Roads, Rains and Veils
They found her on the ground, her hair wet from the dampness in the air, cheeks reddened from the streaks of tears that still left tracks down to her chin. She sat as limp as a rag doll, legs extended, head down arms curved into her lap. It was only as she slowly moved her face to find the source of their voices that they noticed the ravages of her time alone. For all the joy that they had found in their moments alone, Lin felt a doubling of guilt that her mother was so distraught. It caught in her belly and moved upward into her throat. She found there were no words tripping to her tongue, only her body tripping over itself, as she made her way to her mother's side.
Roary, usually so assured when it came to helping in moments of distress, was unusually reserved. How to go to Fiona, who looked so oddly broken, when he himself felt somehow so completely restored? He felt he radiated his redemption, his completeness, and somehow he just couldna' bring himself to move to her side. In the end it was Lin that helped her up, Roary offering his coat for added warmth, and the trio making its way back to the car. They shivered despite the fact the cloud seemed to have finally lifted and made way for a bit of fragile light to end the day in a rather spectacular sunset over the green of Tara. As they mounted the crest they paused, each of them taken by the glory of the view. It seemed no matter what the turmoil of their minds or hearts, the land echoed its message so spectacularly that it would not be denied its moment of splendor. As the sunset moved on, so did they, scuttling together, like the small things they were compared to the stature of Tara, and made it to their vehicle.
They tucked Fiona in and made their way to the bed and breakfast, all this and still no words had been exchanged. Lin tucked her hand under Roary's as he shifted the gears and he felt the warmth rebuild in his body, all initiating from that small spot of contact. Aye, he felt so much more himself, much more beyond himself in truth than he had that morning. He gave her hand a slight squeeze and allowed himself a slow grin. The atmosphere in the car might be charged with the grimness of Fiona's dazed silence, but the woman had strength, and somehow this sense of renewal was just too good to let go of. Lin smiled softly at him, and he knew she was riding the current with him. They would get Fiona to the bed and breakfast, and they would help her out of the shell she was in and move through what was necessary together. Together -- now that was a fine, brau word. He would have to teach Lin a bit more of his native language. Sean had said she wanted to know it. He smiled again and pulled into the lot.
Together they helped Fiona out and bustled her into the small house. A bit of rummaging and they were able to come up with a pot of tea and a nip of whiskey to warm them after their day. Lin had managed to finagle Fiona out of her jacket, but her mother would not let go of what she held in her hand. From the curl that draped out, Lin had a very strong feeling that the last of the silks had been found, but Fiona was not about to let go of her prize and she simply was not speaking or making eye contact at the moment. Oddly, she wasn't really worried about her mom. For some reason she seemed to be fine, just caught up in a moment that was only hers, and Lin could respect that. There were certainly times when what you were feeling was something that was best held inside yourself, tucked safely into the corners of your heart where it could not escape. Those moments were almost always a sadness or a joy, or bizarrely, a heightened combination of the two, that so completely filled you up there was no room for words or discussion. And if that is where her mother was, then she knew she would not want to share just now, or perhaps ever, because sharing might break the fullness of the feeling and that loss was too high a price to pay simply to try and capture the feeling with words.
Lin set a cup of steaming tea next to her mother's silent and rapt visage and moved to sit with Roary on the settee. There would be time enough to talk if her mother wanted to share. For now she and Roary could plan the fastest path back, assuming Fiona held what they thought she did. They would need to leave as soon as possible. An early night, perhaps leaving at daybreak.
Lin moved in closer to Roary, enjoying the comfort in knowing that there was not longer any reason to sit apart, and rested her head on his shoulder, her tea cup held one-handed on her knee. They talked in hushed-tones, waiting for Fiona to join yet trying not to interrupt her at the same time. It seemed as if the time passed in an instant and the tea went cold on its own. She hugged Fiona on the way to the kitchen, where they found their host and asked if they might have breakfast laid out so that they could leave at dawn. Having assured the man that they did not want him to rise when they did to lay out a full Irish spread, it was agreed that they would have access to the kitchen to make tea or coffee, some travel cups and three sack breaksfasts with buns, cheeses and fruits. Not a real breakfast as far as their host was concerned, but as they seemed happy with the outcome, he simply hoisted his shoulders in a salute to their oddity and continued on to finish his dinner preparations.
Fiona had left the parlor when they returned. Lin found her upstairs in their room, lying on the bed. She could see now that her mother definitely held an indigo silk in her hands and something else. She was definitely clutching something else, but Lin could not make out what it was. She just knew that there had to be something else that Fiona was grasping with such firmness. "Will you be coming down for supper?" Lin asked.
"I think the tea will hold me. I'll be fine as I am. You have a lovely night," replied Fiona, a wisp of a smile on her face.
She knows, thought Lin. She knows that things have changed with Roary. I didn't think she had noticed anything, but she knows. Lin smiled back, "We'll do our best, but it won't be the same without you there. I'll bring you up something for later just in case." She turned to slip out the door; looking back she could see the smile hovering on her mother's face as she lifted the silk to her cheek.
"I love you to infinity and beyond," Lin whispered.
"Love you too," came the faint reply as she closed the door. She leaned against the jamb and wondered briefly if her mother had been replying to her. She took a deep breath. Whatever had transpired to leave Fiona with the silk, it had obviously touched her deeply. Lin thought back to the day of the crimson silk. Perhaps her mother had been talking to more than just her daughter. Sranger things had been known to happen. Her smile continued to deepen as she made her way down to dinner and to Roary.
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