Chapter 50

Moira squinted as she stepped out in the bright sunlight. After so long indoors, she greeted the fresh air like an old friend. Most of the pain had subsided, and the gash in her head no longer throbbed with each movement. Occasional flashes still haunted her memory with images she’d rather forget, but even those were coming with less frequency and intensity.

Peg’s arm linked through hers, and Colm tipped his hat at the women. “Shall we?” His eyes sparkled in the bright March sun.

The air still held a bit of a chill, but the harshness of winter had mostly departed. Moira’s heart felt light for the first time in weeks.

“After you, m’lord.” Moira curtsied dramatically. The trio laughed and set off toward Áedach’s.

As they passed the halla, Moira paused. It didn’t look near as dark or foreboding as it had in her dreams of late. A gaggle of women buzzed about the place, hanging window boxes and sweeping leaves.

Peg patted Moira’s hand. “They’re startin’ preparations for the grand Paddy’s Day céilí.”

Moira nodded.

“Ye don’t have to go, ya know, peata. I know the halla holds dark memories for ye.”

“Indeed it does.” Moira heaved a sigh. “At the same time, I’ve dreamed of dancing at a céilí in that halla since I was a little girl. I pray God gives me the strength to attend.” She looked down at the traveling dress she’d worn the first day she rode into town. It was faded and the cuffs were fraying. It was her only gown now. The one Declan had torn asunder was beyond repair—or so Peg had said. Not that she could bring herself to wear it again anyway.

Moira’s heart sank at the thought of attending the céilí in so drab a garment, but her gratitude to God for sparing her life outweighed the disappointment—most of the time.

The trio reached Áedach’s hovel. The door was open and smoke circled up from the entrance. Moira knocked on a stone near the door. “May I come in?”

“Aye, Miss. Please do,” Áedach said from within.

Moira looked from Peg to Colm and back.

“We’ll wait out here for a few minutes.” Colm took hold of Peg’s hand. “But we’re only a step away should ye need us.”

Moira nodded and ducked inside.

Áedach was sitting up. More color filled his face than she’d seen even before he’d fallen ill. A small fire crackled in the corner, and Moira’s cloak—which had remained with the lad since her first visit—was folded neatly by the door. The odor of sick and sweat had wafted away through the open door, for which Moira was exceedingly grateful.

“Áedach.” Moira smiled. “You look so well! I’m happy to see you up and with such color to your cheeks.”

Áedach tried to hide a grin and looked at his bare feet, which he then tucked up underneath himself.

“Colm and Peg said that you’d asked for me?”

He cleared his throat. “Aye, marm.” He drew swirls in the dirt floor with his fingertip. “I just . . . I wanted to say t’anks. Yas didn’t have to do what ye done. Especially after the way I treated ye.”

At a loss for words, Moira nodded. “It was my honor.”

“Why?”

Moira jumped at the intensity of his voice.

“Why’d ye do it, like? Ye could’ve just let me be. Let me . . . die. Why’d ye go out o’ yer way to care for me?”

Moira shifted into a more comfortable position, crossing her legs beneath her. “It’s quite simple, really. God told me to.”

Creases spread across his forehead. “Wha’?”

Moira laughed. “You did treat me horribly, Áedach. I won’t be shy in saying so. I’d also be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to leave you here on your own. But God”—she paused, choosing her next words carefully—“He reminded me that none of us are perfect. The Bible says all have done wrong, or we’ve left good undone. But He forgives us and loves us just the same. My heart was just as dark as yours when I . . . hesitated to help you in your time of need.”

Moira squeezed her eyes tight, the pain and disgrace striking anew at how close she’d come to playing such a key part in a young man’s death. “Don’t you see, Áedach? God has been so generous with His love and mercy for me, I couldn’t help but extend the same to you.”

Áedach pursed his lips and nodded, staring a thousand miles away. “I canna say I totally understand, Miss.” He shrugged. “But I’m grateful. And . . . I’m sorry.”

Colm poked his head in the door. “Are we interruptin’?”

Moira laughed. “Not at all, Colm. Come in.”

Colm ducked inside while Peg poked her head in the door, holding a packet wrapped in muslin cloth and tied with a string. “Just a wee somethin’ for the lad, now he’s feelin’ better.” A broad smile graced Peg’s face.

Áedach’s eyes widened, and he pointed to his chest. “Fer me?”

“Aye, lad.” Colm laughed. “We canna have ye fallin’ ill again after these women worked so hard ta nurse ye back to health.”

Slowly, as if in a stupor, Áedach untied the string and opened the cloth packet. The muslin was that of a new shirt. It was wrapped around a new pair of breeches and a hearty woolen jumper, the same fleecy white color as the lambs dotting the Donegal hillsides. His jaw fell open. “Gabh raibh mile maith agaibh.” He ran his fingers over the soft fabrics. “I’ve never had the likes o’ these in my life. I don’t desairve such a gift.”

Colm chuckled. “It’s a grand good thing the Laird doesna give any of us what we really desairve.”

Moira fought to keep her own composure. How did Colm and Peg afford such a lavish gift?

“Come now, let’s give the lad some privacy to dress.” Peg motioned for Moira and Colm to join her out of doors.

Once out in the cool breeze, Moira gaped at her friends, her hands spread wide. “How on earth?”

The couple shared an endearing glance and burst into laughter. “I’ve been knitting that jumper for Colm for months. When we learned of Áedach’s condition, and certainly after we’d visited, we both knew that jumper was meant for the lad. The rest of the clothes were bartered for easily enough.”

“Yet another benefit o’ my trade.” Colm rocked on his heels, grinning from ear to ear.

“You two never cease to amaze me.” Moira shook her head.

The door scraped open, and Áedach cleared his throat. He stooped through the door, squinting and raising his hand to block the sunlight. After a few weeks in that dark hovel, Moira could only imagine the shock of stepping outside. He stood for a moment, hunched with a hand over his face. When he finally straightened, blinking, he held his hands out. “Well, what d’ye t’ink?”

Peg clasped her hands over her mouth and fawned over the lad. “Don’t ye look breá!”

Áedach’s cheeks reddened.

“Oh!” Colm jumped. “I nearly forgot.” He grabbed his satchel and pulled out a pair of shoes. The leather was slightly faded, but the soles and laces were in good condition. “They’re nothin’ fancy, but they’ll keep yer cosa dry.”

Reluctantly, Áedach reached out for the shoes. He turned them over and over in his hands before leaning against the wall to slip them on. The thin leather reached up over his ankles and hugged his feet as he tied them snugly. He sniffled and ran the back of his hand across his nose. “I’ve no way to repay ye.”

“Och!” Colm waved a meaty hand through the air. “’Tis a gift, lad!”

Áedach shook his head. “I just wish—oh wait.” He ducked back inside, and in a flash returned with a small paper in his hand. He held it up for the group to see. Intricate swirls and knots filled the page. “It’s nuttin’, really.” He shifted his feet back and forth. “Just a bit o’ doodles with the burnt end of a twig. I saw them on a rock once and just copied them down from memory when I was alone.”

Moira, Colm, and Peg moved closer to get a better look. A spiral swirl filled each corner of the paper, and a knot of three unbroken triangles filled the center.

Peg smiled. “’Tis the trinity knot. How fitting.”

Moira gingerly ran her finger over the knot representing the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, taking care not to smudge the drawing. “It’s lovely, Áedach.”

“’Tis my gift to ye.” He shrugged. “After all ye’ve done, it’s the least I can do.”

Colm gave Áedach’s shoulder a fatherly squeeze. “Ya don’t owe us a thing, lad. But if ye do nothing else but spread this kind o’ love to others, I’ll be happy.”

Áedach smiled and offered his hand to Colm, who shook it heartily.

Peg wrapped an arm around Moira’s shoulders and squeezed.

What a mighty God You are.