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“That’s right.” I reach over to take his hand. “Your father and I talked quite a lot before he became too ill. He told me so much about Lilith and how he adored her. He told me about you and the joy you brought them, about the children they lost, and how they overcame heartbreak. Their love story was quite remarkable, and I cannot tell you with words how much I loved that time with your father. He made me laugh and cry, and he taught me so much in just a short period of time. He was my friend, and I miss him terribly.”
“Ye are a good woman, Ella. Thank you fer looking after him so well.”
“You’re welcome,” I reply, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “Can I ask you something?” I ask with trepidation.
“Of course.”
“Callen told me that your mother spent a lot of time in the forest, that it was her favorite place. She used to tell him there were faeries there and that they were her friends.” I stop as Alasdair’s smile spreads wide across his face. “You knew about this?” I ask.
“Oh, aye. She used to take me with her fer long walks to the cliffs and back. When I was just a lad, she would tell me fantastic stories about faeries and goblins, maybe a troll and sometimes the kelpies. She’s the one that gifted me wi’ so many of the books I’ve got in the library, some of which are verra old. She swore there were faeries in the forests surrounding Galloway Castle, said they were watching out fer us, that they were our friends.”
“And did you believe her?”
“I did. I did’na have a choice,” he answers with a laugh. “She was very convincing, you see. She would insist that we leave them gifts so that they knew we could be trusted and that we were their friends. So, every now and again, we would leave a token of some sort, maybe some honey or sweetbread. She said they loved anything shiny, so she would leave them little metal trinkets, always something small. In return, they would leave her a flower or a sampling of herbs. She kept them all, pressed them in her favorite book of plants after she identified them. I still have them in the library.” He stops then, obviously contemplating our unusual conversation. “Ye probably think that’s strange, and I suppose it is, but if ye knew her, ye’d think it was charming more than anything.”
For whatever reason, the idea that there is some doubt in his mind about his mother’s beliefs and affection toward the faeries she admired makes me sad.
“No, I don’t think it’s strange at all,” I say, looking him in the eyes. “I’ve seen them, or at least I’ve seen something. At first, I thought I was crazy, but after talking to Callen and hearing that your mother experienced the same thing, I decided it couldn’t be a coincidence.”
Alasdair’s smile fades, only a little, but his eyes squint in obvious curiosity. “Ye’ve seen them?”
“Yes. Haven’t you?”
“Well, ’tis been a long time. But I remember seeing something, then telling my ma that it was only insects flying around, and she told me that I better not letthemhear me say that.” He laughs, and I can’t help but join in, picturing Alasdair as a boy teasing his mother. “Truthfully, I was a little afraid of the notion that something from the books she gave me could be real. Boys can be brave, aye—just don’t let their imaginations get carried away. That’s when we turn into complete cowards.”
His dimple is pronounced with his slanted smile, giving him a hint of the boy he’s jesting about, and I am struck with a sudden longing for a little boy just like Alasdair. Dark hair, light eyes, and an adorable smile.
“Where did yer lovely mind drift off to? Yer expression turned tender and sweet, and that bonny smile is enough to make my heart beat out of my chest.” He reaches up, the backs of his fingers sweeping gently across my cheek.
“I was picturing you as a boy, and—” I stop, my hands naturally resting on my stomach. “I wonder if we’re having a boy. If so, I hope he is just like you.”
“Careful what ye wish for,” he says with a smirk and taps my nose. “My mother swore I made her hair turn white and put wrinkles in her forehead.”
“I do wish I could have known her.”
“Yes, well, the two of ye could have sat around telling stories about the wee faeries to yer heart’s content.” He stands up then. “Come, let us go fer a ride. No jumpin’ hurdles and flying through the air, of course. Willow will be alright wi’ that, won’t she?” he asks, offering his hand to help me stand.
“Yes. In case you haven’t noticed, we are quite in tune with one another.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed. But in tune wi’ one another is’na what I’d call it. Ye bloody taught yer horse to understand English, and now I’ve got to watch what I say around her.”
“It’s a good thing she can’tspeakEnglish. She knows all my secrets.”
A few hours later, Alasdair and I are entering the wood on the opposite side of the estate from where I usually go. The north side of the property that leads to the cliffs overlooking the sea is, without doubt, my favorite place to visit. I know my familiarity with it is certainly a factor, but it is also comforting that I feel a strong sense of nostalgia being there, so it is easy to let myself wander in that direction when I feel the need for fresh air and the company of trees and plants, birds, and rabbits, and—who knows—maybe a faerie or two.
“My mother loved it here,” Alasdair announces as we pass through the proud regiment of tall trees, most of which are many decades older than me. Beneath them, the ground is free of the pillowing ferns and undergrowth of the northern wood, leaving instead the densely packed earth that exposes the entirety of each ancient pine. It is a magnificent scene of repetition and grandeur, distinctly highlighted by the sunlight that breaks through the high branches.
“This is beautiful, Alasdair. It is so different from the north side of the estate.”
“Aye. ’Tis quite lovely, and it would make an excellent challenge course. Not far ahead, there are a few hurdles I think Willow will be pleased with.”
“That’ll be a bit of a tease since she won’t be riding like that any time soon,” I say, patting Willow along her neck.
“Oh? She won’t jump the hurdles wi’out ye?”
“No. You see, part of the fun for each of us is knowing how much the other is enjoying it. I know for me, feeling her strength and agility, sensing her pride and gratitude, makes the whole event worthwhile. Isn’t that right, girl?” As always, Willow replies by nodding her head and muffling out a few snorts.
Alasdair laughs before saying, “Well, nonetheless, I think ye both will enjoy the stream that is nearby. ’Tis quite large and exceptionally beautiful.”
