**************************
CO. CORK, IRELAND
CLONAKILTY
BYRONY ESTATE
1847: SAME EVENING
***************************
Meaghan slid into the awaiting bath. She'd come back from her sparring
match to find that Catherine had employed her son and grandson, Thomas
and Liam, to help bring a tub and heated water up to her bed chamber.
Meaghan made a note to herself, to thank the O'Sheas, rather feverently
because the warm water felt fantastic against her aching muscles. God,
but they hurt. Where was the immortal healing, already? Had Evan
worked her beyond its capabilities? Lord, she hoped not.
Meaghan sank down into the bubbles, the water's jasmine scent clinging
to her skin. It was all just so frustrating - fighting, hurting, training...
Evan.
Evan...
He was frustrating or rather, her feelings toward him were. She
hated feeling vulnerable. Let whatever happen, happen, as long as it
didn't touch her heart. That was her new plan of action because
devastation had reigned there too many times before.
But she knew herself.
She knew she had very little control over what her heart chose to cling to, and
it
had clung to everyone at Byrony and that included Catherine, Liam,
Thomas... and now, Evan.
She didn't know when or why or how it had happened, but... she had fallen in
love with Evan.
'No, that was a lie,' she told herself as she scrunched down further within the
copper tub, the warm water lapping against her skin. 'Let's start from the
beginning.' She did know when. It was the same time that she realized she'd
accepted God again. 'Was it only three months ago? Yes, only three.'
**************
CO. CORK, IRELAND
BYRONY ESTATE
3 MONTHS
EARLIER
1847
**************
"Meaghan, re-read the last part," Evan instructed. She looked up. Both
of them sat at a table, across from each other. It was later in the
evening, the usual hour for their tutoring session. The kitchen was
lit by the licking flames of the hearth and the candles that sat upon the
table. Meaghan read aloud while Evan listened to her.
She took a deep breath, her eyes captured the flickering flame of the
candle light before they rolled over to look at Evan.
Meaghan closed her eyes, scolding herself. He was the one taking his time
to teach her, she knew that... but her own impatience with her progress was
taking a toll on her. Maybe that wasn't the complete truth of the
matter, partial, but not the complete truth.
For some reason, it was the constant nights like these, alone with Evan, that
were taking their toll on her. It was the time of night when Catherine
retired, Thomas and Liam were safely ensconced in their, well, Byrony's
gate cottage, and Evan and Meaghan were left, alone, to study. She finally
opened her eyes as she heard a scrape against the pine table.
Meaghan watched as Evan picked up his glass and downed half of the Guiness
it contained. She gave a slight start as he slammed the tankard onto the table.
Licking the foam from the top of his lip, Evan met her stare. She blushed,
turning her gaze away from him to lock her eyes onto her own brew. Reaching
out, she brought the drink to her mouth. She inhaled the bitter scent before
swallowing down almost as much as Evan had.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, but she needed that.
"Are you ready?" Evan asked, leaning back against his chair.
"I don't be seeing how this be so bloody important!" Meaghan griped, as she
turned her stare to the book sitting upon the table before her. She waited for
him to answer, but he remained silent, causing her to look up again. Mistake,
that was, because he had leaned across the table. He was a breath's distance
away from her. She gasped, the close proximity left her feeling... she didn't
know how. The crackling blaze from the hearth bathed his profile in a warm
glow and she noticed, also, how the candle light flickered upon his hazel eyes.
She
felt compelled to stare at the hazel orbs, no, at him. Her heart sped up and she
felt like it was about to burst out of her chest.
Confusion spread across her senses and she pulled away. Meaghan rubbed
her cheek for her skin felt like it had brushed against fire, itself. She shook
her head, trying to clear her thoughts.
"You don't see the importance?" Evan asked, still stretched above the
table's surface.
'Did he whisper that?' She wondered, if felt like he had. She looked at
him as she pushed herself back against the wooden chair. Through her
dress, she could feel the chair's spindles impressing against her back.
'What was wrong with her? Why was she suddenly so afraid of him. Her
thoughts threaded their way to their first no, their second meeting. She
remembered being afraid of him then... but this was... it was different. She
remembered how he looked standing over her, tall, imposing... dangerous.
Had it felt like she couldn't breathe then? Meaghan stared at him, the candle
light caused shadows to fall across his face, under his hanging bangs, and his
nose shadowed his one cheek. Her mouth was dry... She felt muddled and
hated feeling that way... absolutely hated it! Meaghan pushed the chair back
across the floor and stood up. The sound of wood scraping against wood
reverberated in her ears. She had to get away... had to!
Meaghan walked across the room, to the door that lay nestled beyond the
light's reach... it was her avenue of escape. It was true that she'd
always loved being in this room, but now, if she had to, she would claw her
way out of it. She wanted to escape that badly.
Why did she feel this pressing need to run away? Why? For, she loved the
feel that the kitchen gave her. It was the closest place that resembled what
she used to know. It reminded her of her family's cottage, of her home.
She supposed the remembrances were because of the many things
to be found in there... furniture, stored bathtubs, tables, chairs and an open
hearth to name but a few. It was more than a kitchen; it was a place to relax
and just talk. There was even plush chairs - two of them book ending the fire
place and there was Catherine's rocking chair, which made up the room's
total furnishings.
Though the kitchen had so many similarities to what she knew, it differed
in one major respect. With everything to be found there, she was the only
Kineally to be among them.
She thought on her family often, though with less sorrow and bitterness then
before... for she'd reconciled herself to their loss. It was just... the
memories
of them would surround her, pressing their way to the forefront of her mind.
She was glad for it. Glad that they came to visit for a spell. It was the only
way she held onto her family and so she cherished their intrusions.
Her thoughts turned back to Byrony, itself. She still found it remarkable,
even after being at Byrony for over five months. How could such a place
exist?
The whole house was warm and welcoming, but particularly the kitchen, holding
echos of a past life that wrapped around her heart and warmed her better than
anything in all of Ireland. Yes, that was why she loved this room.
Before Evan had come back to Byrony, Catherine, Meaghan, Thomas and
Liam spent many a night around the hungry fire, just talking and
sitting. Liam seemed to love to entertain, and more particularly, he seemed to
love to entertain Meaghan. She marveled at the young man. He was always
engaging her in games, in questions and filling her in on his day's antics.
It seemed that the times that she had felt most maudlin, where the times
when Liam would barrage her with a litany of his day's activities. He refused
to allow her her dark silent musings.
Liam would speak to her with such zest and zeal that she was always hard
put to silence him. He was all fire and passion and no matter how hard she
told herself she would pretend to listen, it was not to be so. She would soon
find herself getting caught up in his silken web of stories.
Liam's "adventures in Tir a na nog" were especially riveting. He seemed to
visit that fairy land often or so his tales would lead one to think. He would
describe it so clear, so completely, she could believe he'd been there, touched
its very grass and bathed in its rainbows.
The storyteller had a captivated audience with not just Meaghan but
everyone in the room. He had a talent, of that she would never deny.
Eventually it would come time when Liam would be telling a new reel
of adventures and Catherine would just call to him in that tone she
seemed to have, ending his stories and signaling his imminent bed time.
It was just another trait of Catherine's that reminded Meaghan of her
mother, another key opening the door to those echoes.
Yes, she loved the feeling that this kitchen gave her, the feeling of home.
But now... now, she felt caught. She wanted out of the room, but it was as if a
shackle had gripped her leg, refusing her any further distance. Evan called
out to her.
"Meaghan?"
She felt the swinging door beneath her palms. She spread her hands back
and forth across its cool, grainy surface. She didn't turn around as she
answered him.
"What?" She choked. Why was it so hard to talk? So hard to breathe even?
"You didn't answer my question." He said. She had heard his chair slide
back . She knew he wasn't near her for his voice traveled the few yards of
heavy air that she felt between them.
Meaghan took a deep breath and turned back to face Evan. Escape was mere
inches behind her, and yet... at the same time... so far away. She responded to
him
the only way that she could. He still sat in his chair but he seemed to be
draped
against it, rather than sitting in it. What was wrong with her?!? She narrowed
her
eyes as she looked upon his careless posture.
"What!?!" She snapped then bit her lip. Why did she have to do that, he didn't
do anything to her. He was helping her, teaching her to read... something she'd
always wanted to know.
"You don't see the importance, I'd asked." Evan said seeming to study her very
innards... his look was so piercing. Meaghan forced herself to walk back to him.
His hum rattled within her head but she dismissed it as it faded and evened out
with her own.
"The importance of reading? Yes, I do see it... but why does it have to be the
Bible?" Meaghan asked, she could hear the pleading quality in her voice. The
book - why did she feel as if it burned her fingers just to touch it. Could she
hate something so much?
Evan interrupted her thoughts.
"Because it is familiar. It is a work of art despite its content. Because it is
something that you can't keep stepping away from." Evan finished. He stood
up and walked over to Meaghan. She'd crossed back to the edge of the candles'
reaching light.
Evan had seemed to move so fast that he startled Meaghan. He grabbed
her arms and turned her around so that her back was to the table and his face
was lighted by the candles' flames. His hands felt warm against her skin... they
always did, warmer than should be normal. Evan released her. Meaghan could
still feel the imprint of his fingers against her skin as she let what he'd said
fully sink in and she became angry.
"Steppin' away from the Bible? God?" Meaghan asked. Her skin heated
again but with a different intensity. "I didna step away from God. God
stepped away from me. He's the one that left me family to die, me Gabriel
to die... even 'me' to die, but me death was only after he'd treated me
with an experience of what Hell must surely be like!"
Evan stood before her. She watched him as if an outside observer, so caught
up in her stirred feelings, she was almost unresponsive. Meaghan watched him
grab her hand and direct her backward as he stepped forward. The thought of
breaking away from him played about her head but the hard pressure of his
fingers wrapped - no enclosing her hand, banished that thought. She found that
he had moved her toward Catherine's rocking chair, the back of her legs
rubbed against it, causing it to bow some.
"Sit." He ordered, and she did. He reached into his vest pocket and
pulled something out... fisted within his palm. Evan didn't allow her to see
what he held, at least, he hadn't yet.
Then he surprised Meaghan by his sudden crouching beside her, which she
saw was forcing him to look up some to completely see her face. In return, he
filled Meaghan's view, making her unable to look anywhere but at him.
"Listen to me," Evan said, then paused before speaking. She watched Evan as
he seemed to struggle with how to say what he wanted to tell her. But what could
he tell her of God that would make any difference. Nothing.
"I don't devalue your reasons for your hatred of a God." Meaghan stiffened.
"Yes. Does it hurt to hear it out in the open? Do you think it would make a
difference whether you utter it or think it? God is all knowing isn't that how
it
goes? If so, it should make no difference whether you say it or think it, isn't
that right?"
Evan paused, seeming to gage her reaction, then continued.
"I know little of what you've gone through and I am not asking to know.
There are things that I've... done or gone through that I don't like to talk of
either. " He paused, "Everyone has something that is better left alone. You
asked me why I have you read the Bible... and it was for the reasons that I've
said. But there is something else to it which I haven't mentioned."
"And what would that be?" Meaghan asked in a dull voice, yet her attention
was fully engaged.
"God and your struggle with him taints everything you do. You are in a
constant battle over your conflicting beliefs... I see you pull back at that."
Evan observed," You so desperately want to deny any place in your heart
for Him but the thought of God still sneaks in. It makes you angry and
unfocused and that is dangerous. Everything you do is affected. This
is what I see."
"Yea see ghosts too?" Meaghan snapped, smartly.
"I guess you could say that; yes. I see the ghost of your old vision of God,
fighting with this new view of Him." Evan answered. "What you don't seem to
see is that the fight is over."
"What are yea talkin' about? Yea be talkin' nonsense."
"Am I? Evan questioned, an eye brow raised, he continued, "It's really simple,
what I am talking about, I mean. You have combined the two. Look into
yourself and you will see the truth of my words."
Meaghan sat back against the rocking chair, stunned. She wanted to deny
what he said. It was so easy to blame someone that couldn't argue against it.
But was what he said, true? According to Catherine, God was who brought
her here. God is who gave her back her life. God was who... gave her a family
again. God was who gave her... love.
Meaghan gasped. Looking down at the still perched Evan. She felt unable to
close her widened eyes. Was this true? Was Love what seemed to burrow
its trail through her restraints and under her skin... was that the flame that
heated her cheeks when there was no apparent heat to come by?
Yes, the answer was simple in saying but hard in coming to.
Yes. Meaghan felt her eyes water. Evan was like a thorn in her side. He
forced her to look at things - to do things that she would otherwise feel
incapable of. From teaching her to read, to riding a horse, to wearing "pants"
of all things, and to making her learn the sword. He never let her give up on
anything that would guarantee the safety of her life.
Evan was her teacher. He seemed always to be making her see things and
abilities that she was unaware of. It seemed he had taught her again. But,
it was more than the lesson of God and her acceptance of Him. That, all
of a sudden, was an easy lesson. Could Evan know of her love for him, for
Evan?
She was a student... his student and she suspected that to be all. Though
maybe not, there were times she was sure his stare held her longer, or his
touch lingered... even if that was a touch of tangled swords and fighting
bodies.
But, he was right. She knew she tried not to deal with God at any level but
he seemed to want to deal with her. And maybe it was habit that forced her to
plead against reading the Bible. If she were honest with herself, she had
reconciled the two opposing views.. an evil God and a loving God -, long ago.
Maybe it had been that day at the lake with Catherine that she'd accepted
both, but then again, perhaps not. She couldn't say for certain. Meaghan
felt that she couldn't classify her amended faith, but that
was fine because, faith, again, had found her and that was what the most
important aspect was.
"Yea 're right." Meaghan said, her voice solid as she gazed at Evan. From
his rumpled hair, to his angled features, to his insistent eyes, he was right.
Evan raised his clenched palm and his other hand grabbed one of
hers. "Open your fingers."
Meaghan obeyed. Evan raised his clenched hand over her palm and then
opened it. She felt warmed metal fall onto her skin.
"I kept this, unknowing at first. I'd found it tangled within Fury's mane."
Evan moved his hand away from hers to reveal her chain and cross. It
had been missing. Meaghan knew it had been, but she couldn't remember
where she had it last. She thought it was lost forever, another sign of His
abandonment. But here it was before her, again.
"I didn't give it to you right away. You needed the time to come to a
resolution. Whether you wanted to keep it or whether you wanted to
toss it away."
Meaghan picked up the cross in her other hand and held it before her
face, she then looked past it, to Evan." This was found with me when I was
left at Father Aidan's church. It was the only thing I had that bound me to
where I came from. I..."
She paused, feeling the tears slip down her face as she sniffled. Her
voice was soft and breathy as she continued." Then, it was more than just
a link to an unknown past. It was the only thing that I had that let me feel
in touch with me family while I was at the work house. I can't thank yea
enough... for this, for everything yea've done. I have never had anyone
treat me, no - take care of me, the way that yea have. Yea've opened yea
home to me, yea've taught me so many things and now... yea've given me
back a piece of me past that I want to always remember."
Meaghan squeezed her eyes shut, letting her head hit the back of the
rocking chair.
"Shall I?" Evan asked. Meaghan opened her eyes and saw Evan stand
up before her. She followed suit with the aid of his hand then she ran an
arm across her cheek to wipe away the fallen tears. She smiled at him as
she felt her heart hammering.
Evan had pulled her up to stand before him. She handed over the newly
recovered chain and turned around for him to string it around her neck.
Meaghan gathered her hair and raised it atop her head. Evan then threaded
his hands around her neck , holding either end of the necklace.
She shivered as she felt his callused fingers brush against the sides
of her neck. He paused his movements.
"Are you sure you are resolved," Evan asked. Was his voice, his lips
almost touching her ear?... It felt that close. She shivered again.
"Yes." Meaghan answered. How could a man be so kind? So giving? She
knew she truly loved him, and not for what he gave her in the way of
material possessions, but what he gave of himself. To her, Evan gave her
trust, a friendship, faith against things that seemed insurmountable. With
his presence and guidance... she felt drawn to him. It was more than
gratitude, though she did feel that, it was simply... him.. Evan.
She loved him. She'd have to live with that revelation for a bit.
*******************************
And so she had. No, she never entered into anything lightly and that
included unreservedly following her feelings. But that didn't mean that
her feelings would sprout up in other forms, they did, particularly her
seemedly favorite emotion, anger.
Just watching him as they'd sparred earlier today had provoked her
feelings for him. Add exhaustion to that, and she was surprised he allowed
her to keep her head... but to be that close to him was, well, could be a
distraction. She knew that her feelings for him contributed to the often
loss of her sword, or falling on her bum. She knew that, but he didn't.
She thought back to his last, farewell scrutiny of her at the end of
their practice. She wondered if Evan had found what he'd been searching
for within her. She feared she might never know that answer. He was a
hard one to read and the times when she felt that she could read him left her
with a sneaking suspicion that it was only what he allowed her to see - as
if he had control over everything he did. She supposed living "longer than
most" could give you such control. She still wondered at that bit of trivia.
Trust... did he trust her? Had these past six months garnered even a bit of
it? She would have to say that it seemed so.
Evan was more open than he'd ever been with her, friendship wise anyway.
They'd spent many an intimate night, just the two of them, as he continued
to teach her to read and then later, directed her from the kitchen study room to
the
library where there were works that he felt she should read. She found that
he had such a passion for books and knowledge that it nearly amazed.
She loved the conversations they would have over a particular author or
work. Byrony's library was filled with books... criticisms, biographies, and the
actual works. She found she liked reading as much as she could on a
particular author and then discussing him or her with Evan - and that was
another thing that struck her... women writers? Reading, for as long as she
had known had been for men, and that mostly consisted of "figures" to be
sure that they weren't swindled come harvest time. But here, women were
not only permitted to read, but wrote as well. It was inspiring. She found
herself liking Jane Austen. She learned quite a bit about this thing called
"proper society" from her works... though she felt that if stuck in such a
place she might gag from it.
The Bronte sisters were her favorite. They seemed to capture her feelings,
She often felt that the landscapes they described could capture her more
than even the heroines did. Though they, too, spoke to her soul.
.
Then there was Mary Shelly's Frankenstein. This was the one book that she
did not discuss with Evan. If anything had ever hit her, it was the idea of
Frankenstein's monster... and the possibility that she might one day identify
with the monster. It petrified her to think about that, but then again, she was
unable to stop her thoughts on it. Would she end up as that monster? Living
forever, alone, isolated... oh maybe not in the frozen tundra but within her
own created Iceland?
God, she hoped against hope that, that would never happen. Prayed
was more the word to describe it. What spiked this seemingly irrational
fear? What? But she knew what... Evan.
She would watch him sometimes when they sat together at night. He would
appear so solitary, so unreachable even though he merely sat across the
room. Distance stretched around him and her heart would break. She
ached to cross that invisible expanse. She wondered if that were possible?
There was something about him that reached for her, she could feel it. He
was in control of so much of his emotions, but she believed that it wasn't
a complete control, for something sneaked out from under his guard. It snuck
out and called to her heart, demanding to be caressed.
Soon, she knew it was to be soon. Things were going to come to a head
between them. There was no way they could not. Whether Evan realized
it or not, a confrontation of the unspoken would occur.
Meaghan would not run away from it. She was tired of running, of running
away from life. Though Evan had lived for as long as he had, she wasn't
yet sure if he was through with his own running, but then again, Meaghan
would soon know that answer, wouldn't she?
CO. CORK, IRELAND
CLONAKILTY
BYRONY ESTATE
1847: SAME EVENING
***************************
Meaghan slid into the awaiting bath. She'd come back from her sparring
match to find that Catherine had employed her son and grandson, Thomas
and Liam, to help bring a tub and heated water up to her bed chamber.
Meaghan made a note to herself, to thank the O'Sheas, rather feverently
because the warm water felt fantastic against her aching muscles. God,
but they hurt. Where was the immortal healing, already? Had Evan
worked her beyond its capabilities? Lord, she hoped not.
Meaghan sank down into the bubbles, the water's jasmine scent clinging
to her skin. It was all just so frustrating - fighting, hurting, training...
Evan.
Evan...
He was frustrating or rather, her feelings toward him were. She
hated feeling vulnerable. Let whatever happen, happen, as long as it
didn't touch her heart. That was her new plan of action because
devastation had reigned there too many times before.
But she knew herself.
She knew she had very little control over what her heart chose to cling to, and
it
had clung to everyone at Byrony and that included Catherine, Liam,
Thomas... and now, Evan.
She didn't know when or why or how it had happened, but... she had fallen in
love with Evan.
'No, that was a lie,' she told herself as she scrunched down further within the
copper tub, the warm water lapping against her skin. 'Let's start from the
beginning.' She did know when. It was the same time that she realized she'd
accepted God again. 'Was it only three months ago? Yes, only three.'
**************
CO. CORK, IRELAND
BYRONY ESTATE
3 MONTHS
EARLIER
1847
**************
"Meaghan, re-read the last part," Evan instructed. She looked up. Both
of them sat at a table, across from each other. It was later in the
evening, the usual hour for their tutoring session. The kitchen was
lit by the licking flames of the hearth and the candles that sat upon the
table. Meaghan read aloud while Evan listened to her.
She took a deep breath, her eyes captured the flickering flame of the
candle light before they rolled over to look at Evan.
Meaghan closed her eyes, scolding herself. He was the one taking his time
to teach her, she knew that... but her own impatience with her progress was
taking a toll on her. Maybe that wasn't the complete truth of the
matter, partial, but not the complete truth.
For some reason, it was the constant nights like these, alone with Evan, that
were taking their toll on her. It was the time of night when Catherine
retired, Thomas and Liam were safely ensconced in their, well, Byrony's
gate cottage, and Evan and Meaghan were left, alone, to study. She finally
opened her eyes as she heard a scrape against the pine table.
Meaghan watched as Evan picked up his glass and downed half of the Guiness
it contained. She gave a slight start as he slammed the tankard onto the table.
Licking the foam from the top of his lip, Evan met her stare. She blushed,
turning her gaze away from him to lock her eyes onto her own brew. Reaching
out, she brought the drink to her mouth. She inhaled the bitter scent before
swallowing down almost as much as Evan had.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, but she needed that.
"Are you ready?" Evan asked, leaning back against his chair.
"I don't be seeing how this be so bloody important!" Meaghan griped, as she
turned her stare to the book sitting upon the table before her. She waited for
him to answer, but he remained silent, causing her to look up again. Mistake,
that was, because he had leaned across the table. He was a breath's distance
away from her. She gasped, the close proximity left her feeling... she didn't
know how. The crackling blaze from the hearth bathed his profile in a warm
glow and she noticed, also, how the candle light flickered upon his hazel eyes.
She
felt compelled to stare at the hazel orbs, no, at him. Her heart sped up and she
felt like it was about to burst out of her chest.
Confusion spread across her senses and she pulled away. Meaghan rubbed
her cheek for her skin felt like it had brushed against fire, itself. She shook
her head, trying to clear her thoughts.
"You don't see the importance?" Evan asked, still stretched above the
table's surface.
'Did he whisper that?' She wondered, if felt like he had. She looked at
him as she pushed herself back against the wooden chair. Through her
dress, she could feel the chair's spindles impressing against her back.
'What was wrong with her? Why was she suddenly so afraid of him. Her
thoughts threaded their way to their first no, their second meeting. She
remembered being afraid of him then... but this was... it was different. She
remembered how he looked standing over her, tall, imposing... dangerous.
Had it felt like she couldn't breathe then? Meaghan stared at him, the candle
light caused shadows to fall across his face, under his hanging bangs, and his
nose shadowed his one cheek. Her mouth was dry... She felt muddled and
hated feeling that way... absolutely hated it! Meaghan pushed the chair back
across the floor and stood up. The sound of wood scraping against wood
reverberated in her ears. She had to get away... had to!
Meaghan walked across the room, to the door that lay nestled beyond the
light's reach... it was her avenue of escape. It was true that she'd
always loved being in this room, but now, if she had to, she would claw her
way out of it. She wanted to escape that badly.
Why did she feel this pressing need to run away? Why? For, she loved the
feel that the kitchen gave her. It was the closest place that resembled what
she used to know. It reminded her of her family's cottage, of her home.
She supposed the remembrances were because of the many things
to be found in there... furniture, stored bathtubs, tables, chairs and an open
hearth to name but a few. It was more than a kitchen; it was a place to relax
and just talk. There was even plush chairs - two of them book ending the fire
place and there was Catherine's rocking chair, which made up the room's
total furnishings.
Though the kitchen had so many similarities to what she knew, it differed
in one major respect. With everything to be found there, she was the only
Kineally to be among them.
She thought on her family often, though with less sorrow and bitterness then
before... for she'd reconciled herself to their loss. It was just... the
memories
of them would surround her, pressing their way to the forefront of her mind.
She was glad for it. Glad that they came to visit for a spell. It was the only
way she held onto her family and so she cherished their intrusions.
Her thoughts turned back to Byrony, itself. She still found it remarkable,
even after being at Byrony for over five months. How could such a place
exist?
The whole house was warm and welcoming, but particularly the kitchen, holding
echos of a past life that wrapped around her heart and warmed her better than
anything in all of Ireland. Yes, that was why she loved this room.
Before Evan had come back to Byrony, Catherine, Meaghan, Thomas and
Liam spent many a night around the hungry fire, just talking and
sitting. Liam seemed to love to entertain, and more particularly, he seemed to
love to entertain Meaghan. She marveled at the young man. He was always
engaging her in games, in questions and filling her in on his day's antics.
It seemed that the times that she had felt most maudlin, where the times
when Liam would barrage her with a litany of his day's activities. He refused
to allow her her dark silent musings.
Liam would speak to her with such zest and zeal that she was always hard
put to silence him. He was all fire and passion and no matter how hard she
told herself she would pretend to listen, it was not to be so. She would soon
find herself getting caught up in his silken web of stories.
Liam's "adventures in Tir a na nog" were especially riveting. He seemed to
visit that fairy land often or so his tales would lead one to think. He would
describe it so clear, so completely, she could believe he'd been there, touched
its very grass and bathed in its rainbows.
The storyteller had a captivated audience with not just Meaghan but
everyone in the room. He had a talent, of that she would never deny.
Eventually it would come time when Liam would be telling a new reel
of adventures and Catherine would just call to him in that tone she
seemed to have, ending his stories and signaling his imminent bed time.
It was just another trait of Catherine's that reminded Meaghan of her
mother, another key opening the door to those echoes.
Yes, she loved the feeling that this kitchen gave her, the feeling of home.
But now... now, she felt caught. She wanted out of the room, but it was as if a
shackle had gripped her leg, refusing her any further distance. Evan called
out to her.
"Meaghan?"
She felt the swinging door beneath her palms. She spread her hands back
and forth across its cool, grainy surface. She didn't turn around as she
answered him.
"What?" She choked. Why was it so hard to talk? So hard to breathe even?
"You didn't answer my question." He said. She had heard his chair slide
back . She knew he wasn't near her for his voice traveled the few yards of
heavy air that she felt between them.
Meaghan took a deep breath and turned back to face Evan. Escape was mere
inches behind her, and yet... at the same time... so far away. She responded to
him
the only way that she could. He still sat in his chair but he seemed to be
draped
against it, rather than sitting in it. What was wrong with her?!? She narrowed
her
eyes as she looked upon his careless posture.
"What!?!" She snapped then bit her lip. Why did she have to do that, he didn't
do anything to her. He was helping her, teaching her to read... something she'd
always wanted to know.
"You don't see the importance, I'd asked." Evan said seeming to study her very
innards... his look was so piercing. Meaghan forced herself to walk back to him.
His hum rattled within her head but she dismissed it as it faded and evened out
with her own.
"The importance of reading? Yes, I do see it... but why does it have to be the
Bible?" Meaghan asked, she could hear the pleading quality in her voice. The
book - why did she feel as if it burned her fingers just to touch it. Could she
hate something so much?
Evan interrupted her thoughts.
"Because it is familiar. It is a work of art despite its content. Because it is
something that you can't keep stepping away from." Evan finished. He stood
up and walked over to Meaghan. She'd crossed back to the edge of the candles'
reaching light.
Evan had seemed to move so fast that he startled Meaghan. He grabbed
her arms and turned her around so that her back was to the table and his face
was lighted by the candles' flames. His hands felt warm against her skin... they
always did, warmer than should be normal. Evan released her. Meaghan could
still feel the imprint of his fingers against her skin as she let what he'd said
fully sink in and she became angry.
"Steppin' away from the Bible? God?" Meaghan asked. Her skin heated
again but with a different intensity. "I didna step away from God. God
stepped away from me. He's the one that left me family to die, me Gabriel
to die... even 'me' to die, but me death was only after he'd treated me
with an experience of what Hell must surely be like!"
Evan stood before her. She watched him as if an outside observer, so caught
up in her stirred feelings, she was almost unresponsive. Meaghan watched him
grab her hand and direct her backward as he stepped forward. The thought of
breaking away from him played about her head but the hard pressure of his
fingers wrapped - no enclosing her hand, banished that thought. She found that
he had moved her toward Catherine's rocking chair, the back of her legs
rubbed against it, causing it to bow some.
"Sit." He ordered, and she did. He reached into his vest pocket and
pulled something out... fisted within his palm. Evan didn't allow her to see
what he held, at least, he hadn't yet.
Then he surprised Meaghan by his sudden crouching beside her, which she
saw was forcing him to look up some to completely see her face. In return, he
filled Meaghan's view, making her unable to look anywhere but at him.
"Listen to me," Evan said, then paused before speaking. She watched Evan as
he seemed to struggle with how to say what he wanted to tell her. But what could
he tell her of God that would make any difference. Nothing.
"I don't devalue your reasons for your hatred of a God." Meaghan stiffened.
"Yes. Does it hurt to hear it out in the open? Do you think it would make a
difference whether you utter it or think it? God is all knowing isn't that how
it
goes? If so, it should make no difference whether you say it or think it, isn't
that right?"
Evan paused, seeming to gage her reaction, then continued.
"I know little of what you've gone through and I am not asking to know.
There are things that I've... done or gone through that I don't like to talk of
either. " He paused, "Everyone has something that is better left alone. You
asked me why I have you read the Bible... and it was for the reasons that I've
said. But there is something else to it which I haven't mentioned."
"And what would that be?" Meaghan asked in a dull voice, yet her attention
was fully engaged.
"God and your struggle with him taints everything you do. You are in a
constant battle over your conflicting beliefs... I see you pull back at that."
Evan observed," You so desperately want to deny any place in your heart
for Him but the thought of God still sneaks in. It makes you angry and
unfocused and that is dangerous. Everything you do is affected. This
is what I see."
"Yea see ghosts too?" Meaghan snapped, smartly.
"I guess you could say that; yes. I see the ghost of your old vision of God,
fighting with this new view of Him." Evan answered. "What you don't seem to
see is that the fight is over."
"What are yea talkin' about? Yea be talkin' nonsense."
"Am I? Evan questioned, an eye brow raised, he continued, "It's really simple,
what I am talking about, I mean. You have combined the two. Look into
yourself and you will see the truth of my words."
Meaghan sat back against the rocking chair, stunned. She wanted to deny
what he said. It was so easy to blame someone that couldn't argue against it.
But was what he said, true? According to Catherine, God was who brought
her here. God is who gave her back her life. God was who... gave her a family
again. God was who gave her... love.
Meaghan gasped. Looking down at the still perched Evan. She felt unable to
close her widened eyes. Was this true? Was Love what seemed to burrow
its trail through her restraints and under her skin... was that the flame that
heated her cheeks when there was no apparent heat to come by?
Yes, the answer was simple in saying but hard in coming to.
Yes. Meaghan felt her eyes water. Evan was like a thorn in her side. He
forced her to look at things - to do things that she would otherwise feel
incapable of. From teaching her to read, to riding a horse, to wearing "pants"
of all things, and to making her learn the sword. He never let her give up on
anything that would guarantee the safety of her life.
Evan was her teacher. He seemed always to be making her see things and
abilities that she was unaware of. It seemed he had taught her again. But,
it was more than the lesson of God and her acceptance of Him. That, all
of a sudden, was an easy lesson. Could Evan know of her love for him, for
Evan?
She was a student... his student and she suspected that to be all. Though
maybe not, there were times she was sure his stare held her longer, or his
touch lingered... even if that was a touch of tangled swords and fighting
bodies.
But, he was right. She knew she tried not to deal with God at any level but
he seemed to want to deal with her. And maybe it was habit that forced her to
plead against reading the Bible. If she were honest with herself, she had
reconciled the two opposing views.. an evil God and a loving God -, long ago.
Maybe it had been that day at the lake with Catherine that she'd accepted
both, but then again, perhaps not. She couldn't say for certain. Meaghan
felt that she couldn't classify her amended faith, but that
was fine because, faith, again, had found her and that was what the most
important aspect was.
"Yea 're right." Meaghan said, her voice solid as she gazed at Evan. From
his rumpled hair, to his angled features, to his insistent eyes, he was right.
Evan raised his clenched palm and his other hand grabbed one of
hers. "Open your fingers."
Meaghan obeyed. Evan raised his clenched hand over her palm and then
opened it. She felt warmed metal fall onto her skin.
"I kept this, unknowing at first. I'd found it tangled within Fury's mane."
Evan moved his hand away from hers to reveal her chain and cross. It
had been missing. Meaghan knew it had been, but she couldn't remember
where she had it last. She thought it was lost forever, another sign of His
abandonment. But here it was before her, again.
"I didn't give it to you right away. You needed the time to come to a
resolution. Whether you wanted to keep it or whether you wanted to
toss it away."
Meaghan picked up the cross in her other hand and held it before her
face, she then looked past it, to Evan." This was found with me when I was
left at Father Aidan's church. It was the only thing I had that bound me to
where I came from. I..."
She paused, feeling the tears slip down her face as she sniffled. Her
voice was soft and breathy as she continued." Then, it was more than just
a link to an unknown past. It was the only thing that I had that let me feel
in touch with me family while I was at the work house. I can't thank yea
enough... for this, for everything yea've done. I have never had anyone
treat me, no - take care of me, the way that yea have. Yea've opened yea
home to me, yea've taught me so many things and now... yea've given me
back a piece of me past that I want to always remember."
Meaghan squeezed her eyes shut, letting her head hit the back of the
rocking chair.
"Shall I?" Evan asked. Meaghan opened her eyes and saw Evan stand
up before her. She followed suit with the aid of his hand then she ran an
arm across her cheek to wipe away the fallen tears. She smiled at him as
she felt her heart hammering.
Evan had pulled her up to stand before him. She handed over the newly
recovered chain and turned around for him to string it around her neck.
Meaghan gathered her hair and raised it atop her head. Evan then threaded
his hands around her neck , holding either end of the necklace.
She shivered as she felt his callused fingers brush against the sides
of her neck. He paused his movements.
"Are you sure you are resolved," Evan asked. Was his voice, his lips
almost touching her ear?... It felt that close. She shivered again.
"Yes." Meaghan answered. How could a man be so kind? So giving? She
knew she truly loved him, and not for what he gave her in the way of
material possessions, but what he gave of himself. To her, Evan gave her
trust, a friendship, faith against things that seemed insurmountable. With
his presence and guidance... she felt drawn to him. It was more than
gratitude, though she did feel that, it was simply... him.. Evan.
She loved him. She'd have to live with that revelation for a bit.
*******************************
And so she had. No, she never entered into anything lightly and that
included unreservedly following her feelings. But that didn't mean that
her feelings would sprout up in other forms, they did, particularly her
seemedly favorite emotion, anger.
Just watching him as they'd sparred earlier today had provoked her
feelings for him. Add exhaustion to that, and she was surprised he allowed
her to keep her head... but to be that close to him was, well, could be a
distraction. She knew that her feelings for him contributed to the often
loss of her sword, or falling on her bum. She knew that, but he didn't.
She thought back to his last, farewell scrutiny of her at the end of
their practice. She wondered if Evan had found what he'd been searching
for within her. She feared she might never know that answer. He was a
hard one to read and the times when she felt that she could read him left her
with a sneaking suspicion that it was only what he allowed her to see - as
if he had control over everything he did. She supposed living "longer than
most" could give you such control. She still wondered at that bit of trivia.
Trust... did he trust her? Had these past six months garnered even a bit of
it? She would have to say that it seemed so.
Evan was more open than he'd ever been with her, friendship wise anyway.
They'd spent many an intimate night, just the two of them, as he continued
to teach her to read and then later, directed her from the kitchen study room to
the
library where there were works that he felt she should read. She found that
he had such a passion for books and knowledge that it nearly amazed.
She loved the conversations they would have over a particular author or
work. Byrony's library was filled with books... criticisms, biographies, and the
actual works. She found she liked reading as much as she could on a
particular author and then discussing him or her with Evan - and that was
another thing that struck her... women writers? Reading, for as long as she
had known had been for men, and that mostly consisted of "figures" to be
sure that they weren't swindled come harvest time. But here, women were
not only permitted to read, but wrote as well. It was inspiring. She found
herself liking Jane Austen. She learned quite a bit about this thing called
"proper society" from her works... though she felt that if stuck in such a
place she might gag from it.
The Bronte sisters were her favorite. They seemed to capture her feelings,
She often felt that the landscapes they described could capture her more
than even the heroines did. Though they, too, spoke to her soul.
.
Then there was Mary Shelly's Frankenstein. This was the one book that she
did not discuss with Evan. If anything had ever hit her, it was the idea of
Frankenstein's monster... and the possibility that she might one day identify
with the monster. It petrified her to think about that, but then again, she was
unable to stop her thoughts on it. Would she end up as that monster? Living
forever, alone, isolated... oh maybe not in the frozen tundra but within her
own created Iceland?
God, she hoped against hope that, that would never happen. Prayed
was more the word to describe it. What spiked this seemingly irrational
fear? What? But she knew what... Evan.
She would watch him sometimes when they sat together at night. He would
appear so solitary, so unreachable even though he merely sat across the
room. Distance stretched around him and her heart would break. She
ached to cross that invisible expanse. She wondered if that were possible?
There was something about him that reached for her, she could feel it. He
was in control of so much of his emotions, but she believed that it wasn't
a complete control, for something sneaked out from under his guard. It snuck
out and called to her heart, demanding to be caressed.
Soon, she knew it was to be soon. Things were going to come to a head
between them. There was no way they could not. Whether Evan realized
it or not, a confrontation of the unspoken would occur.
Meaghan would not run away from it. She was tired of running, of running
away from life. Though Evan had lived for as long as he had, she wasn't
yet sure if he was through with his own running, but then again, Meaghan
would soon know that answer, wouldn't she?