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“I know, Father.” I squeeze his shoulder. “But John and I have talked about it, and a quiet farm is just what we want.” John won’t have to work in mills anymore, and I’ll have a home among nature, a place to raise my herbs. A place far away from society and all its ugly gossip and clucking tongues. I’ll study the book Mother left me, learn who I am and how to handle my powers. And if we are blessed with a child—a daughter, perhaps—I’ll teach her what I know, make sure that she grows up understanding and unashamed of what she is.
“I’ll take good care of her, you have my word,” John says, beaming down at me.
They clasp hands. “I know you will, Barrett. I can’t say I’m sorry to have you as a son either.”
“The best son we could ever ask for,” Mother adds, with a wistful smile.
We have some time before Ada is ready so I twine my hand into the crook of John’s arm. “Will you come with me for one last thing?”
John follows my line of sight up past the house to the woods. Darkness flickers across his brow. “Are you sure?”
My hand tightens around him. “I’m sure.”
We set off up the little hill with Snip blazing the way, past the summerhouse and through the still woods. How many lifetimes ago it seems that Emeline, John and I followed this very path on an oppressive summer day. Then I had longed only for him to notice me and grace me with one of his rare, beautiful smiles. Now we walk as husband and wife, as two people who have bared their souls to each other, looking into them like mirrors.
The pond sits like an expectant blue jewel, impassive and cool. John gives my hand a squeeze. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
I pick my way over the rocks to the loamy shore, the only sounds a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves and the long, content call of a mourning dove.
You took my sister, my secret and nearly my life, I think as I look out over the placid water.But whatever you are, you also gave me a gift, whether you meant to or not. You gave me strength, the will to face what I am.
A water bug skates across the surface, tiny rings rippling in his wake. Otherwise the water is still and silent. No shadow creeps at the edge of my mind today, no dark fingers worming their way into my deepest thoughts.
I reach behind my neck and fumble to remove my locket. The tiny braid of Emeline’s auburn hair catches the late afternoon sunlight. How I would love to hold it every day, to never let this last memento go. But no trinket can replace the love I hold for her in my heart, and as long as Emeline is not at rest, neither can I be. I touch a kiss of farewell to the warm metal, focus my intentions and then toss it out in the water.
I linger a moment longer before turning to leave, when a movement out of the corner of my eye stops me.
Standing under the willow tree, just like that hot summer day looking for mermaids, Emeline watches me. Her dress is fresh and crisp, white as a snowdrop, her auburn hair glossy in the perfect ringlets I used to do for her. I raise my hand, half a wave, half a silent plea to reach out and make her stay. Raising her hand in turn, she hovers for a moment, like a hummingbird in flight, and then just as suddenly as she appeared, she’s gone.
“Rest in peace, my love,” I whisper into the sweet spring air, blinking back a tear.
The water shimmers in the evening sun, pollen hanging lazily in the low shafts of dappled light. John waits, hands in pockets looking out past me to the pond. He’s as still as a statue, the wind tousling his golden hair, and my heart swells. I give him another minute to bid farewell to his own ghosts before rejoining him at his side.
“I’m ready.”
Hand in hand we leave the dusky woods, walking back together to Willow Hall and the future that lies beyond.
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