over his bare chest, pausing briefly over his heart, attempting to slow the rapid pace of its beat.
A slight rustle snapped his attention toward the doorway, where he blinked away the residual fog in his brain to be sure that he truly saw a figure standing just outside his bedroom door.
Roan swallowed hard. “Will?”
“Oh God, Roan, I think she lost the baby.” Will stumbled in and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Oh, Will, I’m so sorry.” Roan pushed from the bed and fished his pants off the chair. “Penelope, is she all right? Do we need to fetch a doctor?” He found the bedside lamp and switched it on. Will’s grief-stricken face, pasty with sorrow stared at him. There were more questions in the young man’s eyes than Roan knew he had answers for. He’d only been involved with one other pregnant woman in his entire life, and that was Meghan. He was grateful at least that the same midwife that delivered William still practiced. She lived a mile or two down the road.
“I called our doctor in New York and explained what happened and where we were.” His voice trailed off and his eyes, rimmed red from lack of sleep and tears, stared at the wall over Roan’s shoulder. “He said because she was so early, she’d probably be okay. These things happen, he said.”
Roan wanted to reach out and pull the young man close, to ease the hole in his heart. However, he knew that it would take time, and some holes never fully healed. “I’m so sorry.” He was at a loss for words, and he found it odd that he could articulate thousands of words on paper but not know the right thing to say to this young man he so loved.
“He said we need to keep an eye on her. Watch to see that the bleeding doesn’t get heavier. If it does, we’re to take her to a
hospital. He said that nature takes care of these things usually on its own—” His voice choked. As if he could no longer stay above his pain, Will’s head dropped into his hands and great sobs racked his body.
The sound tore a hole in Roan’s heart. Will’s grief, first to lose his mother and now his unborn child so soon after, was too much to bear.
Roan slipped his arm around Will’s shoulder. He was the closest thing he would ever have to a son. “Let’s go see to Penny’s comfort then. I’ll get some clean sheets and we’ll ask if she’d like to have a midwife come down to the house. There’s one that lives just up the road. She was the one that delivered you, right here in this house.”
Will took a deep breath, nodded and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “All right, then. Okay. You think she’ll be all right?” Will blinked, fatigue and pain etched on his face.
“She’s goin’ to be just fine. But she’ll be needing a strong shoulder for a while.” Roan patted Will’s.
“It hurts like hell.”
“Aye, son, losing what you love always does.” Will and Penny would survive this horrible loss in their lives because of the love they nurtured between them. Roan held his hand to his godson’s shoulder. “Loving with such devotion can be painful, but it’s the greatest gift we can ever hope to have.”
***
Penelope’s bleeding stopped by the next morning and a confirmation call to her doctor indicated what Roan determined as common sense. She was not to engage in strenuous activity and no heavy lifting. When he left them, Penny was curled up in Will’s arms, and they were both fast asleep. As the dawn streaked across the morning sky, Roan crawled back under the covers and fell into a dreamless sleep.
***
Two days later, they stood on the bank of the farm pond, in almost the exact spot where once Will’s mother and father, then just met, taunted Roan about his belief in faeries.
There were times during the course of the morning that Roan could not shake the sense that someone was watching them from afar. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, more than anything. Will carried Penny from where they’d parked the car on the road. Gingerly picking his way through the grassy trail dotted with wildflowers that wound its way to the small fishing pond below.
The sun was bright on this clear, blue spring morning, a welcome respite from the despairing last few days. The air was fresh, swept clean by the previous showers, and the fragrance of the sweet meadow that stretched all around them gave hope for the future.
Penelope sat on a blanket matted beneath by the sweet smelling grass. She’d brought her book, but when Will checked on her a few minutes later, she was fast asleep in the sunshine, her book loose in her hands.
Will sauntered back to his place beside Roan on the bank. He picked up his pole and kept his focus on baiting the hook.
“What if I never have children, Roan?”
Roan had been watching him from the corner of his eye, certain the young man felt as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. It wasn’t something Roan himself hadn’t thought about over a million times in his life. He waited a moment or two before answering as he cast his line into the water.
“I never had children of my own. But look how fortunate I am to have you, and now Penelope.”
Will ran his hand through his dark hair, the texture and color of which he’d gotten from his Ma.
“Yeah, I suppose there’s always adoption.”
“True enough, that’s an option and there are a lot of children out there who need a good home and good parents. You and Penny, you’ll make fine parents one day.”
Will’s mouth turned down, his brow furrowed. “You think so?”
Roan nodded. “I’ve no doubt on that score. The good lord would not have me spending my life writing stories not to have grandchildren one day to hear them.”
Will glanced at Roan, a wide smile on his face. “I like the thought of Grandpa Roan.”
Roan nodded, realizing that he did too. “Yeah? I guess I sort of fancy the thought myself.” He returned Will’s smile. “Now are you going to yap all day or are you going to catch our dinner for us?”
Will didn’t hide his astonished look. “And just what do you plan to do?”
Roan dropped his pole on the grassy bank and eased down to the ground. “I’m going to stretch out here and take a short nap.”
“Just like that and leave me here alone to fetch our supper?” Will asked with a grin.
“Just like that,” Roan responded easing back onto the warm grass. He closed his eyes, shading his face from the bright sun with his arm. His body relaxed, soaking up the life-giving energy of the sun and earth.
“Roan?”
“What is it, Will?” Roan yawned as his mind began to drift. The heat of the sun’s rays on his weathered face lulled him into a sense of leaving everything behind. What would it be like to do so now? Was his work to a point yet of completion?
“Isn’t this the place where you claim to have seen Feeorin?”
The question caught him off guard. He slanted a look at Will through a narrowed gaze. His godson was turned away. From the back, he reminded him of his father. So too the incredulous tone, though softened, in his voice.
“That’s no claim or faerytale, William Neill, Jr. This is indeed the place where I first came in contact with the Sighoge faery, Feeorin. There is absolute truth in the story. I have seen and met with her at this very spot on more than one occasion in my life.”
Will was silent, continuing to bob and weave his fishing pole as he focused on the water. Finally, he said, “If you don’t mind me asking, why did the two of you never stay together?”
Roan frowned. “You mean your Ma and me?”
Will glanced over at him. “That too is a question I’d like to explore, but I meant Feeorin.”
Numerous times, when tempted by the memory of Feeorin’s open offer to make her human, Roan had asked himself the same question.
“Had we done so, stayed together, she’d have become human, mortal like you and me.” He waited for Will’s response, knowing what it would be. As much as Roan had taught him the stories, Will couldn’t understand the how and why of the sacrifice Roan made.
“Would that have been so bad? At least you’d not be alone.”
Roan raised a brow. He couldn’t dispute that fact and more than once longed for it with all of his being. “You remember what I said about loving so passionately, Will?”
The young man lowered his pole and Roan knew he remembered precisely the moment he’d heard the words.
“Feeorin is immortal; she’s a part of this land and the magic that exists for all time. How selfish would it be for me to take her from that world, just so I can have her for a short time in mine?”
He nodded, turning to face Roan. “You must feel very deeply for her.”
“Without a doubt,” Roan replied. “I’m devoted to her I suppose, as much as I would be to a human wife.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to minimize the relationship you and she share. It’s obviously very special, more than I can understand, perhaps.”
Roan shook his head. “You understand it. Every time you look in Penny’s eyes and feel the sun rise in your soul, you understand.”
Will studied Roan a moment before his gaze searched the wooded area at the edge of the pond.
“Do you think she’s still here somewhere?”
“I know she is,” Roan replied without hesitation as he followed Will’s gaze and surveyed the spans of field, wood and water. Though the occurrences of their meeting in recent years were fewer between, in Roan’s mind there was no doubt Feeorin still lived somewhere nearby. Perhaps even now she was watching them, wondering whether it was safe to reveal herself.
“How do you know?” Will asked with a curious smile.
“Because I can feel her. Tell me, do you not sense when Penny is near?”
Will glanced over his shoulder to where Penny slept on the kno
ll a few yards away.
“Sure, but we’re married. We’ve…been together. You know, as man and wife. That bonds us, doesn’t it? Makes us one and all that?”
Roan smiled as he propped himself on his elbows. “Indeed. My heart beats strongest when I’m here, more than anywhere else. Here is where I bound myself to Feeorin. When the world drains me and I need her nurturing comfort, just as you go to Penny, I come here.”
Will’s gaze narrowed. “Then I guess it’s safe to say you’re in love with this Feeroin?”
Meg had spoken aloud of such emotions once long ago and years later, here was her son, presenting it yet again that he was in love.
Roan sat up and draped his hands over his knees. It had been his choice all of these years, devoting himself to keeping the stories of the fae alive for future generations. He’d taken pride and pleasure in immersing himself in the tales, often sensing a greater closeness to her through them. But he’d never spoken the truth of his feelings for Feeorin to another human soul. “I suppose I am. You’d give your right arm for Penny, wouldn’t you?”
His godson shrugged and nodded.
“My commitment to Feeorin has been to preserve her way of life. To keep the tales and legends alive and to keep the belief in them alive. I am, I suppose, married to that belief.”
“Wow.” Will studied Roan. “I don’t know if I’ve ever known of someone with such devotion and sacrifice.”
“Oh, now, don’t go romanticizing me, boy. There are plenty of those who walk this earth holding fast to their passion, unwilling to let go.” Roan chuckled. “Inventors, poets, priests, all holding dear what they believe can be.”
“I suppose. It’s a challenge for the rest of us, who place one foot on the floor every day and plod about.” Will smiled.
“This world takes all kinds, Will. There are those who hold the belief and preach, and those who listen and carry on what they believe to the next generation.”
“I suppose. I want you to know, Roan, that should I ever have children, I won’t let them forget the old stories.”
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