Chapter 29 #2
“I’ve waited all this time,” Mary said, turning her head toward Veronica. Her pale blue eyes, so light it seemed as if they had no color at all, speared through her. “Wondering if the mirror would come back to me. It’s time for it to return,” she said. “I’m nearly done.”
“Oh, Granny,” Elspeth said, falling to her knees beside the chair. Tears sparkled in her eyes, earning her a caress as the old woman smoothed her withered hand over Elspeth’s hair.
A moment later, Mary reached for the drawstring bag, withdrew the mirror, tracing the line of diamonds with a withered finger.
“It’s an ugly thing,” she said, “but someone tried to give it beauty.” She smiled, the expression deepening the furrows on her face. Her hair, thick and black, belied her age, revealing not one touch of gray.
“It’s come full circle. I gave it to a woman who’d lost a love, and a woman who’s found a love brought it back to me.”
“Have I?” Veronica asked, startled.
Old Mary smiled. “Have you not looked in the mirror?”
“I have,” she said.
“Is it that you didn’t like what you saw? Or you didn’t believe it?”
She leaned forward, placed her hand on top of Old Mary’s. The elderly woman’s skin was soft, the veins on the back of her hand engorged and blue. The hand she clasped was cold, however, as if Mary’s body had already begun to prepare for the grave.
“Does it tell the future? Or does it just reveal something you want to see?”
The old woman smiled. “All I know is when I looked in the mirror, it was many years ago. I saw myself at this age, far older and wiser than I ever believed I could be. I felt the aches in my knees and my back. I saw Death beckoning me. I also saw a life filled with richness and joy, and all those I love surrounding me.”
She laughed, a surprisingly young laugh.
“I’m not a soothsayer, child. The mystery of life is just that.
It’s a mystery given to each of us to solve.
Who do we love? Who loves us? What is our destiny?
The mirror doesn’t give any answers. Nor do I.
Even if I had the answers you seek, child, I’d not give them to you and thereby spoil your journey.
It’s enough the mirror gives you a sight of what might be if you wish it, if you’re willing to do what’s necessary. ”
Veronica studied their two hands, noting the stark differences of a few decades.
“I’ve looked in the mirror several times lately,” she said. “I didn’t see anything.”
Old Mary offered her the mirror. “Go ahead, child. Look. See the future that lies before you.”
Veronica stared at the mirror, realizing that it would either reveal something she wanted to see, or it wouldn’t. She and Montgomery, together, should be responsible for the future they shared, not the Tulloch Sgàthán.
The old woman smiled, then slowly placed the mirror back on the table.
Mary turned and spoke to her granddaughter. “Go and fetch your husband to me. I’d see him again.” After Elspeth left the cottage, the old woman turned to Veronica.
“Ask me your other question, child. I see it in your eyes.”
“My parents told me I have a Gift,” she said slowly. “I can feel what others feel.” She glanced down at the scarred table, ran a finger over one particularly interesting gouge.
“Are you asking me if this is true?”
Veronica shook her head. She knew, despite what anyone said, that her Gift was real. “What I want to know is this. Can someone talk to the dead?”
Old Mary reached over, placed her hand over Veronica’s again, and asked with genuine curiosity, “Why would you want to?” Her smile was a simple curve of closed lips, but her eyes were warm. “Life is for the living, my child. Not the dead.” She pulled back her hand and sat back against the chair.
“In this land, ghosts are plentiful. We’ve kilted warriors, peddlers, Edinburgh dandies playing at war.
We’ve young women swathed in plaid and children destined to be forever young.
” She stared off into the distance. “You would have enough to do if you spent your life seeking them out.” Her smile faded.
“You’d have none of your own life to live. ”
She leaned forward again, patting Veronica’s hand. “Go and live your own life, child. Leave the dead to their graves.”
Veronica didn’t say anything for a moment and Old Mary allowed her the silence. When she did speak, it was softly, the words coming with difficulty.
“I want to see my parents,” she said, feeling as if her throat were closing. “I want to say goodbye.”
“Then say goodbye,” Mary said, surprising her. “In your heart. Do you think they wouldn’t know?” She reached over and patted her cheek. “In your heart, child. That’s all you need to do.”
Veronica smoothed her fingers over the cool surface of the mirror, feeling the gold warm to her touch. She knew, coming there, what she would do.
Slowly, Veronica stood, then impulsively bent and kissed the old woman on the cheek.
“May I leave the mirror with you?” Veronica asked.
“I would be pleased to return it to where I found it,” Mary said. “A full circle.”
“Thank you,” Veronica said softly, and left the cottage.
Her attention was caught by a figure on a nearby hill. As she watched, she realized it was Montgomery standing there. She raised her arm to signal him, and he responded in kind.
A borrowed Scot? Not that man. He looked at home, striding with confident steps as if he belonged in Scotland. He did, but would Montgomery realize it?