“No, not in the pejorative sense,” Noah clarified. “Dad said she was… an actual witch.” Noah shook his head in embarrassment. “Hearing the words out loud, I realize how ridiculous that sounds. Just something my dad used to say, but he believed it. Deep down, he honestly thought she was a witch.”
This didn’t sound ridiculous to Colleen at all, for she was a witch, from generations of sorceresses. If anything, she wished she could ask Noah more, but it was evident he shared his father’s prejudices. “It’s amazing to me our paths never crossed until now. That it took crossing an ocean.”
“Colleen,” Noah said in a soft, gentle tone of voice, choosing his words carefully. “There may as well have been an ocean separating us in New Orleans.”
She parted her lips, moving to apologize, once again, for her upbringing, her heritage, but Noah’s words still resonated. “Do you still feel that way?”
This time Noah allowed his fingertips to travel to her face. The gesture felt as if it contained more than what he permitted himself, but so much had transpired between them, beneath the surface, behind their words, unspoken. He feared it. “I truly don’t know how to describe what I’m feeling.”
Colleen leaned into his touch, allowing her own temporary surrender to a man she hardly knew, and yet her soul had danced with him in a past life, another time. As she closed her eyes, she was sure of it. “Maybe we don’t need words.”
Later that night, when the clock chimed the witching hour, she slid under his cotton sheets, wordless.
He moved within her, silent, demanding yet soft, like the whisper of silk.
“Merry Christmas,” Colleen murmured against his chest, as she fell into sleep against the sweet scent of her lover’s musk.
They spent the following days of their lovers’ respite traveling the windy roads of Skye, hiking the jagged cliffs of Storr, enjoying porridge at a small inn in Uig, and traversing the Fairy Glen, which resonated with even more magic than the pools. Colleen fell in love with the sloping, hilly glen, and the fairy circles, insisting, to Noah’s amusement, on leaving an offering for the mysterious beings.
“You believe in this, do you, my little goddess of science?”
“I believe in everything, even those things science can’t explain.”
Noah kissed her and left his own offering, to please her.
What will become of us when we return to the world? they both thought.
In the coming days, they navigated the island like two explorers, never tiring of discovery. They spent their evenings wrapped in an embrace, sharing every corner of their souls, except the darkest.
On New Year’s Eve, she beseeched Noah to take her back to the magical glen. She had one last wish of the fairies.
As she traced her path into the circle of stones—first forward, then, after making her offering and asking her wish—re-tracing them backward through the spiral, Noah discovered his own bit of magic: a patch of purple heather, untouched by the changing of the seasons.
He found Colleen gazing up at the summit of Castle Ewan. “Colleen.” His voice cracked.
She turned to see him holding a small circle of heather. “Your favorite, Mary, Queen of Scots, had a motto: ‘In the end is my beginning.’ Whatever lives we both left behind in New Orleans, they’re a part of us, but we’re different people now. We both want to matter. I say, we can matter more together. I say, in the end is our beginning, Colleen.”
Noah held the small band of heather toward her. Colleen saw, in the light of his words, what it truly was: a ring. “You’re proposing?” she whispered.
The corner of his mouth cracked into a grin. “Only if you’re accepting.”
We hardly know each other, she knew she should say. The voice of a reasonable woman, a woman of science and logic, as she counted herself. But she did know him. They’d shared a hundred words exchanged between their souls for every one spoken aloud, and she had fallen in love with him without realizing the moment of inception.
“I’m accepting,” Colleen replied, releasing a sound that was half-crying, half-laughter.
“Christmas,” he managed to say between kisses. “We can do it next year, or we can do it ten years from now, but I want to marry you on Christmas.”
“Our day, from now on. Always,” she agreed.
IV
FEBRUARY 1975
Dearest Evie,
Well, I’ve done it. I told Noah I believed our family was cursed. If he really intends to marry me, he should know this, even if I don’t think he quite believed me. I couldn’t quite bring myself to confess about the bigger issue lingering between us, though. How does one tell their beloved that they can heal with their hands? That her sister can too, and her brother can persuade others, and yet another sister can see the future?
I’ve wanted to, though. The words sit on the tip of my tongue, burning. That’s when I remember he’s told me his father left his mother for being a witch. I see the way Noah’s angelic face curls in disgust as the words leave his beautiful mouth.
Only months ago I was telling you how I might never marry, but here I am, planning to marry a man I’ve only just met. You must think I’m mad. I sometimes think it.
And then I watch him, thoughts buried in his notes, or in the moments after we’ve made love and he’s fallen asleep, and I know I’m not. I need to find the courage to tell Mom, but I know she worries about me enough, across the world.
Can I really marry a man who doesn’t know what I am… and can never know? My fool’s heart aches at the thought of losing him. Pray for me.
Love,
Colleen
Dad,
I don’t know which piece of good news I’m more over the moon about: my acceptance into the Ph.D. program, or that Colleen said yes!
Thank you for patiently listening to me go on and on about her over the phone. It was nice to hear your voice, even if the call cost a small fortune. Thanks also for not pointing out how much I disliked her earlier in the year. All I can say is… I was wrong.
Colleen told me the other day her family was cursed. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings by pointing out her family may be the most blessed in all of Louisiana, especially since she was quite earnest about it. She really believes it and, in another strange turn of events, she believed me about Ma being a witch.
Best part about all this good news? The fates are working together. Staying here for my Ph.D. means Colleen and I can settle down sooner, and we won’t be separated by miles. We’re going to get our own place in the summer, after I bring her home to meet you, of course.
Until now, I truly believed I was happy with the path of pursuing my goals. I had no idea what happiness really felt like. None at all.
Love,
Noah
V
APRIL 1975
Colleen rode the measured rise and fall of Noah’s chest as he slept, snoring softly, lost to the world almost moments after he’d ensured she took her own pleasure as well.
“I love you,” she whispered and smiled as he stirred beneath her. She pictured the intricacies of his human makeup; beyond flesh, the muscles and flow of blood through veins and arteries, the skeletal frame gave him shape. He was perfect. He was healthy. All these things she felt simply by laying hands on his warm flesh.
Colleen said a silent prayer for his body to remain as such, for, if forced to choose between his beating heart and the sundering of her own, her need to protect him would win.
Noah stood in the kitchen doorway, watching her eyeing the dried purple heather ring. She turned her hand back and forth in the light, smiling broadly. He’d begun saving for something more appropriate the day they returned from Skye—something befitting her breeding and station—even though he knew Colleen would wear this ring forever, if he let her. Her heart wasn’t tethered by social differences. Her heart was broader than Arthur’s Seat, and the whole of the British Isles.
“You’re awake,” Colleen said, beaming. She’d spent the morning looking t
hrough apartment listings, mindful of the budget, knowing full well Noah would never allow her to cover the majority of the balance. “You caught me daydreaming about a Christmas wedding.”
“I love watching you.”
“Don’t judge. I haven’t showered.”
Noah pressed his hand to his chest in exaggerated offense. “I would never.”
“If you can stand to be near me, come look at these listings. I think they’ll meet our needs. Both will be open in July so we can move in after our visit home.”
He took the chair next to her, suppressing a frown. Each of the apartments would be a downgrade from what Colleen currently had, and he knew why right away. “I want you to be comfortable, Leena.”
Colleen’s smile lit the room. “I’ll be comfortable anywhere you are. As long as you don’t hog the bed. I have restless legs.”
“I’ve noticed,” he teased, but was secretly still worried. What if he couldn’t provide the life she wanted? She deserved so much more than he could give her, and that wouldn’t change for a long time. Not until he could settle into a medical career, and even then, he could never rival what her family could provide.
“I love you, Noah. I don’t need any of this. I’d live under a bridge if I could sleep with your arms around me,” she replied as if reading his mind. “I mean it.”
As always, Colleen knew the words needed to put his mind at ease. Sometimes, he thought she knew his mind and heart even better than he did. Rather than scaring him, this notion exhilarated him.
“This Christmas,” she decided, breaking him from his reverie. “Why wait? I love you. You love me. Unless you want a fancy wedding? I never did.”
Noah shook his head, gaping at her. “You want to get married this year?”
“You don’t?”
“We need to save, Leena. I don’t have…”
Colleen stood and then knelt beside his chair, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek to his. “I don’t need anything you don’t have, Noah. We can get married at my brother’s plantation, Ophélie. If I don’t wear my mother’s dress, she’ll disown me, and she even saved her ring for me. My mother and siblings. Your father. That’s all we need.”
“No ice sculpture?”
Colleen scrunched her face. “Elizabeth is something of an artist. Perhaps I can ask her to give it a whirl.”
“You’re right,” Noah agreed, tilting her face so he could kiss her lips. Nothing could change this. There’s nothing she could do, or I could do, or the world could do to mar this love. “We don’t need anything else.”
VI
JUNE 1975
Summer arrived, and with it the joyful anticipation of bringing both families into their fold. Colleen had just finished her first year of medical school, performing even better than she’d expected (Noah’s influence, both in and out of the bedroom, she deduced). Noah received his degree and went through a series of pre-entrance interviews for his Ph.D. They’d put a deposit down on the loft. Tickets to New Orleans for the next week were sitting on Colleen’s dresser, a gift to them both from her mother.
The only thing left to do was wait.
Noah had other ideas.
“Let’s go to Skye,” he whispered to Colleen as she lost herself in an anatomy textbook.
She snapped the tome closed and smiled. “You always have the best ideas.”
The world was a blanket of violet heather. Rain showered upon the earth, inch after inch, bringing summer floods and havocked roads. Colleen wrung her hands in anxiousness, thinking of her dear sister, Madeline, lost to a car accident during a storm. Noah pressed his hand against her knee, insisting they could turn around, that Skye would be there at the end of summer.
Colleen’s objective to serve her family did not include cowardice, though. Madeline’s tragic death had been a painful occurrence, not a tether, preventing her from living her life. If Noah’s presence had taught her anything, it was the need to open her eyes. Her horizons need not be narrow or fearful.
Outside of Glasgow, the rain turned to downpour. Noah pulled off the road at a rest stop to wait for the worst to pass.
When it didn’t, they rented a hotel room on the outskirts of the city. Colleen allowed herself to succumb to her latent grief over her sister, and Noah held her all night as she cried. He never pretended to assure her the sadness would end, only that he would love her through it.
Nor did he ask again if she wanted to turn back.
The sun broke through the storm the next day. Hopeful, they journeyed on, making it as far as Glencoe before the clouds turned dark and the heavens again rained down. Narrow Highland roads were flooded from two days of heavy downpour, and Noah slowed the car to a crawl, the Vauxhall gliding more over water than roads.
“We need to find another place to stop.” Colleen’s voice stammered, her panic rising to something she’d never experienced before: a premonition they were headed down a dreadful path.
“I know,” Noah replied, jaw clenched. His knuckles, white and unsteady, gripped the wheel. “I can’t see a damn thing. If you spot anything, tell me.”
All Colleen saw through the storm was the green rise and fall of the glen, and flocks of sheep grazing. The road ahead had disappeared beyond a handful of feet to their front, and gentle sloping land on the sides.
“There should be—“ was all Colleen got out before the unexpected bend in the road came upon them. The car did not wrap but glided, out beyond the safety railing.
Silence. The air stilled. Time slowed. Lightheaded, Noah had the distinct sensation of floating, a feeling unique to his dreams. Beside him, Colleen’s head tilted back and her mouth gaped, as if screaming, but he heard nothing but the peacefulness of drifting.
Then, with a suddenness immeasurable by time, the serenity in Noah Jameson’s mind turned to a thud couched in a blackness that wrapped around his entire world.
Colleen’s skull lobbed forward, her neck struggling to support the weight. She had no pain, no fear. Her capable senses helped immediately assess the situation as a result of being in shock. She would need to further evaluate the extent of her injuries because she knew the endorphins would only carry her so far. They could be deceptive.
Her vision swam in and out of focus as her head dropped to the right toward Noah, toward… she blinked the blurring away, pleading with her mind to reconcile what her eyes witnessed: a piece of the steel guardrail protruding from Noah’s chest.
“No,” she whispered, coughing up a spray of blood. “Noah. Noah!”
Colleen unhinged her seatbelt and concentrated on seeing herself whole and healthy. Cells reproducing, muscles repairing. Bones, snapping into place. The pain hit her, but she bit it back, terrified, determined.
She said a silent prayer before maneuvering to face the driver’s seat, where Noah lay silent, unmoving.
His chest rose. Her hand against his neck revealed his pulse was slow, but there. She exhaled in relief and didn’t think about anything that happened next as she laid hands on him.
With a gasp and a heave, the metal expelled itself from Noah’s chest, and he rolled forward against the wheel. Colleen didn’t let go. Her hands stayed true even as he jerked and convulsed; red and white blood cells replicated and spread, restoring his life force.
“Oh,” Noah said with his first breath when air filled his lungs. “Leena—”
Colleen awoke to fluorescent lights against speckled panels, voices around her, the smell of iodine and fresh linens. “Noah.” Her voice cracked, but no one heard.
“You’re safe, lassie,” a man’s voice told her, later. “You both are.”
No, she thought, her soul twisting, I’ve saved our bodies at the expense of our hearts.
VII
SEPTEMBER 1975
Dearest Colleen,
My heart breaks for you. Is there no way to fix this? Surely when he called you a witch, it was a heat-of-the-moment comment, not something he meant with conviction. You saved his life. How can
he turn his back on you so callously? Has he really been avoiding you since summer?
On second thought, maybe he doesn’t deserve you. The more I think about his treatment of you, the more my anger boils. You’ve always been the caretaker for everyone. When Mama is gone, you’ll probably be the one who keeps this entire family together. You’re selfless and kind and the best sister anyone could ever ask for. And Noah is a fool because you’d make the best wife he could ever hope for, too.
Charles bought me a ticket to come spend a week with you. I’m ahead in all my classes, so a few days away in the fall won’t hurt. I’m coming before you can write back and nobly tell me you’re fine. I love you. We’ll get through this together.
Love, Evie
Noah,
For some time, I’ve been considering the right words for this letter. They might have been better over the phone, but I think I know my son, and you’d rather have time to digest them. You take after me.
First, you tell me you’ve met the love of your life and you’re marrying her during Christmas break. Then you say she’s saved your life, but you can’t be with her? Your words don’t make any sense.
You might think I’m dense and don’t “get” what you’ve told me, but your old dad has been around New Orleans long enough to know a thing or two about the Deschanels. I’ve heard the rumors about how they amassed their wealth, among other things. I worried about you, a man of science, and what it might mean should you discover Colleen was “special” like the rest of them. But I never thought you’d react this way.
Lagniappes Collection II Page 10