Love by the Stroke of Midnight by Raven McAllan (best historical biographies .txt) 📗

needed to enable him to gather her close. “We need to head out. Because when it’s your birthday at home and also here we have something to do.”

“Can I grab something to eat?” Marcail followed him into the kitchen. It was a sign of just how far her ideas had changed that she hadn’t thought to ask what trick he was pulling to make her think she was on the other side of the world and to accept she was.

They were.

“My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut,” she added as it rumbled. “Even a biscuit would do.”

Paden handed her an insulated mug and a bacon roll. “This okay for now? I promise you some of the best fish and chips ever, after. But we need to move, we’ve got half an hour.”

“For what?”

“Wait and see.”

Marcail took a healthy bite out of the bread and let the smoky flavour of the bacon coat her tongue and roll onto her taste buds. “Damn good,” she said through a mouthful of bread and meat. She sighed with pleasure and took another mouthful. She finished the roll in record time and wiped her hands on a napkin. “Ready. I’m in your hands, without a spanner this time.”

Paden laughed at that comment. “I was a wee bit worried when I saw that. I’m glad I passed the test, whatever it was.”

They left the house, and Marcail got her first look around the area. Down a short but steep hill, traffic passed on what looked to be a busy main road. To the left was another hill, higher than the one they were on, with what appeared to be a monument on top of it. To the right was the water she’d glimpsed from the bedroom.

Her heart sped up as hand in hand they headed down towards the lake. “Where’s that Wanaka Tree?” she asked. “Bonnie was most insistent I went to see it.”

“You will soon, it’s at the other end of town.” Paden shepherded her across the road—as if I were a child, Marcail thought, amused—and onto the shore of the lake. “We need to be there at midday.”

They skirted a children’s playground and walked past a kiosk selling ice creams with a small queue of people waiting by it. If she hadn’t just pigged out on her bacon roll, and had been looking forward to fish and chips, Marcail would have joined them.

On the water several canoes were occupied, and people leisurely paddled parallel to the shore. Somewhere a dog barked, and a child squealed with happiness.

A sense of peace enveloped Marcail as they strolled on. This far away from the centre of town there were less people—apart from several groups near the water’s edge, taking photos and fooling around. Those she could do without. It hit her that she’d hadn’t felt like she did at that moment for a very long time.

“It’s…” She hesitated. “It’s as if I belong here. Daft, but I feel this is my home.” She stole a quick look at Paden’s uncommunicative face. “Well, I do…” she finished lamely.

“That’s as it should be, mo ghaol.” Paden pointed ahead where a hundred yards away, several yards into the water, a lone tree stood. “Our destination. That Wanaka Tree.”

Marcail stopped dead and stared. “Is there really a rainbow around it? That’s flashing?”

“Only to those who see it. Those who are called to it.” He lowered his voice. “To those who need to gain its forgiveness. Its blessing.”

“And that’s us?” Marcail asked as they drew as close to it as they could without getting their feet wet.

“It is me, for forgiveness. It is for you to accept it.”

The way he spoke sounded archaic, but she understood what he meant.

“With the tree as our witness,” Paden continued. “Though what is needed is before its time, but it is here it needs to be said. If you don’t agree I am condemned to the other life. Life as it was. Wandering, wondering, wishing…” He sighed. “Waiting for who knows how long.”

“Clear as mud.”

“It will be as clear as crystal soon.”

“Go on then. Do we do this in the mind?”

Paden grinned. “Some of it maybe. But not all.” He fished in his pocket. “Marcail, mo ghaol, will you wear this for me? To show our ties, to show what we were and will be?”

“To atone for my sins when in our last time, I left, and couldn’t get back?”

“When?”

“When I came here, many moons ago. Stood here, where no tree stood, and vowed that you were the one for me. My one and only love. And…”

“And?”

Silence.

“Dammit, Paden, and…?” Marcail stared at his ashen face. “Paden, what’s wrong?” Was it possible to be standing and dead? She could see no sign of life.

The rainbow around the tree began to fade and suddenly she knew what she had to do.

“Of course I’ll wear it.” Even though she had no idea what the ‘it’ was. “I am your love, then and now.” And forever. Dammit, whoever this is down to, do something. I love him, my life will be empty if Paden isn’t in it.

With some difficulty, Marcail unfurled his fingers and prised a pearl from between them. A black pearl, on a long slender chain. Without any conscious thoughts, Marcail put the chain around her neck and clasped the pearl in her hands. It warmed to her touch.

Okay then, whoever has to do whatever has to be done, bloody well do it now. If he dies I will never, ever forgive you. And yes, okay, I thought he was a pain in the ass and a figment of my overactive brain until recently but… She choked back a sob. I don’t now, okay?

She went hot and cold and shivered as dark spots danced in front of her eyes. Why?

Then she understood.

All right, I’ll fess up, he’s been around me, looking after me in his own way for years, hasn’t he? That’s why I was drawn to him so fast. Why I…li…love him. He’s the other