Page 50

THE SKY

AETLAQUOY, FIVE YEARS LATER.

“How soon can you be here?”

Over the phone, Haera’s voice was equal parts impatience and excitement. Madeleine focused on the latter and grinned. “Soon,” she said. “I’ve got a few things to take care of before I leave, and you’ve got a few things to take care of before I arrive. Don’t you?”

“I’m almost done. Are you almost done? I don’t want to wait much longer, and you still have to get here.”

“I’m less than ten miles away,” Madeleine pointed out.

Haera hmph’d. Then she said, sounding warmer, “Those words are still nice to hear.”

Madeleine’s grin grew wider. “They’re nice to say.”

Yes. Even after living on Jorsay for three years, it was nice to say that she was no farther from Haera than ten miles rather than by thousands.

“However,” Haera continued, “you could be even less than ten miles. You could be less than ten feet.”

The impatience in her voice was of a different sort now. Rather than the anticipation of an exciting event, it was the desire for Madeleine’s presence—immediately. Haera was human, but sometimes the hunger was the same, and it came out at the most unexpected moments.

Madeleine didn’t mind. She felt the same way. Nobody was getting hurt by it, and it felt wonderful, so it was just fine. Her therapist in Lancaster had helped her see that.

“I will be soon. I can’t wait,” she said, and grinned. “Even though you’ve only been gone a few hours. Listen to what a pair of lesbians we are.”

“I thought we were lesbians because we’re attracted to each other instead of men.” Haera sounded puzzled. “Or—oh! You mean it like one of those jokes online.”

Madeleine laughed. “Yes, like those jokes.”

Over time, she’d come to love the jokes. They were about U-Hauls, getting attached to one another too quickly, being emotionally needy, and somehow they were still funny. Probably because lesbians had made up the jokes about themselves. She was now in a place where she could read them, and think Yes, Haera and I are like that, and feel like she was a part of something. A group she belonged to more than she’d belonged in a convent.

“Well, this is about more than just wanting to see you,” Haera said. “I don’t want to lose the weather.”

Madeleine looked up into the blue sky. This was the sunniest day Jorsay had seen in weeks. It was ideal weather for Madeleine to putter around in the garden, where she was now, and it was even better for what Haera had planned. The forecast said it would stretch into tomorrow.

But Haera had been bursting with excitement about this for weeks, and Madeleine couldn’t blame her wife for wanting to take every precaution.

“Then I’m on my way,” she said, smiling. “Let me just grab my things.”

“Drive safely,” Haera cautioned, as she always did. “I’ll be waiting.”

They bid each other farewell, and Madeleine took one last look around the garden. The Honey Angel Crocosima was flourishing, but the cheesewood struggled. Next year, she’d have to pack it in with a hardier plant that could shield it from the wind. Both gardening and farming involved lots of trial and error. There was always something new to learn, as Jonathan had told her more than once.

That seemed fitting, since this was his memorial garden. Madeleine and Haera had begun planning it three years ago, when Madeleine moved here permanently and said the back yard ought to have something nicer than gravel and grass. She’d expected Haera to resist—say the last thing she wanted to do after wrangling sheep all day was wrangle plants.

Instead, Haera bought bags of fertilizer the next day. Now, after some missteps and false starts, Jonathan’s memory flourished, nourishing the land he’d adored. His body might belong to the sea, but both Madeleine and Haera believed something of his spirit was here.

Madeleine hurried into the house. She neatly placed her gardening apron and gloves in their spot by the back door and continued to the bedroom to change into cleaner clothes.

The bedroom had come a long way. For years, Haera had just used it as a place to store her clothes and few belongings. There had been no decoration or hint of personality. She’d seemed reluctant to make any changes to the home she’d shared with Jonathan.

That had begun to change when Madeleine moved permanently to Jorsay. They’d lived apart for the promised two years before the island called her back to stay. Not for any mystical reason—whatever pull Haera had had over her as an Each-uisge was gone. It was the pure and simple desire not to waste another day.

They’d needed the time apart to grow into themselves. Madeleine had to come to terms with her sexuality for her own sake, and Haera had to learn to be human without Jonathan or Madeleine constantly at her side. Now, Madeleine organized monthly events for Orkney’s queer social group, and Haera chatted confidently with Thornhill’s residents when she did the shopping. The distance had been a good thing.

Intellectually, Madeleine knew this. On a deeper, almost primal level, nothing had ever been as joyful as the moment Haera met her in the Kirkwall airport on the day Madeleine returned to Jorsay for good. Some of her ribs still remembered that embrace.

The house had become not Haera’s, but theirs. They had a bigger bed, covered by a duvet in a merry checkered pattern and a couple of extra pillows whose purpose Haera claimed not to understand. Madeleine had put aside her embroidery and instead spent long winter evenings sewing blue curtains. Instead of stark white, the walls were now a welcoming, warm shade of peach.

They’d hung up photos that marked various occasions. There was the day Haera and Jonathan had purchased the farm; a beaming Jonathan held the land contract and Haera wore a small smile at his side. Next to it, in a selfie, Madeleine and Haera laughed with Times Square in the background. Below that was a candid picture of Madeleine browsing in her favorite French Quarter bookstore. On the next wall, Haera and Becca’s cat Booster regarded each other suspiciously.

One special photo held pride of place. Over the dresser hung a large picture of Madeleine and Haera beneath an arch of flowers at the stone cottage’s front door. They held hands while Arjun stood in the doorway, reading from the ceremony script. Madeleine wore a white cocktail dress; Haera stood tall in a suit. A cord wrapped around their joined hands.

Having an outdoor wedding in Orkney was a gamble at the best of times, but the sun had shone on that day as well. Madeleine had clung to her stubborn faith that it would. After everything they’d gone through, it shouldn’t have dared to do otherwise.

It would have been a wonderful day even if there had been a downpour. That was obvious from the looks on their faces. Dozens of islanders had turned out for their wedding, but you wouldn’t know it from the picture. Haera and Madeleine gazed at each other as if they were the only people in the world.

Oh gracious. She’d zoned out looking at a photo she’d seen a hundred times. Madeleine shook her head, changed her clothes quickly, and grabbed the overnight bag she’d set by the door. At least she was already packed.

She hurried through the house, through the living room that she was determined to refurnish piece by piece, but she paused by the door to Jonathan’s old room.

Yes, she was in a hurry, but it seemed important to do this on a day like today.

Madeleine entered the room. Jonathan’s bed and his other furniture were long gone, although his fiddle retained a place of pride on a shelf. Now Madeleine and Haera used the space for something that honored him, themselves, and the journey they’d all taken together.

On a table by the window sat…she wouldn’t call it a shrine, exactly. That didn’t feel right. But Madeleine had found an extraordinarily beautiful stone from the cliff where she’d met the Great Mare and got it polished. It was the size of her hand and gleamed in mesmerizing swirls of midnight blue, black, and cream. She and Haera had set it in a glass bowl full of water from the North Sea, and together, they refreshed the water every week. They said no prayers, but it was an intentional reminder of the mysteries that moved the world and summoned their awe.

Madeleine inhaled deeply as she looked at the stone, and then she let out a slow, controlled breath. She whispered, “May it all be well.” Not a prayer, but a hope. The two weren’t so different.

Now she could leave. Peaceful and purposeful, Madeleine hurried out to the car.

On the way past, she waved at Connor, Jim, and Kevin, another farmhand they’d hired for the summer—really a college student who wanted to have a “rural experience.” Judging by his daily shell-shocked expression, he wouldn’t return next year, but Connor said he was decent help and he didn’t cost much.

“You off, then?” Connor called.

“Yes! I’m going to be late!”

“Be safe,” Jim said.

Kevin waved, looking a little awkward.

Madeleine gave them all a thumbs-up and hopped into the Vauxhall, throwing her duffel bag into the passenger seat. She turned the ignition and eased the car into first gear, heading down the drive.

As always, she took the opportunity to survey what she could. The farm might have lost the trow’s protection, but five years on, it continued to prosper. It didn’t enjoy the same immunity from storms or drought, but it remained in the black, even if the profit margins were slimmer. Madeleine sometimes wondered if the Great Mare might not have a hand (or hoof, or tail) in it. Best not to wonder too much, though. She reverenced the memory of what had happened to her but hadn’t seen a supernatural creature in the last five years, and she was fine with keeping it that way.

Never mind water spirits and underground creatures and so on. It was enough to spend every day in honest labor. A lot of honest labor—more than she’d realized that first summer here. Farming never stopped. She and Haera hadn’t had a vacation longer than a two-night stay in Edinburgh since she’d moved in.

Well. She liked managing things. A farm was a bigger challenge than a classroom, and there were days when she wanted to throw her hands in the air and give up. But Haera was always at her side, reminding her why they did what they did, and why it was worthwhile.

Of course, lately Haera’s mind had been less on the farm and more on her other project.

Madeleine drove through the village. Jeremy was sweeping the sidewalk outside the Sunrise Café and smiled at the brief honk of her horn. He and Arjun had to come for dinner soon—it had been too long. Maybe when Becca visited in a couple of weeks? They’d all get along like a house on fire. Perhaps Jim, Isla, and their three-year-old son could make it too. They’d all want to know about Haera’s latest venture. Everyone was asking about it.

She exited the village and kept going north. On the way, she passed the small stone kirk and kept her eyes fixed straight ahead.

After her first return to the States, she’d realized shortly that regularly attending mass no longer resonated with her. Her visits grew more infrequent; she stopped going to confession, which worried Becca but felt quite liberating. After all, Madeleine had eventually been forced to accept she’d confronted an actual god. It hadn’t looked like anything she’d ever believed in. She had to redefine the sacred for herself. Now she couldn’t say she disliked the sight of a church—something about it would always call to her—but there was pain at its doors. Instead of trusting entirely to doctrine, Madeleine had decided to place a bit of trust in herself. It was working so far.

Most of her prayers were undertaken in private these days. That was all right. She’d found other communities worth belonging to, and other ways to worship than standing shoulder-to-shoulder next to others in a sanctuary. The Blessed Virgin had pondered divine mysteries in her heart; there were worse things than following her example.

Within a few minutes, her destination came into view, along with the main attraction there. Madeleine smiled to see it even through a sudden surge of apprehension. This was going to be fine. She’d been telling herself that for days. So had Haera, but that was different.

Madeleine reached her destination and parked. Haera was in view, her back to Madeleine. Her shoulders were set proudly straight as she inspected her work.

Madeleine’s apprehension vanished. Front or back, Haera was so beautiful. She always would be. No matter how long their life together was—and Madeleine intended it should be as long as possible—Haera would never be anything less than a miracle.

“Thank you,” she whispered. It didn’t matter if nobody was listening. The gratitude was enough.

Before Haera, a single-engine Cessna airplane sat patiently on Jorsay’s new airstrip. Its white paint gleamed in the sun, and light glanced off the edges of the propeller blades.

Looked like it was ready to go.

Madeleine inhaled deeply through her nose as she got out of the car. This was going to be fine. It would be absolutely fine.

“Please,” she murmured, just in case somebody was listening after all.

After a period of internecine warfare, the Orkney Islands Council had voted yes on a Jorsay airstrip. Now the little island hopper took passengers to and fro, meaning swifter commute times and slightly less reliance on ferries. People were more likely to live on Jorsay, especially since it was relatively cheaper. The population had grown, if not exponentially, and the economy had too. Good news for the islanders, the village, and ?tlaquoy.

Good news for Haera, too.

It had taken her nearly a year to obtain her LAPL: a light aircraft pilot’s license. Thirty hours of flight instruction were required, plus exam study, and she didn’t have loads of extra time. Or cash. The farm was profitable, and she and Madeleine lived modestly, but flying lessons weren’t cheap. Nor was it easy to travel regularly to Inverness, where the flight school was. On top of it all, fair weather for training could be hard to come by.

Harry Duggan had said Madeleine was “a true saint” for indulging Haera’s “wee hobby” in the midst of running a farm. Luckily, he hadn’t said this in Madeleine’s hearing, or he’d still be getting an earful about it. The first time she’d seen Haera looking wistfully at the website for Highland Aviation Training, she’d sat down and said: “Let’s make it happen.”

Madeleine was an expert at making things happen. Haera had been thankful for this talent many times, but she’d expressed her gratitude that evening so thoroughly that they’d overslept the next morning.

“Haera!”

Haera turned on her heel to see her thoughts’ object and heart’s desire hurrying toward her across the grass that led to the airstrip. Madeleine carried her overnight bag and wore a smile that looked almost bravely enthusiastic.

She was apprehensive, but there was no need. Haera had changed in many ways over the last five years: she liked hot tea, disliked rare meat, spent far more time talking to people (they were so interesting), and had grown to enjoy mystery novels. But one thing would always remain the same: she’d never allow Madeleine Laurent to come to harm.

Haera jogged forward to greet the woman Connor had called her “bonnie bride,” a term Haera had decided to use well past the wedding day. The wind tugged her ponytail playfully. When she reached Madeleine, she bent down to kiss her cheek and took her overnight bag. She’d carry it for Madeleine; that was chivalrous. “Ready?” she asked eagerly.

“Hello to you too,” Madeleine said with a dryness that didn’t cover her obvious nerves. She glanced behind Haera to look at the Cessna, which she’d once compared to a pack of gum.

“Ah yes. I forgot my etiquette again.” Haera checked to make sure the airstrip attendant wasn’t looking, then gave Madeleine’s rear end a quick squeeze. “How are you, petal?”

“Ooh!” Madeleine swatted her hand away, but she laughed breathlessly. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“You’re going to love it.” Haera seized Madeleine’s hand and tugged her toward the plane. “Think how posh you’ll feel when we land and walk past people who had to fly commercial.”

“Just as long as we don’t crash into posh little pieces.” Madeleine slid her arm around Haera’s waist to show the complaint was without teeth.

Haera slung her arm around Madeleine’s shoulders in return. She might no longer be able to lift hundreds of pounds without breaking a sweat, but she’d lost no muscle mass working on the farm day in and day out. Her arms were plenty strong enough to hold Madeleine tight, no matter the occasion. “I’ll throw myself between you and the ground. Fine cushion, that.”

“Now I feel better. You’ve got all your stuff?”

Madeleine always said you needed so many things to go places. She said Haera always forgot something, but what was the harm in sharing the occasional toothbrush? It didn’t seem very different from kissing. “Oh, probably. We’re only gone for one night. I know I’ve got my nice shirt and pants for dinner.”

Madeleine gave a muffled sigh. Then she patted Haera’s arm affectionately and looked up at the Cessna. “I wish he could be here for this,” she murmured.

After five years, a reference to Jonathan no longer felt like a blow to the gut. This one put a lump in Haera’s throat, though. “He’d ask me why I wanted to do something so damned silly as get in an aeroplane when there’s a perfectly good ferry. And he’d refuse to climb aboard.”

“I’d get the honor of your maiden passenger voyage no matter what,” Madeleine said firmly. “I almost died of fright the first time you took off with your instructor, and that wasn’t for nothing. But he’d be proud of you, and you know it.”

This was the first time Haera would fly without an instructor and with a passenger on board. She’d worked hard to get here. Jonathan had always praised her work ethic and how she’d never tried to skive off, even when it was so hard at the start. She’d worried she’d forget him, but thank the Great Mare, she knew now that wasn’t true.

“Yes.” She swallowed the lump. “He would be. And I’m proud of myself.”

It had taken a while to stop hating herself for her mistakes and castigating herself for being a terrible human. She saw now that all humans made mistakes and weren’t always good at being themselves. Even Madeleine said an unkind thing occasionally. The main thing was to learn and then to do better next time. Her first flight hadn’t gone perfectly, but she’d stuck the landing.

Madeleine grabbed Haera’s arm. She beamed. “I’m so glad to hear that, sweetheart. Well? What were you saying about taking advantage of the weather?”

A few minutes later, they were situated in the familiar cockpit. The Cessna 152 was rented from the flight school. Haera had trained in it, and by now she knew it as well as she used to know the shoals off the island. She’d already run through the pre-flight checklist twice—no sloppiness for her, when her wife was along for the ride—and she’d flown the plane here this morning herself. Everything was in order.

“Right.” Madeleine’s shoulder harness fastened with a click. Her pallor had returned somewhat. “I’m all set.”

“No you’re not,” Haera said at once. “We haven’t had the passenger briefing.”

“The what?”

“I’ll begin with a flight overview,” Haera said. “Then, since you already did the seat belt, I’ll skip that bit and go to the evacuation procedures, followed by the fire extinguisher location and how to secure our belongings. Today we’re flying from Jorsay’s airstrip to Aberdeen International Airport. We anticipate a cruising altitude of—what is it?”

Madeleine quickly put a hand over her mouth, but wasn’t fast enough to hide her smile. “Nothing.”

“There’s a procedure to follow,” Haera said in exasperation.

“I know.” Madeleine cleared her throat and appeared serious. Her eyes still sparkled, though. At least she didn’t look green about the gills anymore. “I’m sorry, Captain. Proceed.”

“You know,” Haera said, “for someone who gets in a flap about how dangerous these planes are, you’re awfully cavalier about this.”

“I’m just covering up my nerves, trust me. I’m curious about what the evacuation plan is.” Madeleine prodded her window. “This, I assume.”

“Only if the ejector seat doesn’t work,” Haera said, straight-faced.

“Ha-ha.” Madeleine’s eyes widened. “Wait. Really?”

“We anticipate a cruising altitude of eight thousand feet,” Haera continued. “And a flight time of approximately an hour and a half. The fire extinguisher is mounted to the wall behind your seat. Our belongings are already stored in the baggage area, so there’s nothing to say about that. Any questions?”

“One. You’re joking about the ejector seat, right?”

“Let’s hope you don’t have to find out.” Haera pretended to reach for the ignition and laughed when Madeleine wailed and grabbed her wrist. “Yes! I’m joking.”

Madeleine huffed and let her go. “Safety is no laughing matter.”

“You’re right.” Haera pushed a lock of hair back behind her wife’s ear. “Especially yours. Not to me.”

Madeleine’s outraged look softened, and she held Haera’s hand to her cheek for a moment. “Glad to hear it. I’m scared stiff, but still excited. And ready for liftoff.”

Haera would explain the difference between “takeoff” and “liftoff” during the flight. Surely Madeleine would find it fascinating. “Not yet, you’re not. Here.”

She offered Madeleine the passenger headset. Madeleine’s eyes widened. This part seemed to delight her, judging by her gleeful smile as she donned the headset. “Gosh, this feels so official.”

“It’s standard-issue gear.”

“It’s not standard for me.” Madeleine tapped the handles of the passenger-side yoke. “I get my own steering wheel?”

“You do not,” Haera said sternly. She put on her own headset. “Don’t touch anything. Sit on your hands if you’ve got to.”

“What a grouch.” Madeleine settled back in her seat and took in a deep breath. Then she exhaled heavily. “How do you turn this thing on?”

“The same way I turn you on.” Haera reached for the ignition again. “With a steady touch and fine attention to detail.”

The engine roared to life. The propellers began to spin. Madeleine’s voice sounded tinny over the headset when she said, “I’ll hold you to that tonight.”

Haera grinned. The flight itself was the trip’s main event, but she was looking forward to their evening in Aberdeen, and she knew Madeleine was too. It wasn’t the most exotic locale, but they got away so rarely. The farm was a demanding, sometimes cruel mistress.

Years ago, Madeleine had asked Haera if she’d consider giving it up. Haera hadn’t been able to imagine it at the time. But now…

It wouldn’t be a huge leap to go from her LAPL to a private pilot’s license. Then she’d have greater freedom over when and where she could fly. And perhaps—if that went well, and she kept going?—

She couldn’t imagine herself in the cockpit of a giant Airbus, ferrying passengers around the world. Not if it meant leaving Madeleine behind for long stretches. But there were less demanding pilot jobs that could take her above the clouds, if she chose. And while Madeleine loved the farm, it exhausted her too. She could be ready for a change. She spoke of missing the classroom; she might like to be a teacher again.

Perhaps not in Orkney. Perhaps they’d go somewhere else. Haera loved seeing the world with Madeleine—there was so much of it out there.

They might not be filthy rich, but they had options. That was worth more than anything you could find in a treasure chest.

“Hey,” Madeleine said.

Haera looked up from checking the oil pressure gauge. “Hmm?”

“I’m proud of you too.” Madeleine squeezed Haera’s shoulder, her grip firm through the warm layer of Haera’s jacket. “I’m so, so proud of you, sweetheart. Do you know that?”

Haera grabbed Madeleine’s hand and brought it to her lips. She kissed her wife’s knuckles and felt the calluses on her palm. “The feeling is mutual,” she said.

Madeleine beamed, and kissing her hand was not enough. Haera leaned in. Madeleine tilted her head. It took some quick work to avoid the microphones, but their mouths came together in a kiss as sweet and soft as the landing would eventually be.

She finished her flight checks and signaled the attendant, Neil, who cleared her for takeoff by giving her a thumbs-up at the side of the airstrip. The Cessna taxied forward, gaining speed until the glorious moment when it gave up the earth in favor of the open air. As always, Haera felt as if the plane had scooped her off the ground and was lifting her to where she most wanted to be.

The first time she’d been in an aeroplane was to visit Madeleine in Pennsylvania. She’d looked out over the wing, holding her breath at takeoff, unable to believe that she was finally flying. She’d known, then, that nothing would do but to try it for herself. She should have known Madeleine would encourage it, when the time was right.

Now an aeroplane was under her full control, and she navigated the crosswind confidently. Below them, the ocean shimmered under the sun. Waves broke against the mighty cliffs, leaving white curls of foam that looked deceptively small and gentle from up here. The summer fields of Orkney flashed yellow and green. If Haera craned her head just so, she’d be able to see the farm and the white sheep dotting its pasture.

With Madeleine at her side, solar-bright joy blazed warmly in Haera’s chest. She’d thought she needed the storms to fly. It turned out that she belonged in clear skies instead.

Madeleine clasped her hands to her breast. “Oh my God. We’re doing it. We’re flying.” She turned to Haera with sparkling eyes. “I mean, you’re flying. I’m just along for the ride.”

“No.” Haera briefly took her hand from the throttle to place it on Madeleine’s knee. “You’re more than that. We’re both flying. You made this possible.”

Things hadn’t turned out like Haera had intended when all this began. But she’d been right about one thing: she’d needed Madeleine in order to soar.

“If that’s true, then I’m glad. Only God and the Great Mare know how glad I am.” Madeleine cleared her throat and pointed at the throttle. “But, um, should you keep your hand on that thing? Is that how it works?”

Haera laughed, wild and free. She squeezed Madeleine’s knee. She put her hand back on the throttle.

Together, she and her wife left both land and sea behind, and sought the sky.