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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Madeleine was a city girl: born and raised in New Orleans, completing her novitiate in New York, and settling down at Sacred Heart in Philadelphia.

She’d worked in community gardens and so on, but that was the extent of her experience with agriculture.

She’d had no idea how much work went into running a farm.

If you’d asked her, she’d have said that of course it must be a hard life, but seeing it up close was different.

Morning to night, there was always something to do.

The work changed from season to season.

From H?ra she learned that the summer was for fattening up the lambs for sale.

In autumn, rams would be put out to breed with ewes.

The ewes were gravid throughout winter, and March to April was lambing season.

Shearing began in May, and then summer arrived and the cycle started again.

It sounded exhausting, but in some respects it was similar to the life Madeleine had left: a routine that kept people busy all day.

A chance to put in hard work and then see the fruits of it.

And a community of people to share it with.

At the barn, H?ra introduced her to the full-time farmhands.

Jim was a lanky man who looked to be in his early thirties.

Connor seemed older than Madeleine, stocky and at ease in his environment.

The men were clearly curious about her, but Connor only said that it was nice to have a visitor, and Jim said he hoped she had a good time on the islands.

No questions—the opposite of Harry Duggan.

Perversely, this made Madeleine more forthcoming.

Was there anything more likely to draw you out of yourself than someone who wasn’t nosy?

“Thank you,” she said.

“I’ll be on Jorsay for a month.”

Connor and Jim glanced at each other, raising their eyebrows.

But Connor only said, “Ah, lovely.”

Maybe H?ra’s presence prevented them from inquiring further.

She stood with crossed arms and feet planted wide.

She was taller than all three of them, and she seemed to loom.

Madeleine had the impression she didn’t want the conversation to go on too long.

“Well,” she said, fighting against her own awkwardness, “I don’t know a lot about farms, but this looks like an impressive operation.”

That drew the first real smiles from both of them.

“Aye, we’re proud of it,” Connor said.

“It’s backbreaking and that, but worth it.”

“Have you always farmed?”

“All my life. Da was a crofter on Stronsay but gave it up when my brothers went to work at the oil terminal. Better money there, but it’s not for me. Word went out that this new farm needed some hands, and I came out here. It’s done better than any new farm’s got a right to.”

“I can see the work that goes into it,” Madeleine said.

“And the pride, too.”

His smile broadened.

He was handsome, with warm brown eyes and a strong jaw.

The sort of man Madeleine had tried to find attractive, long ago.

However devastating her recent revelation was, it was a relief not to have to try.

“Jim’s getting married,” H?ra said abruptly.

They all turned to her, but she was only looking at Madeleine, her eyes narrowed and arms still crossed.

At a loss, Madeleine said to Jim, “Congratulations. When’s the day?”

“Next month,” Jim said, evidently more willing to talk about himself than inquire into Madeleine’s business.

Madeleine didn’t know much about men, but this did seem typical of them.

He looked over his shoulder and pointed.

“I’m moving out of there in a couple of weeks. It’ll be nice to have more room.”

Connor chuckled and clapped his shoulder.

“Just so long as you don’t expect to have any of your own things, only hers.”

“At least I’ll live somewhere civilized…”

Madeleine tuned out their ribbing as she looked where Jim had pointed.

It was the small stone cottage at the edge of the pasture, the one she’d noticed last night.

“Jonathan used to live there.”

Madeleine nearly jumped at how close H?ra’s voice was to her ear.

She turned away from the cottage to see that H?ra had stepped forward until her long body was nearly touching Madeleine’s.

Madeleine’s mouth went dry.

She’d just gotten her composure back after that…

intimate…conversation, for heaven’s sake.

Could H?ra not grant her a single moment’s peace?

But did Madeleine even want peace anymore, when her dream last night had felt like freedom instead?

“He lived there when I arrived,” H?ra continued, her voice strangely intense for factual conversation.

“Then we dwelled there together until the farm was a going concern. It was the first place I lived here.”

Connor and Jim were still joking with each other, not listening, and it gave Madeleine the courage to say, “You must have mixed memories of it.” When H?ra frowned, she clarified, “Because it wasn’t easy for you to settle here. A challenge, as we said.”

“It’s a good cottage,” H?ra said.

“You’d be comfortable there.”

“Huh? Why would?—”

“Ah, sorry,” Connor said, still chuckling, yanking both Madeleine and H?ra out of the moment.

“Didn’t mean to be rude. I just like to remind this one he doesn’t know what he’s getting into.”

Madeleine summoned a smile.

“You’re a married man yourself?”

“Aye. I’m just blowing smoke up his arse. It’ll be grand.” He patted Jim’s shoulder again.

“It’s good to have a bond with the most important person to you,” H?ra said.

“Something that lasts all your lives.”

Now both Connor and Jim looked surprised.

Clearly, H?ra had never said such a thing to them before.

After a moment, Connor said, “Ah, right.”

“Madeleine’s Catholic,” H?ra continued.

“Jonathan told me once that when Catholics start being married, they never stop.”

Madeleine’s eyes widened.

That was one way to put it.

“Ah, so they don’t.” Jim rubbed his hands over his denim-covered thighs.

“Well, that’s lovely. Now I’ve got a peedie lamb that needs a supplement. Pleased to meet you, Madeleine.”

“Likewise,” said Connor.

“Enjoy the island.”

Jim began, “H?ra, are you going to?—”

“Madeleine and I will finish the tour,” H?ra said.

“After that, we’ll have lunch and settle on something for the afternoon.”

They would?

H?ra was commandeering her entire day without asking Madeleine about it, as if she had a right to Madeleine’s hours.

For someone so much Madeleine’s junior, she was certainly…

authoritative.

They’d see about that.

Madeleine said crisply, “I wouldn’t keep you from your work, H?ra. I’ll have that beach walk this afternoon. Connor, Jim, it was nice to meet you.”

She turned and marched back to the Gator, which H?ra had parked next to a tractor.

Madeleine had never been close to a real tractor before.

She’d had no idea how big they were.

She’d had no idea about lots of things.

H?ra’s footsteps sounded behind her.

Madeleine didn’t turn around to look at her.

Better to take a moment to collect herself.

H?ra was arrogant. Presumptuous.

Young. Horrifyingly insightful.

If we don’t doubt things or question what we’ve been told, we don’t learn.

Doubt was an essential part of faith.

It was also the worst part, and right now it was sucking around Madeleine’s ankles like quicksand.

She’d come here to escape it, not be pulled deeper.

But H?ra had spoken of it as if she’d seen right to the heart of Madeleine’s struggle, when they didn’t even know each other.

H?ra wanted to get to know her, though.

It was—it must be—out of pure curiosity.

It shouldn’t make Madeleine ache deep inside, warming the cold place where her doubts sat.

She sat down in the passenger seat with a huff.

Hopefully this tour would be over soon.

Then she could take her walk on the beach, alone , away from maddening women with long legs.

The Gator dipped as H?ra got back in the driver’s seat.

Instead of turning the key, she turned to look at Madeleine.

“Did I offend you?”

There were polite ways to brush that off that still meant yes .

But it was clear, after the last hour or so, that H?ra preferred things to be more direct.

“I don’t like how you decreed what I’ll be doing for the rest of the day instead of asking me what I’d like to do.”

“But…” H?ra ran a hand over her head, smoothing down the black strands.

The breeze ruffled them again instantly.

“You’re enjoying the tour, aren’t you? I assumed you’d like to keep doing it.”

“You know what they say about assumptions,” Madeleine said, a little snappishly, because she’d noticed that H?ra had long fingers.

When H?ra looked confused, she added, “They make an ass out of you and me.”

H?ra’s eyes widened.

“I am not an ass. They have no dignity! Although…” She frowned and looked thoughtful.

“They’re relatively intelligent and have good memories. I could do worse.”

Before Madeleine could splutter out a response, H?ra’s frown softened into a little smile.

Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she said, “Thanks for the compliment.”

Madeleine’s heart began pounding again.

“I might not know much about you, but I know you’re impossible.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to think so.” H?ra turned the key in the ignition.

“But I’m more than possible. I’m here. And you don’t know much about me yet .” She turned her gaze on Madeleine, and it sharpened again.

“How much will you learn, I wonder?”

How dry could a mouth get?

“You’re pretty full of yourself if you think I’m dying to learn about you. I came here to learn about something else entirely, and it’s got nothing to do with you.”

There was no need to mention that Madeleine had already learned a little something about herself, thanks to H?ra.

She hadn’t come here to uncover her sexuality, but life was full of surprises.

“It seems to me you don’t know what you’re here to learn,” H?ra said.

How could such an odd person be able to slice through to the heart of things?

“It’s a mystery, like we were talking about before. I think you should be open to every possibility. How else can you find whatever you’re looking for?”

Before Madeleine could reply, H?ra pulled away from the barn, driving back toward the fields.

“There’s a nice view from the top of that hill. You can see most of the island, and you’ll never find a better day for it.”

“Is that the last part of the tour?” Madeleine asked desperately, holding on to the hip restraint again.

“Yes. I wanted to save this for last. It’s the best part.” H?ra gave a sudden little gasp.

“Oh! Do you know the song ‘Save the Best for Last’ by Vanessa Williams? Jonathan played that for me sometime after I arrived. It’s very good.”

“Um, yes, I?—”

“What’s your favorite song? That’s a good question, isn’t it? Not too intimate.”

One thing was for sure: this morning wasn’t turning out like Madeleine had expected.

H?ra was relieved to find the question was, in fact, not too intimate.

In fact, she learned that Madeleine divided songs into two groups: hymns and secular songs.

Madeleine didn’t want to pick a secular song because she liked too many, but she did admit she loved “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac—one of Jonathan’s favorites too.

“Agnus Dei” was her top hymn.

As for H?ra, she liked all kinds of music, even the bad kind.

Like when Jonathan played the fiddle while H?ra sang tunes she’d learned from him; he said they both sounded bloody awful, but she didn’t see why it mattered when they had such a fine time.

“What does ‘Agnus Dei’ mean?” H?ra asked as she pulled the parking brake.

They’d reached the top of the hill.

“It’s Latin. It means ‘lamb of God.’” Madeleine climbed out of the Gator “as if her arse was on fire,” as Jonathan might have put it.

Maybe H?ra had been driving too fast again.

“Lamb of God,” H?ra mused, casting her gaze down to the grazing sheep, none of whom had wandered to the top of the hill yet.

“There’s a lot in your Bible about shepherds taking care of sheep. Do you like sheep?” H?ra hoped so.

She’d been working on that assumption for five years.

According to Madeleine, assumptions were bad.

It had given her a chance to tease Madeleine, though.

H?ra didn’t tease people often, not even Jonathan.

It had felt…nice. A bit like stroking a fluffy cat.

“I’ve never been around them,” Madeleine said, dashing yet another hope.

“Not real sheep, I mean. The Bible’s talking about people, not animals.”

“Well, you can’t farm people,” H?ra growled as she hopped out of the Gator.

“Scripture draws the distinction between sheep and goats.” Madeleine kept her back to H?ra as she looked around.

“Sheep are obedient to the will of God. Goats are defiant.”

This felt like uncertain ground.

“Goats are smarter, too. Or are you still talking about people?”

“I don’t know. I’m starting to wonder if I ever knew what I was talking about.” Madeleine hugged herself and began to walk toward the far edge of the hill.

The grass, longer up here without grazing sheep, brushed against her ankles.

“Never mind that.”

H?ra strode after her.

“It sounds important.”

“It is.” Madeleine’s voice was rough, a breaker against sandstone.

“Too important to talk about now. Don’t you ever want to think about things before you start talking about them?”

H?ra had been thinking for five years about what she’d say to Madeleine, how much she would reveal, and she still wasn’t sure.

“Sometimes.” Now, of all times, the urge to tease Madeleine returned.

“On special occasions.”

Madeleine gave her a quick, startled-looking glance.

H?ra couldn’t help grinning at her.

How could she? The sun was out, lighting the edges of Madeleine’s dark hair.

It changed the color of her eyes too, from the shallows of the sea to the paler grass all around them.

You had to smile at something so beautiful.

“Um.” Madeleine began to play with her jacket’s zip, which she’d drawn all the way up to her chin.

“This is…you were right. It’s a great view.”

H?ra raised her eyebrows.

“Are you sure?”

“Huh?”

“You’re not looking at it.”

Madeleine’s breath caught, and she turned away at once.

This time, H?ra didn’t mind.

The sun seemed to have lit in her own chest. Right now, nothing could be finer than standing in this light, at the top of this hill, with this woman.

No, that wasn’t true.

It would be even finer if H?ra could touch her—slide her arm around Madeleine’s shoulders as she’d seen Jim do with Isla.

Could she? Madeleine hadn’t objected earlier when H?ra had touched her hand, and later her forearm.

Then, Madeleine stepped away again, and the question was moot.

“You really can see everything.”

True.

Because H?ra couldn’t put her hands on Madeleine, she put them on her own hips and looked around.

From the top of this hill, the green land of Jorsay rolled, stretching out toward the cliffs and shore.

The sea surrounded them on all sides.

Whitecaps glistened in the distance, and milky foam sluiced over the sand and rocks of the shore.

This far inland, on a sunny day with no storms, no Each-uisge would see H?ra.

From here, she could look upon her former home.

Would it ever be her home again?

Would she return to prove herself, earn her wings, and take a place of honor in the herd?

If she did, the Sire would pardon her, and Beathag and Asgall would never hurt her again.

She wouldn’t have to mate, and she’d have her full strength back.

It was what she’d always wanted.

Once she returned to the sea, she’d never stand on this hill again with the wind in her hair.

She’d never have another cup of cold, salty tea while Jonathan played his fiddle.

And if she acted too soon, she might not learn why Madeleine had left the Daughters of Grace.

Yes, by eating her, she’d make Madeleine a part of her forever.

But it wouldn’t be like this.

H?ra set her jaw. What was the point of thinking about that?

She couldn’t stay in human form forever, as Jonathan was always reminding her.

This was her only way off Jorsay and away from human questions that would, eventually, be the end of her.

She didn’t have to worry about it for a month.

That was how long Madeleine planned to stay.

Maybe she could even be persuaded to stay longer.

That should be plenty of time to work out…

whatever H?ra had to work out.

“There’s my beach.”

Madeleine pointed north, in the direction of Thornhill Village.

H?ra held her breath as she followed Madeleine’s gaze.

Madeleine probably couldn’t make out the actual stretch of beach from here, but it had been just outside the village.

As for H?ra, she could see the rocks, lapped by the slowly rising tide.

Rocks where her human feet had first touched the land after she’d dragged Sister Madeleine’s limp body ashore.

Madeleine must be remembering the same thing, with no idea that she stood right next to the creature who had saved her.

“I know the one you mean,” H?ra said.

“Er, Jonathan told me. Can you see it from here?”

“I can’t, but I know where it is. I can feel where it is.” Madeleine hugged herself again, as if a human body was something that could escape its owner.

“Like there’s something pulling me there. Does that sound impossible?”

Not impossible, but alarming.

The last thing H?ra needed was for Madeleine to be “pulled” to the beach where both their lives had changed.

It was daytime, though.

A sunny day, no less.

Each-uisge were least likely to approach the surface under these conditions.

Maybe H?ra could go to the beach for the first time in years and feel her strength return with every step.

She didn’t have to be afraid of…

Finish her, Calder said in her memory.

Her mother’s teeth had torn into her hide, and Asgall taunted her as he closed in.

“It’s not exactly sane,” H?ra said brusquely.

“I can’t imagine approaching that piece of land after what happened to you.”

“Good thing you’re not the one approaching it,” Madeleine snapped.

“You might think it’s a bad idea, but I’m going anyway.”

“What? Alone?” Of all possibilities, H?ra had never imagined that one—Madeleine walking the beach, their beach, without her.

“Am I supposed to go with a tour group?” Madeleine waved a hand in the air.

“‘And here, folks, is the most mysterious beach in Orkney. If you ever want to see an angel, this is the place!’”

“I doubt a tour guide would say that.”

“That’s my point . I can’t do this with anybody else looking at me and wondering what on earth I’m doing. Even Jonathan doesn’t know what happened.”

H?ra bit her lip.

Her public relationship with Jonathan was built on lies.

Now, thanks to her, he’d told another one.

He didn’t like it, she knew, but what else was there to do?

“You shouldn’t go alone,” she said.

“If there really is something supernatural at work, then you’d just be tempting fate. It’s dangerous.”

“Oh? I had no idea.”

“You don’t have to be sarcastic. I’m concerned for your safety. Just as you were concerned for mine before.” And how that had warmed H?ra, like the sun after she’d surfaced from the depths.

For some reason, Madeleine looked astonished yet again.

No reason for it, though.

Didn’t it make sense that such feelings should be reciprocated?

“Why?” Madeleine said.

“What?”

“Why are you concerned for my safety? Why’s it such a big deal to you that I want to go walking on a beach in the middle of a sunny day when there are people around? You don’t know me.” Madeleine added sharply, “No matter how many intimate questions you’ve asked.”

“Er…” Madeleine had made a point about speaking bluntly.

Now that the shells were on the other hoof, H?ra found herself at a loss.

Yet again, she couldn’t tell the truth.

She could tell something like it, though.

“As I understand it, people are meant to care for one another. Not to be alone in the world. Wouldn’t you want to keep someone from harm even if you didn’t know them?”

Madeleine’s breath caught.

She looked down at the ground.

Then she said, in a low voice, “You’re right. We’re put here to love our neighbors. It’s easy to forget that.” She sighed.

“Thanks for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome,” H?ra said, since that was the appropriate response to thanks.

“Must you see the beach today? You’re here for an entire month.”

“That’s true.” Madeleine looked toward the ocean again.

H?ra followed her gaze.

She really was pinpointing the exact location, beyond what a human should be able to see.

Could it be true that the beach was calling to her?

“I guess I don’t have to go charging all over the island in search of answers right this second.”

“Yes,” H?ra said in relief.

“The truth tends to find you when you’re not looking for it,” Madeleine continued.

“Maybe I could use a little time to…uh, absorb what I’ve already learned.”

H?ra frowned.

As far as she could tell, Madeleine was frustrated by not having learned anything yet.

“What’s that?”

“Something about myself. They say travel’s got a way of doing that. I’m sure you’d know, if you were raised…nomadically? Is that a word?”

As far as H?ra was concerned, it could be.

“Sure.”

“Right! So the more we see of the world, the more we learn.” Madeleine’s smile was bright now, but it didn’t entirely reach her eyes.

H?ra hadn’t known until now that human smiles could or couldn’t do that.

“What’s the most interesting thing you learned in all your travels?”

I learned that you existed.

I learned that I could become more than I ever thought was possible.

I learned what grass and sand feel like beneath my feet.

“I don’t travel anymore,” H?ra said.

“I almost never leave Jorsay.” But her stationary time on land had taught her something too.

She could tell that Madeleine was trying to distract her, turning the conversation away from herself.

“Doesn’t that get boring?” Madeleine tilted her head to the side, looking as inquisitive as a barn cat.

“I keep busy.”

“Best remedy for boredom.” Madeleine glanced at H?ra’s wrist, where an old Casio digital watch sat.

“What time is it?”

Before H?ra could tell her, Madeleine reached out and took hold of her wrist, raising it so she could look at the watch.

She didn’t ask H?ra’s permission.

She just did it, and her fingertips brushed the skin of H?ra’s wrist.

That skin caught fire.

It was the first fire H?ra hadn’t hated.

Dumbly, she looked at Madeleine’s slender fingers on her skin.

So did Madeleine. She kept her dark head bowed over their hands for a second as she looked at the watch.

Then, with a gasp, she let go of H?ra as suddenly as she’d touched her.

H?ra’s wrist prickled in her wake.

“Sorry,” Madeleine said.

“Now I’m the rude one. So it’s, uh, the time it is. Time for me to go.”

“What?” H?ra asked in dismay.

“But what about lunch and the afternoon? You’re not walking on the beach, so…”

Madeleine wasn’t looking at her.

“I’ll go to the Mainland. I found a Catholic church there. I checked, and they have an afternoon mass today.”

“Mass today?” Did that mean the church was heavier than usual?

H?ra wasn’t thinking clearly, not after Madeleine’s touch.

“Yes. I haven’t been in over a week.” Madeleine headed toward the Gator without looking at H?ra.

“Would you mind driving me back to the farm? I’ve got to hurry if I want to make the ferry.”

“I can drive you to the ferry,” H?ra offered, following Madeleine.

She didn’t have a driving license, but nobody cared about that here.

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you. Besides, I biked here again.”

“No inconvenience.” H?ra hopped into the driver’s seat and started the ignition.

“The bike’ll fit in the Gator bed.”

“You’d…uh…drive this on the road? The actual road?”

H?ra flashed her a grin.

“Trust me. It goes faster than you’d think.”

For some reason, Madeleine didn’t look reassured.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

The familiar words came easily to Madeleine as she knelt in the confessional of Our Lady and Saint Joseph’s Church.

The priest sat on the other side of the screen, the thin latticework obscuring his face as he awaited her soul’s unburdening.

“How long has it been since your last confession?” the priest prompted.

Oh good grief, how had she forgotten the second line?

The one drilled into her since birth?

So much for the familiar words.

Flushing, Madeleine said, “It’s been…” She couldn’t remember.

Not the exact number of days.

She could always remember that, but now she couldn’t.

“Over a week,” she managed.

“And what is the nature of your sin, my child?” His voice was deep, reassuring, the voice of Madeleine’s own history.

“I—I’ve?—”

I’ve realized I’m homosexual, she ought to say.

I’m so drawn to another woman that I touched her without realizing what I was doing.

I’m in search of an angel I might not even want to find, when that’s all I should want.

“I’ve been impatient,” she said.

“I’ve been short-tempered and ungracious. And I’ve been…afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“I don’t know. Everything. Of not doing what I should do—or being who I should be—” Her voice cracked.

H?ra’s fierce amber eyes flashed in her memory.

Her smile had been carefree as she’d driven the Gator toward the ferry terminal at speeds the vehicle surely hadn’t been meant for.

Her wrist had been sturdy beneath Madeleine’s hand.

Sturdy and strong.

Madeleine hadn’t even intended to touch her.

It had just happened, the way both Eve and gravity had happened to the apple.

Whether according to the Bible or Isaac Newton, the result was the same: a fall.

“I’m not who I’m supposed to be,” Madeleine said brokenly.

She looked at the wall of the confessional, where someone had helpfully tacked up a copy of the Act of Contrition, which you were supposed to recite when you were done confessing.

She’d memorized a version of it as a child.

She never needed to read it.

“None of us are,” the priest reminded her.

“But what sins have you specifically…”

“That’s all I remember,” Madeleine whispered.

What now? What did she say now?

“For these and all my sins I’m truly—truly?—”

Truly sorry.

Say you’re truly sorry.

Then let him give you penance so you’ll know what to do to wipe away your sin and get rid of who you are, and say the Act of Contrition.

You’ve done it all your wasted life ? —

“I can’t,” she gasped.

She scrambled to her knees so fast she nearly hit her head on the low ceiling of the confessional.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t right now. I’ll come back later.”

“My child?—?”

Madeleine crossed herself and bolted from the booth.

She kept her eyes on the floor so as not to look at other parishioners who were waiting to confess.

The church door seemed miles away, but she reached it eventually and emerged onto the streets of Kirkwall.

Unconfessed, unabsolved, still drowned in mortal sin.

Drowned worse than H?ra feared Madeleine would be in the sea.

Madeleine hurried down the streets, past the shops and restaurants, wondering how, even on land, waters could close over your head.