From Across the Ancient Waters

by Michael Phillips

  As the day came closer, the burden of his impending departure weighed heavier and heavier on Percy’s heart. How could he leave without knowing whether Gwyneth would live or die?

  Evening came. Still there was no change.

  After a simple supper, knowing that Gwyneth was well looked after, Percy went out into the warm evening. He walked through the village, up the plateau, and slowly made his way along the promontory toward Mochras Head.

  How quickly the two months had flown by, he thought. He had changed more than he would ever have dreamed possible. What different thoughts and emotions floated through his brain as the still and peaceful evening settled over him.

  He recalled his first night here, how angry the peacefulness of the country had made him. Even the crickets had angered him, he recalled with a smile. It was earlier now than on that night. The multitude of crickets had not yet taken over the moonglow of the countryside, though a few could be heard warming up for their nightly concert.

  The sky over the sea showed radiant from horizon to apex in the fiery shades of gold, magenta, and violet he had come to associate with the Welsh coast. Perhaps the same colors radiated over the slate rooftops of Glasgow, but he had never noticed them. Never again would he look at a sunset and not recall this place with longing reminders of these weeks now drawing to a close.

  Thinking of Gwyneth, he continued over the stream and to her special place at the edge of the bluff. Forgetting her father’s three-foot rule, he sat down and let his legs dangle over the edge of the promontory as he stared out to sea. Slowly but inexorably, the giant yellow orb sank into the distant waters then sent up its flaming aftershoots far into the fading blue of the sky. He was still sitting unmoved half an hour later, until all shades of the gorgeous display had turned to purples and blacks and the rising moon began to exert its strength over the coming darkness.

  At first he thought the changes had been caused by his new appreciation for the natural world that Gwyneth had helped him to see. Then he wondered if it was simply being away from the city, away from his parents and the unspoken pressures of youth and school and peers. Then he found himself thinking it must be the country itself. Everything was different here, the people, customs, sights, smells, foods, language, song.

  Slowly a deeper truth began to dawn on his consciousness. He saw that the changes did not originate from any of these. Nature and the country and Gwyneth and new experiences were all but echos of another Voice speaking into his heart.

  At last he knew whose that voice was. All these influences had come speaking to him from the voice of his father’s God. And he knew by his father’s example how to approach the Father of them both.

  Percy backed away from the edge of the bluff and slowly sank to his knees in the soft grass.

  Thank You, God, he prayed silently, for bringing me here that You might speak into my heart. Thank You for the many ways You revealed Yourself and for opening my ears to hear. Thank You for Gwyneth, he added as his voice choked, and for all the ways she helped open my eyes to see You.

  He paused. And thank You for my father, too, he added. Thank You that he did not give up on me either. I know now that he loves me. Give me the courage to keep growing, even back home, where it may be most difficult of all.

  Slowly he rose and set off back down toward the village.

  He was at peace with himself. But he knew he could not leave Wales with Gwyneth’s condition in doubt.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  A Dream and a Prayer

  By the time Percy returned to the cottage, it was nearly dark. Stevie had gone home to be with his mother for the night. Grannie and Gwyneth’s father were sitting at the table in the kitchen. Florilyn dozed in the chair beside the bed.

  All the way down from Mochras Head, Percy’s thoughts revolved around little Gwyneth Barrie. He recalled every conversation he had had with her through the summer. He remembered fondly all her special places. Over all hovered the ghostly, mystical, otherworldly image of her singing to the animals beside the lake in the mountains.

  He had not put it into so many words before this night. Suddenly it occurred to him that her peculiarities, her mysterious origins, her utter simplicity and humility—did they all have an astounding yet somehow plausible explanation? Perhaps she truly wasn’t of this world …

  Might she actually be … an angel?

  Had she always been an angel? Perhaps she was now simply being called back to the true home of her origin.

  With such thoughts swirling through his brain, Percy entered the cottage. He walked through the kitchen, nodded with a smile to Codnor and Grannie, then continued to the bedside.

  Florilyn heard his step, woke, and looked up with a wan smile.

  “Any change?”

  Florilyn shook her head.

  Percy sat down in the empty chair beside her. With the mood from his walk still imbuing him with a peaceful sense of presence, Florilyn glanced over in astonishment as he broke into audible prayer. “Oh God,” he said aloud, “wherever she is right now … bring Gwyneth back. If she is truly one of Your angels, let us have her yet for a little while longer.”

  Florilyn saw that he was weeping. One of her hands still on the bed with Gwyneth’s, she reached across and gently laid the other on Percy’s arm.

  A few minutes more they sat in silence. Percy recovered himself and breathed in deeply. He glanced at Florilyn and smiled an embarrassed smile.

  “I’ve never heard you pray before,” she said.

  “I never have prayed out loud before.” Percy smiled. “Well, except when I was a boy at bedtime. I’ve never done anything like that in my life.”

  He grew thoughtful. “Do you remember that first night when I was with your family at dinner, when you asked me if I believed in heaven and hell?”

  Florilyn nodded.

  “I don’t know about that,” said Percy. “But I think maybe I believe in God more than I realized at the time.”

  Slowly he rose and stood at the bedside gazing down at the pale face that was even whiter than the pillow it rested upon. All at once the features did not look so young or childlike. The expression on the face was ageless … like an angel’s. Percy bent down and gently kissed the white forehead.

  A moment more …

  A gasp sounded from Florilyn’s lips.

  “Percy!” she breathed, her voice soft, hopeful, frightened, and full of wonder. She began to rise from her chair.

  He saw it now. A tiny movement around the eyes … then a fluttering. Slowly the lids began to open. Out from between them again peeped the eyes of heaven’s blue!

  “Percy,” whispered the tiny lips from the bed as Gwyneth gazed up at the face staring down at her. “I hoped it would be you I saw when I woke up.”

  Heart pounding, head exploding for joy, Percy struggled desperately to remain calm. “You knew you would wake up?” he said with great effort, his voice husky and blinking hard.

  “Of course,” replied Gwyneth simply.

  “Were you dreaming?”

  “No, I was with my mother. She is everything I knew she would be, Percy. But I couldn’t wake up until you prayed for me.”

  “You were waiting … for me to pray for you?”

  “I’m not sure. It was dreamy. Maybe I was dreaming, because it was like being surrounded by a cloud of white. I think God was waiting for you to pray for me so I could wake up. But He was waiting so that your praying for me could wake you up, too.”

  For the first time, she now saw Florilyn standing at Percy’s side. “Hello, Miss Florilyn,” she said. “What are you doing here? I thought you were afraid of Grannie.”

  “Not anymore,” Florilyn sobbed, sniffly and teary.

  “I am sorry I made your horse rear,” said Gwyneth. “I hope you were not hurt.”

  “Oh, you dear girl!” exclaimed Florilyn, able to contain herself no longer. She bent down and kissed Gwyneth on the cheek.

  “Why are you crying, Miss Florilyn?”

&nbs
p; “I am just happy that you are awake.”

  The voices from the bedside had been soft, but gradually their increasing volume and animation drifted into the hearing of the father and great-aunt in the kitchen. They realized that three voices were coming from the adjacent room, not two. They jumped up and rushed to the bedside.

  FORTY-NINE

  End of the Summer

  The morning came early.

  Percy readied himself, said good-bye to all the servants, then, in as cheerful a manner as he could manage, to Courtenay.

  Florilyn had been hanging back.

  Percy walked toward her. “You will check on Gwyneth?” he said.

  “I promise—every day.”

  “Let me know if there is any change. I think she will be fine. She already seems her normal self again.”

  Florilyn nodded. She smiled at her cousin with an expression that contained a world of meaning then stepped forward to hug him.

  He returned her embrace affectionately.

  “Good-bye, Percy,” said Florilyn. “There is too much to try to say, so I will say nothing. I will never forget this summer.”

  “Nor I,” rejoined Percy.

  His aunt Katherine gave Percy a tender hug. “I hope you will visit us again,” she whispered softly in his ear.

  “I would like that,” replied Percy, stepping back with a smile.

  To his astonishment, he saw tears in the woman’s eyes. She smiled, but it was a smile tinged with sadness.

  “Well, let us be off, my boy!” boomed the viscount, trying with a little too much effort to counter the emotionally dense atmosphere of the occasion threatened by the faces of his wife and daughter and two or three of the servants. “We don’t want that coach leaving without you, or you’ll miss your train!”

  The two left the manor for Llanfryniog. By the time they arrived, the thrice-weekly coach stood in front of the small inn, its four horses snorting and prancing impatiently.

  There also stood Gwyneth, hanging back in the shadows of the building. She looked none the worse for wear. The only lasting reminder of recent events was a bandage between her ear and forehead, mostly covered by her wild crop of white hair.

  Percy caught her eye.

  Her lips parted in a radiant smile of innocent love. She would cry, too, but not until he was out of sight. In the event he never saw her again, her friend from Glasgow must remember her with a look of happiness on her face.

  Percy’s two bags were hoisted above. He and his uncle shook hands. The viscount managed some stiff words about his being welcome any time.

  Percy climbed inside the coach and closed the door.

  Only after the viscount stood back did Gwyneth now run forward.

  “Get back, girl!” yelled the driver as he climbed up onto his box. “Don’t you see these great horses? They’ll trample you to death!”

  “They won’t hurt me, sir,” she said sweetly.

  Even at the sound of her voice, the agitated horses calmed. The driver muttered something and grabbed the reins.

  Gwyneth walked calmly to the side of the coach where Percy sat looking out the window. She held up a small parcel wrapped in paper. “I baked you another tea cake, Percy,” she said. “I didn’t want you to get hungry.”

  “Thank you, Gwyneth,” he said. “I shall think of you with every bite. If we stop for tea,” he added, “I shall eat it with tea … as it is supposed to be eaten.”

  “Good-bye, Percy,” she said. Her eyes seemed bluer than he had ever seen them.

  “Good-bye, Gwyneth.”

  She stepped slowly back.

  The driver gave a shout, and the coach lurched forward. Percy continued to wave through the open window.

  There stood the receding forms of the great man of the region with his hand in the air. Several paces in front of him a girl with hair of white waved her own tiny hand. Slowly the coach disappeared from their view.

  Viscount Lord Snowdon cast on the child a curious look.

  Gwyneth smiled at him then walked away along the street as Westbrooke returned to his buggy.

  Now at last came tears. Gwyneth did not even stop at Grannie’s but continued the slow walk up the moor to her home, alone with her thoughts. She spent the afternoon with her animals.

  Gwyneth’s friends felt her sadness. Their mood remained subdued for two days.

  FIFTY

  Home in Glasgow

  Edward and Mary Drummond saw a different look on their son’s face the moment he stepped off the train when they greeted him on the platform of the Glasgow station. They little suspected the cause. They had to admit, however, that his pleasant and cheerful manner was a welcome surprise.

  Percy had been due home for the fall session of school. It would be the last session expected of him. What would become of their son when it was completed, neither mother nor father had any idea. When his plans began to become more apparent, they would be in for the shock of their lives.

  They had received but one curious note during their son’s absence, from Edward’s sister, saying that Percy’s presence was full of unexpected surprises. What exactly Katherine meant by the odd phrase, they had no idea.

  Being a few days later to arrive than previously planned, as he had notified them by telegram, Percy set about his studies in earnest almost the next day. He subsequently remained home every evening buried in his books. No mention was ever made of his former friendships or activities on the streets.

  About two months later, shortly after his seventeenth birthday, Percy sought his father in his study. He had been thinking through the interview ever since arriving home. But it had taken time to collect his thoughts and summon the courage to do what he knew he had to do … and wanted to do. He also had wanted to wait long enough to be certain he would not fall into old patterns.

  “May I talk with you, Father?” he asked. His voice betrayed anxiety. Gone entirely was the arrogance he might have displayed a short time earlier.

  “Of course, Percy,” replied his father. “Come in … have a seat.”

  “If you don’t mind, what I have to say I think is best said on my feet.”

  The vicar nodded.

  Percy glanced toward the ground, then looked up again and drew in a deep breath. “I, uh … I don’t exactly know how to say this,” he began. “It’s not an easy thing to do, but … well, I’ve come to apologize.”

  Still his father waited, listening patiently and with deep love in his eyes for this son who was about to become a man.

  “I, uh … I’ve been nothing more than a fool these past couple of years,” Percy went on. “Now that I look back on it, I can’t imagine what I was thinking. You once asked me what kind of evil spirit had taken over inside me, and I can’t think of any other explanation. When I try to recall exactly why I was so angry and full of resentment, I cannot think of a single good reason. You and Mother are the best and kindest and most loving parents I could hope to have. You gave me everything. You trained me well. You are good and godly people. What I was thinking to allow myself to become so alienated from you, I cannot imagine. I am embarrassed and sorrier than I can say for what I must have put you through. Yet you kept loving me, even in your occasional outbursts. You were only angry for what I was doing to myself. I see that now. You would have been wrong not to be angry for what I was doing. You saw how destructive it was to me.”

  The father’s eyes filled. His breath grew shaky.

  “When you sent me to Wales,” Percy continued, “I began looking at things differently. A new set of eyes opened inside me—maybe a little like the second sight Uncle Roderick would tell me about on our rides together,” he added, chuckling briefly. “I suppose being around Courtenay and Florilyn caused me to think about what kind of person I was becoming. In all honesty, Father, Courtenay just isn’t very nice. He wasn’t nice to me. He isn’t nice to his mother. Maybe I saw more of myself reflected in him than I wanted to admit. Florilyn was the same at first. But the most curious thing happene
d. It was almost as if she began to change along with me. I still don’t quite understand it exactly. But by the end of the summer, we had actually begun to form a friendship. We had an unfortunate row at the end. But that got patched up before I left. I actually think I miss her.”

  He paused, and his lips parted in a thin, reflective smile. “I had my ups and downs,” he said. “At first I hated the country. I vowed not to let myself change. But in the end, the summer helped wake me up to the fact that I was making myself into a person of a certain sort, too, just like Courtenay, and that maybe I ought to give the matter more serious attention.”

  Again he paused. Another smile came across his face. “And I met a precious little girl there who helped me notice things I hadn’t been in the habit of seeing before, a girl who loved animals and loved nature. She was tiny, almost fairylike, yet completely normal in every other way. Actually she wasn’t so very much younger than me—three or four years, something like that. But her size made her appear younger than she really was. And she possessed such an astonishing maturity to see God’s world in wondrous ways. I almost thought at times that she might be an angel.”

  “She sounds like a remarkable girl,” said his father softly.

  “She was. She cared about me, too. I know you and Mother care about me. But I suppose it sometimes takes somebody new to make you see what a wonderful thing that is and how grateful we should be when we are loved. She helped me see God’s creation in new ways. I know you have taught me many of the same things through the years. I am embarrassed now to realize that it took somebody else to open my eyes to them, but … well, I suppose that’s how it was.”

  He paused and exhaled a deep sigh then resumed. “Anyway, one of the things I feel I need especially to say to you, Father,” Percy continued, “is that I respect and honor you for the man you are, for what you give to the people of the church, and for what you gave to me all those years that I was too blind to see until now. I am sorry. I ask you to forgive me. I don’t think I will be quite so blind ever again.”