| |
Ronan rejected Oulde’s advice not to speak of the baby, fighting his own instinct to keep quiet, and gradually Myna’s grief subsided.
She visited the cairn daily, in rain and mist and sunshine. She left flowers or small gifts; handwoven bracelets and necklaces, tiny cloth dolls she’d made herself. She never ventured beyond the gate of their home, but Ronan could see that the sunshine and fresh air and Alfred’s fish all helped no end, and his heart soared with relief as everyday a little more colour returned to her cheeks, and her face lost that sunken look.
The years passed, and the grief softened. Dyllis died, and Ronan was scared he’d lose his wife again. But the loss of her mother seemed more a weight lifted, and Myna continued to improve.
When she told Ronan she’d stopped taking the herbs that prevented pregnancy, his heart tore in half with the joy and the fear of it.
