The Singing, page 8
‘Why?’
‘Well, that I’d ever know enough to do it, I suppose.’
Morghan gazed over at Erin, whose hair was a dark red blaze in the sun. ‘Of course you will.’ She turned and smiled up at the sky. ‘I knew nothing at seventeen when I first came here.’
‘Don’t take this the wrong way, okay?’ Erin shook her head. ‘But I can’t even imagine you as a seventeen-year-old.’
The remark made Morghan laugh. ‘I was ignorant at that age and too arrogant to know it.’
‘Arrogant?’ Erin certainly couldn’t imagine that.
‘Indeed,’ Morghan said. ‘I was very full of the fact that I was the one Selena chose to train to lead the Grove.’
‘She was your aunt, wasn’t she?’ Erin shifted slightly to look at Morghan, her voice deceptively casual as she asked the question. They’d not talked like this before, not really. She hoped Morghan would keep going.
‘We were related, yes,’ Morghan agreed. ‘I still remember the day she finally came to collect me.’ She sat up and looked out at the far line where water met sky. ‘I’d not known her very well when I was a child – more by overheard conversations and the odd remark, than by having met her. My parents didn’t want her to visit, which I remember thinking was crazy.’ Her lips curled in a smile at the memory. ‘Selena was exotic and different by reputation, and I was always dying to meet her.’
‘You hadn’t met her at all?’
‘Once, when I was a young child. I’d fallen in love with her, then. I must have been all of four years old. She let me sit on her lap and she was surrounded by the most amazing colours. I remember trying to run my fingers through them.’
‘You could see auras?’ Erin was fascinated.
‘Yes, although the talent faded as I grew, until it was barely anything more than a feeling, an instinct. I had to work to bring it back.’ Morghan looked around at the hillside clearing. Everything rippled in her vision and brightened as she relaxed and focused.
‘Is that why Selena chose you?’ Erin asked. ‘Because of you being able to see auras when you were young?’
‘She wrote to me about a year before I ended up coming here to live,’ Morghan said, remembering. ‘She wanted to know if I still saw them, and if I could do anything else.’
Erin shook her head. ‘What did your parents think about that?’
‘I didn’t tell them.’
‘What?’ Erin’s eyes widened at the thought of Morghan involved in any form of subterfuge.
‘It seemed…private,’ Morghan replied. ‘We corresponded for that year before she came to get me.’ She glanced over at Erin. ‘Wilde Grove usually does go to members of the family, even if sometimes they are distant ones. Selena was not really an aunt; she was my mother’s cousin. My name was not even Wilde. I took that on by choice.’
There was a sudden lump in Erin’s throat. ‘I’m not related to you,’ she said.
‘You probably are, actually, if we were to go back far enough. The Wilde family has been in this area for a very long time, and so has your grandmother’s. There’s bound to be some connection there.’
Erin’s mind boggled with the idea of being related to Morghan, no matter how distantly. The thought swirled around inside her head like it was made of lightning. It made her dizzy.
‘Wasn’t there anyone else in your family who would have been more suitable than me?’ she asked after a long moment.
‘No,’ Morghan said. ‘Not in any of my direct relations. I have a brother, and he has daughters, and I did go to meet them not too long before you arrived here.’ She shook her head at the memory.
‘What were they like?’
Morghan shook her head. ‘Not Grove material. It was disappointing. I was disappointed, although not surprised, that my brother had not brought them up with more of an understanding of our heritage.’ She paused. ‘One of the girls showed some interest in it, but she was drawn to the potential power of the position, and that’s not how it can be approached.’
‘Power?’ Erin frowned.
‘All positions of authority have some power attached,’ Morghan said. ‘Even when we wield it – when we must wield it – lightly and compassionately.’
Erin was dazed. ‘I’ve not thought of it like that.’ She swallowed. ‘What exactly are the Lady’s…responsibilities?’
Morghan drew breath to answer, then closed her mouth and frowned. Images from her visions suddenly captured her and she blinked against them. The storming sky, and beneath, the rough waves tossing boatloads of refugees towards the safety of the Isle of Healing.
The egg in the bell tower, shining its light over the village, like a beacon.
‘I don’t know,’ she breathed at last.
Erin sat straighter, looked at her in consternation. ‘What?’
But Morghan shook her head. ‘Here’s the truth, Erin. For centuries, while such knowledge and practice as ours was forbidden, against the law, the Lady’s job was to keep the wisdom, to make sure it was passed on. Which is what I’m doing with you, and everyone in the Grove, to the best of my ability.’
‘It’s not against the law anymore,’ Erin said, her voice low in the yellow light from the sun. Her skin prickled suddenly. This was not the answer she’d expected from Morghan – that she didn’t know what the duties of the Lady of the Grove were anymore.
Morghan stood up, brushing the grass and soil from her clothing, and squinting over to the horizon for a long moment before sighing and smiling tightly down at Erin.
‘Come,’ she said. ‘Time to be heading back.’
Erin scrambled to her feet, disconcerted by Morghan’s sudden change of subject. ‘I travelled beyond the garden the other day,’ she blurted. ‘Just like you said I would be able to.’
Morghan’s brows rose, and she turned for the path. ‘Well done,’ she said. ‘I knew it would happen – the next big stage of your training will be led by the spirits. Did Fox take you?’
Erin picked up Burdock’s water bowl, emptied it and folded it back into her bag, then hurried after Morghan, grinning at the memory of walking in the Wildwood, in the Otherworld. It had been as enigmatic and amazing as she’d thought it would be.
‘Fox took me to an island,’ she said, falling in beside Morghan and feeling the warmth of the sun on her grateful skin as they walked in the open air before the woods closed around them again. ‘On the island, I met an old woman,’ she said. ‘Who gave me some runes.’
Morghan nodded and smiled back at her. ‘What did they have to tell you?’
‘The three runes were Isaz, Thurisaz, and Tiwaz.’
Erin’s words made Morghan stop walking and she bent her head, sifting through her knowledge for the meanings of the runes. When she lifted her head, Erin was gazing at her.
‘They seemed kind of bad when I read their meanings in my rune book. Are they? I mean, taken together, they kind of sound like a warning or something.’
Morghan’s lips twitched. ‘Bad?’ she asked. ‘No.’ She shook her head slowly, thinking. ‘But a message? Yes. I expect so.’
She turned and stepped along the path again.
Erin stared after her, then hurried to follow. ‘What sort of message?’
Morghan laughed and the sound was light on the sea breeze. ‘The task is to grow in spirit, to live a life in balance, in wholeness, yes?’
‘Okay,’ Erin said. ‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘And that’s Tiwaz, isn’t it? About the honour in life coming from meeting the demands of the spiritual as well as the physical, right?’
‘Correct. So, bearing that in mind, then, what does Thurisaz tell you?’
Erin’s brow creased in thought. ‘Stephan and I talked about this,’ she said. ‘But Thurisaz confuses me a little – what does it mean that all problems have to be dealt with in spirit before you can do anything else?’
‘You must walk the path,’ Morghan said.
‘The path?’
Morghan waved a hand, and Erin blinked, thinking again that for a moment, Morghan’s hand had gleamed as though made of precious metal. She squeezed her eyes shut, then blinked them open. Her heart ached suddenly, and a joy that felt almost like sorrow welled up through her.
‘What?’ she asked, realising she hadn’t caught Morghan’s reply.
‘This path,’ Morghan said. ‘The Ancient Path.’
Erin shook her head, frowning again. ‘But what about those who don’t know about the Ancient Path? What do they follow?’
Morghan stopped walking and looked at Erin. ‘That’s an interesting question,’ she said, then paused, working out what she wanted to say. ‘When I said that the Ancient Path must be followed, I meant it broadly, in the simple fact that the Ancient Path is the path of spirit, of connectedness, of compassion, of being blessed and sharing those blessings.’ She looked at Erin’s face, at her fiery hair and clear eyes.
‘But your question,’ she continued, ‘brings another thought to mind.’ Connections wended their way towards each other in the back of her mind, seeking to snap together.
‘What?’ Erin asked. ‘What thought?’ A frisson of sudden excitement shivered through her, as though she were about to see things shift and change course right in front of her eyes.
‘Isaz,’ Morghan said.
Erin frowned.
‘Isaz shows us the winter landscape that sometimes we are destined to wander.’ Morghan drew breath. ‘The landscape that in some ways it feels like the world is wandering – the planet, the people, the illness, the suffering.’
She smiled across at Erin. ‘But,’ she said. ‘Each of us, perhaps, can be the thaw?’ She paused. ‘My most recent vision is that we must all constantly build and rebuild our houses, our lives, with connection and strong foundations.’
Erin nodded slowly. ‘The old woman also told me my initiation was starting.’
Morghan looked at Erin, joy suffusing through her. ‘Ah,’ she said.
‘It’s not going to be like Kria’s, is it?’ Erin asked, then flushed. ‘No, of course it’s not.’
‘No,’ Morghan said. ‘It will have its own challenges – all of which you are equipped to meet.’ She turned for the path again.
Erin followed her.
11
‘Morghan!’ Winsome blinked at Morghan standing on her stoop, a smile on her face. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’
‘Are you busy?’ Morghan asked. ‘Too busy for a pot of tea and a chat?’
Winsome laughed. ‘Busy at what, I wonder?’ She shook her head. ‘Busy has been sadly lacking these last few weeks. She shifted at the doorway, suddenly grinning. ‘I’m going to admit it – I’m glad we can finally catch up sitting down, instead of roaming the woods.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ Morghan replied, an impish gleam in her eyes. ‘You didn’t enjoy climbing around out there in rain, sleet, and snow?’
‘You exaggerate,’ Winsome said. ‘But surprisingly, I like the option to stay in and be civilised.’ She stepped back from the door and ushered Morghan in, then gave a strangled laugh. ‘I almost checked to see if Mariah were peering through her curtains to see me letting you in.’ She blinked, shook her head. ‘No word of her, erm, physical whereabouts yet, I suppose?’
‘You suppose correctly,’ Morghan said, taking a seat at the table with a satisfied sigh. Things weren’t back to normal – things, she suspected, would never be back to normal, if normal meant pre-pandemic, but it was lovely to be able to make one or two visits. It certainly made everything a bit easier.
Winsome went to the sink then turned around, electric kettle in her hand. ‘Do you think she will ever be found?’
Morghan didn’t even have to consider the matter. ‘Her body, maybe,’ she said. ‘But we’ll not see her alive this side of the veil, such as it is.’
Leaning against the bench, Winsome shook her head. ‘It really happened, didn’t it?’ The whole episode with Blythe. Winsome shivered slightly. She dreamt of it; even weeks later she still did. Morghan’s eyes as she looked across the crowd at her, noose around her neck.
‘It did,’ Morghan agreed and watched Winsome, the strain in the lines around her eyes.
Winsome jerked around, filled the kettle and put it on to boil. The cups clattered as she placed them on the table.
‘How are your dreams?’ Morghan asked gently, watching Winsome’s pale face, knowing her friend suffered, had so since she’d lost her position as vicar. They had done a lot of walking together, after the initial euphoria of helping Blythe, but much of it had been in silence, soaking up the energy of the woods, hoping it would be a balm to their battered spirits.
Winsome lifted her shoulders almost to her ears and shrugged. ‘Put it this way – keep your all-seeing eyes away from the shoddy state of my aura.’
Morghan laughed. ‘I shall not take even a peek,’ she said.
Winsome gazed at her for a moment, then shook her head. ‘Last night I dreamt I was here in the vicarage, but the building was practically rubble, and I was picking through the ruins trying to sort it all out – and take care of a couple young kiddies at the same time.’ She shook her head again, then set to pouring the hot water into the teapot. ‘Maybe it will be easier now that the lockdown is easing and we’re all vaccinated, but honestly, I still don’t have any idea what I’m going to do.’ She put the pot on the table and slid into her chair, a frown making soft lines between her eyes. ‘Or even who I am, anymore.’
It was true. Was she even anyone without the vicar’s dog collar around her neck and a church to go pray in? She’d not found the answer to that question.
On the floor, Cù stretched out and yawned, then looked at her with unwavering eyes. Winsome blinked and looked away from him. She’d refused to go back to the cave with Morghan, or even to go to the little summerhouse temple in the woods behind the church. She’d stopped everything except the almost silent walks with Morghan because it had seemed necessary. But it hadn’t worked. She still didn’t know who she was, or what she was going to do.
‘Have you restarted the soul midwifery course?’ Morghan asked.
‘No.’ Winsome busied her hands with the cups and saucers. Then let them drop to the table. ‘I’ve let everything come to a standstill, thinking that would help me figure out where I am.’
‘Has it?’ Morghan asked, her voice mild, interested, unjudging.
Winsome shook her head. ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘I just feel more adrift than ever.’
‘Being locked away with everything much at a standstill doesn’t help,’ Morghan said.
‘I’ve had a couple phone calls from parishioners.’ Winsome blinked, glanced at Cù, then away again. ‘Ex-parishioners, I mean. Wanting me to come around now that we can do that sort of thing more easily.’
Morghan raised her eyebrows and reached out to pour tea into their cups. ‘And will you?’
‘I’m not their vicar anymore,’ Winsome said. ‘I’ve no right.’
‘They’re asking for you,’ Morghan pointed out. ‘Is that not reason enough in itself?’
But Winsome shook her head. ‘Maybe it ought to be,’ she said, pressing her fingertips to the hot cup until it burned. ‘But I don’t know what to say to them anymore, what to offer them.’
‘The same as you were able to give them before?’
Another shake of the head. ‘I’ve no authority, anymore.’
Morghan reached over the table and took Winsome’s hands in her own, holding them for a moment without speaking, until Winsome’s fingers cooled.
‘You’ve the authority of one who walks in spirit,’ Morghan said at last, not letting Winsome’s hands go. ‘You’ve the authority of compassion, friendship, caring.’ She drew back at last. ‘What other authority do you need? What other authority do they need of you?’
But Winsome shook her head, stubborn. ‘It’s not that easy,’ she said.
‘Why?’
Winsome clenched her hands into twin fists. ‘I got their church closed.’
‘Ah,’ Morghan said, sitting back and picking up her cup. She took a sip, looking at her friend over the rim.
‘I did it,’ Winsome said, hearing the defensiveness in her voice and unable to help it. ‘It was my fault – my fault entirely.’ She sighed suddenly. ‘I was too stunned, at the beginning, to realise. It took time to sink in – just how badly I had messed up.’
Morghan stared across the table at her. She could try arguing with Winsome, she knew. Could point out all sorts of things. Things she was aware of Winsome knowing, deep down, under the guilt. But guilt and shame were rarely conquered by simple reason. It took something else.
‘Forgiveness begins with yourself,’ she said anyway.
Anguish twisted Winsome’s pretty face. ‘How?’ she asked. ‘I’ve ruined things for so many people. Including myself.’
‘You’ve not ruined things for anyone else if they’re still asking for your support. You went where your heart and spirit led you,’ Morghan said, unable not to say it. She put her cup down.
‘Then my heart and spirit led me away from what I loved!’ Winsome was mortified to feel hot tears at her eyes. She wiped them away. ‘I’m so tired,’ she said.
‘Winsome,’ Morghan said. ‘They led you deeper into what you love. They showed you the mystery beyond the liturgy, beyond the form, the ritual.’
‘I know,’ Winsome said miserably. ‘I’m sorry. I just can’t seem to get myself together. I feel like I’m just a leaf being blown around in a strong breeze.’
Morghan smiled sadly at her friend’s suffering, feeling the pinch of it as though it were her own. ‘The breeze is the breath of the world,’ she said. ‘And the leaf dances in it.’
Winsome snorted a laugh. ‘You,’ she said, and shook her head. ‘You always see everything so differently.’
‘Oh,’ Morghan said, her voice faintly ironic. ‘I am often forced to. Our spirits ask much of us.’
Winsome’s eyebrows made for her hairline. ‘I’m listening,’ she said. ‘What is being asked of you now?’
‘You are a wonderful listener, Winsome,’ Morghan said, a smile touching her lips. ‘That’s why your parishioners are still calling you, needing you.’
‘Well, that I’d ever know enough to do it, I suppose.’
Morghan gazed over at Erin, whose hair was a dark red blaze in the sun. ‘Of course you will.’ She turned and smiled up at the sky. ‘I knew nothing at seventeen when I first came here.’
‘Don’t take this the wrong way, okay?’ Erin shook her head. ‘But I can’t even imagine you as a seventeen-year-old.’
The remark made Morghan laugh. ‘I was ignorant at that age and too arrogant to know it.’
‘Arrogant?’ Erin certainly couldn’t imagine that.
‘Indeed,’ Morghan said. ‘I was very full of the fact that I was the one Selena chose to train to lead the Grove.’
‘She was your aunt, wasn’t she?’ Erin shifted slightly to look at Morghan, her voice deceptively casual as she asked the question. They’d not talked like this before, not really. She hoped Morghan would keep going.
‘We were related, yes,’ Morghan agreed. ‘I still remember the day she finally came to collect me.’ She sat up and looked out at the far line where water met sky. ‘I’d not known her very well when I was a child – more by overheard conversations and the odd remark, than by having met her. My parents didn’t want her to visit, which I remember thinking was crazy.’ Her lips curled in a smile at the memory. ‘Selena was exotic and different by reputation, and I was always dying to meet her.’
‘You hadn’t met her at all?’
‘Once, when I was a young child. I’d fallen in love with her, then. I must have been all of four years old. She let me sit on her lap and she was surrounded by the most amazing colours. I remember trying to run my fingers through them.’
‘You could see auras?’ Erin was fascinated.
‘Yes, although the talent faded as I grew, until it was barely anything more than a feeling, an instinct. I had to work to bring it back.’ Morghan looked around at the hillside clearing. Everything rippled in her vision and brightened as she relaxed and focused.
‘Is that why Selena chose you?’ Erin asked. ‘Because of you being able to see auras when you were young?’
‘She wrote to me about a year before I ended up coming here to live,’ Morghan said, remembering. ‘She wanted to know if I still saw them, and if I could do anything else.’
Erin shook her head. ‘What did your parents think about that?’
‘I didn’t tell them.’
‘What?’ Erin’s eyes widened at the thought of Morghan involved in any form of subterfuge.
‘It seemed…private,’ Morghan replied. ‘We corresponded for that year before she came to get me.’ She glanced over at Erin. ‘Wilde Grove usually does go to members of the family, even if sometimes they are distant ones. Selena was not really an aunt; she was my mother’s cousin. My name was not even Wilde. I took that on by choice.’
There was a sudden lump in Erin’s throat. ‘I’m not related to you,’ she said.
‘You probably are, actually, if we were to go back far enough. The Wilde family has been in this area for a very long time, and so has your grandmother’s. There’s bound to be some connection there.’
Erin’s mind boggled with the idea of being related to Morghan, no matter how distantly. The thought swirled around inside her head like it was made of lightning. It made her dizzy.
‘Wasn’t there anyone else in your family who would have been more suitable than me?’ she asked after a long moment.
‘No,’ Morghan said. ‘Not in any of my direct relations. I have a brother, and he has daughters, and I did go to meet them not too long before you arrived here.’ She shook her head at the memory.
‘What were they like?’
Morghan shook her head. ‘Not Grove material. It was disappointing. I was disappointed, although not surprised, that my brother had not brought them up with more of an understanding of our heritage.’ She paused. ‘One of the girls showed some interest in it, but she was drawn to the potential power of the position, and that’s not how it can be approached.’
‘Power?’ Erin frowned.
‘All positions of authority have some power attached,’ Morghan said. ‘Even when we wield it – when we must wield it – lightly and compassionately.’
Erin was dazed. ‘I’ve not thought of it like that.’ She swallowed. ‘What exactly are the Lady’s…responsibilities?’
Morghan drew breath to answer, then closed her mouth and frowned. Images from her visions suddenly captured her and she blinked against them. The storming sky, and beneath, the rough waves tossing boatloads of refugees towards the safety of the Isle of Healing.
The egg in the bell tower, shining its light over the village, like a beacon.
‘I don’t know,’ she breathed at last.
Erin sat straighter, looked at her in consternation. ‘What?’
But Morghan shook her head. ‘Here’s the truth, Erin. For centuries, while such knowledge and practice as ours was forbidden, against the law, the Lady’s job was to keep the wisdom, to make sure it was passed on. Which is what I’m doing with you, and everyone in the Grove, to the best of my ability.’
‘It’s not against the law anymore,’ Erin said, her voice low in the yellow light from the sun. Her skin prickled suddenly. This was not the answer she’d expected from Morghan – that she didn’t know what the duties of the Lady of the Grove were anymore.
Morghan stood up, brushing the grass and soil from her clothing, and squinting over to the horizon for a long moment before sighing and smiling tightly down at Erin.
‘Come,’ she said. ‘Time to be heading back.’
Erin scrambled to her feet, disconcerted by Morghan’s sudden change of subject. ‘I travelled beyond the garden the other day,’ she blurted. ‘Just like you said I would be able to.’
Morghan’s brows rose, and she turned for the path. ‘Well done,’ she said. ‘I knew it would happen – the next big stage of your training will be led by the spirits. Did Fox take you?’
Erin picked up Burdock’s water bowl, emptied it and folded it back into her bag, then hurried after Morghan, grinning at the memory of walking in the Wildwood, in the Otherworld. It had been as enigmatic and amazing as she’d thought it would be.
‘Fox took me to an island,’ she said, falling in beside Morghan and feeling the warmth of the sun on her grateful skin as they walked in the open air before the woods closed around them again. ‘On the island, I met an old woman,’ she said. ‘Who gave me some runes.’
Morghan nodded and smiled back at her. ‘What did they have to tell you?’
‘The three runes were Isaz, Thurisaz, and Tiwaz.’
Erin’s words made Morghan stop walking and she bent her head, sifting through her knowledge for the meanings of the runes. When she lifted her head, Erin was gazing at her.
‘They seemed kind of bad when I read their meanings in my rune book. Are they? I mean, taken together, they kind of sound like a warning or something.’
Morghan’s lips twitched. ‘Bad?’ she asked. ‘No.’ She shook her head slowly, thinking. ‘But a message? Yes. I expect so.’
She turned and stepped along the path again.
Erin stared after her, then hurried to follow. ‘What sort of message?’
Morghan laughed and the sound was light on the sea breeze. ‘The task is to grow in spirit, to live a life in balance, in wholeness, yes?’
‘Okay,’ Erin said. ‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘And that’s Tiwaz, isn’t it? About the honour in life coming from meeting the demands of the spiritual as well as the physical, right?’
‘Correct. So, bearing that in mind, then, what does Thurisaz tell you?’
Erin’s brow creased in thought. ‘Stephan and I talked about this,’ she said. ‘But Thurisaz confuses me a little – what does it mean that all problems have to be dealt with in spirit before you can do anything else?’
‘You must walk the path,’ Morghan said.
‘The path?’
Morghan waved a hand, and Erin blinked, thinking again that for a moment, Morghan’s hand had gleamed as though made of precious metal. She squeezed her eyes shut, then blinked them open. Her heart ached suddenly, and a joy that felt almost like sorrow welled up through her.
‘What?’ she asked, realising she hadn’t caught Morghan’s reply.
‘This path,’ Morghan said. ‘The Ancient Path.’
Erin shook her head, frowning again. ‘But what about those who don’t know about the Ancient Path? What do they follow?’
Morghan stopped walking and looked at Erin. ‘That’s an interesting question,’ she said, then paused, working out what she wanted to say. ‘When I said that the Ancient Path must be followed, I meant it broadly, in the simple fact that the Ancient Path is the path of spirit, of connectedness, of compassion, of being blessed and sharing those blessings.’ She looked at Erin’s face, at her fiery hair and clear eyes.
‘But your question,’ she continued, ‘brings another thought to mind.’ Connections wended their way towards each other in the back of her mind, seeking to snap together.
‘What?’ Erin asked. ‘What thought?’ A frisson of sudden excitement shivered through her, as though she were about to see things shift and change course right in front of her eyes.
‘Isaz,’ Morghan said.
Erin frowned.
‘Isaz shows us the winter landscape that sometimes we are destined to wander.’ Morghan drew breath. ‘The landscape that in some ways it feels like the world is wandering – the planet, the people, the illness, the suffering.’
She smiled across at Erin. ‘But,’ she said. ‘Each of us, perhaps, can be the thaw?’ She paused. ‘My most recent vision is that we must all constantly build and rebuild our houses, our lives, with connection and strong foundations.’
Erin nodded slowly. ‘The old woman also told me my initiation was starting.’
Morghan looked at Erin, joy suffusing through her. ‘Ah,’ she said.
‘It’s not going to be like Kria’s, is it?’ Erin asked, then flushed. ‘No, of course it’s not.’
‘No,’ Morghan said. ‘It will have its own challenges – all of which you are equipped to meet.’ She turned for the path again.
Erin followed her.
11
‘Morghan!’ Winsome blinked at Morghan standing on her stoop, a smile on her face. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’
‘Are you busy?’ Morghan asked. ‘Too busy for a pot of tea and a chat?’
Winsome laughed. ‘Busy at what, I wonder?’ She shook her head. ‘Busy has been sadly lacking these last few weeks. She shifted at the doorway, suddenly grinning. ‘I’m going to admit it – I’m glad we can finally catch up sitting down, instead of roaming the woods.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ Morghan replied, an impish gleam in her eyes. ‘You didn’t enjoy climbing around out there in rain, sleet, and snow?’
‘You exaggerate,’ Winsome said. ‘But surprisingly, I like the option to stay in and be civilised.’ She stepped back from the door and ushered Morghan in, then gave a strangled laugh. ‘I almost checked to see if Mariah were peering through her curtains to see me letting you in.’ She blinked, shook her head. ‘No word of her, erm, physical whereabouts yet, I suppose?’
‘You suppose correctly,’ Morghan said, taking a seat at the table with a satisfied sigh. Things weren’t back to normal – things, she suspected, would never be back to normal, if normal meant pre-pandemic, but it was lovely to be able to make one or two visits. It certainly made everything a bit easier.
Winsome went to the sink then turned around, electric kettle in her hand. ‘Do you think she will ever be found?’
Morghan didn’t even have to consider the matter. ‘Her body, maybe,’ she said. ‘But we’ll not see her alive this side of the veil, such as it is.’
Leaning against the bench, Winsome shook her head. ‘It really happened, didn’t it?’ The whole episode with Blythe. Winsome shivered slightly. She dreamt of it; even weeks later she still did. Morghan’s eyes as she looked across the crowd at her, noose around her neck.
‘It did,’ Morghan agreed and watched Winsome, the strain in the lines around her eyes.
Winsome jerked around, filled the kettle and put it on to boil. The cups clattered as she placed them on the table.
‘How are your dreams?’ Morghan asked gently, watching Winsome’s pale face, knowing her friend suffered, had so since she’d lost her position as vicar. They had done a lot of walking together, after the initial euphoria of helping Blythe, but much of it had been in silence, soaking up the energy of the woods, hoping it would be a balm to their battered spirits.
Winsome lifted her shoulders almost to her ears and shrugged. ‘Put it this way – keep your all-seeing eyes away from the shoddy state of my aura.’
Morghan laughed. ‘I shall not take even a peek,’ she said.
Winsome gazed at her for a moment, then shook her head. ‘Last night I dreamt I was here in the vicarage, but the building was practically rubble, and I was picking through the ruins trying to sort it all out – and take care of a couple young kiddies at the same time.’ She shook her head again, then set to pouring the hot water into the teapot. ‘Maybe it will be easier now that the lockdown is easing and we’re all vaccinated, but honestly, I still don’t have any idea what I’m going to do.’ She put the pot on the table and slid into her chair, a frown making soft lines between her eyes. ‘Or even who I am, anymore.’
It was true. Was she even anyone without the vicar’s dog collar around her neck and a church to go pray in? She’d not found the answer to that question.
On the floor, Cù stretched out and yawned, then looked at her with unwavering eyes. Winsome blinked and looked away from him. She’d refused to go back to the cave with Morghan, or even to go to the little summerhouse temple in the woods behind the church. She’d stopped everything except the almost silent walks with Morghan because it had seemed necessary. But it hadn’t worked. She still didn’t know who she was, or what she was going to do.
‘Have you restarted the soul midwifery course?’ Morghan asked.
‘No.’ Winsome busied her hands with the cups and saucers. Then let them drop to the table. ‘I’ve let everything come to a standstill, thinking that would help me figure out where I am.’
‘Has it?’ Morghan asked, her voice mild, interested, unjudging.
Winsome shook her head. ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘I just feel more adrift than ever.’
‘Being locked away with everything much at a standstill doesn’t help,’ Morghan said.
‘I’ve had a couple phone calls from parishioners.’ Winsome blinked, glanced at Cù, then away again. ‘Ex-parishioners, I mean. Wanting me to come around now that we can do that sort of thing more easily.’
Morghan raised her eyebrows and reached out to pour tea into their cups. ‘And will you?’
‘I’m not their vicar anymore,’ Winsome said. ‘I’ve no right.’
‘They’re asking for you,’ Morghan pointed out. ‘Is that not reason enough in itself?’
But Winsome shook her head. ‘Maybe it ought to be,’ she said, pressing her fingertips to the hot cup until it burned. ‘But I don’t know what to say to them anymore, what to offer them.’
‘The same as you were able to give them before?’
Another shake of the head. ‘I’ve no authority, anymore.’
Morghan reached over the table and took Winsome’s hands in her own, holding them for a moment without speaking, until Winsome’s fingers cooled.
‘You’ve the authority of one who walks in spirit,’ Morghan said at last, not letting Winsome’s hands go. ‘You’ve the authority of compassion, friendship, caring.’ She drew back at last. ‘What other authority do you need? What other authority do they need of you?’
But Winsome shook her head, stubborn. ‘It’s not that easy,’ she said.
‘Why?’
Winsome clenched her hands into twin fists. ‘I got their church closed.’
‘Ah,’ Morghan said, sitting back and picking up her cup. She took a sip, looking at her friend over the rim.
‘I did it,’ Winsome said, hearing the defensiveness in her voice and unable to help it. ‘It was my fault – my fault entirely.’ She sighed suddenly. ‘I was too stunned, at the beginning, to realise. It took time to sink in – just how badly I had messed up.’
Morghan stared across the table at her. She could try arguing with Winsome, she knew. Could point out all sorts of things. Things she was aware of Winsome knowing, deep down, under the guilt. But guilt and shame were rarely conquered by simple reason. It took something else.
‘Forgiveness begins with yourself,’ she said anyway.
Anguish twisted Winsome’s pretty face. ‘How?’ she asked. ‘I’ve ruined things for so many people. Including myself.’
‘You’ve not ruined things for anyone else if they’re still asking for your support. You went where your heart and spirit led you,’ Morghan said, unable not to say it. She put her cup down.
‘Then my heart and spirit led me away from what I loved!’ Winsome was mortified to feel hot tears at her eyes. She wiped them away. ‘I’m so tired,’ she said.
‘Winsome,’ Morghan said. ‘They led you deeper into what you love. They showed you the mystery beyond the liturgy, beyond the form, the ritual.’
‘I know,’ Winsome said miserably. ‘I’m sorry. I just can’t seem to get myself together. I feel like I’m just a leaf being blown around in a strong breeze.’
Morghan smiled sadly at her friend’s suffering, feeling the pinch of it as though it were her own. ‘The breeze is the breath of the world,’ she said. ‘And the leaf dances in it.’
Winsome snorted a laugh. ‘You,’ she said, and shook her head. ‘You always see everything so differently.’
‘Oh,’ Morghan said, her voice faintly ironic. ‘I am often forced to. Our spirits ask much of us.’
Winsome’s eyebrows made for her hairline. ‘I’m listening,’ she said. ‘What is being asked of you now?’
‘You are a wonderful listener, Winsome,’ Morghan said, a smile touching her lips. ‘That’s why your parishioners are still calling you, needing you.’
