“You do not have to stay here,” Ailsa said. She didn’t actually think about the words. They seemed to flow right out of her from some unseen source.
Brigitta perked up a little. “I was told to wait for my groom.”
“He is long dead,” Diarmuid said. “Your duty is finished.”
“Am I dead?” Brigitta asked.
“Yes,” Ailsa answered.
Brigitta returned to looking forlorn. “I was obedient. I waited. Why am I stuck here?”
The mist shifted. It flowed across the floor toward the wall behind Brigitta. It fed into a swirling circle that was full of angel wings. It was as golden and pure as Ailsa had always heard the portal to heaven would be. All of her worries simply evaporated.
Ailsa smiled. “It looks like you have a choice, Brigitta.”
Diarmuid held Ailsa next to him with a firm arm around her waist. Brigitta turned to face the whirlpool. She was instantly illuminated. A figure stood there; each hand extended with a red, ripe rose on each palm.
“You may choose,” the angel said. He lifted one hand slightly. “Another earthly life or a journey into what is beyond.”
“What of my friends?” Brigitta asked. “They were kind to me, when no one else ever was. Are they to die? I would have liked very much to have a man willing to drink poison in order to rescue me.”
The angel looked toward Ailsa and Diarmuid. Without a doubt, their fate was within this Eternal Being’s control. Ailsa felt Diarmuid’s arm tighten around her waist.
“Whatever is to be, we shall do it together, lass,” he whispered in her ear.
“Yes,” she answered him. “I am not afraid. For you are with me.”
The angel seemed to know what they said. The Celestial Entity filled them both with a warm, golden light that left Ailsa with tears in her eyes. She’d never been so completely filled with joy before. There simply wasn’t room inside of her for any other feeling.
“Oh…thank you,” Brigitta muttered in gratitude.
The angel’s lips curved into a slight smile. “The time is upon you, Brigitta…choose now.”
Brigitta nodded, looking between the roses. With a little nod, Brigitta reached for one of the roses. The moment her fingertip touched it, Ailsa felt as if the floor gave way beneath her.
She was falling through darkness with Diarmuid holding her tightly. On their way back to the mortal world and a future with one another.
*
“Ailsa?”
Someone shook her. Whoever it was, their hands were large and strong.
“Wake up, my love.”
Ailsa opened her eyes to find Diarmuid leaning over her. Worry was etched into his face. She reached up to smooth some of the creases away. “You do not know me well enough to love me. Even if I suspect I love you.”
Diarmuid lifted one eyebrow. “We have crossed over the boundary between the living and the dead together, lass. I know ye are the other half of my soul. I suppose a poet would call it love, so I shall as well.”
He scooped her up and carried her toward the door. The candles had burned out, trails of smoke turning the air bitter.
“I am taking ye to our chamber, lass,” he told her. “We’ll have a long, happy life there.”
“Put me down so I can follow you,” Ailsa insisted. “We should enter our new life together.”
Ailsa saw the smile split his face before he lowered her feet to the floor. Diarmuid clasped her hand in his and pulled her through the chamber doorway.
Ailsa had to hurry to keep up with his pace and she was happy to do so.
