“Thank you for taking this journey to help my grandmother, my lord,”I expressed, pulling my cape tightly closed, trying to keep my heat in. With the lack of sun and the storm brewing again, the air had quickly grown colder.
“Please call me James. There is no need for formalities here. And I should be thanking you for the escape. If I weren’t on this journey, I’m sure my father would have been selecting one of the women from the ball for me to promenade around the grounds,”he replied.
“Likewise, please call me Cora,”I told him before asking the question lingering in my mind.“James, what is it that you aspire to do?”I inquired, feeling a bit odd addressing him by his first name and not Lord Campbell.
“I am being groomed to take over my father’s position. Being his only son, the duty falls upon me,”he stated in a stark and matter-of-fact tone.
“Yes, but what is it that you dream of doing?”I pressed.
He looked at me, and for the first time, our eyes truly met. Time seemed to stand still, the bitter cold and darkening sky faded, and the green hue of his eyes and the spark within them were all I could see.
He paused a moment before he answered.“I would like to be an academic. I enjoy reading of times past and writing about them.”
“I think that suits you, and I do believe my father would approve,”I said with a smile.
James smiled and nodded, and we locked eyes for a long moment before he turned away and began packing his bag.
“We best be going on our way. Not much more daylight left, and we still have far to travel,”James said as he looked out to the west where the sun had begun to set.
We mounted the horses as the snow fell softly, my belly full, my body warmed, and my mind filled with James’s words as we rode toward the setting sun.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The Eyes of God Are Watching
Twilight blanketed the land in its thin dusty veil as we rode up the winding path toward the well in Letterfearn. The horses’hooves crunched the frozen leaves that had long ago fallen, kicking up the musty scent of the forest floor. The snow was scant, but the ground was frozen and small patches of ice marked the trail like a dotted line for us to follow. The path meandered alongside a half-frozen brook and up a sloping hillside where the sun was making its final descent, painting the edges of the mountains in a thin layer of gold.
“It’s just up ahead. I can see St. Mary’s Chapel,”James said as they crested the top of the hill.
A humble stone chapel stood silhouetted in the fading light. As we rode closer, I could just make out the impression in the earth where thewell sat. With dusk upon us, gathering the water clearly would need to be delayed until morning when the light was more favorable. The spell instructed precisely how it had to be collected, with not a single drop to be spilled. In the dim twilight, the task would prove nearly impossible.
“Not a moment too soon. The sun is almost set,”James said, jumping down and tying his horse to a post in front of the chapel. I followed with my bag slung over my shoulder, then fastened my horse to the post alongside her mate.
“The well must be over there,”I said, pointing to the spot near the front of the church where the earth caved in on itself. It was too dark to make out much more than a divot in the ground where it sat.
“Yes, shall we collect the water now?”he asked, stepping forward.
“No, let us gather it in the morning. I am too weary from our travels and need to rest,”I said, not wishing to disclose the true reason for postponing the task. Nonetheless, fatigue indeed weighed heavily upon me after our journey.
“If we are lucky, the chapel will be open for the people’s pilgrimages to the well,”he said, walking toward the small stone building. It was modest in size with a thatched roof, plain wooden door, and four small windows on the side facing the well. James walked to the door and turned the iron latch with a loud click. The large hinges let out a groan of protest as the door swung open.
“We are fortunate indeed. We can rest here for the night,”he said, stepping into a large open room. Apart from a modest altar and a few simple benches, the room was eerily vacant in the dim light.
“I will fetch the blankets. You find a suitable spot for us to sleep,”James instructed before leaving the building. I hesitated, then made my way toward the altar, keenly aware of the book of spells hidden inside my bag. As I neared the small cross resting on the pulpit, an uneasy feeling spread through me. Surely this must be a sin, I thought as my gaze fixed on the symbol of the church as I slowly walked past. The weight of mybag felt heavier with each step as my mother’s words rang in my mind,In the eyes of the Lord, unholy deeds are not left unpunished.
Was bringing a book of spells into the house of the Lord an unholy deed? I pondered.
Though in her youth my mother had been quietly taught the old ways by Gran, she embraced Protestantism wholeheartedly after marrying my father, so I was raised in the house of the Lord. Unlike my mother, I never felt at home in the church. I feel the divine presence most strongly in nature, not in the confines of these four walls,I thought as I scanned the room.
To the right of the altar, a small alcove offered just enough space for our makeshift beds. Though the flagstone floor appeared far from comfortable, enduring a night on its cold surface seemed a small sacrifice if it meant saving Gran. Just as I was about to set my bag on the floor, James returned with the blankets.
“I think this is the best place to bed down,”I told him, tapping my foot on the floor.“However, it’s going to be hard and cold.”
“I have an idea,”he offered as he walked over to the nearest bench and slid it up next to the one behind it.“Maybe we don’t have to sleep on the cold floor,”he said with a smile.
I smiled back, realizing it was the perfect setup for a small bed, much better than the stone floor.“I’m not sure this is a very holy thing to do,”I remarked as I slid the next two benches together.
“I think God will be just fine with us rearranging things a bit for the night,”James said with a slight laugh.
