“A mother will, but—”
“And Noreen, and your brother. It would lift some of the sorrow, seeing life—this part of your life—begin. But most of all your father needs to see his daughter happy on her wedding day. Spring if you want it, or summer, or a year from now. Or on the solstice. It brings light, Morena, and they all need the light.”
Tears welled and glimmered as Morena searched Breen’s face. “Are you sure of this?”
“I wouldn’t say it otherwise. If you’re not ready for it, then you wait. But don’t wait for them, and don’t think you must or should.”
“Nan’s saying how she talks with my mother every day in the mirror, and they talk of the wedding, and the flowers and the dress, and… She says she won’t tell Ma I’m putting it off, that’s for me to do. She says it lifts Ma out of grief to talk of it, and she won’t take that from her, so I must.”
“And you haven’t.”
On a sigh, Morena swiped the tears from her eyes before they could fall.
“I haven’t, no. I tell myself I’m going to. Every day, I’m going to, then I don’t, as she’s carrying on about all the fussy business of it.”
“Because it lifts her out of grief.”
With another sigh, Morena tipped her head to Breen’s shoulder. “I don’t want to wait. It’s why I changed from spring to the solstice, because I don’t want to wait.”
“Then don’t. Phelin’s in the light. I know you believe that.”
“I do believe it.”
“So he’ll be there, on your wedding day. I put off for so long taking what I wanted, trusting myself to take it, to reach. That’s not you, Morena. You already have what you want. This is just promising to keep it, and respect it, and love.”
“You’re what I needed.” Turning, Morena embraced her again. “You’re just what I needed here and now.”
“Then go tell Harken.”
“I will. Then I’ll go to Nan so we can talk to my mother about wedding business until my head’s throbbing from it.”
“Then after, you’d better come over to the cottage, have some wine, and tell me and Marco.”
“Be sure I will. Thank you.” She gave Breen one hard squeeze. “I swear you’ve lifted a stone off my heart. I’ll come for the wine.”
She started off at a run. From above Breen heard the hawk cry.
She watched it circle, then glide to Morena’s arm.
With Bollocks, she walked down to Marg’s cottage, where she found her grandmother deadheading roses in the front garden.
“Go on in,” Marg told Bollocks, “and ask Sedric for a treat.” As the dog took Marg at her word, she turned to Breen, nudged backthe brim of the gardening hat. “Aren’t he and Marco in there, as deep into baking apple pies you’d think they were after solving all the mysteries of the worlds.”
“And you escaped to the garden.”
“I did indeed. Why don’t the two of us walk over and shut ourselves in the workshop for an hour or so?”
“I was hoping we could. I know I’m a little later than usual.”
“How is our Morena?”
“The wedding’s on.”
“Now, there’s happy news.” Marg gave Breen’s hand a squeeze as they walked to the stream and the little bridge over it. “She needed you to ease her mind on it, and so I said to Finola, who’s been fretting over it. It’s time for the happy and the hopeful. We mourn and honor our losses, every one, but if we don’t turn to the happy and hopeful, we diminish their sacrifice, don’t we?”
“Hope builds strength, and the promise Morena and Harken will make to each other, well, it’s a promise to all, really. We go on.”
“How much you’ve grown,mo stór, since you first came back to my door.”