When the Stars Sang

by Caren J. Werlinger

  “We still have to conserve our heat and electric,” she’d warned each one. Some of the houses had required a restart of their furnace as well, since they’d run completely dry.

  She parked the truck and went to the office where her father was bent over a logbook.

  “Thank goodness spring is here, and it’s been mild,” she said as she dropped into a vacant chair.

  “Go home, Mo,” Joe said.

  He and the boys had spent the day refilling the diesel tanks for the electric generators and doing some overdue maintenance on them while they were there.

  “In a minute,” she said. She pulled a different logbook out, transferring notes on each delivery she’d made before she forgot. “Everyone said to thank you again for not charging extra.”

  Joe grunted.

  Molly glanced in his direction, noting the hard line of his clenched jaw. “She feels horrible about this.”

  Joe looked her way, his expression softening. “Kathleen has nothing to feel bad about. She’s not responsible for what Michael does. But I’d like a few minutes alone with him.”

  Molly grinned, but then her grin faded. “Did Aidan ever tell you and Mom what Kathleen told him the night she hit her head?”

  Joe laid down his pencil and turned to face her. “Not exactly. Only that it made him realize he needed to make a change.”

  Molly studied the grease under her fingernails. “Bryan died on Kathleen’s tenth birthday. The next summer, on her eleventh, her mother asked why it couldn’t have been her.”

  Joe shoved to his feet, pacing the small office with his hands fisted. “What is wrong with those people?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “When I thought we’d lost Aidan that day… Your mom and I would have held on to the rest of you and never let you out of our sight.”

  Molly blurted out the thing that had been eating at her. “Rebecca thinks Kathleen isn’t ready to bond. That there’s something she hasn’t dealt with. What if…”

  “Mo,” Joe said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Kathleen loves you. That much is clear. But this… If she’s never confronted Michael or Christine about this, she won’t be whole until she does.”

  Molly looked up at him. “Yeah, but now, with him doing this. It feels like another wedge between us.”

  He squeezed and then gave her a shove toward the door. “Go home. Somehow, we’ll get through this. It’ll all work out.”

  Molly didn’t argue. She got into the Toyota and yawned some more on her way to the cottage, which was dark when she pulled up.

  Blossom greeted her at the door, but there was no sign of Kathleen. A light shone from upstairs. Wearily, she climbed the stairs to find Kathleen hunched over her keyboard.

  “Sorry,” she said before Molly could speak. “Let me just finish this.”

  Molly kissed the top of her head and went to the bathroom to scrub her hands with a nailbrush. A couple of minutes later, Kathleen came in.

  “Had to finish that while the thoughts were in my head.”

  “Afraid they might leak out?” Molly asked, glancing at Kathleen in the mirror.

  “Afraid they won’t be good enough.”

  Molly checked her hands, decided they passed inspection, and dried them off. “I’m starving. Let’s rustle up some supper.”

  “Leftover soup and bread okay?” Kathleen asked, taking Molly’s hand and walking her toward the stairs.

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  Kathleen flipped on one light in the kitchen. “I’m trying to keep my electric usage to a minimum.”

  “Thanks. It helps. Dad and the boys got the generators filled today, and I spent the day filling oil tanks.”

  Kathleen got a large ceramic bowl out of the fridge and ladled thick potato soup into a pan to warm it. Molly got a bread knife and cut thick slices from a loaf Kathleen had baked yesterday.

  “What were you working on?”

  Kathleen adjusted the heat under the pan. “Grants. I’ve never written grants, but I have friends who have. So they’ve been giving me advice and proofreading what I’ve prepared so far. There are all kinds of grants for renewable energy projects from universities and green manufacturers. I’ve also been emailing the people who spearheaded the green initiative on Eigg.”

  Molly glanced up. “The island off the coast of Scotland?”

  “Yeah. And Kodiak in Alaska. They managed to do it. Completely green with only diesel backup. If they can, we can.”

  Molly heard the hard edge to Kathleen’s voice. She set the bread knife down and stepped close to wrap her arms around Kathleen.

  “It isn’t your fault,” she murmured.

  Kathleen held her tightly. “I know you and the others keep saying that. But it feels like my fault. He wouldn’t be doing this to you if I hadn’t come back here.”

  Molly pulled back enough to look into Kathleen’s eyes. “Maybe. But if you manage to help us make this conversion to renewable energy—something Rebecca has been pushing us to do for years—that’ll really burn your father. I know that’s not your goal, but this move of his was pretty cruel. In a way, he may end up doing us a favor. That’s the best revenge of all.”

  Chapter 18

  THE SUN, BARELY PEEKING over the horizon, threw long shadows across the beach to the rocky sea wall. Kathleen shivered in the early morning chill.

  “Why are we out here so early?”

  “Because,” Molly said, grunting a little as she pulled the first of two sculls off the Toyota’s roof rack, “this is the time of day when the water is the calmest.”

  Kathleen looked back out at the ocean and saw that the waves barely made a ripple, washing gently onto the sand.

  “Get the oars, will you?” Molly asked as she pulled the second scull down and carried it to the water’s edge.

  She secured the oars Kathleen brought to her and turned to inspect Kathleen. She checked the straps on Kathleen’s life vest.

  “Why aren’t you wearing one of these?” Kathleen asked. “And why are you wearing suspenders?”

  Molly grinned. “These aren’t suspenders. It’s my life vest, inflatable if I need it.”

  “I feel like a five-year-old,” Kathleen grumbled, looking down at her bright orange vest.

  “You haven’t been on the ocean in a quarter century. You’re wearing it,” Molly said flatly.

  Kathleen decided she couldn’t argue with that logic.

  “Get in and I’ll push you out,” Molly said.

  She steadied the scull while Kathleen clambered in, feeling very clumsy as the boat rocked a little. She crouched, gripping the sides.

  “You have to let go and turn around to sit,” Molly said gently. “I’ve got you. You’re not going to fall in.”

  A nervous giggle burst out of Kathleen’s mouth. “I’m not even in the water.”

  “I wasn’t going to point that part out. Yet.”

  Taking a deep breath, Kathleen let go and turned to sit on the scull’s seat.

  “Secure your feet and feel how the seat glides on the tracks,” Molly said, still holding the scull securely so it didn’t rock.

  “Okay, just hold the oars out of the water, and I’ll push you out. Sit still until I’m with you.”

  Kathleen maintained a stranglehold on the oars as Molly gave the scull a hard shove. A minute later, Molly rowed out to her.

  Back on the shore, Blossom barked frantically from where he was tethered to the Toyota’s bumper.

  Patiently, Molly coached her on how to drop the oars—not digging too deep and not skipping along the surface—and pull with long, even strokes.

  “This is harder on the ocean than on a river or lake,” Molly reminded her when Kathleen got frustrated. “The water level keeps changing under you. But you’ll get the feel for it.”

  And she did. Slowly, Kathleen settled into a rhythm of breathing and pulling, breathing and sliding, breathing and pulling. It was hypnotic.

  “I think I understand why you like thi
s,” she panted.

  “It’s kind of like meditation,” Molly said. “Once you don’t have to think about it any longer. Stop and rest now.”

  They let the sculls drift. Kathleen’s breathing slowed as she looked around. Little Sister looked really far away.

  “How far is the buoy?” she asked.

  Molly hesitated a moment and then pointed behind them, toward the horizon. “Still out of sight and hearing. We haven’t gone that far.”

  “This feels far to me,” Kathleen said, twisting around carefully, her hands tight on the rocking scull.

  “It was. They never should have done it. It was already blowing. When the waves are even three or four feet, you drop out of sight. It’s easy to get disoriented. You don’t know which way is back. And you can never, ever outrace a storm.”

  Kathleen pulled on one oar, turning the scull, thinking about how scared Bryan must have been. When she was a child, especially here on the island with Nanna, she’d always kind of enjoyed storms, tucked cozily inside the warmth and shelter of a house. But after the horrible storm that stretched on into the night while they waited and waited… She’d often wondered what it had been like for Bryan, out on the ocean. She shivered now.

  “Let’s go back,” Molly said.

  Kathleen didn’t argue. She mimicked Molly’s technique to turn the scull completely, and they began the return trek to the island.

  BLOSSOM SAT, HIS HEAD swiveling from Kathleen to Molly at regular intervals as they chopped carrots and potatoes and onions and celery for a pot of stew.

  “Here you go,” Molly said, handing him a chunk of carrot. “Now stop begging.”

  He meekly accepted the carrot and took it under the table to gnaw on it.

  “He begs because you give him stuff,” Kathleen said, glancing up from her onions with tear-filled eyes.

  Molly grinned. “I know. But he had such a tough life before you took him in.”

  Kathleen snorted. “I think he’s learned to use that excuse.” She pushed her chopped onions aside and started to peel a potato. “Can’t wait to be getting these from our own garden soon. Thanks again for helping me. I never had a garden before.”

  They went back to work, a companionable silence filling the air between them. Outside, rain pelted the windows, and the trees groaned in the wind.

  “It’s going to blow hard tonight,” Molly said. She saw Kathleen roll her shoulders. “Still sore?”

  Kathleen gave a half-shrug. “A little. It’s been three days. Thought it’d be gone by now.”

  “But you’re not used to rowing. I was sore, too. I haven’t rowed on the water since November.”

  A hard gust rattled the windows.

  Molly glanced over as Kathleen paused, looking out into the darkening afternoon. She’d been quieter, more pensive since their rowing excursion. And she’d been dreaming, sometimes waking Molly as she whimpered and twitched in her sleep. Molly was pretty certain the dreams were all of Bryan.

  Molly opened her mouth to say what had been on her mind, but she turned back to her carrots. Kathleen had faced so many things: coming back here alone; confronting Susannah and even going to take care of her; overcoming her fear of the ocean enough to get out on it in a scull.

  But she’d avoided any discussion of her parents, of talking to her father about his buyout of the oil company and what he’d done to the island. She was working harder than anyone to come up with lists of wind and solar contractors and suppliers to help Little Sister become less dependent on outsiders but, on this one topic, Kathleen had kept her thoughts and feelings to herself.

  They scooped the vegetables into the pot with the roast and a thick broth.

  Kathleen adjusted the burner and stepped out onto the back porch, watching the rain lash the trees. Molly followed her outside, where the wind blew cold. Kathleen shivered.

  “What must it have been like?” she whispered.

  Molly wrapped her arms around Kathleen from behind. She didn’t need to ask what she was talking about. Kathleen turned and buried her face in Molly’s neck.

  Molly held her tightly. “Come inside,” she murmured. “I’ll light a fire.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  Kathleen curled up in her chair while Molly laid a fire and got it lit. They sat in the twilit room as the flames crackled. Molly shifted the ottoman aside to sit on the floor with her back against the chair. Kathleen reached out to sift Molly’s hair through her fingers. Molly leaned into Kathleen’s hand. Turning, she pressed a kiss to her palm.

  “Does Rebecca do weddings?” Kathleen asked.

  Molly stilled at the question. So unexpected and so hoped for. “In a manner of speaking.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Molly swiveled to sit sideways to the chair so she could see Kathleen’s face. “She can do weddings, of course. And does for tourists or islanders who don’t live here anymore. But for us, it’s different. She does the bonding.”

  Kathleen’s face in the firelight was impossible to read. Molly saw something flicker across her eyes.

  “This doesn’t involve more blood, does it?”

  Molly smiled. “Actually, it does.”

  Kathleen threw one hand up. “What is it with you people and blood?”

  Molly hesitated a moment and then reached out to take that hand, holding it in both of hers. “Blood is powerful. It binds us. To each other. To the island. It’s something that came down to us from the First Ones. This is why people here don’t get divorced. Once we bond, it can’t be undone.”

  “How does it work?”

  “It can only be done at a new moon, naked, standing just where water meets earth.”

  Kathleen narrowed her eyes. “You’re serious. Naked on the beach under a new moon.”

  Molly nodded.

  “Who else is there?”

  “Anyone who is invited. Usually family and a few close friends. The Keeper does the ceremony.”

  Kathleen’s focus shifted to the fire. Molly held her breath, wondering if she should ask, but Kathleen returned her gaze to Molly’s.

  “Will you bond with me?”

  Fighting the urge to leap into the chair with Kathleen and kiss her, Molly considered the concerns her aunt and father had voiced. “Remember what I said. This is forever. Are you sure?”

  Kathleen slid down from the chair to kneel in front of Molly and take both of her hands. “Molly Ahearn Cooper, will you bond with me?”

  Molly kissed each of Kathleen’s hands. “I will. Kathleen—” She paused. “What is your middle name anyhow?”

  “Anne. With an ‘e’.”

  Molly smiled. “Kathleen Anne Halloran, will you bond with me?”

  Kathleen nodded.

  Molly laughed and pulled her down to lie on top of her. Kathleen lowered her head, brushing her lips over Molly’s. Molly raised her face to meet Kathleen’s mouth, lips and tongue asking, seeking. Kathleen answered, opening to her.

  When Blossom’s wet nose suddenly nudged Molly’s ear, she broke the kiss.

  “So much for a romantic interlude in front of the fire.”

  Blossom squirmed nearer, his tail thumping the floor.

  “Fur-kids.” Kathleen reached over to pull him close to them.

  Molly laughed. “I guess.”

  “So how do we schedule this with Rebecca?”

  “Bealtaine is Saturday. We’ll talk to her then.”

  Kathleen sat up, pulling Molly with her. “I guess we have a bonding to plan. That’s something I never thought I’d say.”

  “Not getting cold feet already, are you?”

  Kathleen kissed her tenderly. “No cold feet. This is forever.”

  THE FIRST OF MAY dawned with a spectacular sunrise. Molly left early to row, and Kathleen decided to go for a long walk. Blossom was ecstatic at the opportunity to get out and chase rabbits and squirrels. He romped ahead, checking frequently to make sure Kathleen was still coming.

  She huffed along the trail through t
he woods to the bluff, pausing there to catch her breath and admire the rose and lavender hues in the sky. She’d been tempted to roll over and stay in bed, but the prospect of being naked on the beach in front of Molly’s entire family pushed her to get up.

  She patted her butt as she panted. “Nothing like a little incentive.”

  She’d done some reading about Bealtaine to help prepare her for the evening’s celebration. This island was such a wonderful, curious mixture of old Celtic and First Ones’ traditions. It seemed they’d chosen the best of both to hold on to and pass down. Even if they did involve blood and nudity.

  Molly had told her that they rarely had tourists as early as this. Bobby usually found ways to delay the ferry so that the islanders could have the beach to themselves tonight. But Kathleen wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Molly had been vague about the details. She knew it would involve another bonfire and, like Samhain, blessings on each house by relighting the fires from the bonfire.

  She walked on, doing a wide loop that brought her back to the road. By the time she and Blossom got back to the cottage, they were both winded. It felt good. She showered quickly and had coffee brewing by the time Molly got home.

  “Oh, that smells good,” she said as Kathleen handed her a mug.

  “Good row?”

  “Mmm hmm.” Molly took a sip, her eyes closed. “Good walk?”

  “Yes. Pancakes or eggs?”

  “Pancakes.”

  Kathleen got a griddle and bowl out while Molly fed Blossom.

  “So,” Kathleen said as she mixed some pancake batter, “are you going to tell me more about tonight? Does it involve drinking more of that… What was it at Samhain?”

  “Poitín,” Molly said. “And yes. It usually does.”

  “Blood? Getting naked on the beach? Because I am drawing the line at both of those.”

  Molly laughed. “There’s no bloodshed, unless someone gets drunk and falls down. And not typically any nudity these days, though you know Siobhan does like to go skyclad.”

  Kathleen poured some batter onto the griddle.

  “Of course, there was the year Miss Louisa and Miss Olivia both got tipsy and ran naked on the beach.”