She stopped at the bottom step and looked around her. The staircase ended in a dark room, and she couldn't see anything behind her. Turning her head towards the light source, Morgan gasped. It was like an entire wall of the room had been knocked out and the gentle sound of waves lapping on a beach reached to her. Light from the sun shot into the dark room, and Morgan held up her hand to shield her eyes, straining to see what lay beyond the walls of the room.
"You are now in a special and safe place. Know that you are protected as you step forward."
Fiona's words seemed to carry to her on a sea breeze that tickled her cheeks.
"Look down at yourself. Are you wearing anything?"
Surprised, Morgan looked down at herself. A gasp shot from her mouth and she covered her face with her hand, gaping down at herself.
"Is something wrong?"
"I'm pregnant! Hugely, hugely pregnant!" Morgan gasped out, completely in awe of the large belly that stuck out in front of her.
"Are you clothed?"
"Aye, I'm in a deep maroon gown of sorts. A woven cloth. It's seen better days, but for some reason, I feel like it is my best. I wear this with pride."
"A ceremonial robe?"
"Yes…yes. That feels right."
"What do you see around you?"
"I'm still standing at the bottom of the stairs. But, I can see what I think is a beach across the room from me. Should I go there?"
"Go ahead, you are safe to leave the staircase."
A thrill of excitement shot through Morgan as she left the staircase and began to walk towards the open wall. Instinctively, she rubbed her belly softly, making soothing circles across the great mound. Even her gait felt different, off-kilter from the weight of the child that lay within her womb.
The room seemed to fade behind her as she stepped into the sunlight, her bare toes pressing into the sand.
"It's the cove! I'm in the cove," Morgan exclaimed, holding her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked around at the rocky walls that hugged the cove. "It's the same. But different."
"How is it different?"
"There are just more rocks piled up on the walls…I don't know. I don't see a path up to the top either. I wonder how I got here."
"How do you feel being there?"
Morgan stopped and thought about it, staring out at the blue waters as they gently lapped against the sand beach. She should feel happy; her baby was to be born soon and it was a beautiful day.
"I feel incredibly sad. Oh, it hurts so much. I don't understand…why am I so sad?" Morgan gasped out, feeling tears well in her eyes.
"It's okay to feel sad. We all do at times. Are you alone there?"
"I…I don't know," Morgan said, wiping the back of her palm across her eyes as she turned to walk along the beach. A figure seemed to appear through a mist, her arms outstretched for Morgan. Without a thought, she found herself lumbering across the sand in a half-joyous, half-pained trot, desperately wanting to be with this person.
"Mother!" Morgan cried out, lost in the vision, no longer hearing Fiona's words.
Arms embraced her and Morgan could smell a faint scent of lavender and sea moss as she buried her face in the woman's shoulder, holding on as tight as her large belly would allow her.
"Who is your mother, Morgan?" Fiona's voice broke through the moment and Morgan looked up to see a stunningly beautiful woman looking down at her. This woman radiated strength as much as she did love.
"It's Grace. Grace is my mother," Morgan whispered.
"Which would make you Margaret O'Malley," Fiona whispered.
"Maeve," Morgan automatically corrected her, knowing it was right.
"Maeve it is then," Fiona murmured.
Morgan continued to hold her mother, needing the connection, knowing it wasn't long now. She didn't want her to go. She wasn't ready for this.
"No," Morgan said, whispering to the woman who stood before her.
"No, what?" Fiona asked.
"No, I don't want her to do it. I don't. She's going to walk into the water," Morgan gasped, tears running freely down her cheeks.
"Why is she doing this?" Fiona asked.
Morgan knew she was speaking with Grace, but the conversation seemed to flow past her. A thought flashed into her head.
"She has a blood disease. Something of the blood. She's dying. It's her time. I have to help her," Morgan gasped out.
"How are you helping her?"
"Magick," Morgan whispered, holding out her arm as Grace slashed a shallow slice across her left palm, and doing the same to hers. Placing her hand to Morgan's, she squeezed tight as she pulled Morgan into a circle of stones. Grace smiled at her with love and placed her free hand on Morgan's belly, completing the circle. Immediately, she began to chant.
"What's happening?" Fiona asked.
"She's cut my hand, blood is pouring down from us, her hands are on my belly now; she is blessing my child."
Morgan's face felt sticky and wet with tears as she stared down at the marks of blood across her belly, knowing the time was now. Grace leaned over, kissing her gently on the mouth, before she turned and raised her hands to the cove, crying the words that would forever enchant the waters with her power.
Morgan crossed her arms over her belly, falling to her knees as her mother, her life, walked slowly into the water, her arms raised above her head as she continued to chant.
"I don't want her to go. I'm so young. I'm so scared. I can't do this alone. I can't be a mother alone. How am I going to give birth without her?" Morgan's words panted out of her, real physical pain lashing through her as she thought about her mother leaving her. "Why is she abandoning me?"
"She is most likely saving you from having to care for her as the disease takes her body," Fiona suggested gently.
"If she's so powerful, why can't she save herself?" Morgan gasped, watching as the water crept up her mother's neck.
"Because we all must die. And then we come back. It was her time," Fiona said quietly.
"She's leaving me! The water…no, the water is going over her head…" Morgan cried out as the waves lapped over her mother's head and in an instant she was gone. "No, noooooo," Morgan said on a keening wail, sobbing as the most important person in her life disappeared into the sea. With a flash of light, the waters lit with a brilliant blue glow, so bright, so stunning, that Morgan had to shield her eyes from it.
"Shhh, Morgan, you're okay. You're safe," Fiona said.
"The cove is glowing," Morgan said quietly, her sobs coming more softly as a new and very real pain lashed through her lower back.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm…I think that I'm going into labor," Morgan said, her eyes wide with shock as she brought her hand to her back, standing slowly on the beach, staring into the waters, willing her mother to come back and help her.
"You can get through this, Morgan. Remember, we are all here because you birthed this child," Fiona reminded her.
"I don't know what to do. How can I do this without her? She left me!" Morgan screamed her anger and fear into the breeze that whipped around her, blowing her hair back from her face. The cove continued to pulse with a brilliant blue light.
"You can leave, you can come home," Fiona whispered.
"No, I have to do this," Morgan panted, walking the cove, staring at the water, silently blaming her mother for leaving her.
"I will coach you through it," Fiona said gently.
Morgan began to breathe, letting out little puffs of air as she walked the beach for hours, rubbing her back, crying as pain lashed through her.
"It's close. She's close," Morgan said, wondering how she knew that she was having a daughter.
"Why don't you kneel down," Fiona suggested.
"I have to go into the water," Morgan said, stumbling into the waves. The blue light surrounded her as she stood waist deep in the water and screamed, throwing her head back to the sky, crying out as she pushed her baby into the world. Bending over
, she helped her daughter from her body, pulling her from the water that was lit from within.
"Oh God, I don't know what to do," Morgan panted, immediately putting her finger in her baby's mouth and clearing the gunk out.
"Clear her passages," Fiona instructed.
"I just did. I don't know why," Morgan said, looking blindly down at the infant she held in her arms.
On a small cough, the infant seemed to come to life with a hearty wail, the cries echoing off the walls of the cove. If it was possible, the cove seemed to glow even more intensely and for a moment, Morgan found herself laughing down at the squalling baby, relief and happiness coursing through her.
"I'll never leave you, little one. I'll always be with you," Morgan promised her, pulling her dress down to help her daughter begin to nurse. The joy of motherhood pierced her, cutting through her anger with Grace for leaving her, and in a small way, it began the path of healing her pain from losing Grace.
"Do you need to stay there anymore? Did you get what you needed?" Fiona asked.
Morgan turned and began to walk gingerly out of the water with her baby in her arms. Scanning the rock walls, she wondered how she would get out of here. Or even take care of her own body's physical needs.
But a part of her knew that it was time for her to go.
"It's time." Morgan nodded.
"Then I'd like you to turn back to the room that you came from, where the staircase is."
Morgan turned and saw the large cutout in the rock wall, the wrought-iron spiral staircase highlighted in the middle. Hesitantly, she stepped towards the staircase, crossing the sand with her baby in her arms.
"What will happen to my baby?" Morgan exclaimed, looking down at the infant in her arms.
"She's safe. I promise. Now go to the bottom of the stairs. Once there, you'll see that the infant is no longer in your arms."
Morgan stepped to the bottom of the staircase and looking down again, she was surprised to see that Fiona was right. Her baby was gone, as were the robes she had been wearing. Her normal clothes were back on her body. Whipping her head around, she looked out onto the beach and saw a brief glimmer of a maroon robe walking down the line of the sand.
"I'm going to count to ten. With each number, you'll go a little higher up the staircase. One." Fiona began and Morgan began to climb the staircase. With each step she pulled further away from the beach, leaving the anguish and loneliness behind her.
"Morgan," Fiona said gently at her side and Morgan blinked her eyes open, staring again at the rafters above her.
"I'm Maeve," Morgan gasped out, sitting up and clasping Fiona's hands. A dizziness washed through her and her head was swimming with crazy thoughts. Most notably, she felt a sense of excitement course through her. "I'm Maeve! I'm Grace's daughter! I know who I am…I belong here."
Fiona watched her cautiously and then reached out to stroke her hand down Morgan's cheek.
"No, you're Morgan McKenzie," Fiona said softly, concern etched across her face.
Morgan laughed at her.
"No, I know that. But, I'm also Maeve. A part of me is Maeve!"
Fiona watched her carefully and then nodded.
"Come, let's get a drink. We need it."
Chapter 14
"Tell me everything," Fiona instructed, as they sat once again in the rocking chairs, tucked in front of the fire, Ronan snoring again at their feet.
Morgan sipped her whiskey, recounting all the details of what she had just seen. Her head was spinning as she tried to remember every last moment, any tidbit that could be important to her.
"So now we know how the cove began its little light show trick," Fiona mused.
"I didn't know that it glowed," Morgan said.
"Aye, it does. In the presence of love," Fiona said and Morgan's heart warmed as she thought about the beautiful blue light that had surrounded her as she gave birth.
"It was a powerful experience," Morgan said softly, tracing her finger down the side of her glass.
"Yes, if you were to pick any moment in time to go back to, you sure picked a doozie," Fiona agreed.
"It felt good, you know, to see my mother, I guess any mother of mine," Morgan mumbled and buried her nose back into her glass.
Fiona raised an eyebrow at her. "Of course it would be. What do you think the lesson is there?"
Morgan shrugged, then forced herself to think about it.
"I suppose that I am here to learn how to make it on my own? To know that I am strong enough on my own?" Morgan asked, the words spilling from her mouth.
"Are you asking me or telling me?" Fiona asked.
"Both?" Morgan smiled weakly at her and Fiona smiled back.
"I think that your soul needs to learn that it is always loved, no matter whether your mother is there to see it or not," Fiona said gently.
"So, I just need to know that I am loved and that I am strong enough – good enough – to make it on my own," Morgan stated, taking another sip of her whiskey, letting the liquid warm its way down her throat.
"Easier said than done," Fiona commented and Morgan found herself smiling.
"You know…I think that I am getting there. This helped a lot. It gives me a piece of myself that I don't think I ever would have had. So, thank you for that," Morgan said.
"It helped me too. I now know even more about our history than I ever have before," Fiona mused.
"Though I don't think that I'd like to repeat that whole giving birth experience any time soon," Morgan said and Fiona chuckled.
"You really went through the trenches on that. I almost pulled you so you wouldn't have to experience it."
"I think that I needed to. To feel what I would do to protect that baby in my arms. To maybe get a glimmer of understanding on why Grace walked into the water. It was to protect me."
"Aye, yes. Grace was a powerful woman. If people had known she was sick, they would have challenged you, fought for your lands. Instead, she signed over her lands in the right manner and chose a private death with you there. It was a powerful decision made by a proud and powerful woman. I admire her," Fiona said.
"I suppose that I do as well," Morgan murmured, surprised to feel her eyelids beginning to droop.
"Ah, yes, you'll be feeling the effects of your experience. Why don't you go to bed? I'll get you a nice breakfast in the morning. Tomorrow's your day off?"
"I'm supposed to go with Flynn to the cove."
"I'll give him a call. He's right across the way and can come pick you up, if he still needs you to go."
Nodding, Morgan stood and turned, not sure if she should hug Fiona or thank her for her help. Fiona smiled gently up at her, patting her arm lightly.
"I know. Go on now, rest, my dear."
Morgan was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
Chapter 15
Morgan blinked awake, moving seamlessly from sleep to clarity. She stared at the rafters above the small bed and took a deep breath. She felt wonderful. It was the first time in a long time that she had slept peacefully, no dreams to shock her awake. Stretching, Morgan rolled to her side when she felt a cold nose press into her arm.
"And a good morning to you, Sir Ronan," Morgan whispered over the edge of the bed, running her hand over his silky ears and smiling when he lapped his tongue across her palm. Morgan swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood, crossing the room to make use of the small bathroom attached to her room.
As she washed her hands, Morgan studied her face in the small wooden mirror tucked above the pedestal sink. For the first time in ages, her moody blue eyes seemed to shine, and the skin beneath them wasn't puffy or marred with dark circles.
The past-life regression had been a tremendous gift, she thought. Though it had been terribly overwhelming, and incredibly sad, it had also gifted Morgan with a sense of her background – of where she came from – that she had never known before. And, a part of her was secretly proud of herself for having given birth alone and somehow managing to get o
ut of the cove alive. She wondered what had happened to Maeve after that and made a note to work with Fiona about researching more of Maeve's story.
Morgan splashed cold water on her face and patted it dry with a soft cotton towel that hung near the sink. Feeling lighter, if not almost a bit wiser, Morgan wandered into the main room to see what Fiona was about.
"Ah, you've risen. How did you sleep?" Fiona put down a bowl that she was mixing at the counter and crossed to Morgan, clasping Morgan's face between her weathered hands and searching Morgan's eyes.
Morgan smiled and bent down to press a kiss to her papery cheek.
"Better than I have in years, actually."
"Really? How fascinating," Fiona murmured and turned to walk back to her bowl. Today the old woman wore a long woven skirt and a loose cotton blouse. She must not be planning to go into the fields, Morgan thought.
"Really. I don't know. I feel good. Like I know myself a little better. I don’t know, it's like my confidence has grown a bit," Morgan said, pulling out a chair at the table and sitting down to prop her head up in her hands.
"Because you know who you are?" Fiona asked.
"Maybe. Or maybe it is because I went through the experience of giving birth and know that I survived. Or, perhaps it is simply getting true validation that our souls do come around again. It's comforting, you know? Kind of makes everything not seem so serious." Morgan shrugged, wishing that she could put her feelings into words better.
"Sure and I can understand that. There is great comfort in knowing that this isn't it for us. It's why people have sought out religion for thousands of years. We all seek to gain the knowledge that we are going to be okay."
"Yes, that's true. I…I think it will help me to not take myself so seriously," Morgan said.
Fiona turned and raised an eyebrow at her.
"You mean with Patrick?"
Heat crept up Morgan's cheeks and she nodded. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she thought about it a bit more. "With Patrick, or with anything. I obsess over what people will think of me, if they will like me, if I'll be accepted. It's one of the reasons that I stay away from forming relationships. I'm worried that people won't like me or that I'll let them down. I think that I'll be able to ease some of that anxiety now. Maybe." Morgan shrugged again and smiled up at Fiona as she brought her a pot of breakfast tea.
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