While our priority is to stay safe, we also need to take care of our mind and soul, especially when our world is looking and feeling so much different.
I think I'll start with "Love Eternal" (originally titled "Bound"), which was my very first story written about 10 years ago. It's a (paranormal) romance rooted in the legend of St. Dwynwen, the Welsh patron saint of Love.
My idea is to rework the story chapter by chapter and share those chapters here, one at a time. I think this process will help me type "The End" once and for all on this tale! (shout out and thank you to author Kelley Armstrong for generously sharing her brand-new story online - two chapters a week! Her wonderful chapter-by-chapter idea inspired this project.)
I hope you enjoy.....
LOVE ETERNAL
Chapter one
Angel’s Cove, Newfoundland
Many people are keeping sane through music, writing, painting, dancing, baking, cooking, gardening, etc, etc, and generously sharing their talents and know-how. It's so wonderful and entertaining!
For me, music is what keeps me happy, but I also love to write. I've tucked away several unfinished stories over the years, which I came across in my isolation clean-up. I was reminded of how much I enjoy writing and it had me thinking, I should really get back at it.
There's no time like the present!
There's no time like the present!
I think I'll start with "Love Eternal" (originally titled "Bound"), which was my very first story written about 10 years ago. It's a (paranormal) romance rooted in the legend of St. Dwynwen, the Welsh patron saint of Love.
My idea is to rework the story chapter by chapter and share those chapters here, one at a time. I think this process will help me type "The End" once and for all on this tale! (shout out and thank you to author Kelley Armstrong for generously sharing her brand-new story online - two chapters a week! Her wonderful chapter-by-chapter idea inspired this project.)
I hope you enjoy.....
LOVE ETERNAL
Chapter one
Angel’s Cove, Newfoundland
1935
“Until we meet
again,” Gwen whispered, placing a pink rose on her mother’s coffin. As the
casket was lowered, she closed her eyes, and beautiful memories flooded her
mind, making her heart ache. A tear slipped down her cheek and her thoughts
drifted to a place far from Angel’s Cove, a place she visited only in her
dreams, where strangely, she found comfort.
The grave-side service
ended with a final, “Amen.”
Gwen opened her
eyes with a start. Reality gripped her. She began to tremble and her world
began to spin.
“Gwen!”
Reverend Matthews' voice rang like a distant echo. His gentle hands
closed on her shoulders, pulling her back from the earth’s edge.
“Breathe, Gwen.
Breathe.” Anne urged, sharing a worried look
with the reverend.
“I’m sorry,” Gwen cried.
“I didn’t mean to--”
“Shh…” Reverend
Matthews gathered her into the crook of his arm. “There’s nothing to be sorry
about.”
“She’s all right,” Anne assured the people who
had gathered behind her. “Let’s give her some room.”
“Why don’t we get back
to the house.” Mrs. Reilly rallied the concerned friends and neighbours.
“Good idea, mum,”
Anne agreed, leading everyone away from where Gwen was weeping in Reverend
Matthews arms. “Time to set out the food and put the kettle on.”
Murmurs of “yes,
yes, of course”, “poor soul”, and “such a shame” drifted on the breeze as people
exited the cemetery.
“You’re going to
be all right Gwen.” The reverend assured her. “I promise.”
Gwen had known Reverend Matthews all her life. He was
more than just a trusted friend; he was the closest thing to a father-figure
she’d had in her life. He’d loved her mother. Always had. This day was
difficult for him, as well.
“I know.” Gwen agreed.
“Should we go?”
the reverend wondered. “Follow the others?”
“I’d like to sit here
a little longer.”
“I can stay with
you if you’d like,” he replied, handing her a handkerchief.
“I think I need a
few minutes, alone.” She wiped her eyes.
“Of course.” The
reverend nodded. “Anne will walk back with you when you’re ready?”
“Yes, she will.”
“All right. Maybe
I should check in on Mr. Brady on my way back to the house.”
“That would be
nice of you.” Gwen looked up; her eyes glistening. “Mum used to do that.”
“He was so fond of
her,” the reverend replied. “And of you.”
Gwen smiled behind
her tears. She knew the old Irishman well, having tended to him at St. Jude’s
hospital where she’d been nursing for over a year. “Tell him I’ll visit soon.”
“You are so like your mother.” The reverend sighed,
leading Gwen to the bench by the path. “Don’t stay out here too long, you’ll
catch a chill.”
Gwen nodded as the
reverend made his way down to the cemetery gate. He stopped a moment to speak
with Anne before leaving the cemetery and heading to Mr. Brady’s cottage.
The April wind caressed
Gwen’s cheek as it gusted by. She breathed in the cool air, and then let it out
slowly, willing it to calm her. Wrapping her shawl tighter around her
shoulders, she listened to the wind whistling through the branches of the
budding maple trees that lined the path. The breeze scattered old, dead leaves
across the cemetery, sending a single leaf floating in the air. Gwen watched as
the lone leaf danced on the wind and landed at the foot of a grove of Ash trees,
reminding her she was alone, too.
A quiet rustle
sounded, and Gwen lifted her eyes. A man
appeared across from where she was sitting, silently watching her. Spellbound,
Gwen couldn’t look away. In those moments, a hush settled around her, as though
the volume button on the world had been lowered. When the stranger stepped from out of the
shadow of the trees, something in the way he moved sparked an odd, yet familiar
feeling. It was like a sense of relief, and it came over her instantly.
“Who are you?” Gwen
whispered, struggling to remember when or where they’d met. Trying to
understand why seeing this man would make her want to walk over to him and bury
her sorrow in his embrace.
The stranger’s
stare was unwavering as he stood across the path. His dark eyes were half-hidden by the brim of
his hat, and the cool wind made his coat billow. He looked like a mysterious,
imagined hero from a novel.
When the man moved
suddenly toward her, Gwen’s heart raced. For a moment, she wasn't
sitting in a graveyard mourning her mother; but standing in a place where the sun-filled sky warmed her skin and the
scent of the sea floated in the air. Her lips parted at the same
time as the stranger began to speak, but before he uttered a word, Anne called
out, “Are you ready Gwen?”
Startled, Gwen’s eyes darted to where her
friend was walking toward her.
“Y-yes. I’m coming,”
she quickly replied.
Gwen glanced back
across the path but the spot in front of the grove was empty. The man had
disappeared.
Anne wrapped her
arms around Gwen’s waist as she followed her gaze. “What is it?”
The trees bent
gently in the wind.
“Nothing.” The cool
air once again stroked Gwen’s cheek but it did not offer comfort, instead it
left a feeling of
emptiness. “It was nothing.”
Anne pulled Gwen
close. “Come,” Her tone was as gentle as her touch. “I’ll make you a nice cup
of tea.”
When they reached
the wrought-iron gate Gwen glanced back.
Two men stood
holding shovels. Without a word they began to fill her mother’s grave.
* *
* *
“Mum has
everything under control.” Anne announced, nodding in the direction of where her
mother was bustling about the kitchen with the ladies from the church auxiliary
group.
“Sit.” Anne lead Gwen to the settee. “I’ll be
right back.”
As she waited for
Anne to return, the odd encounter with the stranger entered her mind. She would
have appreciated a few more moments to find our who he was and why he was there,
but she couldn’t think more on it now as friends from the community came to
offer their condolences.
Gwen lost herself
in the quiet chatter of the members of the Angel Cove community gathered in the
parlour. The friends who had embraced her mother in the spring of 1913, the
year she’d returned home from England, widowed and pregnant. The community who helped
her mother piece her life together, ensuring she had everything she needed for
the new baby who would arrive the following January. Nan had also worked her
magic, securing her daughter the position of church secretary to Reverend
Matthews. No, she wasn’t alone. These people were like family and all she had
left.
“This is nice,” Reverend
Matthews whispered, taking a seat beside her.
“You’re back,”
Gwen smiled.
Glancing around
the room the reverend nodded at a small group of people standing by the buffet
table. “Catherine would have been very happy to see everyone gathering to
support you during this…”
“They’ve been so
kind,’ she replied. “And Mr. Brady?”
“Just a stomach
upset. He’ll be fine,” the reverend reassured, the corners of his lips rose at
the mention of the Irishman’s name. “He says you have the gift.”
“What gift?”
“He insists that
the other day you healed him.”
Gwen chuckled; the
idea absurd. “Antiseptic salve and good bandaging works wonders on nasty cuts.”
“Well, his hand is
healed and he’s convinced it’s your doing.” The reverend smiled, resting his
hand on hers. “He thinks so highly of you.”
Gwen nodded, not
trusting her fragile emotions enough to respond.
“Have you eaten
anything?” he asked, changing the subject.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need to keep
up your strength,” he chided. “I’ll get you something.”
Kind and gentle,
Reverend Ian Matthews was a good man. Gwen noticed his eyes sparkled when he
laughed, especially around Catherine Evans. No matter how hard the matchmakers
tried, Gwen knew there could never be anyone but her mother for this man, even
though, faithful to the memory of her deceased husband, she could never fully give
him her heart.
“Ann’ll be over in
two shakes with something for our Gwen.” Mrs. Reilly said, tucking an errant
strand of hair behind Gwen’s ear. “Come to the kitchen with me Reverend. You
need a cuppa tea yourself, and maybe some of those little pinwheel sandwiches
you like.”
Reverend Matthews
grinned at Gwen. “Can anyone say no to the likes of that tiny woman?”
“Many have tried,
few have succeeded,” Mrs. Reilly declared over her shoulder.
* *
* *
“Are you sure you
don’t need me to stay with you tonight?”
Anne asked for the third time. “You shouldn’t-”
“I’ll be fine
alone.” Gwen insisted.
“I know you’re
strong, and you’ll be fine in time, but I don’t want you to even think about
coming back to the hospital until you are good and ready. They owe you for all
those extra hours you’ve worked. Take them.
Put things in order. We’ll manage.”
Gwen nodded. “That’s
probably best.”
“Good.” Anne
cupped Gwen’s face in her hands. “I’ve already told Nurse Allen.”
Gwen’s eyes
widened. “You’re incredible.”
“I know. Now if
you could just spread the news to some eligible young men, I’d appreciate it.”
She placed a kiss on Gwen’s forehead.
“Gwen dear, you
look exhausted,” Mrs. Reilly said, collecting her things from the kitchen
table. “Get yourself to bed.”
“Yes, off to bed
with you.” Anne insisted. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I put the bouquet of roses
in a vase beside the piano. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“What bouquet?”
Gwen asked, but the women had already left, and the empty house echoed.
Wandering back
into the parlour she cast a wistful glance at the pink roses on the piano her
mother loved to play. Gwen moved closer. Her mother’s hymnal lay open to psalm
twenty-three. “My soul he doth restore
again,” she read the line softly. “If
only.”
That night, as Gwen
lay cocooned in the warmth of her mother’s quilt, she cried herself to sleep,
and dreamed she was floating in the ocean under a bright orange sun. Her long
honey-coloured hair moved around her shoulders like golden seaweed. Gwen could
see her mother standing on a sandy beach in the distance, wearing a big floppy
straw hat. A beautiful majestic mountain loomed behind her. Her mother was smiling
and waving, and calling out to her. Gwen strained to hear what she was saying, but
the sound of the ocean filled her ears.
Liam.
“What?” A wave suddenly rose,
pushing Gwen underwater. She fought against the force of the wave until she burst
free from the ocean’s grasp.
“Mum?” Gwen cried,
gasping for air as she woke from her dream. “What did you say?”
Her hope-filled
question echoed in the silence.
* *
* *
The next evening, Gwen
found the courage to open the envelope Reverend Matthews had given to her before
he’d left the wake. “Your mother asked me to give this to you,” he’d
said.
She slowly unfolded the vellum
writing paper and read her mother’s message.
Dear Gwen,
You were my
gift from Heaven and brought such joy to my life. I am so proud of the person you have become and the person I
know you will be. Live every day to the fullest.
Enjoy every opportunity. Don’t be afraid to follow your dreams. Take chances and follow your heart.
The key in this
envelope opens a little box on my bookshelf. It’s been in my family for a very
long time and now, it’s yours.
I know you will
have an eternity of happiness and love.
Remember, I’ll
always be with you.
I love you with
all my heart.
Forever, Mum
Gwen could barely
see the last beautifully penned lines from the tears welling up in her eyes. After
reading the letter again she took the key from the envelope, and stepped over
to the bookcase.
Reaching up to the
top shelf she found the small wooden box, slipped the key into the lock and opened
the lid. Inside, wrapped in a silken cloth, was a gold pendant and chain. It
wasn’t an ordinary or delicate type of pendant, but one similar to those she’d
seen in old books about Celtic lore. Tracing the beautiful symbols with her
trembling finger, she admired the intricate knot-worked cross and circle in her
hand. There was an engraving etched on the back of the pendant.
She drew in a
sharp breath. “Liam.”
The name she’d
heard echoed in her dream was etched in the pendant.
“Where did this
come from?” She turned the pendant over repeatedly in
her hand, “and why have I never
seen it before?’
“It’s yours,
Gwen.”
Startled, Gwen
glanced around the room. “Hello?”
When no one
answered, Gwen lowered her head. “It’s your
imagination,” she murmured to herself.
Breathing out a weary
sigh, Gwen carefully clasped the gold chain around her neck. The precious
metal felt warm against her breast and it shimmered against her skin.
With
the pendant held tightly in her grasp, Gwen settled herself into the armchair by
the window, lulled to sleep by a soft, melodic hum resonating in the air.
