Leila yawned. “Mother, when will Father be back? I’m tired, and my feet are cold.”
“You will see him in the morning,” she said. “Why don’t you go to sleep?” She turned to Ethan, whose invisible battle had faded to a few weary swipes with his arm. “You too, Ethan,” she said. “It has been a long day.”
Ethan attempted a protest, but Mother relieved him of his weapon and tossed it into the fire. While my younger siblings crawled under thick furry blankets, I quietly searched the cart for my cloak. The night cold had caught me; my arms shook with chill.
“Climb into your tent,” said Mother, stepping out of the covered canvas.
I looked at her, puzzled at her tone. “I can help you straighten the mess,” I said, resigning the search for my cloak.
“No, thank you,” she answered. She grabbed my hand. “I know that you’re tired. Why don’t you get some rest?” She pulled me close.
Surprised at her abundant warmth, I accepted it with her embrace.
“You were wonderful, tonight,” she whispered.
I refused to let her go. The day had been exceptional and exhausting. “I’m not certain if I want this day to end,” I told her. “Everything will be different next season.” My words enlightened my realization of the moment—I was scared of the future. It was unknown. When I married, I would have to grow up. Soon, I would take the role of the responsible wife.
“You’re right, Rhiannon,” Mother whispered. “Everything must change. That is how we grow.” She pulled away and stared at me. She was crying—I had never seen Mother cry. “Now, go to sleep and accept your dreams.”
I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and nodded. “I love you, Mother. Goodnight.”
Maeia
Weeks had passed since the snow at Stone Meadow. The days turned colder and lonelier than I had imagined they would be, and no messages had come from Sean. I spent every sunset staring out my bedroom window, searching the barren trees of Taylor’s Ridge and sending wishful kisses toward the direction that Sean had left me. Life was gray and solitary, except during those moments when the setting sun’s colorful rays captured my longing and joined it with his memory in the eastern mountains.
Mornings were difficult. After shrouded nights of empty dreams, I fought entry to the cold. At our early meals, I stared at the field through the large window in our dining room. Frosty crystals had woven magical designs on the glass in front of me. Each time I looked, I saw a different image of Sean.
“You’re doing it again,” said Leila, loudly.
I stopped staring and looked over at my sister. “You’re wrong,” I said, “I wasn’t doing it.”
She grinned mischievously. “You were humming. Mother, did you hear Rhiannon humming?”
Mother just smiled and refused to enter our fray.
I scowled back at my sister, “See, I wasn’t. Don’t tease me.”
Ethan joined the attack; he must have sensed my weakness. “I heard it,” he said. “You started staring, like this.” He made a mocking face, widening his eyes and straightening his mouth. “Then you moaned, or hummed, or something.”
Releasing a long sigh, I stabbed my morning bacon with my knife. “Well, maybe I was humming,” I admitted. “That doesn’t mean that I always do it.”
“Yes, it does.” Ethan and Leila answered in unison, and giggled together.
A heavy pounding on the front door echoed down the hall. I jumped from my spot at the bench and quickly excused myself, eager to escape the teasing. When I reached the door, the pounding rocked again and shook the floor. Casually, I unfastened the brass latches and swung open the heavy door.
“You’re beautiful in the morning.”
My knees buckled and my breath escaped me. A chill raced through me, but it wasn’t from the weather.
“Sean.” My words barely escaped.
Tears from the deepest well of gratitude flooded my eyes and overflowed. I covered my mouth. If this is a dream—let it continue. I was awake. Sean stood at my doorstep. He was bundled in fur and barely recognizable. His eyes gave him away. I loved his dark eyes.
“I missed you,” he said. “May I come inside, or do you want me to go home first and change?”
His words melted my frozen limbs and suddenly I was laughing and crying and pulling him into a fierce embrace, as if I could meld the two of us together so tightly that we would never again be parted. He reached around me and held me close. I could tell he was weak, but I didn’t care. Sean was holding me. We were both talking at once, our words tumbling over each other in joyful confusion.
“…missed you so much…”
“…never leave you again…”
“…can’t believe you’re really here…”
“…you’re beautiful…”
“… I love you…”
“Close the door, so the man can get warm,” grumbled Father from behind me.
I looked up from Sean’s shoulder and saw my family standing in the hall. Leila and Mother were wiping their eyes. When I released Sean, he reached back and leaned against the open door, forcing it shut. It banged closed, flooding the hallway with darkness.
“Come into the dining room,” ordered Father, reaching past me to offer his arm to my fiancé. “We’re eating. Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” Sean answered, wincing as my father released his hand. “I’ve been missing a good meal.”
As we shuffled through the hall and into the dining room, I sniffled and wiped away tears that refused to stop falling. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Sean, from his dear face, now worn and weary. In his absence, he had grown a beard.
“When did you get back?” asked Leila, taking his coat as he removed it. She hung it on the wall near the fireplace.
“Today,” Sean answered. He stretched his arms wide and yawned. “I crossed over the ridge this morning.”
“Have you been home yet?” I asked. “Did you stop to visit your father?”
Sean shook his head and walked toward the fireplace. He removed a torn sweater and a pair of thick gloves with holes in the fingers. He rubbed his hands and sighed with content while absorbing the energy from the fire. I stood behind him and massaged his shoulders and neck. Mother brought him a large plate full of steaming biscuits and bacon.
“Enjoy the food, Sean,” she said, smiling. “We have plenty more for you.”
Sean stared at the plate for less than a moment and dug his fingers into the food, ignoring the knife and fork. Leila giggled, but Father quickly pulled her away.
I lowered myself to the floor, watching in sympathy while Sean attacked his plate. “You must be starving,” I said. Inside, I wept; I made him like this; I had sent him away.
Mother touched my shoulder. When I looked up at her, she held a second large plate. I quietly took it from her and held it in front of Sean. He looked up at us and then wiped his mouth and beard.
“I’m sorry,” he said. His words were broken, and he took a moment to think before every word. “I forgot to be polite.” He stood and handed the empty plate to Mother. “I’ve missed your cooking. This food is wonderful.” He took the plate I offered with one hand and led me to the table with the other. “I can eat at the table. I wasn’t trying to be rude.”
Sean took a seat on the bench facing the window and I snuggled next to him. Leila and Ethan fought for places across from us and leaned over the table.
“Children, let the man eat,” scolded Mother. She placed a goblet of steaming cider on the table in front of Sean.
Sean took a long drink, then closed his eyes and sighed in appreciation. “Oh, that’s good.” He turned to Mother. “It’s all right, Keelia. The children aren’t any bother.”
I rested my head on his shoulder and stroked the side of his beard with my fingers. The hair was oily and course; I did my best to ignore its smell.
“Do you like it?” asked Sean, smiling.
I shook my head and answered honestly. “No,” I told him. “But it’s good to hav
e you back. I’ll take whatever I can.”
“Did you find a horse?” said Ethan, still leaning across the table.
“Ethan!” Mother and I shouted at my brother’s outburst. I covered my mouth with my hands and waited for Sean’s response.
Sean chuckled. “I’ll talk to your sister alone. After that, you’ll be the next to know my answer.” He reached across the table and tousled Ethan’s hair. “Is that fair?”
Ethan nodded his agreement. Sean reached under the table and gently squeezed my hand. Tiny sparks of silliness tingled their way through me and into my breath. It felt like the first time we touched. I refused to speak and risk spoiling the moment, but Father did it for me.
“What’s your plan today, Sean?” he asked, stretching in his chair.
Sean gulped down another drink. “I’m hoping to spend the morning here. I’d like news from the village.”
“You’ve been gone a while,” said Mother. “Half the season has passed.”
Sean nodded. “This afternoon, I’ll go home and see my father.”
I squeezed Sean’s hand.
While Sean continued to eat, we allowed the morning to pass without care, and shared tales about the last couple of months. Sean’s journey had been more of an adventure than I had expected. I was shocked from his stories of greedy strangers and dangerous places. There were villages over steep mountains, great valleys that stretched for days, and towns like DarMattey—filled with tall wagons and steaming buildings. I took it all in, every breath, absorbing his tale of the great quest to seal our future. As abruptly as he had arrived at my door, Sean stood and excused himself from the table. I pulled on his arm to remain seated, but he released my hand and retrieved his coat from the wall.
“I’m forgetting myself in the joys of company,” he said, lacing up his coat. His words were smoother, as if practice had been all that he needed. The voice that I remembered was returning. “Rhiannon, will you follow me outside?”
He didn’t need to ask. I leapt from the bench and rushed up the stairs. I grabbed my wool cloak, slipped into night slippers, and joined him near the back door. Mother and Father hugged him while Ethan and Leila stared out the window, challenging each other to find a new horse in the herd.
An icy breeze swirled into the room when Sean opened the door. He motioned for me to follow. I caught myself not breathing. Mother offered her support.
“Go on,” she whispered. “Accept your destiny.”
When I stepped outside, Sean gripped my hand in his and led me past the dining room window. I didn’t look inside; I knew that my family stood watching. I followed him, afraid to look at the meadow, refusing to spoil the surprise. To my surprise, he didn’t lead me toward the fence.
“Do you want to know where I’m taking you?” he asked, turning around. His smile flashed from beneath his beard.
I nodded, curiosity fully aroused. “I’ll go anywhere,” I told him, “if you’ll lead the way.”
“Follow me to the barn.”
The beating in my chest almost drowned his words. Pulses of excitement rushed through me. We were stepping forward together into our future.
When we arrived at the barn, he led me to the small door on the south side and stopped. He turned to face me. “Rhiannon Phillips,” he said, grabbing my free hand in his, “you are worth the journey.” He released my hands and pushed open the door.
My future was there.
I wanted to cry, to laugh, to shout for joy. I couldn’t. The moment caught me and took control. I grabbed Sean by the hand and rushed inside the barn.
“Sean,” I said, gasping at the beautiful white mare standing in front of me. “You did it.”
“She’s yours if you’ll accept us.”
“I’ve never seen anything as beautiful.” I released his hand and walked slowly to the horse.
She stood perfectly white and elegant. She had a calm look, as if she had known me before, and accepted my gentle touch on her nose.
Sean stood quietly back at the door and allowed me the moment of introduction to his prize.
“What’s her name?” I asked, turning back to him.
He walked toward us, smiling. “She’s waiting for you to give her one,” he said. He stroked her behind the ears. “She likes that.”
“Maeia,” I said, rubbing her where his hand was and locking fingers with his. “I name you Maeia.”
Sean tried to speak; however, emotion seemed to hold his breath.
“Yes,” I said, answering the question in his eyes. “I’m naming her after your mother.”
His noticeable attempt to hold back his tears made mine flow freely. In the quiet warmth of the barn, on a cold Moon Season morning, Sean held me next to Maeia and we cried together.
~ O ~
We held hands as we walked across the yard back toward the house. Leila saw me first. Her face was pressed against the window. It left a steamy circle when she pulled away.
“Well?” she asked, waving her arms while opening the door. “Did he find a white horse?”
My smile revealed my answer.
Leila turned and ran back into the house without closing the door. “Mother, Father, Sean found a horse.”
Dishes clanked from the kitchen. When Sean and I entered the dining room, Mother was kneeling on the floor, collecting a handful of silver forks. Father greeted Sean like a lost relative whom he hadn’t seen in years, pulling him away from my grip and hugging him tight.
Sean kept his promise. “Ethan,” he said to my brother, “I found a white horse.”
While cheers erupted from my family, I smiled until my jaw ached; the morning was perfect. I accepted hugs and congratulations while all of us scrambled to the barn. Once there, Father took a business approach to Maeia. He inspected her thoroughly, grunting as he lifted her hoofs and checked her legs. He peered into her mouth, examined her teeth, and stared at her eyes. I watched, nervous that he would discover some flaw and announce his displeasure, as if he were trading for a fee.
Finally, he lifted his head, looked at Sean, and smiled. “Well done,” he said, patting Maeia affectionately on her neck. “She’s a beauty.”
Mother didn’t need an inspection. She wiped away tears while I told her how I named my new friend. “Neal,” she said, pulling my Father close to her. “Rhiannon has named her Maeia.”
Father nodded his agreement. “That’s a great choice,” he said. He turned to me. “Don’t you have a gift for your man?”
The excitement of the morning had eclipsed my memory of the armor. My part of the promise remained unfulfilled.
“Yes.” Blood warmed my face again. I turned to Sean, who stroked Maeia’s neck. “I have a gift for you.” I looked down, contemplating a way to make my presentation as special as he had afforded me. When the answer came, I looked up. “Will you ride with me to the lake?” I asked. “I’d like to give you my gift there.”
Mother’s approving glance reassured me that I had made a good choice.
Sean looked at me for a moment, pausing to think—I imagined. Then he answered. “Yes, I would love to.”
The next moments were a blur; Leila rushed away from the barn and ran toward the stable; Ethan left us in a flash and ran inside the house; Mother and Father accompanied Sean, Maeia, and me through the large barn doors leading to the field.
Maeia’s arrival was an oddity to the herd. Many of the horses took turns offering their skeptical greetings and displeasure at her arrival on their field. Maeia composed herself perfectly, and responded with graceful snorts and whinnies to each prying glance and shuffle. Of course, our presence next to her helped. We had raised and cared for all of the horses, and they respected us, especially my father—who demanded it. There weren’t any problems with the new arrival.
Mother was hesitant to saddle Maeia right away. Sean told her that he had ridden Maeia over the ridge, and that she was safe to ride; however, Mother looked skeptical—Sean wasn’t a master of horses. Finally, with a reluctant s
igh, she relented.
When we arrived at the stable, Leila was finishing the preparations on Ginger, and had placed my saddle on the top rail of the fence. Ethan stood behind the stable gate, holding the top of the bulging burlap bag—the bag I had placed the polished helmet and repaired shield for safekeeping.
“Is that it?” asked Sean, pointing to the bag. “Did you buy some armor?”
“I won’t tell you, yet,” I said, warning him with a shaking finger. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
The shape of the bag was obvious, but there was no way for Sean to know the origin of my gift. That would be my surprise. I grinned with satisfaction.
Leila prepared Maeia for our ride, and I mounted the mare without a complaint. Sean slipped onto Ginger’s back and prodded her forward. The sun was high overhead when we left the stable.
Sean did something I didn’t expect. I had turned to watch Father directing Leila and Ethan to the chores we had neglected. When I turned around, Ginger was galloping away with Sean on her back, leaving a dusty cloud in their wake. Sean wasn’t a great rider, although he was better than most men of Aisling were; I had tried to teach him. I whispered encouragement into Maeia’s ear and then, with a jolt, we sped after him.
Maeia was wind driven and swift; we caught Sean with barely an effort on her part. He had stopped his flight, appearing to concede defeat, and stared at us as we approached.
“You arrived only this morning, and want to escape as quickly?” I teased him with a wide smile.
He smiled back. “You’re beautiful when you’re riding Maeia.” He reached out and moved a lock of hair from my face. “The wind pulls your hair back, like dark flames over blowing snow.” He leaned close and kissed me.
My lips shook when he pulled away and I caught myself leaning forward. “Do you want to see your prize?” I asked, teasing him back.
Sean nodded.
“Then catch me!”
I gave a silent command to Maeia, who, as if reading my thoughts, darted forward toward the lake. I held tight to the burlap bag at my waist and gripped her reins with my other hand. I didn’t need to look back; I could hear Sean yelling desperate commands to Ginger. He had never allowed me to give up on a race, and I never let him win. I stretched my face to enjoy the breeze and the horses that had joined our chase.
On Fallen Wings Page 13