“Oh?” Owen glanced at him with little interest.
Sean placed the sketch in Owen’s hands, watched the man’s chin quiver and his eyes fill with tears.
“ ’Tis our Kenna,” Owen nodded and just kept nodding as he blinked back tears. “Thank ye, Sean,” he finally whispered. “I cannae thank ye enough.”
Sean rose, laid a hand on Owen’s shoulder and gently squeezed. “Best I get goin’ before Moira fires me.” Gathering the first delivery, he exchanged glances with her. Moira’s smile and nod of approval helped brighten what was otherwise another dreary, lonely day.
He hurried into the street, needing fresh air and a moment alone.
How long before ’twould quit hurting so bad? All the logic and understandin’ about why Kenna left shouldae buffered some of the pain, shouldnae it? If so, ’twas no’ workin’.
Anxious to get through the deliveries, Sean set a fast pace. He wanted to get to the kirk and work off some of his frustration. He was almost done with the clean-up. He’d done what he could for each stone or marker as he’d tended to each gravesite. Some were beyond repair and some were missing a marker entirely. But he’d tried to honor them all, the best he could.
* * *
Sean stood near the kirk,surveying the cemetery. He was both grateful for the work and proud of what he’d accomplished. Besides filling his days with a purpose, it had given him an outlet for his pent-up energy. When his heartache was too much to contain, he poured it into tending to these forgotten souls. He wasnae sure what he’d do when ’twas finished.
’Twould be time to make some decisions, soon. If he stayed, he’d need a real job. He couldnae live off Owen’s generosity any longer. And if he left? Where would he go that could have more meaning than right here? All his memories of Kenna were here. Besides, until Owen was doing better, he couldnae leave him. If he could ever leave him. He wasnae sure he could. Somehow, he’d grown overfond of the old man.
But what of his quest? The redemption he’d sworn to pursue? The wrong he still needed tae right?
He sighed, kenning the answer well enough. Owen’s welfare came first. Sean’s debt had been sitting on his shoulders for centuries. He could endure it a while longer.
First things first, however. Today he’d tackle the older area of the cemetery, near the front corner of the wall. He’d avoided the area because ’twas particularly tangled with tall weeds and debris. A project he kenned would be far more time consuming and tedious than what he’d already done.
The hours piled atop one another as he worked. Sean stretched, noting the sun had made far more progress across the sky than he’d made on the ground. The light would soon be gone and he’d have the long, empty evening hours tae face, alone.
With three plots to go, he pulled, cut, and yanked the thick grass, finally exposing a flat stone with barely legible carving. Brushing it off, he leaned closer to read it.
James Alan Grewer 1647
Moving to the next one, Sean repeated the brutal task of cutting through the thick grass. Finally, he revealed a similarly aged stone and studied the faint carving.
Elanor Kincaid Grewer 1649
Kenna’s sister? Nae! It couldnae be.’Twas merely a coincidence.Surely there was more than one Elanor Kincaid in all of Scotland.
Even so, his pulse kicked up and his breath came in short bursts as he turned to the last grave, his hands shaking, unsure what he’d do if he saw Kenna’s name. But he had to know! He clawed at the growth, nearly frantic before he cleared enough debris away to see the stone. This one seemed older and in even worse shape. Sean knelt and carefully traced the carvings.
Aileana Kincaid 1622
Kenna’s mither? Neither she nor Elanor had died during the witch hunts. Elanor had even married.
“Why did ye no’ show me this before?” he yelled at the sky. “All this time, the answer was right here!”
Sean sat beside the graves for a long time. If Kenna had seen these, would she still have gone back? What happened to her? Had she found her mither and sister? Or had she married and was buried elsewhere, along with a husband and family? Sean pushed the thought from his mind, needing to picture her inhisarms, only.
More questions spiraled in his head until he fell back in the thick grass, trying to make sense of what Fate had brought him to. But all he discovered were more questions he’d never ken the answers to.
Staring at the empty, darkening sky, he let the sadness leak from his eyes.
Strangely, his ears buzzed, and despite lying down, he suddenly felt dizzy; disoriented. Too much sun and too many painful memories, he kenned.
Exhausted, he struggled onto his feet, swaying just a little. He’d have to come back tomorrow and finish. He hadnae the strength left, today and had already stayed too long. Owen would worry.
Turning, Sean leaned down to gather his tools but stopped halfway. ’Twould seem the shock of discovering Kenna’s family’s graves had played tricks on his mind. Or ’twas wishful thinking. One or the other had conjured the image of Kenna lying on the ground near the gate.
She moaned and tried to sit up.
