Echoes of Avalon (Tales of Avalon Book 1)
Page 49
Katherina stayed at the bottom of the dais, and Patrick mounted the few stairs to the altar. Mark looked as if he were trying to voice something, but nothing came.
Patrick withdrew the chalice from his surcoat and set it on the altar next to the communion cup. He transferred the contents of the communion cup to the chalice, then brought it to Aimeé’s lips. The dark liquid pooled, then disappeared into the thin gap between her lips. Nothing stirred except for a rustle of clothing as people leaned forward; a quiet murmur rippled through the congregation.
Then Aimeé’s lips slowly moved, taking in more wine.
Within moments, she was coughing and fighting to sit up.
“Wh-what happened?” she murmured.
The church came alive with sound, murmurs growing into gasps of shock and joy. Everyone was pressing around them to be near. Father Hugh’s eyes were wide and he crossed himself. Mother Superior had tears in her eyes, but was smiling as she pressed her hands together, mouth moving in a joyous hallelujah.
“You are alive and well, Aimeé,” Patrick said softly.
She took a handful of his sleeve to steady herself. “But why?”
Patrick took her in his arms. “That is somewhat of a long story, but suffice to say that I found a treasure right under my nose, and I am not about to let it get away.”
Aimeé’s brow furrowed, but a smile broke out across her face like a light. She looked around in wonder.
Mark was demanding to know what had happened, Katherina was weeping with joy, Sir Waylan, the other knights, Anna, Claire, Rosa Maria and so many others were pressed around them and clapping and laughing.
Patrick was pleased to see that Sir Jon held his arm out for Katherina to take. Willy had his hand on her shoulder, and Trent stood behind, embracing all of them in his gangly arms. Patrick was confident that she was in good hands, and would not be wanting for friends.
It was going to be a long story. But there was time for it now, and there was still more to do before Patrick could do what he wanted to do most―go home, to Eire. He also knew that here was home as well. He knew that he belonged here. That he had always belonged here, he just hadn’t been letting himself. Yes, first he would straighten things out on Avalon, then he would return and be an Avangarde as he rightfully would be, personality flaws and all. But first, he had a promise to keep.
“Aimeé, how would you like to meet my mother, in Eire?”
THE END
About the Author
Adam Copeland was born and raised in Silverton, Oregon. He attended Southern Oregon State College (now Southern Oregon University) in Ashland, Oregon. There he studied business, chemistry and French. He spent a year study abroad in France and has ever since been passionate about traveling internationally, going to such places as diverse as Asia, Africa and Mexico. He is an avid outdoorsman, enjoying hiking, backpacking, camping, mountain trekking and scuba diving. He is a co-founder of Northwest Independent Writers Association (NIWA), an organization dedicated to helping indie writers from the Pacific Northwest write, publish, and promote their work. Adam currently resides in Vancouver, Washington State where he is an active member of St. Joseph's Catholic Church.