“Who? Mother?” Malcolm suspected his father might have also had an encounter with the White Lady. Perhaps that explained his melancholydemeanour.
“You were too young to remember, but twelve yearsold.”
“Whathappened?”
“She was riding.” He smiled. “She loved toride.”
“Aye, that I doremember.”
Malcolm whipped around to find the image of his mother standing near the bed. His father’s mouth hung open much like Malcolm’s had earlier. It was still an incredible sight to behold, that of aspiorad—a soul longdeparted.
“Moira.” His father’s voice was but awhisper.
“Aye, husband, ’tisI.”
“You look exactly thesame.”
“You have changed much. Too much, Donald. I weep foryou.”
His father stood and moved toward her. “No. I am protecting theclan.”
“You have only sought revenge for my death. I know what is in your heart and it is not noble. You have dishonoured my memory,Donald.”
“No! It was because I loved you and they took you fromme.”
“Do you not see? I fell off my horse because it was spooked. Not because someone pushed me off. You are wrong—have been for all theseyears.”
“Why do you come to me after all thistime?”
“Because I hoped you would see your errors on your own. I only gained the power to communicate when Malcolm’s wife arrived. She has the gift to see into our world and her need pulled me all the waythrough.”
What she said was incredible. That his dead mother was standing before him was the most humbling thing he’d ever experienced. Her expression was so sad, so much pain in her eyes as she gazed upon hisfather.
“I cannot bear yourdispleasure.”
The words were torn from his father. Malcolm had never heard such an utterance of anguish in his life, and never expected to hear it from thisman.
“Malcolm is right in every way, Donald. You must atone and enter into these negotiations in good faith and do everything in your power for the pain and suffering you have inflicted on the MacLeods all theseyears.”
He nodded as she faded. “No! Do not go. Stay with me,please.”
“I cannot stay. You must heed my words, Donald. You mustatone.”
With that she faded from sight. The White Lady—hismother.
His father reached out his hand to where she’d been moments before. He stumbled twice and sat on the edge of the bed holding fast to thepost.
“Was that adream?”
“No, Father, ’twas not a dream. I saw her earlier in my chambertoo.”
“I cannot believeit.”
“You must. And you must listen to what she said. We can become ten times stronger if we are not using up all our energy trying to outwit theMacLeods.”
His father looked up with tears in his eyes. “I was not wrong. I was told she waspushed.”
“Who told youthat?”
