Chapter Seventeen
Despite her vow, Osanne waited in the churchyard for Rafe. Other spirits drifted past her. She glared at her gravestone. It was more weathered and moss-covered each time she awoke. Even her marker aged more than she did.
She had no one to blame but herself that he hadn’t come.
Small consolation that Rafe had probably found solace in the arms of Ben’s sister, Kitty.
Such devotion clearly deserved a reward, and Rafe must have found that irresistible.
Osanne should wish them well, but the oppressing darkness in her silenced that noble idea.
How foolish to have believed that this half-life—not a life at all, really—could be better than oblivion. She would rather cease to exist than continue on in this hellish isolation.
She hovered above the ground without purpose. No pranksters threatened the villagers. No pull toward Ravenswood Manor—Rafe’s home. No song played in her mind. No burning need to discover her brother’s fate.
If they had performed the ceremony Rafe mentioned, she could have moved on to whatever fate awaited her, and Rafe could have moved on to a real life. One where he didn’t feel an irresistible pull to see her every year. She would be gone.
If there were even a sliver of a possibility that she might be restored to life, she would gladly take the chance so they could have a real life together. Either way, he would spend a lifetime with a living, breathing woman who loved him.
A low wail seeped out of her. “Oh, Rafe. I would have risked it for you.”
At dawn, when that light appeared, she would go to it, either to nothingness or to Heaven and eternal rest. Her parents had believed in Heaven. Everyone she knew believed in it. Were they all wrong? It no longer mattered. Heaven or oblivion; she welcomed either.
“So you’ve changed your mind?” A familiar and so very dear voice broke the silence.
Rafe!
He leaned against a tree, so silent and dark that she had not seen him.
He came back!
Suddenly light and beauty adorned the world. The full moon shone brighter, gilding the trees with silver, and the little stream giggled. Even the calls of night birds sounded like a celebration.
She raced to his outstretched arms and focused on pushing back to touch him so forcefully that he staggered. He laughed and pulled her in. Rafe kissed her with a new hunger. A new peace and wholeness and courage crept over her. All was right with the world.
When their mouths parted, he looked down at her with eyes that glittered in the moonlight. “Will you come with me?”
“Anywhere.”
He took her hand. Oh, the joy of his hand in hers! He led her to the vicarage where his friend, Peter Brown, waited on a bench under a bare tree, a lantern hanging from one of the branches. The vicar stood at Rafe’s approach.
Rafe settled on the bench, and Peter resumed his seat.
“Peter, would you please tell us why you think Heaven is real?”
Osanne laughed. “This isn’t necessary.”
Rafe grinned at Peter. “She thinks it isn’t necessary, but I want her to hear you speak.”
“You told him about me?” Osanne gaped at Rafe.
Rafe turned that grin on her. Every star in the sky glittered with new brightness.
Peter drew a breath. “I believe that the soul is immortal and that this time on earth is only a brief moment in our eternal existence. After this life, we go on to a place of rest and dwell with God and his angels. The bible tells us about Heaven, sometimes referring to it as paradise. When our Lord Jesus Christ was about to give up his life on the cross, he told a thief who believed in him in Luke 23:43, ‘this day thou shalt be with me in paradise.’ There are many references to Heaven and paradise—such as the kingdom of God, eternal rest, mansions—as a place where God dwells and where His children go after this life. I believe that is a real place where we rest from our worries and sorrows after we leave this life.”
Osanne chewed on his words. She had been brought up to believe in God, and had done her best to be a good person. If she believed in God, then it stood to reason that she could believe in Heaven, too.
Rafe fixed a solemn gaze on her with those bright, pale eyes.
“I cannot tell you of a surety whether or not Heaven is real, or if there really is some sort of life beyond what we know now. But Peter is one of the most honorable men I have ever known. I believe what he tells me, that Heaven truly exists. But what I believe doesn’t matter. What you believe is what matters.”
She put a hand on his cheek. How she adored him!
His and Peter’s earnest expressions and her years of churchgoing, not to mention a faith she had forgotten she’d once possessed, brought a new surety, a new courage.
Rafe’s expression became more serious and more earnest than ever.
“I’m willing to perform the ceremony if you want me to.
I realized that last year I may have frightened you with my vow not to be responsible for another person’s life.
But after many months of soul-searching, I have come to an important decision: I refuse to allow fear to keep me from living and from loving and taking risks.
If you don’t want to risk crossing over to whatever comes next, I will come for you every year—”
“Rafe.” She smiled. “I had already decided that at dawn I would walk into the column of light if it appears again, and come what may. I have nothing to lose, and everything to gain by performing the ceremony.”
He smiled with such affection that her new song played in her mind with all the fullness of a full orchestra. If she were mortal, she would have wept for joy.
“I’m glad to hear that. I’ve been preparing for two months for this.” A quick flash of a smile. “The Ath-nuadhachadh must be performed at midnight.”
“So soon? I wish we had until dawn. I want as much time with you as possible, since this may very well be our last night.”
“It might be the beginning of many more.” He turned back to Peter, who watched what must have appeared to be a bizarre monologue.
Smiling, he clapped his friend on the shoulder.
“Thank you, Peter. You’ve been very helpful.
Enjoy the ball. My parents are looking forward to seeing you and your lovely bride again. ”
Peter nodded and glanced uneasily around. “Miss Osanne.” He bowed his head to excuse himself before he stood and went inside the vicarage.
Rafe took her hand. “My parents are hosting the masquerade again this year, and I’ve already made my excuses. I’m all yours this eve.”
“You are?” She seemed incapable of doing anything but uttering inane questions.
“We have something more important to do.”
The ceremony. She could do this. Whatever the outcome, they would both be free.
Hand in hand, with Rafe carrying the lantern, they went deep into the woods, through a glen, and up a hill to the ancient henge of stones. Rafe sat in the middle of the circle and settled his satchel next to him. She lowered herself beside him.
He touched her arm. “I missed you worse this year than ever before. The thought of not seeing you again was...unbearable.” He swallowed.
If she vanished, he would grieve deeply. Osanne whispered, “Oh, Rafe.”
“But if you move on, I will find a way to move on, too.” He kept a brave expression but a shadow touched his eyes.
He pulled her into his arms again and held her fiercely. Oh, how she loved this man! He deserved a living woman, and whether she, or someone else, Ossane would be happy for him.
Last night—last year—they had chosen fear over love. Now, they chose love, regardless of risk.
As the luminous moon sailed across the starry autumn sky, they talked, sang, danced, kissed, and dreamed of what might be.
Rafe checked his pocket watch. “It’s almost time. Are you certain this is what you want? It is not too late to change your mind.”
“Without question. No matter what befalls me, I will, at last, leave this haunted half-life.”
Either way, Rafe would no longer be tied down to a ghost. Her purpose gave her new confidence.
Rafe looked at her with his intense way of seeing her. “If it’s not possible for you to come back to life to be with me, I want you to know that I will always be grateful I met you. Thank you for helping me find myself.”
“I am the fortunate one. Since you first saw me, I have known greater joy than I ever dreamed.”
He held her. Surely Heaven could not be more beautiful than this. No turning back.
She stepped away and nodded. “I am ready.”
Tension rolled off his body in tangled currents as he opened his bag with shaking hands.
He pushed out a long breath and removed a white plume, an incense ball, several candles, and a container of salt.
After pouring the salt into a large circle within the henge, he lit the candles and incense, and arranged all the other items within the salt circle.
Osanne watched in fascination. “How do you know about this ceremony?”
“Madam Miska called forth the Angel of Death and I pled for your life. He told us what I must do.”
“You spoke to the Angel of Death?”
The candlelight illuminated his face, giving him a soft, almost angelic glow.
“He wasn’t frightening at all. He was pure light.
” A smile flitted across his face. “He told us of an ancient Celtic ceremony, the Ath-nuadhachadh, and I searched through old tomes and legends to discover the details.” He breathed out a sickly smile.
“Apparently, I must be pure in heart to perform it. I spent the better part of the past two months trying to become so—involving several confessionals about past misdeeds and painfully honest but cleansing talks with Peter.”
She touched his arm. He covered it with his hand.
“Meditation, searching my heart, my soul. As a result, my conscience is clear and I’m at peace. Although, I’m still uncertain as to whether I’m truly pure of heart.” Doubt clouded his eyes.
“I don’t think the term pure in heart requires perfection.”
“Peter said the same. But I don’t want my unworthiness to affect your chances.”
“You are a good man, Rafe. That’s all anyone can ask. I wouldn’t love you as much as I do if you were as flawed as you seem to think.”
They shared one last, lingering kiss, expressing all the love in their hearts. As they stood in the circle, holding each other, the church bell chimed, counting down their time together.
“It’s time.” She stepped back, but Rafe took her hand, holding her. She tightened her fingers around his.
A tremor ran through him. Then, in a clear, commanding voice, he chanted in an unfamiliar language. Gaelic, perhaps?
A shaft of light speared the darkness. It broadened, opening to form a large archway filled with brilliance.
Rafe shielded his eyes. Osanne, not limited by mortal eyesight, peered into it.
This shaft of light differed from the one that had appeared to her so many times before. It was wider, and pulsed.
She smiled at Rafe for perhaps the last time. “I love you, Rafe.”
Tears shone in Rafe’s eyes. “I will always love you, Osanne.”
Faith. She must have faith. And really, she did this for Rafe, to free him. If she truly loved him, she could do this. She must.
Osanne let go of his hand and turned toward the light. But she couldn’t walk into it. Some bond held her fast, making motion impossible. Rafe.
She turned back to him. He stood with fists clenched, breath held, and posture poised to spring into action.
Gently, she asked, “Can you let me go?”
He swallowed. Drew a breath.
At first, she had believed her existence only on All Hallows’ Eve had been punishment for her failure to keep watch over her brother, possibly resulting in his death.
Then she wondered if it rested on her unfinished tasks—trying to learn of her brother’s fate, her desire to keep Madding Hollow safe from other wandering souls, her incomplete music.
Later, she suspected her own fear had prevented her from stepping into the light and moving on.
Could it have all been for Rafe? Had she needed to help him heal, help him find himself and ultimately find peace?
If so, then, despite his words and his intent to let her go, his love for her and his unwillingness to lose her bound her to him. If he could never let her go, would she ever move on?