They walked back to the threshold of her aunt's cottage, taking much longer than it should have. Lingering at the wall as they spoke, resting against the stones. Without noticing, they walked the length of it all. The time between the brilliant flashes and thundering booms of the fire spears had grown, but still here and there light splayed out on the grass before them.
Lain wondered when he looked at Adaira. How extraordinary she was, to give him room to feel anything else than what he had been.
"Where've you been?" Lain asked.
Adaira tilted her head. Her eyes moved back and forth a calm measure.
"In town? Where all have you been? What've you done since you've gotten here, to my part of Scotland?"
"Ah." Adaira brushed a few loose pebbles off the wall.
"I've been to the place... I cannae remember her name, the lady with the pastries, and—"
"Penelope MacGow's," Lain said nodding.
"Uh-huh, and I've been to Ferris's shop."
"Aye, Ferris. Ferris MacGow."
"Are they married?"
Lain laughed. "Oft, no, no, brother and sister. They came up from the lowlands years ago, a few years before I was born." He slouched as he thought. "Was it 1807... 1808? They've been here as long as I can— you don't remember them?" Lain asked, hopeful that she might. But then again, Lain didn't remember Adaira much either.
Adaira shook her head, smiling, and Lain nodded.
"Drives Ferris mad whenever the two of them are put together that way. Where else?"
"That's mostly it. I've been around the cottage helping my aunt Elspeth and my ma."
"That won't do. I could take you to Harris's pub? And of course, my da's..." Lain's soul shook when he said it. "Shop."
Adaira disregarded his pause, "Alright."
"Then we'll start there." Lain's smile faded. He grabbed a few blades of grass from the ground and tore them as they walked.
"Adaira, why did you come after me? Why're you making an effort to speak with me now? You could be in there, being celebrated." Lain pointed towards the stone wall.
Adaira shrugged and looked down. "I ehm, I heard about your da."
"Hmm."
Pity. That's why she watched him so closely.
"I'm sorry for what has passed."
Lain glanced down the hill and tensed his jaw, then he softened his face for her as much as he could. "Aye, me too."
"It's also that..." Adaira flashed a grin. "Never mind."
"Hmm?"
"No, it's nothing."
"You can say."
"There's something in your eyes." Adaira looked up at Lain and squinted. "It's something... as if I understand who you are."
Lain nodded quickly, and Adaira turned her gaze again.
What if it was a good thing, her hold on him?
"My da, we lost him as well," Adaira said. Her eyebrows weakened. She closed her eyes. "It's a fight, it is. We miss him."
He hadn't seen her father but thought nothing of it. It made sense.
Lain went to put his hand on her shoulder but let it fall.
"I'm so sorry you know that kind of pain," Lain said.
"Most people dinnae ken how it is. How could they unless it's happened to them?" She cried softly. "No one deserves it."
Lain wiped his eyes. They were the same in many ways and he had something with Adaira that he had with no one else. "A mirrored wound, a mirrored soul." His ma had said something to that effect once.
"That's what it is then. That's what we recognize in one other. This kind of grief."
"Aye."
"If you're ever needing to talk, or even want to..." she said.
He'd heard it a few times. It never meant as much as when she said it now.
"You as well." A difficult grin came with his words.
Adaira dried her cheek on her shoulder.
He knew what was happening. Enchanting, her tenderness.
"One of the worst difficulties of this whole thing is I keep forgetting that he's not here, and when I remember..." Lain's words stopped at the back of his throat.
"It's a fresh hurt." Adaira finished the sentence.
Lain let out a big breath. "I keep waiting for him to show up at his shop or at home..." Only seconds passed, but it seemed minutes of Lain searching the stones for how to put it into words. "Waking up in the mornings, coming out of sleep... the dread."
Adaira put her hand on his.
"And they dinnae mean to, but everyone forgets so quickly. They forget too soon that you're hurting. They forget to let you take your time in getting through it," she said.
It mended him if only a little.
"I can't count how many times I've heard, 'It's a long road that's not got to turning," Lain said.
"If I hear it again!" Adaira shouted and giggled.
Another boom lit up the sky, mostly gold, and it silenced them, someone had found another fire spear hidden away. Darkness came back to the evergreen heights.
"How long has it been since you lost him?" Lain asked.
"Barely a year." Adaira slumped her shoulders. "But in my heart, only a day or so ago. I wish I could say time makes it better, as everyone else has told me, but I dinnae ken if it does. The weight of it all sets in is all."
Lain's stomach sank. She saw it in his face.
A year of feeling this way? How could anyone stand it? He thought.
"I can say that it doesnae hurt as often. The hurt still comes, but the visits are further between."
They turned back at the end of the wall where the trees thickened, and the overhanging branches blocked their way.
"It's a small town isnae it, Lain? You're the only one to play an instrument?"
"Some of the older folk can make music, but I'm the only one who plays the violin. Been playing since I was a bairn." Lain crossed his arms in thought. "My da got it for me. He traded some medicine for it... Thought I'd be keen on it since I loved to sing."
Loved to sing. He didn't linger there, though she caught it, and he lifted the violin. "I'll have to fix that scratch." He touched the crack in the wood. "A walnut will do 'til then."
Her face told him she needed explanation.
"Right. To rub it back and forth over the gash in the wood."
"Tidy, that." Adaira grinned.
Dealnaich bugs hovered low, the pebbles in the dirt glowed from the wee bulbs. Soft wind swirled about them and brought the smell of sweet grass into the air, locking them in the moment. Her smile faded, he stayed in her eyes. The chatter of people passing by the gate jolted Lain and Adaira, both.
"We'll be off now, Elspeth. If your kin need for anything, send them our way," someone said and trotted off down the path. Lain stood up and peered over the stone wall.
"I'll be off, too," Lain said and turned around. "It's wearing late. We've been jack-by-the-hedge for a while now."
She looked at him with confusion.
"It's a plant. Grows near walls and hedges."
"'Jack-by-the-hedge.' I'd like to ken more about these things. Aye, I'm to make plum leaf tea for my ma."
"Headaches?" Lain looked to the ground. Adaira followed his direction.
"How did you ken?"
"That's what everyone here used for headaches until my da discovered—" Lain swept over the grass near her gate. "There it is." Lain plucked a weed and handed it to Adaira.
"Fizzle reed."
Adaira raised one brow, studying the fuzzy pale green weed.
"That doesnae work, does it? Are you fooling with me?"
"I'm telling the truth. Scrape the fuzz from the reed into a small pile on a rag. Then you'll hold the rag over a candle flame for five seconds. Drop that into a half cup of water, and it'll fizzle."
Adaira nodded with each instruction.
"The fizzling will stop once all the fuzz ash dissolves. She must drink it while it fizzles, though. She'll feel barrie for at least a few days. Might also have a better sense of smell for a while too. Doesn't happen every time."
Adaira stood quietly. Lain's chest was puffed slightly higher.
"No one has ever told me to feed garden weeds to my ma, and one of the most common around here, at that."
"Oh—"
"You couldnae have sought to impress me with a prettier weed, Lain?"
"I'm not trying to— I wanted to help."
Adaira laughed. "It's very impressive," she said, as a matter of factly. "You'll be my guide tomorrow?"
Lain wiped his forehead. "Aye, that I will."
"I'll make my ma eat this grass. I'll come after you if it's a lie."
Lain grinned with her.
"Good night, thank you again, Lain." Adaira turned towards her front door.
"Good night, Adaira," Lain shouted too loud and clenched his teeth.
What are you doing, Lain? He thought.
He turned his feet home.
The whole way, his joy moved in waves, but his face stayed sullen stone. Reminded himself of a gull with a busted wing, catching wind off the earth only to sink back to the rocks. Lain slowed as he made it down the trail, and he forced his mind to tomorrow. He could show Adaira the round golden toads in the pond. They'd get bread from Penelope, take a walk over to Harris's pub. He'd show her the cobblestone alleyway that Harris was so fond of, and how it made a perfect alley path to his da's shop from the pub.
Lain jumped. He hadn't seen the large-framed man approaching on the trail. With a steady stride, and his head low, he walked past Lain.
"Evening," Lain said, trying to break the odd silence surrounding them both. The man didn't look at him, but he turned his head and gave a nod, then continued up towards the lighthouse. Lain shook it off. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the lighthouse keeper, Gavin... anywhere actually. The last he'd heard of Gavin must have been something his da said a few months back. He was frustrated by something or other.
The cemetery wasn't far from Adaira's home, Lain rounded the hill to find it. The paths behind and ahead of him were clear, he was alone. His hand on the stone perimeter shifted loose a rock and it crumbled. He felt the word as it happened, as he thought it.
Crumble.
It racked his being and shook the last strings holding his face together.
Crumbled.
Weathered.
Damaged in this storm. Lain sobbed.
Moonlight and luan flowers lit up the stone and cairn where rested Alistair Muir.
"I don't feel you near," he whispered, "I don't."
He clutched at his chest.
Was it cold in the calm of the earth? Was it lonely? The lad thought. Dim ridges in the rugged rock of the headstone, silent rows of other resting places, and the pitch black beyond them were his reply.
It certainly looked lonely.
More pains through the core of him, more tears.
"I don't like making this walk without you, you know?"
Lain took a few steps towards the entrance and lifted the back of his hand to his mouth, then pulled away. He clenched his jaw and stared into the cemetery but stayed at the edge. His eyes rested on the foolish Luan flowers.
Foolish as the luan flowers from his da's story.
His Da's story...
Lain's vision blurred, and he wandered back into his thoughts. Now that no one was around to interrupt, Lain gave in to his memory from thirteen years passed.
"Things change love, you'll see."
"Can my wretched heart change?" A younger, soft-faced, Lain asked without looking at his da, so troubled by a simple sadness.
"Aye, your heart can change, but that's not always a good thing." Alistair put his hand on Lain's neck.
They were coming home from foraging in the Upmost Forest, Lain at his da's side.
Lain carried a few small bags of ample twine proudly, even though he was recovering from a minor heartbreak. Six years of age... Most would've said he was too young to worry about such things as love and maybe he was, but he never meant to.
The bark and the branches passed them by, and the moss had always found its way to get Lain's attention, always, for a few spongey dew-dropped steps, but as they neared the edges of the forest and the small town, the weight of his heart came nearer as well.
Lain tossed a burn bright flower to the ground, couldn't muster enough interest to watch the thick petals bounce.
"I know you're hurting. If she doesn't come around there'll be another lass for you one day, just you wait and see." Alistair mirrored Lain's heartache. "Did you try singing to her?"
"Aye, Da, I sang to her." He nodded and hung his head. "It didn't work."
"Well, that doesn't make any sense. That voice of yours should've—"
"Useless, it was. Foolish, singing."
"Oye now, don't go saying those things," Alistair said, "don't you ever stop. If nothing else just give it time, lad. You're still but a bairn. When you're older, things may go differently. What's her name, the lass?"
"Finlay." Even saying her name made his heart sink further.
"Ah, the little red-haired lass... Finlay. That one'll be mad about you down the road. I'd count on it."
Alistair's words had no effect on the younger Lain, he remembered as much. And his da was wrong. He also remembered the moonlight wrestling with the last bit of day glow as they stepped out of the thicket between the forest and town. The blue-green path opened, and the hum of the sea in the distance filled the quiet.
"Och, lad," Alistair said. "You are my son, aren't you? When a Muir falls in love, if it doesn't catch, the ground does, and it catches hard."
Alistair looked to the roadside at the weeds and flowers.
"You know about luan flowers, Lain? Moon petal flowers?" Alistair snatched one from the rocks and held it in front of Lain's eyes. Its silver flakes glinted in the moonlight. There was another ring of petals in the middle, each shaped like crescent moons, a little dark cushion of pollen, and filaments bending in perfect circles.
"They glow when they face the moon?"
"Aye, that," Alistair said, "and you know the flower can't help but look at it? Wherever the moon is, this flower will find it and face it 'til it's gone. Did I ever tell you the story of the tower and the luan flowers?"
Lain looked to the trail under his feet and shrugged.
"Oft, I can't believe you've not heard this one."
His da's pride in the things he loved. Research of flowers and herbs, legends, and lore, and even making his own stories. This was the tale Lain searched to recall.
"Aye?" Lain lifted his eyes.
"In the ruins of an old castle, in a winnock near the top of the last standing tower, there were two luan flowers, Diarmid and Fenella. Diarmid was rooted closest to the stone winnock with Fenella behind him. All day Diarmid would look at his love and admire her precious petals, her green stalk, shimmery leaves. When the sun would set, and the moon revealed itself, his gaze would be torn from Fenella."
Lain gasped. "Oh, no."
"Aye, tragic it was, but listen." Alistair pushed back his smile.
"Diarmid had to look at the moon, and for those hours of the night, he'd sit in heartache, waiting to see his love again. At daybreak, he'd twist around to find joy in the petals of Fenella, his one and only. And so it was, day after day, night after night. Heart pains and hope gave way to love and joy."
"And after that?" Lain looked at the moon and then at the flower in his da's hands.
"Hold now, I'm telling you." Alistair handed the flower to Lain.
"A strong love they had, and though it had its troubles, the days were worth the nights. After many years, Fenella grew very sick, it'd be the end of her soon, and oh, Diarmid couldn't bear to think it. One morning, just after the moon had passed from his vision, he turned to find her. Fenella had wilted and lay in the shade, away from the moonlight. She'd be too weak to rise to the moon again at sunset."
"No, it's too sad—"
"Alright, alright lad, listen. For all the hours of this day, Diarmid kept his gaze on his love. Fenella shed a tear as the sun set, and she watched Diarmid turn to the moon. He couldn't resist the light at his back, and Fenella faded from his vision. He saw her until she was just at the corner of his eye, and then something happened in him. Diarmid focused everything in his being and wrenched from his core. His roots ripped, his leaves curled, and he lost quite a few petals in the battle, but he turned to face her.
"He did it!?"
"Aye! For all his grief, he had done it. Diarmid had fought against the moon and won. In those final hours, he shared his glow with her. He'd given his Fenella enough strength for one more night. He met her in the dark, and he was there with her 'til the end."
"What else, Da? What else happened?"
"Well, Fenella's petals glowed pale blue, same as this," he said and held up the flower, "almost as bright as the moon even, and then she fell asleep, passing from this earth."
Lain stumbled over a pebble and gasped.
"Good story, isn't it?" Alistair said.
"It's too sad."
"Aye, it's sad, but sometimes sad things'll happen, lad. There's a lot of good that'll pass, but sadness comes from time to time."
"Like with Finlay?"
Alistair nodded and watched Lain kick stones and step slowly.
"Do you want to know what happened to Diarmid?"
Lain glanced at his da.
"He didn't turn back to the moon, not for days even, but then it changed. One eve, there was something in the shadows, dancing about. A luan petal whirled up, the wind took it from the shade into the light, and it flew by Diarmid, towards the moon."
"Where'd it go?"
"Diarmid didn't care to see where it went, son. He hadn't any strength, no will to live. He closed his eyes to give up, but then he thought of Fenella. You see, maybe she sent that petal for him. He fought his sadness, and slowly, and painfully, he turned back around. He watched it flip in the wind. After a few more twirls, it went up in front of the moon. Diarmid couldn't see it anymore, only the moon... and he knew it was his Fenella."
"She was the moon?"
"He knew Fenella sent the petal for him to look at the moon again."
Lain turned away in thought. "What?"
"He needed to, lad. If not, he'd die. She didn't want him to die. She wanted him to heal, be himself again. He looked up at the moon and his strength returned. It hurt him, but he let himself heal."
"He didn't want to heal?" It dumbfounded the boy.
"His Fenella wasn't behind him anymore, you see? And it hurt him to change his grieving heart."
"...What?" Lain sighed and grabbed another luan flower from the road and held it near the other.
Alistair chuckled. "Sometimes, love, we face two pains from the same wound. Once when it happens and once when we heal."
"He was strong, wasn't he?" Lain asked.
"Only the strongest can do as he did."
Lain flexed his arms downward. He remembered that.
"But you know there are other versions, in one, Diarmid dies too. Doesn't have the strength to turn around."
"No. The first is better."
Alistair snickered and scratched his chin. "Your ma didn't like that one either."
"He needs to live," Lain said.
"He does," Alistair said and looked at Lain with compassion. "He does, but that falls on his shoulders."
Lain held the luan flowers tight.
"So, aye, lad, your heart can change. Just don't let your heart change you."
Lain came into the present slowly as he tried to remember more. His da's patient eyes... They watched him, making sure he understood: A story about life, love, and fighting for it through pain. Warring against your own nature at times, and embracing it at others. He'd held onto that story dearly, though it changed nothing with the lass it helped him move forward.
With another glance towards his da's grave, Lain steadied himself, wiped his face, plucked the two luan flowers from the rocks, and forced his feet back on the path home.
Finlay. Years already since she'd left. Lain thought. Though, it was the first time in a long while he had thought of her.
The cottage sat cold on the hill, but lines of red light dancing at the edges of the doorframe let him know she was still awake. Of course, there was also the firelight clinging to the window frames and her bun of hair.
He stopped for a moment and took it all in. The main room was bigger than it usually was. Of stone and wood, the home, and there weren't too many terrible memories to be had there. But now all the memories of warmth and love, they did something else to him altogether.
After a deep breath, Lain walked over to the garden, past the rowan, and patted Wesley, their horse, on his nose.
"Awake too, aye, Weasel Beak?" Lain put his head to Wesley's, and then he pushed through the front door of the cottage.
"Maddie asleep?"
His ma looked up from one of his da's notebooks. Her bright green eyes were puffy. He hated seeing her like this. Pain looks sad on any face, even more so on one so kind, that's what his da would say anytime Lain's ma was downhearted. It didn't feel right to say it out loud, though. Not right now.
"Well, let's see who finally made it home," Hannah said with a big smile, and she closed the book. "A good thing you didn't want to go. If you actually did you might still not have come through that door."
"It turned out alright, Ma." Lain avoided her eye-contact and sat down next to her. He could hear her smile grow bigger.
"Did you see her?"
Lain stopped rubbing his feet and sat back. "Aye... she was there." He had trouble hiding his own grin now.
"Well, then, there's that," Hannah said cheerfully.
"I talked with her. She's something else." Lain offered the flower to his ma. "I'd like to know her better."
"Aye, I see that. It's already started." Hannah smelled the flower and chuckled. "I remember those days."
Lain's smile faded. "What're your plans, Ma?"
"That's a good question." Hannah peered at the door. "I've been reading your da's notes. Some of these are too complicated. I can deal with the mixing, but I don't know what I'll do about the ingredients when we run low."
"That's alright. You stay in the shop. You shouldn't be going into the forest anyway." Lain looked at his hands. "You leave that to me."
"No, no, no, it's too dangerous in there." Hannah turned her head sharply in Lain's direction.
"It needs to be done, so I'll do it. Forbye, it's not so bad." He rubbed his palm with his thumb. "I used to go in all the time with da."
"Lain... If these people didn't need their medicine, I'd never accept it. I'm grateful you know that place as well as your da." Hannah grabbed his arm. "Just promise me that when you do need to go, you'll be careful."
"I will." He did well to sound sure, but his whole body tightened. It'd been so long since he'd been in the forest, beyond the thicket.
"Let's come to an agreement. I'll only let you go if you keep playing that violin... and singing."
"I'm not much in the mood for it these days."
"You'll not stop your singing, it's too precious," She all but snapped, though lovingly, "You care too much about it for me to let that happen."
Lain searched the floor.
"This town needs your music, Lain. This home needs it."
He glanced into the concern on his ma's face, and then he looked towards the cracked door to Maddie's room.
Something else for them to grieve, the loss of his music.
"Don't worry, Ma. I'll keep playing."
"That's a start." Her grip loosened.
Lain stepped down flat to the cold floor and brushed bog myrtle out from under his feet, then he crept over to Maddie's room. The lantern he fashioned for her gave off enough light to see around. Drawings were sprawled at the foot of her bed, and twine and fluff lay next to her. She'd been making toys again.
Clever wee thing.
He snuck in and placed the other flower near her bed. There was still some moonlight in the silver-flecked petals, it lit the room faintly.
Lain shut the door. "I'm off to bed, Ma, you should too. It's wearing late."
"Aye, I as well." Hannah began putting out the lamps and candles.
"Ma..."
"Hmm?" Hannah readied the quilts on the floor near the fireplace to sleep.
"How do we... not close up?"
She stopped.
"Did you ever think of what it'd be like when this time came?" Lain asked.
Hannah finished with the quilts and stood up straight.
"When he'd not be here?" Lain continued.
Hannah looked to the door again, "Lain."
He waited while she gathered her thoughts.
"Aye, son." Hannah stepped near him. "It's frightful to think on. So, we tried not to. We knew a day would come for one of us to be here without the other." She broke on the last word and covered her mouth, and Lain's eyes watered.
"How'd you do it, how'd you find that strength? It seems much easier to be alone, doesn't it? Easier than losing them or worrying about losing them," Lain said, and his words wrought pain in his heart. These new ideas that he didn't want to believe... he didn't want to.
"What's the point of living if we don't love?" Hannah said and brought her gaze from the fire to Lain. She waited for him to look at her again.
"It can hurt, and gracious, it does. But it only makes me want to fill all my time loving you and your sister until I can't any longer. And I hadn't a choice. Once I met your da, that was my path. It would've hurt more to think of going forward without him." She smiled. "And while that pain still worked its way to me, at least it's on the other side of a life I've had with him. I'd not have done it any other way." She stopped to articulate her last words on it. "To say it simply, those around us will perish. We've already lost if we never love."
She meant all of it, everything she said, but the pain in her eyes scared him. True love, true memories, but true pain. He couldn't go through this again, could he? Hannah gave him a big hug and grasped Lain's shoulders in her soft but stern grip.
"If you're wanting to hear an answer to the question you're truly thinking of, I'll say this: If you've a chance at anything, even the slightest bit similar to the love your da and I have... had..."
"Have," Lain said. Hannah nodded.
"If you've a chance and you don't take it, you'll only replace one hurt for another."
Lain stared at her. His ma always had a sense about what was happening under the surface.
"A life without loving... that'd be a violin without strings."