Echoes From the Mist (16 page)

The trio had left at sunrise the day before, intent on reaching town early enough to shop at the mercantile and locate a reasonably priced inn for the night. Will usually camped in the rough on his monthly trips for basic foodstuffs, tools, and the like, but he’d decided to make this trip a holiday treat for his wife and Faylinn, whom he’d come to think of as a daughter. If this month’s shipment of slaves had arrived, the runners would have pumped untold amounts of coin back into the local economy before heading back to sea. If the shipment hadn’t arrived, the shops would still be chock-full of wares to catch their attention and tempt the plantation owner, who had come to buy.

Bridget had fought hard to come along, though she was barely healed enough to be out of bed. But Will had told her bluntly that the story of her ‘suicide’ had spread through the Colony like wildfire. And that made her decision for her. At the very least the Beynons would forfeit their homestead for harboring a fugitive. But for Faylinn things would be much, much worse.

The Crown recognized no distinction between those in league with a servant of Satan and the servant herself. Methods employed for gaining confessions were often worse than the ultimate punishment itself.
Swinging at the end of a rope would be a kind fate for Faylinn,
Bridget had thought sarcastically.

Then there was Cyril’s death, for which Faylinn would surely be blamed. Bridget sighed. In a very real way, Bridget Redding and Faylinn Cobb Redding were and would forever remain ‘dead’.

You already knew that,
Bridget reminded herself grimly. But she’d never really had time to think about what her life had become. She was too busy trying to save Faylinn… then stay alive. Now she could clearly see what she had really asked of her sister-in-law when she begged the younger woman to steal away with her in the night.
God.
Bridget had closed her eyes, feeling the mantle of guilt resting heavily on tired shoulders.
I’ve stolen a life I fear I can no longer protect.

Against Faylinn’s protests, Bridget had gone for a long, painful walk in the woods… alone. She’d desperately needed some time to process what had happened and would happen now. Her head and arm had throbbed and she’d felt slightly queasy and winded after the first few paces, but a larger part of her reveled in the freedom of the clean cold that flooded her lungs and the brightness of the newly fallen snow.
Forgive me my ill-tempered words, Faylinn, but if I don’t have this time I shall go mad.

Stress and a nagging flu – no doubt brought on by a horrific boat ride in the pouring rain where each woman had taken one oar and rowed for hours to save their lives – had plagued Faylinn for weeks. It was only this week that her body seemed to begin adapting to the shock of what had happened on Cobb Island and the new stresses of frontier life.

It never even occurred to Bridget that though Faylinn still grieved for her son, more often than not, she was happier than she’d ever been. The bright innocence in her emerald eyes had been tempered. But the result was something deeper and infinitely more compelling. Faylinn seemed older and more thoughtful, yet somehow lighter too. She cried more, but she laughed more as well and, as always, her gentle touch was a balm to Bridget’s soul.

But none of that mattered, because she knew that Faylinn was unselfishly making the best of things for her own sake.
It’s just like her to suffer in silence. She did it with Cyril and now she’s doing it with me.
In a matter of seconds, Bridget found herself in a full-fledged, self-pitying, foul mood.

Slowly, she’d made her way back to the stables only to find Faylinn standing outside in the cold, waiting for her.

"I can’t leave you here alone," Faylinn had told her, her eyes a little panicky. "You still need help."

But at that moment, Faylinn’s pity was more than Bridget could bear. They’d argued bitterly, exchanging harsh, hurtful words as they never had before, until, finally, Bridget had gotten her way. A heavy sensation settled in her chest as the confrontation from the morning before came crashing back.

"Pity? What do you mean pity?" The fair-haired women stared at Bridget in disbelief.

Blue eyes flashed angrily even as tears began to well in them. "You heard me, Faylinn. It was, and is, not your place to play nurse-nanny to me every second of every day!"

Faylinn’s hand clenched at her sides. "And just who was going to dress and feed you? Keep your wounds clean and your body washed? And yes, by God, even clear away your chamber pot when you could not? Hmm?"

"I don’t know!" Bridget shouted back, confused. Suddenly she couldn’t meet Faylinn’s sharp gaze. Things were spiraling out of control and she couldn’t seem to stop them. "I can manage on my own now." That was a lie and she knew it.

Faylinn shook her head, fighting the urge to lash back. But Bridget wasn’t making it easy. "Be reasonable, Bridget. Even now, you still cannot—"

"I am not an invalid!" Bridget’s voice dropped an octave and took on an icy edge that Faylinn had never had directed towards her before. "Though you seem to believe that I am."

Faylinn’s cheeks took on an angry flush and she took a step closer to Bridget. "I never said that. I never even thought it!" But then, and at the worst possible moment, her eyes fixed itself on Bridget’s splinted arm. ‘How that must hurt.’ She blinked as exactly what she was doing hit her. Her eyes snapped upward but it was too late. The raw pain that chased its way across Bridget’s face made her gasp.

"That’s right." Bridget’s entire body went still. "Set wrong, I suspect. It’s basically useless. A burden." She cocked her head slightly to the side and her dark brows pulled together. "Like me."

"Oh, God, please don’t think that’s what I believe." Faylinn’s eyes went glassy and she wiped at them frantically. "That… that’s not…."

Bridget turned her back on her friend and stared at the glowing orange and red coals in the fireplace. In one glance her faith in herself had been shaken to the very core and her fears confirmed. "No need to fuss, Faylinn. Despite my current condition, I am more than capable of caring for myself. "

Faylinn ran a shaky hand through her hair. "As long as you don’t want to get back up if you fall," she snorted as the last of her patience vanished. "Or you don’t want to fasten the ties of your clothing. Or—"

The older woman’s face contorted in rage and she whirled around, ignoring a wave of dizziness. "I will be fine. Go!" She pointed to the door with a trembling hand. "Get out of this wretched, smelly room. I don’t need you at all!"

It felt like a stinging slap to the face. But Faylinn didn’t recoil. Instead of fleeing the room, as Bridget knew she would, she marched up to the dark-haired woman, seething. She grabbed two large fists full of Bridget’s shirt and yanked her down towards her. They were nose to nose, feeling hot, labored breaths against her lips. Her heart began to pound out of her chest and for a split second Faylinn had the strongest urge to barely tilt her chin and brush her lips….

"Faylinn?"

Bridget’s words startled her, forcing her back to the moment. She shook her head. "You, Bridget Redding, are the most idiotic woman on God’s Earth." Heedless of Bridget’s arm, she shook her roughly, feeling the muffled groans of pain as though they were her very own. But she didn’t stop. "What you see in my eyes when they look at you is
not
pity, you imbecile!" Her gaze found her hands and she stared at them as though they belonged to someone else. She uncoiled her trembling fists and let them fall to her sides.

Their eyes met and Bridget found herself holding her breath.

"It’s love."

Dumbstruck, Bridget watched as Faylinn turned on her heels, grabbed her cloak from the peg near the door and marched out of the room, grumbling loudly all the while. She should, she knew, go after Faylinn, drop to her knees and beg her forgiveness. Instead, she watched in pained silence as the other woman trudged angrily towards the Beynon house… and away from her.

"Bloody hell!" Bridget cradled her left arm, and tapped impatiently on the splint. Violently, she tore it off her arm, nearly biting her lip through in agony. "That," she hissed through clenched teeth, "was not smart." She could feel some sensation in her hand and fingers but couldn’t make a fist or even bend it at the elbow. For all intents and purposes it hung limply at her side like a piece of meat.
Useless.

Her cuts and bruises had faded, and she’d been making slow but steady progress in gaining back most of the weight, but only some of the stamina, that she’d lost over the past six weeks. But in Bridget’s mind it wasn’t nearly enough. Faylinn needed her now more than ever.

She rested her forehead in her hand and sighed raggedly. How had things gotten so out of control and changed so quickly. While she had always spent a fair amount of her time on the mainland, Cobb Island was still her home. Judith and Afia and even Elizabeth were her family. Now she was as unsure of her own place as she was Faylinn’s.

*  *  *

Will snapped the reins of his cart sharply and the mule dutifully complied, picking up his sluggish pace. Lifting the tri-horn hat from his head, he gazed up at the blanket of twinkling stars and scowled. "Lazy beast. We should have been home hours ago." He replaced his hat. "Snow’s not that deep."

"Mmm." Katie agreed softly as she patted Will’s leg. She shifted on the seat next to him, tilting her head closer to his. "I’ve no doubt Bridget is at this very moment climbing the walls, blaspheming all the while."

Will snorted. "It wouldn’t surprise me one bit to see her on the road up ahead, waiting." They weren’t but a mile or so from home and Will guided his cart off the path that ran along the coast and over a grassy, snow-covered hill.

"She certainly cares for her sister-in-law." Katie’s tone was full of honest admiration. "God bless them, they are the picture of sisterly devotion."

"Sisterly?" Will’s eyebrows crawled up his forehead and stayed. He turned to his wife and opened his mouth.

"Yes?"

The air was silent except for the dull thudding of the mule’s hooves and the creaking of the wheels. "Ummm…" He quickly thought of the young woman huddled in the back of his cart and gave his head a little shake. "Not a blessed thing, sweet Katie
." Lord above, what was I thinkin’?
He had nearly violated one of life’s sacred rules and he repeated it over in his head, lest he forget again sometime soon.
What Katie doesn’t know can’t hurt
me
. What Katie doesn’t know can’t hurt
me
.

The cart lurched heavily to one side and Faylinn’s head jerked up… and right into a small keg of beer. "Oww." She rubbed the spot just above her ear.

"Serves you right for falling asleep back there," Will said gruffly.

"That means: ‘I’m sorry for steering the cart right into that big hole and I’ll try to be more careful in the future’," Katie explained to Faylinn, who chuckled quietly.

Faylinn rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "Apology accepted, Will."

The man didn’t answer verbally but his face creased into a happy smile.

Faylinn pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and tilted her head towards the sky. It was a moonless, cloudless night and it looked as though God had scattered a hand full of glittering diamonds into a great black sea. "We’re late," she commented absently.

Will snapped the reins again in response.

Katie heard Faylinn’s sigh and reached back to squeeze the young woman’s shoulder. "She’ll be fine."

Faylinn swallowed and nodded. "I know she will. I’m just being silly, I suppose. But… Do you think she’ll have eaten?" Bridget hated to cook and Faylinn pictured her having nothing but jerky and stale bread over the past two days.

Will burst out laughing. "If she hasn’t eaten in the past two days she’ll either be dead or weaker than gnat’s piss by the time we get home."

"Will!" Katie scolded. "Watch your language."

The man smiled sheepishly and leaned backwards over his seat, making a great show of tipping his hat to Faylinn. Any sense of class-consciousness had long since disappeared between them but it was still worth teasing over. "My apologies, Mistress Redding."

Katie narrowed her hazel eyes at her husband. "I said hush. No more teasin’ the girl. It’s right for her to be concerned about her own kinfolk. It wasn’t so many days ago that we were thinking we’d be buryin’ Bridget before the first hard freeze."

"What?" Faylinn gasped.

"Big mouth," Will grumbled to Katie. Then he moved to assure Faylinn. "Bridget is a strong woman and she’s well enough to be left alone or we wouldn’t have left her in the first place." And she needs some space to breath. Though Will prudently kept that thought to himself.

Faylinn fingered the small bundle tucked beneath her cloak. "I… I suppose she is." But their parting argument had left her feeling unsettled and shaky. In the months since they’d met, she and Bridget had rarely exchanged a cross word. Until now. Part of her was petrified that they’d return to the homestead to find Bridget gone.

"Wilfred is right. Concern is fine, worry will only give you gray hairs." Katie pointed to her own salt-and-peppered head. "If this isn’t proof, I don’t know what is!"