She found Neve in the abbey’s hall, sitting with Hamish and two others Aftyn recognized as having been injured in the fire, though only slightly. The men stood when they saw her approaching.
“Aftyn!” Neve smiled and patted the bench beside her. “Conal just told us about his home up near Aberdeen. Truly, the brothers in this abbey come from all over Scotland.”
“And at least one from Ireland,” Conal said and nodded toward a pale redhead eating with two other acolytes.
“How interesting,” Aftyn said as she took the seat Neve indicated. “How are ye all?”
“Ach, they’re well,” Neve answered. “And ready to return to their duties for the abbey.”
All the men nodded agreement, except Hamish, whose gaze remained fixed on Neve. Aftyn wondered if she should have stayed here and sent Neve back to Keith instead of indulging Neve's wish to remain near Hamish.
“I’m glad of it. Neve, that means ye can return home with me.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hamish’s gaze flick to her, then back to Neve, and his face fell.
“Must ye?” He lifted a hand, then put it back on the tabletop.
Aftyn believed he’d been about to reach for Neve’s hand and thought better of it.
“Aye,” Neve said, and glanced aside at Aftyn. “Soon. But Aftyn, I havena told ye the reason I asked ye to come. ’Tis quite an honor. The abbot has offered to hear your confession. The abbot! In thanks for the work we did caring for his people.”
Aftyn frowned, though she recognized the truth of Neve’s words. It was an honor. One she’d never heard bestowed to anyone lower than a senior priest. She and Neve were nothing to the kirk except souls to save. And hers, after the Lathans’ arrival and Jamie’s kisses, was in sore need of tending.
“How are we to make ourselves known to the abbot?”
“I’ll take ye,” Conal offered, standing. The others stood, too, and left them, crossing the hall toward a priest who’d just entered. Conal held up a hand for them to wait, then joined the others by the priest.
“Now?” Suddenly, Aftyn’s confidence deserted her. How much dared she reveal to another person—the abbot!—about her feelings toward Jamie Lathan? Or her suspicions?
“Dinna fash,” Neve said and smiled. “He is a gentle soul. I was honored by the kind things he said.” She colored and added, “He waved any penance, even when I admitted to having feelings for Hamish.”
Aftyn looked away to avoid reacting, and noticed Conal speaking to the priest and gesturing toward her and Neve, but he made no move to join them. The abbot’s generosity was shocking, but if he didn’t take offense at Neve’s admission, perhaps she could get her envy of Jamie off of her conscience. He would be gone soon, and she would like the weight of her feelings for him—and her earlier ones against him—off her shoulders. “I should take the abbot up on his kind offer, then,” she told Neve and stood. Across the hall, Conal nodded to the priest and left the group to walk back to Aftyn.
“Ready?” He gestured to the side of the hall.
“Thank ye for guiding me.” She turned to Neve. “Wait here for me?” When Neve nodded, she turned back to Conal. “I hope I am not causing a problem for ye.”
“No’ at all,” Conal told her as they walked. “Father Dexter needs some weeds pulled. Ye are saving me from that, at least for a few minutes.”
Aftyn nearly laughed, but held her mirth in check. The abbey’s hall didn’t seem the place for it. Still, the idea of Neve’s Hamish weeding a garden somehow pleased her. She should add that unkind impulse to her confession.
An hour later, Aftyn found herself wishing she hadn’t agreed to confess to the abbot. Her sins seemed too petty to devote his time to. Didn’t all daughters complain about their parents? Yet the abbot had spoken quietly about family, and that love was not always demonstrated in a way one expected. Or that one wanted. She supposed he meant that her father ignored her out of some subtle attempt to make her a stronger person. But she didn't believe it. She confessed to being jealous of the Lathan healer’s expertise and admitted her suspicions that Jamie had some special empathy that let him feel what others did, and that helped him treat their illness or malady much faster than anything she’d ever seen before. The abbot chided her that such would seem more a burden than a gift. When she mentioned wrestling with the idea of going with Jamie when he left, the abbot spoke of duty. None of that made her feel better. She consoled herself that the abbot could not repeat what she told him, so she should not worry. He’d absolved her of her sins and excused her from penance for her service to the abbey, just as he had done for Neve. And she’d forgotten to mention picturing Hamish pulling weeds.
As she and Neve rode home, she reflected on her confession and she realized she’d left out something important. Despite how mixed her feelings were about the Lathan healer, it saddened her to imagine living her life without him. But perhaps it was for the best.
* * *
Jamie,feeling rested after returning to Keith and sleeping undisturbed for several hours, made his way to the herbal, trying to make more sense of Aftyn’s mother's journal. Aftyn had gone to the abbey, so he had some time alone to puzzle out another page. If he intended to leave with his men, he didn’t have much more time to devote to it. But he would go only if he could be sure that Aftyn was safe.
He’d written out many of the preparations, but some were obviously scrawled in haste or when the woman was tired or ill, and were all but illegible. After several hours, he concluded he might never uncover what she intended, and it would be dangerous to guess, when his interpretation would be prepared by others and used on people whose lives might be at stake.
Frustrated, he tossed aside the journal with an oath, rose and stretched. A noise near the door made him turn, prepared for battle as he’d been trained, but Aftyn, back from the abbey, stared at him from the doorway.
The look on her face could have been a dagger to his chest. Hurt and anger filled her eyes. He glanced aside at the journal and back to her. “’Tis no’ what ye think,” he said, though truly, he didn’t know what she was thinking. Only that she appeared upset.
“’Tis all I have left of her, and ye toss it aside as though it means nought.” She approached the table and picked up the journal, then hugged it to her chest. “Though to ye, I suppose it does mean nought, save an interesting problem to solve. Something to while away the time until Niall is ready to travel and ye can leave here and return home.”
“I’m sorry, lass.” He was. He knew her well enough by now to understand how conflicted she was about her mother—missing her, and yet hurt at being left and angry at being left unprepared to live a full and useful life. He’d hurt her again. Not with his words this time, like the ones she’d overheard the night he arrived, but with his actions. “I didna mean to give ye that impression. I’m frustrated that I canna make more sense of it for ye.”
