Chapter 26 #2
Her brother stirred faintly against the pillow, his face thinner than she remembered and far too pale beneath the weak hospital light, though one sock had somehow vanished entirely beneath the blankets in a way that felt painfully, absurdly like him.
Her little brother could lose a battle with footwear under almost any circumstances.
The thought nearly destroyed her.
“Sam,” she whispered.
His lips moved slightly before her name escaped him in the smallest rough murmur.
“Abs.”
Something inside her shattered completely then, and the sound that left her throat was every sleepless night she’d spent swallowing fear before answering his calls so he wouldn’t hear it in her voice.
Every doctor’s appointment she’d pretended not to dread.
Every moment she’d smiled while secretly calculating survival rates and treatment costs, and whether terror could be disguised long enough to keep another person afloat.
The hospital room sharpened further around her until she could almost feel the dry recycled heat against her skin. Another few steps and she could reach him. Sit beside the bed. Hold his hand.
Abigail stepped forward instinctively. Beside her, Rory’s hand loosened around hers slowly enough that she felt exactly what the gesture cost him.
Behind her now, he stood motionless, and though Abigail could feel the heartbreak radiating from him, he didn’t try to stop her.
“If ye must go,” he said quietly, his voice roughened and dangerously close to breaking, “know that I’ll love ye forever, and I’ll no hold ye here.”
Abigail closed her eyes briefly because dear God, that was the difference between love and possession, wasn’t it. Love opened its hands even while splitting apart.
The hospital room steadied further around her.
Sam shifted weakly beneath the blankets while machines hummed softly beside him as Abigail caught sight of a paperback novel, lying face-down near the bed, with an empty pudding cup balanced precariously on top of it.
A wet laugh escaped before another sob followed hard behind it. Then suddenly the hospital door burst open hard enough to rattle the wall beside it.
Three sunburned guys in hoodies and bright board shorts piled into the room carrying backpacks, towels, and the sort of reckless energy that usually preceded either excellent stories or mild criminal charges.
“Rise and shine, corpse boy,” one of them announced. “The waves are clean.”
Another pointed toward the IV machine.
“You distract the nurse this time. Last time Kyle unplugged the heart monitor and nearly killed an intern.”
“That intern was a mouse.”
“You told him ghosts were real.”
“They ARE real.”
Sam laughed. Actually laughed. The sound cracked straight through Abigail’s chest because for one breathtaking instant he looked startlingly alive again, eyes bright beneath the exhaustion while his friends crowded around the bed with the comfortable irreverence of guys who’d spent a lifetime together.
One of them noticed the tubing.
“Oh absolutely not,” he declared. “We are not taking you surfing dressed like a robot that cleans the aquarium.”
“Hospital chic,” Sam managed weakly.
“It’s upsetting everyone.”
The tallest guy, Noah, maybe, leaned down carefully, adjusting the blankets with surprising gentleness beneath all the joking.
“We’ve got your van.”
Sam looked toward the window where the sun had come out.
“One last wave,” he whispered.
Everything inside Abigail stopped.
The room shifted then, not disappearing exactly, but widening somehow until she could smell saltwater beneath the antiseptic, feel the heat of the sun, and hear the gulls crying somewhere beyond the hospital walls.
And suddenly they weren’t there anymore. The sea stretched endlessly beneath the California beach while the waves rolled clean and glassy beneath a clear blue sky.
Abigail stood breathless inside the tower while the impossible vision unfolded before her, surfboards scattered across pale sand while Sam’s friends helped him slowly toward the water wrapped in blankets, laughter, and love.
Dolphins moved through the surf beyond the break.
Not one, but several. Their dark backs rose smooth and shining through the dawn before disappearing again beneath the waves.
Sam saw them too. His tired face lit with pure boyish wonder.
“No way,” he breathed. “They came back.”
“Told you,” one friend said instantly. “The ocean likes you best.”
“That’s because I’m charming.”
“That’s because you owe Poseidon money.”
Even Abigail laughed through tears at that because yes, that sounded exactly like them. The endless stupid affectionate nonsense people built around grief when they loved someone too much to surrender quietly.
The surf rolled white around Sam’s feet as they helped him onto the board, his movements slower now, weaker, but still undeniably him beneath the exhaustion. Wind lifted his hair and for one suspended moment Abigail saw him exactly as he’d always been meant to exist.
Not trapped beneath fluorescent lights or disappearing beneath machines but free. Happy. His soul full of joy and life.
Sam turned then, away from the sea, toward her, and somehow Abigail knew he could see her standing there between the centuries.
His grin came slowly, softer than the reckless one he’d worn most of his life, but no less real.
Then he lifted two fingers in the lazy surfer’s salute he’d been giving her since high school whenever words felt unnecessary.
Go on, Bug.
The dolphins surfaced again beyond him as the wave began building.
Sunlight shattered diamonds across the water as her brother turned toward the ocean, paddling to the wave, laughing breathlessly while his friends shouted behind him and the Pacific carried him forward beneath a brilliant blue sky as he caught the wave.
Abigail burst into tears. As she sobbed, tears spilled down her face while joy and grief tore through her so completely she couldn’t separate one from the other.
Behind her the sea crashed against the cliffs below Kinnaird Head while snow drifted softly through the ruined tower and Rory waited with his heart visibly breaking in absolute silence because he loved her enough to let her choose freely.
And suddenly Abigail understood. The Cailleach hadn’t shown her death, she’d shown her mercy.
Sam had never belonged to hospitals and countdowns and the slow indignity of fluorescent sterile endings.
If he had one last day left in him, he would spend it exactly like this, laughing at the sea while dolphins cut through the surf beside him, and the people who loved him carried him toward the water instead of away from it.
He was happy. Whatever came next, he was content.
The realization settled softly through her chest. Kinnaird Head had never been a replacement for the life she’d lost. It had simply become home as she finally understood that loving the people she’d lost didn’t require abandoning the life still waiting in front of her.
Slowly, she turned away from the beach as her brother and the modern world blurred around the edges, while the scent of salt and sunscreen faded beneath the snow and wind.
Ancient stone solidified around her once more beneath the lighthouse beam where Rory stood waiting exactly where she’d left him, pale with fear and hope tangled painfully together across his face.
Abigail crossed the space between them in two stumbling steps before catching his face between both hands.
“I’m staying,” she whispered brokenly. “I love you.”
Rory shut his eyes once before he pulled her against him hard enough to steal her breath.
Beneath their feet the strange humming faded from the earth itself while the sea crashed rough and ordinary once more against the cliffs below Kinnaird Head.
Rory held her like a man still half-afraid she might vanish between one heartbeat and the next.
“I’ve got ye,” he murmured roughly against her hair. “Christ, Abigail, I’ve got ye.”
For a long while neither of them moved then at last Abigail lifted her head.
The Cailleach was gone. The snow where she’d been standing lay smooth and untouched.
Only a single black feather remained half-buried in the snow.
Rory saw it too. Without speaking he bent carefully and picked it up, placing it silently into her palm. The feather felt faintly warm despite the cold.
Far below them the sea breathed steadily against the rocks while the lighthouse turned, faithful and constant.
Thank you so much for reading!