Goddess Born (20 page)

“No, it wouldn’t have. I’m sorry for any undue worry you may have suffered on my account.”

“I wouldn’t call it undue worry,” I said, despite my red eyes and a tear-streaked face.

“Why don’t you just admit that you missed me?” His smile had widened, and there was that familiar glint in his eyes.

“Well, what if I did? Is that such a bad thing?”

He put his hand under my chin and rubbed his thumb along my cheek. “No, it’s not a bad thing at all. And I would be a liar if I didn’t admit to missing you, too.”

I smiled without meaning to. “You should at least tell me what decision was so important to make you leave like that.”

“I was deciding what to tell my father. He needed to know that my contract had been cancelled and I was choosing to remain in the Colonies.”

The anger vanished, replaced by a warm tide of happiness that filled every corner of my body. “And did you tell him how long you intended to stay?” I asked.
Please
,
say forever.
Please
,
say you’ll never leave me again.

“For as long as you need me,” he said, holding my gaze with those green eyes. “And, right now it looks like you are in need of some help balancing these ledgers.” Getting up from the desk, he pulled a chair over next to mine. “I’ve not much experience with bookkeeping myself, but those last entries don’t look quite right.”

I glanced down at the paper and laughed. Between dripped ink and tears, they were nothing more than black smudges. Gladly, I pushed the book in his direction along with the stack of invoices and the quill.

He thumbed through the invoices and then handed them back. “Put them in order by date and I’ll do the entering.”

Half grudgingly, I took them back.

We worked together until late into the night. Actually, Henry did most of the work, first writing in the entries, and then dividing the expenditures into subcategories to get a better idea how much was being spent in each area before balancing the various columns. After completing my token job of sorting the invoices by date, I watched him work, answering a question now and again, as I silently marveled at how well things were turning out.

Henry was back. It was all that mattered, and somehow I would make it work.

* * *

Around midnight we went upstairs to bed, each holding a single candle to light the way. Though it had not been openly discussed while we worked on the ledger, there was something different between us. Our relationship had changed in the two days since Henry had been released from the contract, placing us on untested ground.

I stopped at my door, unsure what to expect. Henry leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, his mouth lingering for a delightful moment. “Goodnight, Selah,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling my ear.

I shivered from his touch. If he were really my husband, our celibacy would have ended tonight. “Goodnight, Henry,” I said, fighting back the urge to wrap my arms around his neck. We needed to go slowly, especially since I had yet to figure out how to control myself. Having just gotten him back, the last thing I wanted was to scare him off with a sudden burst of mysterious power.

My skin tingled pleasantly when I closed the door to my room. Moonlight passed through the open drapes, illuminating the space around me in a silvery light that made my candle unnecessary. Blowing out the small flame, I passed over to the window to stare out at the large white orb suspended just above the trees, so close I could nearly reach out and touch it. Something stirred inside of me, called forth from another world.

It was too dangerous to go just yet. Weeks before, Henry had watched me run into the woods, dressed in no more than a thin white sheath and a shawl draped over my shoulders. The next morning when he had hinted to my outing, I practically dared him to follow me one night. With such a history, I couldn’t leave until he fell asleep.

For the next hour I paced through my room, much like a caged animal in need of escape. It had taken a great deal of power to heal Teme of lockjaw, and I should have gone into the woods that very night. As I was otherwise engaged, crying uncontrollably in a heap on my bedroom floor, I had put it off for another time.

When the moon had risen about a hand’s width above the trees, I unpinned my hair, letting the dark curls fall loose, and changed into my sheath. Across the hall, I pressed my ear against Henry’s door. Though absolutely silent, I was not about to risk having him watch me run into the forest once again. I twisted the iron knob until the latch slid back just enough to open the door. The sound of his slow, methodic breathing came through the crack, confirming that he was asleep.

Anxious to be on my way, I hastily pulled the door closed, scraping the latch against the wood frame before it clicked into place. In a panic, I released the knob and retreated back a full step. For several minutes I listened for the smallest noise, my heart thumping against my ribs, prepared to dash back to my room if necessary. Nothing happened, and I remained in the hallway long enough for my pulse to slow.

Henry must have been sleeping deeply, and no wonder after traveling so far just to write a letter. Feeling almost at ease again, I tiptoed down the stairs to my apothecary, where I got a flint and a small bundle of herbs. Once outside, I avoided the most direct route in front of the house, passing instead at an angle around the barn and through a wheat field to stay mostly out of sight of Henry’s window on my way to the woods.

On dark nights, a lantern would have been needed, but with the full moon and cloudless sky, sufficient light illuminated the path, and it wasn’t long before I arrived at the altar. Kneeling down, I placed the dried herbs on the stone surface and struck the flint for a small shower of white sparks. With the first tendril of fragrant smoke, I closed my eyes and began to chant the words to crossover.

After the third repetition, the mortal world wavered in and out of view. For half a heartbeat, everything went completely black as my soul slipped free of its physical form. Then a brilliant flash of light, a tug at my midsection, and my bare feet found the soft soil within the thick gray mist. Opening my eyes, I stepped forward into the garden, inhaling its sweetness.

Long before I was born, this place had been created for my grandparents when they first immigrated to the new land. Patterned after the ancient gardens in the Old World, it served as a refuge for them and their descendants, of which I happened to be the only one still living. Despite the lack of visitors, it was truly a paradise for my kind, so fertile and lush it verged on wild. Each plant and tree was perfectly formed, held at its fullness, like a breath just before its release. Everything pulsated with life and the power to sustain it.

Just standing in the thick grass made me feel stronger. Yet to regain my full strength I had to drink from the spring that bubbled nearby. A woman sat on its bank, trailing a finger along the surface of the water. She was fair skinned with long auburn hair, her tall, slender frame covered in a white sheath similar to mine. Though her face was turned away from me, I recognized her at once as the creator of this garden and the source of my gift.

I had first met Brigid on my eighth birthday when my mother brought me to be formally introduced to the goddess. At one time she had dwelt freely in Ireland where she married a high king, King Bres, and had three sons. These children grew up, married mortals and had children of their own. Part human, part divine, the
leath’dhia
had come into the world. Though in possession of divine power, they were beings of flesh and blood that would live like humans—and die like humans. Charged with the duty to use their gifts for good, the majority of these children remained in their ancestral land, but there were some who left, fanning out across Europe. My maternal grandparents were the first of their kind to cross the Atlantic, forced to flee for reasons I had never been told.

Brigid no longer lived in the human world, preferring now to dwell with the immortals. Under
Tuatha dé
law, mortals of any kind were not allowed into the Otherworld unless they had first passed through death. Still wanting to see her living descendants, Brigid had created these gardens to serve as anterooms of sorts for the Otherworld where she could meet with her sons and daughters. From what I understood, she had many gardens to tend and so only came here once or twice a year to speak with me.

In truth, I hadn’t thought to meet her again till summer’s end, and an odd mixture of relief and dread swirled inside me from the unexpected visit. Had she felt my despair?
Is that why she’s here tonight?
To provide answers and perhaps grant my request?

While pacing in my room earlier, I had come to the conclusion that there were only two ways for Henry and me to be together—either I had to learn to conceal my power or forfeit it altogether. A week ago, I’d have sworn that giving up my gift was the hardest thing I could ever do. But after the past two days, I knew that losing Henry would be a hundred times worse. With this memory fresh in my mind, I squared my shoulders and pushed forward, convinced that one way or another, Brigid held the key for my happiness.

“I am pleased to see you, Selah,” she said, glancing up when I approached. “Sit down and rest with me.”

As this was the first we’d met since my father’s death, I hesitated and contritely hung my head, unsure what to expect from my previous transgressions.
Does it even matter anymore?
No punishment could exceed what I’d already agreed to sacrifice.

Brigid smiled. “Rest easy, Daughter. I have considered the circumstances and shall overlook the infractions this time.”

My head came up. “Really? I’m not to be punished?”

“Not this time,” she repeated and patted the ground. “Sit and rest with me.”

I did as she bid, tucking my knees up to my chest. Despite the unexpected reprieve, my other concerns continued to weigh heavy.

“Your spirit is weary. Why have you not come sooner?”

Brigid watched me with dark blue eyes similar to my own. I sighed, knowing better than to lie or offer excuses, no matter how awful the truth may sound. “I was distracted.”

“But I have made it so easy for you to visit,” she laughed pleasantly. “A handful of herbs and a few words of greeting is all I require to carry your spirit here. Maybe it is too easy and that is why you put it off.”

“I promise not to wait so long next time.”
Assuming there is a next time...

A small crease appeared between her brows, only to disappear just as quickly. “Many of my sons and daughters bring tidings from the first world, telling me how mankind is faring in these times. But you are my only child living in this new land.” She looked at me closely. “It can be lonely being so far from home and your own people.”

Henry popped into my head. I pushed his image away, but not before Brigid raised her eyebrows.

“I see,” she said, her eyes twinkling with understanding. “You have not been so lonely as I first thought. He is a handsome man—an Englishman, I believe. Does he know what you are?”

“Not yet.” I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. “Is there any way to hide it?”

“For some of my lesser children maybe, but not a power so strong as yours.”

My shoulders slumped from the revelation. Concealment had been my first choice, as it would have allowed me to keep both Henry and my gift. But from Brigid’s words, I could only have one.
So be it—

She narrowed her eyes on my face. “You think to forfeit your birthright for this man.”

I blinked away the beginnings of tears. “How else can we be together?” My voice came out strained and unnaturally high.

“It is a noble gesture, Selah, though I’m afraid it will never work.”

“Why not?”

“Again, because your gift is too strong. You would have more luck asking an eagle not to fly than to deny your nature and refrain from healing.”

Defiance nudged my chin forward.
Then I’ll not renew my power.
The flame will eventually go out and there will be nothing left to flow into Henry...

Brigid shook her head. “Refusing to drink from the spring would only end in your death. Look in your heart, Daughter, and you will see the truth.”

The boldness drained away as a sudden tightness gripped my chest.
It would kill me?

“Over time, depending upon the circumstances.”

“Then what am I to do?” Was I destined to be miserable?

“Perhaps there is another way.”

Hope leapt inside me, catching the breath in my throat. “I’ll do anything.”

She considered me for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “On occasion it has worked between our two kinds. But most of the time it does not, at great consequence to my children. Is this a risk you’re willing to take?”

I thought of Henry again and how my heart had nearly burst with joy when he returned tonight. “I love him.” The truth was that simple.

“Then I give my consent to reveal your true identity. This is not a promise of your happiness, only that you are free to act without fear of reprisal for breaking my law.”

I gaped at her in surprise. “What should I tell him?”

“Everything, of course,” she laughed. “Love cannot be based on parts and you would soon discover that half-truths can be even more dangerous than lies.”

Of all the options I’d considered earlier, absolute honesty never seemed possible. First, the law forbade it. Second, since discovering my birthright, I had been taught to equate such a confession with sure and violent death. Just thinking about it now terrified me to no end, though with Brigid’s approval, it appealed more than either concealment or denial.

On occasion it has worked...

Perhaps this would be one of those occasions. The tightness released somewhat from my chest, and I sat quietly, wondering which way it would be for me. Henry was a good man, but that was no guarantee how he would react. If he believed me, then we could be happy. Otherwise, he would think me under the Devil’s influence. If only there was a way to know before.