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I turned back to find he hadn’t moved, but I could sense his patience, as if he were waiting for me. So, I followed Willow’s instruction and slowly walked around the low-lying plants and the trunks of a few young trees. When I finally stood before him, looking at his handsome face, I felt a strange tingle run through my body. I smiled, because I was happy, very happy, as if I were being greeted by an old and dear friend.
“Thank you for letting me come to you. This is quite a privilege. May I touch you?” I asked with a sudden familiarity.
He hesitated for only a moment, then lowered his head enough for me to reach up and pet the bridge of his wide nose and admire the massive antlers branching out high above like a splendid crown of nobility.
“What a wonderful day this has turned out to be,” I said as I gently caressed his snow-white fur. “I have been very sad as of late. My dear father-in-law has just passed, you see, and my husband is at sea fighting in a war. I feel very alone in this new place, though here in the forest, I feel like I make a new friend every day. I never got to meet my mother-in-law, but she thought this forest to be gifted with magic. She was right. I have seen some extraordinary things, and now look at me!” I said excitedly, a genuine smile spreading across my face as I continue to pet along the side of his nose to the protruding mound of his jaw muscle. “Petting the legendary white stag of the forest. I believe I will keep this our secret. How does that sound?” His shiny, long-lashed eyes blinked, and I felt my own eyes sting with the poignancy of the moment.
We stayed in each other’s company a while longer. I told him a bit more about me and relished the awareness that he truly seemed to be listening and was interested to know more. But the clouds began to move in, and I knew it was time for us to part ways. He had been so generous with his time, I didn’t want to take advantage, though I believe I could have stayed in his presence for many hours more. I felt renewed, invigorated being near him, petting his coarse white fur.
“I have to go now,” I said with a little sorrow in my voice. “Thank you for spending time with me. I have enjoyed it immensely, and I do hope to see you again someday.”
He kept his regal composure and stared at me for a moment before dropping his head down toward me. The only thing I knew to do was lean forward and kiss his forehead, then rest mine against it in silent communication. When I lifted my head, he stood tall again, eyes sparkling with an ancient wisdom and turned to leave. Before he was out of sight, he stopped and looked back, watching as I wiped away the tears that spilled from my eyes.
“Goodbye, my friend,” I said through a choked voice and watched as he bowed his head in reply.
Willow and I took our time going home. I didn’t want to be in the confines of the manor, especially after such a profound meeting in the wood. It was all so surreal, the clearing of purple heather, the white bird of prey, then the white stag, both of which seemed to have as much interest in me as I had in them, something that seems strangely common in this place. I felt like I had been brought here on purpose, and I was starting to feel like I belong here far more than I belonged in England. Perhaps Alasdair was right—I should believe in fate and trust in its guiding hand.
About ten minutes from Galloway Castle, I was struck by a recollection from my research on the legends of the white stag. Some myths say that an encounter means a great change is coming into your life, while others say it is a deceased loved one that has come to visit. My first thought was that maybe it was Callen. He had only just passed, but maybe he wanted to reassure me that everything would be well. But then I thought about the familiarity I had with that mysterious animal, and it made my stomach sink in terrible fear. What if it was Alasdair? What if he had been killed? “No…” I said aloud as my hands began to tremble. “It simply cannot be.”
I rushed home, pushing Willow hard to get us there quickly so I could check the day’s mail. Though anything that I received would already be weeks old, it was always reassuring to see his prose in the beautiful script of his handwriting.
I was left disappointed that day and every day since then. Plenty of mail has come to the manor, and I was beside myself with excitement when I got word that Beatrice and Mary would be here soon, but the consistent letters from Alasdair have stopped. I didn’t want to taint my special meeting with the stag in the forest by filling my head with dreadful thoughts, but the longer I don’t hear something from Alasdair, the harder it is to stay calm.
In his office, I sit down in his chair and lean back relaxing my shoulders. I come here often because it makes me feel closer to him. I close my eyes and see his face, those gorgeous eyes, that flirtatious dimple. Oh God, how I miss him.He will return to me, and we will have a whole life to live, long into the future. We will have children and grandchildren…
A tap on the door startles me.
“Come in.”
Ewan enters with the correspondence tray, and I can see it holds at least three letters. I say a silent prayer that at least one is from my husband.
Mother and Father.
My aunt, Mary’s mother.
Our neighbor to the east.
Nothing from Alasdair.
“Thank you, Ewan.”
He nods and leaves the room.
“Please, Alasdair, dear God, please still be alive,” I whisper to myself and pray for it to be true.
