Chapter 36

The air between Moira and Sean wasn’t awkward, as she’d anticipated, as they walked the road to Áedach’s hovel. She wondered briefly what her mother would think of Sean. She hadn’t expected to forgive him so quickly, but when she looked into his eyes and felt his hands engulfing hers, all frustration melted. She knew he had merely wanted to protect her. Truth be told, the sentiment only endeared him to her all the more.

“Thank you for coming tonight.”

“Ye’re quite welcome.” He stopped walking and turned to face her, keeping an appropriate distance between them. “I am truly sorry for trying to stop ya. I shouldna have let my concern for you silence my compassion for someone in need. I didn’t realize . . . I didn’t realize what it meant to ya.”

“In earnest, I had my own reservations about it. Resistance, you might say.” She studied the outline of his face in the darkness, the firm line of his jaw softened by the mist and shadow. “What’s done is done, and now we move forward. Yes?”

“Yes.” His voice was thick, and he ran a hand through his hair.

She continued down the path, hoping to break the spell of longing he had seemed to place over her. She ached to fall into his arms and let him promise her everything was going to be alright. Never before had she felt such things about any man. For any man. It both scared and delighted her. What scared her most, perhaps, was the thought that her growing affection for Sean would distract her from what God had brought her here to do. She would care for Áedach, yes, but surely there was more to why He brought her so far from home.

At the same time, the idea of fulfilling her callings alongside a man like Sean filled her with giddy excitement and a deep sense of contentment she could hardly contain. The two schools of thought continued to war for her heart as the pair carried on toward Áedach.

All was eerily silent when they arrived. Sean wedged the flashlight in a hole in the wall and offered her his hand to help her over.

“I’ll be right out here if you need me.”

Moira made her way to the makeshift door, rapped on the stone beside it, and entered.

She made swift work of rekindling the fire, recalling her first attempts to recycle embers in her cozy chalet. At the time, she never believed she’d master the task, yet here she was.

“How are we feeling today, Áedach?”

Again, the lad appeared not to have moved at all since her last visit. Moira’s coat still lay across him, but his breaths seemed to come without quite as much work, which pleased Moira greatly. He didn’t fight her when she dropped the tea and carrageen infusion into his mouth, nor when she worked the poultice over his chest. Whether he was too weak to protest, too unconscious to notice, or welcomed the aid was unclear. But Moira was grateful for the ease of work.

“Now, Áedach, I thought I’d read a bit to you, if that’s alright?” She moved closer to the fire for the light, taking care not to get Peg’s ledger too close to the flames. Unsure how to find any particular passage or verse, she opened to the first page, and her heart sank. It was all written in Irish. In the dim firelight, she noticed English words in the margins, scrawled as though written very quickly.

Clever, Peg. Thank you.

She ran her fingers over the words, wondering what had prompted Peg to begin this holy undertaking and why she had chosen to start with this particular passage.

How awful that I had not thought to bring God’s Word to the boy.

Shame and embarrassment flooded her soul. The all-too-familiar guilt sidled up to her once again, whispering her failures and ripping holes in her faith that God could—or would—use someone like her.

There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus. The words floated into her heart like a cool breeze on a hot day.

Moira wasn’t perfect. She probably should have thought about reading Scripture to her patient. However, Peg had, and now Moira was here, truth in hand, and she wasn’t going to squander the opportunity any further.

Please, God, let Your words fall on open ears.

She cleared her throat and began, “‘The LORD is my Shepherd; I shall not want.’” Her throat tightened and tears slid, unbidden, down her cheeks. How long had it been since she’d opened her own Bible? The words were fresh water to her weary soul. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she continued.

“‘He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.’”

Moira closed her eyes, letting the truth wash over her anew. She refreshed the poultice and set about a final round of ministrations for the night.

“You know, Áedach, it’s all true. Everything I just read. You’re in the valley of the shadow of death right now.” She dipped the poultice in the water, squeezed out the excess, and began to pat again. “You may yet be on the brink. Only God knows for sure. But you don’t have to fear the evil any longer. I don’t know if you can hear me . . . but if you can, think on those things you’ve heard in the meantime until I return. Let Him comfort you.”

She studied his closed, unmoving eyes. His chest rose and fell with greater ease, but his skin was still dreadfully hot and the color of ash.

Oh, Lord, let him be well—so he can know the truth.

It didn’t take long for Moira to pack her things. She added more turf to the fire and tucked the coat around her patient. She stepped out the door, then paused and turned back.

“Good night, Áedach. And God bless you.”