His manners weren’t good. They were repulsive because they were lies.
He was rotten inside, and that was what mattered.
A person’s heart was what counted, not their appearance.
Maybe he would forget about her here. She often fantasized about that. No one had been to see her in all the time she’d been in Scotland.
She was okay with that.
“Sister Fernanda.” She turned at the sound of Mother Superior’s voice behind her.
She wasn’t a sister, but Mother Superior called her that to reinforce her place here, and the equality of all of them.
“Yes?” She squinted slightly, the sun shining in her face.
“Would you mind going and checking the bees and collecting some honey for supper?”
“Oh, I would love to.”
Fern loved the bees. She’d found that she was very interested in all manner of farming practices, but cultivating honey was one of her favorite past times.
She went to the barn and gathered the beekeeping gear and a large jar from the shelf by the beekeeping suit, and walked across the expansive field toward the beehives.
At first, she’d been afraid of the bees. But she just hadn’t understood them. She hadn’t understood so many things.
She’d had perfect table manners but she hadn’t been connected to the land, to the way that it fed humanity as long as humanity fed it back.
Now she knew.
She used her smoke to clear the bees away as she got into the hive and began to collect honeycomb and put it in the jar.
Then she walked back to the barn and took the beekeeper’s suit off, holding the jar close to her chest as she walked back toward the convent.
Her stomach growled when she thought about the dinner they’d be able to have. They would have vegetables from the garden—potatoes, carrots and leeks. And there would likely be bread and butter, and now honey.
Though they were not entirely vegetarian at the convent, they ate very little meat, due both to the cost and to Mother Superior’s general discomfort with taking life in any form, even if it was animal life.
Fern was so unaccustomed to that level of consideration and compassion. She’d been shocked by it at first.
Now she tried to cultivate it. To bring it into her own heart.
This deep caring about others.
This peace.
Silence had been all around, nothing but the wind through the flowers and grass, and then suddenly, the silence was broken by a rhythmic pounding.
She turned sharply behind her and saw a black horse with a large figure on the back of it, riding toward her at full speed.
She had never seen anything like this out here before. Had never seen one of the farmers from a neighboring property out riding like he was being chased by an enemy army.
She took a breath. And then began to run.
Without thinking. Without pausing.
Away from him or whatever might be after him. She felt like she’d fallen down into an alternate world—or maybe out of time, though that wasn’t an uncommon feeling out here in the wild Highlands.
But this was uncommon.
