Taking in the isle for the first time in years, it’s as if her senses are on fire. She is surrounded by beauty and magic but filled with sickening dread. Innisfree is a beautiful haven, with every inch covered in colorful blooms and luscious greenery. Even the bark of the trees seems more vibrant here, with tones leaning closer to red than brown. The song of the birds, the hum of the bees, and Caoimhe’s wails of pain create a dissonant cacophony.
Ronan carries Caoimhe out of the boat and onto the dock. Mr.Benny and Marigold each take Althea’s hands to help her onto the dock, and they hurry along the stone path that leads to the cottage. Caoimhe reaches for Althea and pulls her close so her whispers go unheard by everyone else. Althea nods. All rush inside as Marigold trails behind. Before entering, Althea turns to her and says, “Stay here for now.”
“But Ronan needs—”
“Stay,” Althea echoes before closing the door. Air gusts into her, throwing her slightly off-balance. Having just felt the first pull of her purpose, it takes everything for her not to break down that door and get to Ronan before he shatters. He cannot continue to watch his wife suffer alone. She has no idea what sort of ritual or procedure her grandmother is performing, but it must be shocking if she won’t even let her witness it. How will she be able to handle situations like this on her own if she can’t train alongside Althea? It’s not fair. Standing here, falling back into the throes of self-doubt, helps no one. She is a witch, too. She can help. She deserves a place in that room.
Just as she is building up the courage to barge in, the handle twists. Mr. Benny comes out with his arm around Ronan’s shoulders, and he closes the door behind them. In any other circumstances, she would bombard them with questions, but she holds her tongue. If not a source of comfort, she is nothing.
“Althea said everything would be fine in a few hours,” Ronan says, though his voice shakes.
Marigold nods, looking up through her lashes. “She is right. She will heal Caoimhe.” She places a hand on his shoulder as Mr. Benny moves to pat his back. “You can take comfort in that.”
“I’ll take comfort in her arms when she is all right again,” he says sharply.
Mr. Benny dips his chin. “Have faith, Ronan. Althea never makes a promise that she cannot keep. You know this.”
A faint cry comes from inside the house, and Ronan gasps. “I must be with her.” He turns to the door, but Mr. Benny holds him in place.
“Ronan, she asked you to leave her for now.”
Marigold stills. Why is Althea forbidding anyone else to be part of this? It doesn’t make sense unless she fears that Caoimhe won’t survive. She shakes her head, disrupting the dark thoughts.
“She is not herself! She doesn’t know what she’s saying,” Ronan cries, ineffectively fighting against Mr. Benny’s surprising strength.
“You must respect Caoimhe’s decision. She does not want anyone other than Althea in the room right now. Her wishes come first.”
There’s the answer—it’s not Althea separating them. It’s Caoimhe.Shemust believe that she will not survive, and she is sparing them all from witnessing her end. At that, Ronan slows until he ceases. He wipes his eyes and says, “I don’t understand. Why won’t she let me help her now?”
Caoimhe’s decision is an act of true love. Even on her deathbed, her final wish is to spare Ronan the lasting image of her passing. Marigold steps closer and says, “You have helped her as much as you can. You cared for her while Althea was away, and you carried her here in your arms. She asks no more of you.”
Another cry carries on the wind. Mr. Benny moves to hold on to Ronan, but Ronan doesn’t try to run in again. He shudders and says, “If she doesn’t want me by her side, I cannot stand here and listen to her scream. I won’t be able to stop myself from running to her.”
“Come with me, then. We will forage for things that can be used in her aftercare.”
He nods, and Mr. Benny steps away from his side. She takes his hand and leads him off the path. She doesn’t know this isle any better than he does, but she can pretend. As they walk around the cottage, the sunlight wraps itself around the trees like strings of twinkling lights, and little creatures jump from branch to branch, adding a natural percussion underneath it all.
Innisfree is about ten times bigger than Marigold’s meadow. The cottage is surrounded by flower gardens, and the apiarytakes up the whole backyard and then some. She hasn’t met the bees yet, and to be truthful, she is afraid. The only thing she knows about them is that they sting, and that is the last thing Ronan needs right now. As they walk past it, she counts a total of twelve hives, each five white boxes tall. By her rudimentary calculation, there must be thousands of bees living here. Their buzz hovers over the note of E-flat, creating a meditative hum that calms her and Ronan. His breathing settles into a normal rhythm as they walk. Since she still doesn’t know where she’s going, she’s simply waiting to stumble upon something that looks like a destination.
“How did you and Caoimhe meet?” she asks so he won’t notice that she’s as good as lost. They weave through the tall trees, pushing branches out of their faces as they walk.
“We grew up together. I’ve loved her since we were both little kids. I remember pretending to be bad at reading so she would read me stories,” he says, followed by a small laugh. He looks up, his blue eyes aglow in the sun. “I would’ve done anything to get her to talk to me, but she wasn’t interested for the longest time.”
“You loved her before she loved you?”
He nods. “Everyone loved Caoimhe. Sweet, kind, funny, and smarter than everybody around.”
“So how did you get her to choose you?”
“I merely told her the truth. I told her that I’d make it my mission to make her happy. I said that if I wasn’t what she wanted, I would make myself become it. I would be soft or strong, funny or serious, a rich man or a farm boy. Anything she wanted. I was willing to defy everything I was for her.” He pauses and smiles. “But I didn’t have to. She stopped me in the middle of that whole spiel and kissed me because she wanted me as I was, accepted me for who I am. We’ve been together ever since. Fourteen years. Two kids. A perfect life.”
Her heart warms. “Your love story is so beautiful,” she says. It’s much easier to enjoy love from a distance like this.
He sighs deeply. “As long as she lives, I’ll never ask for anything else, never want for more than I have.”
“She will live. I know it,” she says, and they continue to walk in silence for nearly an hour. The trees finally start to thin, and they find an open meadow filled with wildflowers.
“Here we are!” she says, relieved to have found a place to stop. “We can collect flowers that aid in healing. Lavender, daisies, and goldenrod are all great choices, but you can’t go wrong with anything here.”
