Chapter Fifteen
Osanne sat next to Rafe in his study at Ravenswood Manor. The annual ball had ended, his guests had departed, and mere hours remained of their time together.
Everything was different tonight. She had not believed it possible, but she had finished her composition, even taking the pains to write it down. The task had exhausted her, but it felt important to have tangible evidence of her song—most of which Rafe had inspired.
Another stark difference lay in the two of them. Unlike previous evenings—previous years—their conversation felt stiff and unnatural as they both tried to avoid discussing any matters of real consequence, matters which clearly weighed as heavily on Rafe, as it did on Osanne.
Rafe spoke of the villagers, though she hardly knew any of them.
“Jake hasn’t had a drop to drink in years, and he and his bride, Fanny, are very happy.
Now that Jake is working steadily again, everyone’s delighted to have a blacksmith nearby once more.
Oh, and Peter and his wife had another baby.
He is the proudest papa I ever saw. His little boy calls me Uckle Wafe.
” He smiled. “His wife keeps telling me that I’d make a good father and is trying to turn my head towards various young ladies in nearby towns. ”
“You would make a good father.”
His smile flitted and faded. “Children have a special innocence and joy I find refreshing.”
Osanne took a good look at Rafe. He had aged since they had first met—how long ago? Six years? Seven years? Days, for her.
Still virile and handsome, Rafe showed signs of the passing of years in new lines around his eyes.
No longer a disillusioned traveler, he had a distinguished dignity about him now.
A man his age should, at the very least, be married, with the prospect of children.
Osanne was robbing him of all the privileges of a husband, the joys of fatherhood.
If she loved him, she would release him to know the joys of life with a whole, living woman.
If she did so, she would be alone again, consigned to endless nights of meaningless wandering.
The Larkin boys had moved to a light that had either freed or destroyed them. None of the other spirits who wandered on this night showed a desire to make mischief. She no longer had the need to protect her village and home from troublesome spirits.
Osanne had learned that her brother still lived, which lifted the fear that she had failed him.
She had even finished her song.
Perhaps her new reason for being was to help Rafe find healing and purpose so he could marry and have a family. If she were as selfless and noble as Rafe, she would set him free.
She shored up her courage and spoke her thoughts. “Rafe, I love you more than I ever imagined possible—even when I was alive. But this,” she gestured to herself and to him, “isn’t the way it should be between lovers.”
He held out his hands. “This is the hand fate has dealt us.”
“We can never be together the way a man and a woman should be.”
“We learned how to kiss, and to dance, provided we don’t do it too long.” He quirked a smile.
“That’s not enough, is it?”
His mirth faded. “What choice do we have? Our other option comes with too great a risk.”
“Our other option?”
He pressed his lips together as if berating himself for speaking of something he had not meant to reveal. In halting tones, he said, “I have learned of a ceremony that could either bring you back to life, or send you on to the next realm forever.”
She stared at him incredulously. “You’re telling me I could come back to life?”
“Or move on.”
“On to nothingness?”
Gently, he said, “It might be nothingness. Or it might be Heaven, or whatever is in the next level of existence. But the odds are that you won’t be restored to life.”
“What if there really is no next level? What if I cease to exist?”
He leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. “That’s why I do not wish to chance it. Besides, I’m not even certain it’s possible or that he was real.”
He described a midnight encounter with the Angel of Death and the gypsy, but how he had woken up alone in the henge.
“I might have had a vivid dream and gone sleepwalking. None of it might be real. But even if it is, I can’t risk being responsible for your life or death or...nothingness. I had far too much responsibility for people’s fates in the war.”
Osanne considered his words. This might be her chance to be noble, to free him. “I cannot risk you wasting your life, year after year, to see me for a few hours.”
“I have to. I’ve tried not being here for you and I couldn’t stay away.”
“Knowing now how wondrous it is to touch, and to kiss, has shown me how much you’re missing.
You need a living woman with whom to kiss, to dance, to love as only living people can and in a way that I will never be able to do with you.
And you should have the ability to do so with her every day, and not merely one night a year. ”
He gave a swift, stubborn shake of his head. “We can work through that. We’ll find a way.”
His optimism was endearing but foolish. She waved a hand and let it pass through him to prove her point. “I’m still the same. You’re getting older. Please don’t ask me to watch you age and die.”
He frowned. “I’m not so old as all that.”
“You said yourself that Peter and his wife have children. They’re growing up. You and I can never have a family.”
He swallowed, then pushed a hand through his hair. Stubbornly, “Being with you is worth it.”
“Rafe, you need to live. Find someone to love, with whom you can have a family.”
He let out a caustic laugh. “You’re telling me to go marry someone else?”
“What about Benjamin’s sister?”
“Kitty?” He shook his head.
“Court her, see her as a young lady and not as Ben’s sister. Marry her and have a family and a normal life.”
He went very still. Ah, a viable prospect, then. The thought of him loving another woman caused the closest thing to physical pain she had felt since she had fallen and lay wracked in pain until death released her. And captured her.
“Kitty and I don’t have any kind of understanding.” But his words lacked conviction.
“If she has remained unmarried all these years, it must be because she is waiting for you. Please. I know it’s painful for you to be together with me so briefly, and to miss out on a normal life.”
He squeezed his eyes closed.
She backed away from him and hovered in the air as a reminder of what she was. “Rafe, look at me.”
He drew a breath and opened his eyes. The hurt and conflict revealed itself in his expression, his bright eyes, the tension in his body.
She gestured to herself. “This isn’t what you want.”
He reached for her. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“If you truly love me, you will live. Live for me. Fall in love with a living woman, have children, grow old together.”
“I don’t want another woman.”
“This is cruel to us both. I cannot continue like this—seeing what might have been but will never be. I want more. With each passing night we have, I grow increasingly unsatisfied. Seeing you makes it worse. We must cease.”
“Osanne, don’t....” His eyes grew shiny and he swallowed hard.
She could insist that he perform the ceremony. Yet as much as she loved Rafe, she couldn’t face the possibility of nothingness. More importantly, she couldn’t ask him to face the prospect of sending her there.
All her courage went into saying the next words. “Do not come for me next year.”
He let out a half groan, half sob. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
But she did. “I will not be here. You will not find me.”
She turned and headed for the nearest wall. As she went through it, he groaned, “Osanne!”
She fled into the night, sailing high above Madding Hollow, over the rugged landscape, to the knoll where she lost her life.
Without a body, the release of weeping remained impossible for her. Instead, she lay on the ground where she had died and wailed her sorrow until the sunrise carried her away to blissful unawareness.