In the dim light, the shadows danced around her as she picked up the black leather book. Upon closer inspection, the outside was not black but a very dark shade of brown. She turned it over in her hands, and on the front was a set of embossed initials—C.M.A nervous anticipation rose up from her core as she flipped it open.
Colin’s familiar handwriting filled page after page with numerical equations and cryptic symbols, remnants of Colin’s codebreaking endeavors during the war. Nora didn’t understand any of it; it was essentially gibberish to her, but she felt a sense of connection to her grandfather as she traced the elegant curves of his scrolling cursive.
As she drew closer to the back of the book, she came upon a section titled “Cora,” underlined at the top. The fairy song waswritten in black ink, and he had crossed out words in red and circled others in blue. A tangled web of lines, words, and tiny notations filled the margins of the page. The next page, however, had writing she could finally understand:
After Tom was able to gather the records of Awen’s death, I began looking at this in a different way. I believe it’s written half literally and half metaphorically. For example, “In shadows of Frost, love entwined, A dance of souls, through time confined” is half metaphor and half reality. Cora’s soul, in whatever body it inhabits, will always fall in love with James’s soul at the onset of winter, and it is always sudden and short-lived.
“To shatter chains, to cease the waltz, A secret dance when the moon proves false.” This line has something to do with breaking the curse, but I still haven’t figured it out. I hesitate to move forward until I do.
Nora turned to the next page where there were more nonsensical scribbles with words and dates. She could tell it was still about Cora and the curse, but her grandfather’s mind worked in a way that hers did not, and she saw nothing but puzzling words and phrases that did not join anywhere.
She looked back at the stack of letters, thinking that if Colin had figured it out, he would have written to Marjorie about it. The next letter in the stack, however, did not match Colin’s handwriting, but Nora knew right away whose handwriting it was—her gram’s.
Nora quickly picked up the letter and pulled it from the envelope with a sense of anticipation. Unfolding the paper and smoothing it onto her lap, she was met by the faint scent of roses, a fragrance that had always lingered around her grandmother and had embedded itself in the memories of Nora’s childhood.
02/10/1944
Dearest Marjorie,
I do hope this letter finds you well and keeping warm in this dreadful cold snap. I’m not sure if the Highlands have gotten the cold we are experiencing in London right now, but each time I leave the hospital, I am almost a popsicle by the time I arrive back at my flat. Dreadful weather. I do hope with the end of this winter also comes the end of this war. I have been working long hours with a surgeon named Donald Cameron. He is a complete drill sergeant to everyone who works under him, but I think he fancies me, so I have it a bit better than the others. The poor guy doesn’t have a chance as I am madly in love with your brother.
I was so excited when I got clearance to visit Colin last weekend. However, a weekend was far too short and left me missing him even more. I wish we were not stationed so far from one another. I have to keep reminding myself that it is only temporary, and when this war ends, we will be able to be together.
I wanted to send this letter to tell you that I have decided to stay in Scotland when I am relieved in July. I haven’t told my family yet, but there is nowhere in the world I would rather be than here with Colin. I can’t wait to start our life off together once this blasted war is over. I was hoping that maybe you wouldn’t mind if I came up and stayed with you until Colin was relieved in August. If I am imposing, I can always stay with Flora, but to tell you the truth, the cottage, Fernbeg, kind of gave me the heebie-jeebies.
I can’t wait to picnic in the moors and swim in the waters of Loch Duich this summer like we talked of at Christmas. Until then, I will think of you, my dear friend, and send letters when I can.
Keep yourself warm,
Love from yours truly,
Edith
Nora reread the letter twice more, each time she stopped at the line “I have been working long hours under a surgeon named Donald Cameron.” The man Nora had known as her grandfather her whole life had been working with her grandmother while Colin and she were together. How had she ended up with him instead of Colin? Had Donald come between them? Her interest was piqued even more now, and she intensely wanted to find out what had ended their love story.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Love and Moonbeams
Nora looked down at the dwindling stack of letters. There were two left: one final letter from Colin and the dreaded letter that she assumed was a death notice.
Just as she picked up Colin’s final correspondence, her stomach let out a loud groan, and Lochland’s ears rose up. He let out a low growl and looked about the room in search of the noise.
“It’s okay, boy, just my stomach,” Nora laughed.
A moment later, Alistair came trudging in, prompting a long, loud string of barks from Lochland.
“Whoa, there, boy, just me,” he said, holding both hands up as if he were being robbed.
“How’d it go?”
“Good. I waited to see if the tea was going to help, and she seemed to be doing better by the time I left. I made her a toastedcheese sandwich, then stocked the fireplace again. I tried one last time to get her to come back with me, but she pretty much told me to bugger off,” he said with a chuckle.
“I’m surprised she said no to that invitation,” Nora teased.
“Very funny,” he laughed. “She should be good until morning. Then I will go back and check on her,” he said as he stripped off his jacket and boots and walked into the kitchen.
“I am starving. You?” he asked as he rooted around the place.
