"Love Eternal" by Lisa Forget - Chapters 5 & 6

Chapter Five

Dwynwen was enjoying the company of her dear friend Enide when the stranger arrived. Dressed in a crimson tunic and black cloak embroidered in gold flowing from his shoulders to the floor,  his regal and self-assured manner commanded her attention as he entered the great hall.  No one would dare challenge his lineage, the mark of his heraldry sat bejewelled and fastened on his right shoulder. 

The eyes of everyone present focused on the stranger, yet intent on paying his respects to his host, the young man did not acknowledge them.

Dwynwen stood with her gaze fixed on the fair-haired young man, and like the rest of the women in the room, she had fallen under his spell. He crossed the hall in tempo with the beating of her heart.

No sky could compare with the colour of the prince’s eyes, of this Dwynwen was certain. His strong facial features were framed by soft wisps of his hair, the colour of sunlight. An imposing figure, he stood a hand taller than her father and his shoulders spanned two hands broader.

He came alone with no accompanying entourage, a fact which left Dwynwen puzzled.

“Who is he?” Enide whispered as the stranger approached.

“I…I do not know.” Dwynwen stammered.

As he passed by the place where she stood, the young man turned, his lips curved into a smile as his gaze met hers.

Dwynwen gasped. Had he truly given her his attention?  She lowered her eyes to the floor and swallowed. Enide reached out and squeezed her hand.

 “I am Prince Maelon, son of King Dafodril.” She heard him say. “My father sends his deepest regrets. He is unwell at present and unable to make the journey. I have the honour of representing him this evening.” His voice held the power to mesmerize and seduce.

“You are most welcome here at Talgarth.” King Brychan motioned to an empty seat by the hearth. “Join us.”

Prince Maelon, smiled, pleased at the invitation. A servant offered a cup of wine to the young prince. Lifting the vessel to his lips, he emptied the contents in one swallow and sat down with the group gathered at the King’s side.

“Is he not the most handsome man here?” asked Dwynwen’s youngest sister, swooning behind her.

“Yes.” Dwynwen replied in a hushed and breathless tone as she studied the contours of the prince’s face. “He is.”

Glanced back at the prince, she saw him engaged in conversation with her uncle. The older man seemed taken with him, laughing and patting the young man on the shoulder, as though they were old friends.

Throughout the evening the Prince demonstrated his easy manner, from the humble servant, to the king. A cup of wine in hand, a witty tale on his lips and a gleam of mischief in his eye, in the short time since he had arrived, the prince had charmed all in attendance.

She hoped his popularity would not oblige him to sit with her father and his councilmen for the duration of the evening.

            “I dare say Prince Maelon is one of the most intriguing men I have ever seen,” Enide whispered as they bowed to their dance partners.

“Indeed.” Dwynwen replied as she was led once more in the dance.

#                                  #                                  #

The Prince observed the young women celebrating in the great hall. The one whom had stood out from the moment he’d arrived was, at present, standing much too far away for his liking.

She’d been observing him as he had made his introduction to the king. The manner of concern and admiration she displayed toward the older man with whom he spoke, was befitting of a close relation. She surely must be one, of the reputed many, of his children.

He felt her gaze upon him, as she studied him as well. They acknowledged each other with a nod, and the experienced prince knew the blush that rose on her cheek confirmed a mutual attraction. No doubt it would lead to an evening of stolen glances. Prince Maelon would ensure, over the next days of celebration, it would also lead to much more.

* * * *

As the festivities continued, Dwynwen felt the prince’s presence, as she danced with cousin Ifor, and as she mingled among the guests. Moving about the great hall she felt his eyes upon her, as he watched from the shadows.

Later in the evening, while with a group of her sisters, Dwynwen shivered as the prince’s hand slid up her hip and rested on her lower back. He stood close to her, while he distracted her sister.

She caught his eye and the look she saw there made Dwynwen’s heart race. She let out a burst of nervous laughter.

 “Are you all right, sister?” her sister Ceinwen asked,  

 “Please excuse me,” Prince Maelon said before kissing Dwynwen’s hand. He turned, bowed to Ceinwen and then he left.

Dwynwen watched as the prince exiting through the doorway across the room

“Yes. I am… well,”  Dwynwen replied, avoiding her sister’s observant gaze for she would surely know she did not speak the truth.

For she was not well at all. She was in complete danger.

Of  falling in love.

The moment the thought crossed her mind, a group of men by the hearth began to sing, Dwynwen heard her father’s deep bass voice booming over the others. He motioned for Ceinwen to join him. She had a lovely voice, pure and true. The tone of her light descant joined her father’s, dancing above the ever-rousing chorus.

Dwynwen stood back and glanced across the room. The Prince stepped out of the doorway, motioning to her to follow him.

She quietly stole away from the great hall.

* * * *

Leaving the guests and the festivities behind, they rushed out into the garden.

Dwynwen slowed her step a few paces away from where the prince waited under the majestic oak.

“I should not be here alone with you,” she said, breathless.

“Oh no.” The Prince took Dwynwen’s hand, pulling her closer to him. He stared into her eyes. “You certainly should not.”

The heat in Dwynwen’s cheeks rose when the prince traced her lips with his finger.  Her heart beat a frantic tattoo. She closed her eyes as she tried to steady herself.

“Let me see you, my beautiful princess.” He lifted her chin. You have taken my breath away.” Nervous, Dwynwen pulled away.

“Are you frightened of me?” he asked, breathing the words into her ear.

“No.” She avoided his gaze.

“Then why do you look away?”  He cupped her face.

“I feel strange.” Her eyes focused on his chest. “My heart beats fast, I cannot breathe.”

“Your words fill me with… joy,” he said as his fingers traveled across her brow, her cheek. “I cannot think of my life without your beauty in it.” His hand rested on her slender neck. Dwynwen swayed into his embrace. The prince swung her around, pressing her back against the oak tree.

“I am yours,” he said.

Dwynwen gasped as the bark cut into her delicate skin forcing the air from her lungs. She stared into Maelon’s striking blue eyes. She had never been this close to a man. His breath was ragged, and coming fast, his gaze unfocused and his hard body aroused. Surprised by her reaction of desire, and the unexpected feeling of anticipation making her light-headed, Dywnwen did not struggle to pull away from Maelon, she was captivated.

Hidden from view by the large tree, the Prince brushed his lips against hers. Dwynwen arched into him. He savoured her lips gently, but quickly his kiss grew deep and passionate, allowing the prince to taste her innocence.

Time stood still for Dwynwen as the prince held her in his arms, aware only was she, of the fire burning in her heart.

Chapter Six

After leaving the parsonage, Gwen strolled toward McNally and Son, the local grocery store on Main Road.  A bell sounded her arrival. The portly proprietor turned with a smile. 

“Well good morning to ya. Gwen.”  Mr. McNally’s Irish brogue rang thick. He put down the box of supplies he was shelving. “How can we help you today?” 

“I’ll take a pint of milk.” Gwen stepped over to a small pile of baskets placed near the entrance,“and I’ll look around for the rest.”

“All right. Here you go.” He placed the milk on the counter and his expression softened. “She was a good soul yer ma. If we can help ya in any way, be sure to let us know.”

“Thank you.” Gwen replied.

Mr. McNally returned to stocking the shelves. Gwen wended her way through the shop filling her basket.

Mrs. McNally appeared from the storeroom in time to ring up Gwen’s purchases. A boisterous and charming woman in her mid-fifties, Gwen always thought that she resembled the Campbell’s soup girl from magazine advertisements. They exchanged pleasantries and Mrs. McNally echoed her husband’s sentiments while adding a loaf of soda bread into the paper bag, free of charge. After paying for her purchases, Gwen headed for the door, promising she would stop in the following week.

The scent of spring wafted on the warm breeze greeting her as she stepped onto the sidewalk, her face warmed by the sunshine, she walked straight into Mr. Pryce’s broad chest.

“Let me help you,” he said, saving the grocery bag from tumbling out of her arms.

“You disappear, and now you’re following me?”  Her tone accusatory.

“No, of course not.” he replied, but the glint of sun shone so bright Gwen couldn’t tell if he was smiling. “I had upset you and thought it best to leave.”

“Do you always barge into people’s homes, upsetting their lives?”

“I did not barge into your home. You invited me in.” He turned, gripping the bag, and began to walk away.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll help you home with these.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Yes, you do.”

 “Who do you think you are?” She followed after him. 

“I told you my name,” he replied, looking straight ahead.

“Yes, but who are you?” she asked again, trying to keep up with his long strides.

 “If you hadn’t fainted earlier,” he said, abruptly turning to face her. “I would have told you.”

“Well tell me now.”

“I am a descendant of Liam ap Rhys, who was a great friend of Dwynwen of Brycheiniog.”

“How nice for you. And you think that’s supposed to explain everything? I won’t apologize for what happened earlier, now tell me how any of that has anything to do with me?”

“Did you hear anything I said?” He shook his head as though she was daft and then pivoted, making his way down the street. “It has everything to do with you.”

 “I don’t understand. I don’t even know Dwynwen of Bri..Bri…” she stuttered, struggling to pronounce the Welsh name while keeping up with his long strides.

“Brycheiniog. Don’t insult me by claiming you’ve never heard of your ancestor.” He gave her an accusing glance.

She realized they had an audience. Mrs. Lindsay and her eldest daughter Jean were watching them from across the road. Gwen waved. The women returned the gesture and hurried into the bakery. Jean took one last glance over her shoulder before she followed after her mother.

Gwen’s eyes darted back to Mr. Pryce, her voiced lowered. “Yes, I am telling you I’ve never heard of those people. You seem to know more about my family than I do.”

“That is ridiculous. I can’t believe that a per—”

“The family I know are dead, Mr. Pryce.”

Her words silenced him. After a thoughtful moment he said, “A person should know their family’s history. They have a right to this knowledge.”

“Well, I wish I did, but I unfortunately don’t have the luxury,” she said affronted. “I’ll be frank with you Mr. Pryce, your arrogance is irritating.”

“My arrogance?”  He cocked his head. His eyes glittered.

“I’m sorry that I don’t know anything about what you’re saying, however ridiculous that may sound.” She ripped the grocery bag from his arms. “What I do know is your request to go to Wales is ridiculous!”

Flustered, she spun on her heel, leaving him to stare after her.

He watched her set off down the road, her gait determined and furious. Her long wavy tresses bounced with each step. She didn’t look back to give him another fiery glare or she would have seen him gaping at her, with his hand running through his hair, and a ghost of a smile on his lips.

* * * *

Gwen marched down the long road, mumbling to herself, as the thick paper of the grocery bag crackled under the force of her grip.

“What an arrogant ass.”

When she reached her house, she ran up the porch steps and fumbled with her keys, nearly dropping the groceries as she opened the door. She looked over her shoulder at the empty street. A part of her, she was ashamed to admit, had hoped he’d follow her.

Why couldn’t she have controlled her temper? Then again, how dare he come and put all these ideas in her head, making her think about him? 

She closed the door with her hip and stomped to the kitchen. Placing the bag on the table she paced around the kitchen mumbling as she vented her frustration at being an emotional mess. What kind of person acted like this, after having buried her mother only a week ago? It was a time for grieving and healing not a time to be selfishly thinking about Liam Pryce.

Handsome, irritating…Welshman who intrigued her since the day in the cemetery, which was utterly, and unforgivably, crazy. Was her grief to blame for making her imagine how wonderful it might feel to have his arms around her while standing at the top of the Snowdonia mountains, even thought she had no idea what they looked like? 

“Arghhh… madness!” Gwen growled, fisting her hands.

Wait a minute.

Was she truly entertaining the thought of going to Wales with Liam Pryce, of exploring the family connection he claimed they shared? Did men like Liam make vulnerable women confused and illogical?

Gwen had no idea. She was no expert on men. The only one she was remotely interested in was the man Liam had mentioned earlier, John Allen. An old friend from school and nurse Nancy Allen’s younger brother. They’d gone out on a few casual dates last fall and planned to go to the Spring Social in a few weeks. John had never sparked anything other than friendship, a far cry from the feelings racing through her blood for Mr. Pryce.

She breathed a heavy sigh, regretting having stormed off this afternoon. Wasn’t finding out more about him one of her goals when she’d set out today. What did he think of her?  She wondered if she’d ever see Liam Pryce again.

Drifting into the parlour, she returned to where her life had taken a strange turn this morning and she looked up at her grandmother’s portrait.

“What am I supposed to do, Nan?” she asked aloud.

Shaking her head at the realization that she was talking to herself, she got up and moved over to the window where the bouquet of roses drooped. They were wilted and forlorn.
            The tip of a white envelope poked out from the baby’s breath. Gwen slipped it from its hiding place, pulled out the card and her breath caught in her throat.

 “Dear Miss Evans, my deepest sympathy on the loss of your beloved mother.” Signed, “Sincerely, Mr. Liam Pryce.”

She had assumed they were from her mother’s friends. Never did she think otherwise.

The sentiments were written on a note card from The Traveller’s Inn, in Placentia, one town over. She should have guessed.

Rereading the card several times and absently touching where the ink met the paper, Gwen stared at Mr. Pryce’s elegant handwriting. The card clearly indicated where he was staying. Gwen looked back at her grandmother’s portrait and smiled.

“I guess I’ve got my answer.”

Mr. Pryce would be receiving a visitor, bright and early tomorrow morning.

"Love Eternal" by Lisa Forget- Chapters 3 & 4

Chapter Three

Talgarth Castle, Wales

5^th century

            Dwynwen was greeted by a familiar melody as she descended the stairs of Talgarth castle. The May carol rang from the harp in the great hall and she could not help but hum along in harmony.

            Since the break of dawn, the castle was alive with the sound of servants preparing for the feast of Nos Calan Mai, the eagerly anticipated celebration of fertility and new life.

            She peered into the great hall before joining her family standing near the main entrance decorated with branches of draenen wen, laden with plump, red berries. The tapestries had been cleaned and now adorned the stone walls aglow from thrushes lit and hung about the room. The fire roared in the hearth filling the room with warmth and a sweet, fruity scent .

“I was beginning to wonder what was keeping you.” Ceinwen whispered. “Father requests we be ready for the arrival of our guests,” her sister said, gesturing toward their father arriving from his council chamber in his festive robe and tunic.

“Come.” Dwynwen took her sister’s hand scurrying over to him, placing a kissed on his cheek.

“There you are,” he said. “My two beauties.”

Delicate features, radiant complexions with sparkling eyes, his daughters warmed his heart with their love of life.

“I am truly blessed.” King Brychan of Brycheiniog turned to his family,  waiting by his side. “Let the merriment commence!”

The doors opened and visitors from the bordering kingdoms of Dyfed and Glywysing entered Talgarth castle.  Within moments, cups and trenchers were filled to overflowing, and conversations regarding the sporting games and the choosing of the May King and Queen could be overheard. Eager to participate, many young women hoped to be crowned May Queen.

“Go.” King Brychan addressed his children, a cup of mead in his hands. “Enjoy the festivities.”

“You are most gracious, father.” Nectan, the king’s eldest son, bowed and then offered his arm to his sisters.“ Come, I will escort you.”

With eyes aglow with excitement, Dwynwen and Ceinwen followed their father on the arm of the heir to the throne.

“Dwynwen, Ceinwen!” The voice of their cousin Ifor echoed above the music. “May we have the pleasure of your company for the next dance?” 

“You haven’t promised it to anyone else, have you?”  His twin brother Tomos asked, stepping in their path.

“How could we?” Ceinwen smiled, turning to greet her cousin.

“We promised the first dance to you.” Dwynwen added. “If we may, dear brother?”

“Yes, of course.” Nectan nodded. “Ifor, Tomos, I am very pleased to see you again.”

“We are, as well.” The brothers replied.

The sisters took their cousins’ proffered hands and joined in the dancing where the pipers delighted the guests with a quick melody. The sisters were fluid dancers, and the foursome danced throughout the night.  

Dwynwen’s sweet smile captivated the hearts of many young men, as they longed to steal her away from her dancing partners, but none more than the regal one who had been watching her every move.  He decided she was by far the prettiest of all the women in the room.

She was perfect, and in so being, she would be his.

Chapter Four

Gwen’s eyes sprang open. She pushed herself up from the cushions of the settee in the parlour. She felt her hair falling loose against her shoulders, no longer tied back.

“What happened?”

“You fainted.” Mr. Pryce turned from the window, the gold pendant that had been swinging like a pendulum in his hands, stilled.

 “How do you feel?” Mr. Pryce asked.

“I don’t know. How should I feel?” Annoyed, she padded the cushions, searching for her hair clip. “I’ve never fainted before.”

“You’ve been through so much, you said so yourself. Perhaps more than I’d imagined.” He slid the pendant back into its pouch. “Now that you are recovered, I will take my leave so you may rest, Miss Evans.” He took his hat and make his way to the front door. “I shouldn’t have come.  I apologize for adding to your burden.”

“But—" Bewildered, Gwen stared at the door, wondering what exactly had happened in this morning and how, in only a few moments, her simple life could be filled with so many questions. She sprang to the window but Mr. Pryce was nowhere in sight. She threw open the door and dashed down the porch steps. Turning in a circle, she glanced around, but the man had disappeared, just as he had a few days ago.

Only this time she knew who he was.

Liam Pryce.

Leaning against the post, the things he’d said to her came flooding back. Nothing made sense, but neither did mysterious whispers and humming noises. Could they all be connected? She had to find out more about Mr. Liam Pryce from Wales.  A stranger in a small and protective town like Angel’s Cove didn’t usually go unnoticed, especially if he had been asking making inquiries. Her most reliable source of information was sitting in the front office of the parish parsonage, and she had an appointment with him this morning. Running back into the house, she gathered her things and left, slamming the door on her way out.

Mr. Pryce felt the vibrations of the front door banging shut, and Gwen’s determined footsteps descending the stairs, as he leaned against the side of the Evans’ home. Catching his breath and bracing himself against the pain in his chest, he waited until Miss Evans’ footsteps faded before venturing back out onto the road.

* * * *

“Gwen. I’m happy to see you,” Reverend Matthews said as he opened the door.

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

“No, you’re right on time,” he replied, leading her to his office. “Please excuse the mess.  I’m attempting to do some filing.”

She noticed papers strewn across his desk. The paperwork her mother usually took care of, no doubt. The reverend looked tired. His face looked older, his eyes, dimmer. Gwen wondered when he’d hire a replacement. Her heart ached at the thought.

“Let me clear a spot,” he said, straightening up his desk. “Here, sit down.”

“Thank you.” She took a seat in front of his desk. “I’m so grateful for your help.”

“Your mother was… well, you know.” He slid some files into the top drawer of his desk and sat down in his chair. Swallowing hard he looked up. An unguarded truth about how much he loved her mother, shone in his eyes, confirming what Gwen had always suspected. “I’m happy to help you, in any way I can.”

 “You were special to her as well.  I hope you know that.”

The reverend, lowered his head and nodded. “Thank you for saying so. Should we get started on this paperwork?”

“Of course. But before we do, I just wanted to tell you that I had a visitor this morning, a man from Wales claiming to have known my mother’s family.”

“From Wales?’

 “Liam Pryce,” Gwen replied. “Have you heard of him. He says our families are somehow connected.”

“I can’t say that I have.” He looked puzzled. “Is he a relative?”

“No, I don’t think so.” She took the pendant from around her neck and placed it on the desk.  “Look at what Mum left me. Her letter said it had been in her family for years, but I’d never seen it before. Mr. Pryce had one exactly like it.” 

“It’s a Celtic cross, a common religious symbol,” the reverend said, shrugging. “Perhaps it’s a coincidence that they look similar.”

“There are exactly alike, and both have an inscription on the back.”

The reverend turned the pendant over in his hands.

 “According to Mr. Pryce, it’s written in Welsh, and it says ‘a cross to guide us and a never-ending circle to bind us forever’. His pendant had the same inscription. It can’t be a coincidence.”

“That does seem odd,” he mused.  “And this last word here, is that your grandmother’s name?”

“Mr. Pryce said the name actually belongs to one of our ancestors. That a connection exists because of the name, and the two pendants”

“I’m sure he intended to only offer his condolences and used the pendant as a way to start conversation.”  He handed the pendant back to her. “Perhaps he’s a history and genealogy enthusiast.”

“He did seem to know a lot about that sort of thing, but he didn’t stay long so I didn’t get a chance to ask,”  she said, deciding against telling him what they had actually talked about.  “So, you haven’t heard gossip about a stranger in town and where he might be staying?”

“No, I’m afraid not.” His brow furrowed.  “Is everything all right?  Was the visit unpleasant? Did he try—?”

“Oh no. Nothing like that. I guess I was just caught off-guard about the pendant, especially since Mum never mentioned it before. I’d be interested to know more.”

 “Well, your mother kept a lot of things to herself, so don’t be vexed about that.”

“I’m not.”

“And, I’ve haven’t really been out this past week, so I’ve not heard anything, but Mrs. Reilly might know. She knows everything.”

 Gwen chuckled. “I’ll ask her, when I visit Anne later.”

“Well now my curiosity is piqued,” the reverend said, sliding a folder across the desk.

Gwen opened the folder and took the pen the reverend offered to her.

“So is mine,” she whispered.

"Love Eternal" by Lisa Forget -- Chapter 2

Despite getting very little rest over the course of the weekend, thanks to strange and vivid dreams, Gwen was determined to keep her Monday morning appointment with Reverend Matthews. He expected her at his office to sign final papers, and settle her mother’s affairs. However hard it would be, she had to cope with her grief and face things head on to take care of what needed to be done.

 Tucking her handbag under her arm, Gwen opened the front door only to be met by piercing black eyes. “Oh, my goodness, it’s you!”

“My apologies,” the stranger from the cemetery said. “I was just about to knock.”

 “You startled me.” The man who’d been appearing in some of those strange dreams she’d been having, was now standing right in front of her.

“You remember me.” His eyes searched her face.

“I…I was distraught at the time, but of course…I mean yes, I remember you from… the other day.” The heat rose in her cheeks and her pulse quickened as she gripped the door, trying to make sense of her reaction to a man she didn’t even know. “Can I help you?”

“Actually, I think you’re the only one who can.”

She glanced past him, scanning the road in front of her house. “Is someone hurt?” 

“No, it’s nothing of that nature,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s that… you’re the only one who can help me. Actually, I believe we’re destined to help each other.”

 “Destined? I’m sorry Mr…?”

“Pryce.” He tipped his hat.

“Mr. Pryce,” she repeated, noticing his accent but unable to quite place it. “I don’t understand.”

“Our meeting one another has been a long time in coming.” He raised his hand to his brow, wiping what looked to be a nervous sheen. “I’ve been looking for you for months.”

“Looking for me?” His words should have raised some sort of alarm; but when his eyes again met hers,  Gwen was distracted by how they weren’t black, but a beautiful warm brown, flecked with gold.  A gust of wind blew through the open door, making her shudder. “Whatever for?” 

“Could you spare a few moments to speak with me?” Mr. Pryce held on to his hat, as the wind seemed determined to blow it away.

“I have an appointment this morning Mr. Pryce. Couldn’t you just tell me why you’re here and why you’ve been looking for me?”

“It’s complicated and a mite unbelievable. If I don’t have a few moments to explain properly, I may make such a mess of this that you’d be inclined to order me off your porch.”

 “I just might do that anyway.”

“Yes, of course, and that would be completely understandable,” he said with a tight-lipped smile. He nodded and then let out a breath.  “It would seem…I can’t live without you.”

“W-What?” She sputtered. “You’ve definitely mistaken me for someone else.”

            “Believe me, I’m not mistaken.”

“Oh, you are, Mr. Pryce, and if you’ll excuse me, I really have to go.” Gwen reached out to close the door, but Mr. Pryce caught her hand with his.

“Please give me a chance to explain, Miss Evans.”

She went still. “How do you even know me?”

 “This isn’t how I imagined it would be. I’m sorry.”

“Imagined what would be?” Gwen wondered if he meant the tingling sensation emanating from where his hand touched hers.  

“I don’t want to frighten you. I promise, I mean you no harm.”

She pulled her hand from his grasp, looking him squarely in the eye. “I’m not afraid.”

“Then you’re braver than I.” His eyes were filled with an emotion Gwen felt was surely too intimate to be appropriate.

“Why are you looking at me that way?” 

 “You don’t know how important this moment is for me. Please, allow me just a few moments.”

His sincerity rang true, Gwen thought, and hadn’t she, only a few days ago, wished for a few more moments to find out more about him?

“I’ll give you ten.”

“I’ll make them count.” Mr. Pryce crossed the threshold and entered the house.

* * * *

“You have a lovely home.” Mr. Pryce’s gaze shifted to the portrait above the piano.

“That’s my grandmother in the painting,” Gwen said, glancing up at Nan’s youthful, oval face. Her fine features framed by rich caramel coloured hair, a shade darker than Gwen’s but wavy and long like hers. Her almond-shaped, ocean-blue eyes looked out from under her long, dark lashes. They held a playful sparkle, and in Gwen’s opinion, her grandmother’s most striking feature. 

“You look like her.”

 “Nan used to say the women in our family had a strong resemblance.”

“Is that so?”

Gwen watched Mr. Pryce carefully as he took in his surroundings then turned back to her.  “Please tell me why you’re here.”

 “Yes, of course.” He placed his hat on the table by the settee. “I’ll begin by saying that our story began many years ago.”

“Our story? We’ve only just met.” 

            “That may be true but you might say I’m an old soul.”  

            “And how does that have anything to do with me?”

            “Well, I believe you are an old soul, as well.”

            “I still don’t see how our souls have –”

            “That’s why I came here. To invite you back to my home in Snowdonia.” The light in his eyes shone hopeful. “Where I believe everything would make sense.”

 “I’m stunned. Why would you come to Angel’s Cove thinking I’d go back with you?” Gwen’s eyes followed him as he began to pace back and forth.

 “Seeing the look of distrust in your eyes, I’m asking myself the same thing,” he replied. “After all this time, planning what I was going to say to you, I realize that I’ve gone about this all wrong.  I should have written to you. Introduced myself. Perhaps explained in a letter. I can’t blame you for thinking I’m out of my head.”

“It’s not that I think you’re crazy, only believing I would follow a stranger to wherever it is that you come from is—”

“Wales.” Mr. Pryce stopped pacing.

“You’re from Wales?”

“Yes, I live there with my family.  You have ancestors from there as well.”

A memory flashed in her mind of Nan recounting how their ancestors, the Brecons, had come from Wales.

Although you don’t know it yet, we are connected, you and I.”

Gwen stared at Mr. Pryce, her brows knitting together.

“I swear it’s the truth. I know everything would become clear if you return with me to the Snowdonia Mountains. I’m certain of it.”

 “How can you possibly think I’d go with you to Wales and why would I want to?”

A bead of perspiration ran down in his brow. “Because our families share an intimate history.”

 “For Heaven’s sake, I don’t even know you!”

“Miss Evans, you’ve only given me ten minutes to convince you…” He ran his hand through his hair, struggling for the right words to say. “Our history binds your family and mine in a way that we cannot live one without the other.”

“There you go again with that!”

“I understand you’ve-”

“You don’t understand anything about what I’ve gone through, Mr. Pryce.” She gripped the back of the chair. “I don’t know what you’re really looking for by coming here. I have no fortune hidden away.  I don’t know much about the history of my family, but I can guarantee I’m not the person you cannot live without.”

“Miss Evans, I’m not looking for money. I would never take anything from you.”

“Well I wanted to make it clear, since we don’t know each other.”

 “But I do know you,” he replied. “You were born January 25^th 1914, the only child of Catherine Brecon and Thomas Evans.  You’ve lived in this town, in this house, all of your life.”

Gwen’s eyes narrowed. “Facts easily obtained if one knows where to look.”

“You were an excellent student, you’re an asset to the hospital, you attend church every Sunday, and you’re very well liked, especially by someone named John Allen.”

Was it her imagination, or did his jaw tighten when he mentioned John’s name? “John’s just a friend.”

“Anne Reilly, the woman who consoled you in the cemetery, she is your closest childhood friend.” The details were becoming more personal.

“Obviously, you have me at a disadvantage, and I don’t like it. How you were able to get people to tell you these things about me, confounds me.”

“I didn’t. They only confirmed what I already knew. I told you, there’s a connection. You hold the key to everything.” 

“What key?”

Mr. Pryce reached into his cloak, pulled out a black leather pouch and placed it in Gwen’s hand. “Open it. The contents might help explain.”

His fingers brushed her palm, sending a shiver up her arm. Gwen stared at the pouch for a brief moment before untying the leather thong and emptying its contents into her hand. She bit the inside of her lip to hide her surprise.

In her palm she held the same gold pendant as the one her mother left to her, the same one hidden beneath her blouse.

A soft vibrating hum resonated. Her eyes darted to Mr. Pryce, wondering if he could hear it, too.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Does it belong to you, Mr. Pryce?” 

“Yes. There’s an engraving on the back.”

Gwen turned the pendant over, staring at the familiar intricate artwork. The engraving was etched exactly the same with one difference.

 “Dwynwen,” she said aloud.

“Yes. And there is the first bit of evidence I have to prove our families are connected.”

“How so?” she asked.

 “Dwynwen is your grandmother’s name.  The engraving reads ‘A cross to guide us and a never-ending circle to bind us, forever’. It’s a promise. A vow. Made to Dwynwen. The first in your family,” he said, gesturing to the portrait on the wall. “Those who came after were named for her, your great grandmother included.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Dwynwen, she had a pendant just like this one. You have seen it, I’m sure.”

 “Mr. Pryce, I’ve never seen anything like it.” The pendant, like her lie, weighed heavy on her chest. “You claim to know all about my family, yet…”

 “Miss Evans, it is imperative that I return home as soon as possible. Your coming to Wales is a matter of life and death.  Doesn’t the engraving, and its message help convince you I’m connected to your family?”

“How could you possibly think such a thing?  There are no facts, no proof, only a name, which convinces me of nothing. You may know things about me, and the ability to find out more when you came to Angel’s Cove, but you can’t possibly know about the rest of my family. And if my grandmother did own a pendant like this, how would you know?”

“Because, I do, Miss Evans.”

            “That’s not the right answer. A matter of life and death….really!”  Gwen grumbled as she marched to the front door and threw it open. “Your time is up, Mr. Pryce.”

Mr. Pryce was on Gwen’s heels and when she turned, he caught her hands once more.

“What are you doing?” she asked, feeling something like an electric shock pass between them.

“I didn’t come all this way to give up so easily. I know Dwynwen had a pendant just like this one.” He stared down at the pendant still clenched in Gwen’s fist. “I believe your mother gave it to you.”

He knew about the pendant, the twin of the one in her hand!  But how? 

Damn it! Damn him!

Gwen pulled away from him, steadying herself on the banister of the staircase by the door, “All right, you won’t tell me how you know all these things, but maybe you can answer one question.”

“If I can, I will.”

 “Who is Liam?” 

Mr. Pryce stood unblinking for what felt to Gwen like an endless moment.  “I am.”

Gwen gasped for breath as the walls closed in on her.

“Gwen, are you all right?”  The man with the name that had only hours ago, echoed in the silence of her mournful home, called out to her as she felt her body sink to the floor. 

Mr. Pryce caught her in his arms, the pendant slipped from her grasp, falling onto the floor, where it landed with a soft thud.

"Love Eternal" by Lisa Forget --Chapter 1

I hope this message finds you and your family well in these strange and uncertain times.

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.

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! 

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.