| Weaver's Daughter Four Maire was determined ta do a better job of seemin "normal." She held up her head and went through her days, gainin a bit at bein able ta get her work done, able with an effort ta speak ta those who spoke ta her. Still, she would find herself "driftin" - stirrin a pot, her eyes would go outta focus and instead of the dinner before her, she saw Bowman crossin the meadow. Sortin the fruit she'd gathered, she'd see Bowman laughin as he teasin'ly plucked a choice speciman from her basket. Sayin her prayers, she'd hear his happy whistle as he strode purposefully down the path toward her. At such times she'd "come to" with a start, her body frozen in position, her mind so very far away. She had no way of knowin how long she'd been thus - except when the porridge was stickin and even once, burned. |
| Maire tried ta breathe, but the best she could manage was a choking sob. Her hand flew ta her mouth as she near strangled tryin ta say his name, afraid ta believe 'twas really him. Their eyes locked and in an instant the pain, the uncertainty, the horrible fear was gone. In Bow's eyes Maire saw the mirror of her own doubt and the question his soul asked of her answered the one she'd carried so long through the long, cold weeks of separation. Bowman stopped, himself afraid he'd presumed too much, nae havin asked her about her feelins. He'd come so far, hurried so ta find her.......now that his eyes beheld his Maire (for so he always had thought of her as he worked ta prepare his home ta be theirs), his feet took sudden root and wouldnae carry him farther. He dumbly held out his hand ta her, fer he couldnae have spoken just then if his life depended on it. Indaid, perhaps it did, fer her answer would either kill him or give him eternal joy. A brave, strong lad he was, but at this moment his heart refused ta beat, nor would his lungs draw air. And yet, the hand he held out was steady, still as stone. All that he was or could ever be was in the palm of that hand, offered up ta the One, the only one fer him. As Bowman's feet failed him, Maire's suddenly returned ta her service and she flew to that hand, that heart, that man. She niver knew after if she'd stumbled or been graceful. All that mattered was that he, her Bow, was there, was reachin fer her, and she would go ta him, be in his arms before she took another breath. Thinkin back, years later, she thought if she'd been a graceful sort, mayhap she would have walked sedately up ta Bowman, extended her hand, and gently laid it in his upturned palm. Aye, another maight have done just that. But Maire needed him too badly, wanted him too desperately, loved him far too much fer patience. She ran inta his arms, ran fer her very life. He enfolded her in his embrace and heart ta heart they stood, rockin, each knowin with joy and relief that they would indaid live, fer their two hearts began at once ta beat again, beatin in perfect rhythm. Somethin in Maire's core settled inta place with a nearly audible clunk and at once she felt settled, safe.........whole. |
| Music: |
| He reached his hand ta her, and on his bare palm he offered her. . .the universe. |
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| 'Twas just so she found herself one bright day, standin under a bloomin pear tree. She had come ta inspect the Spring blossoms, fer of such is the Harvest made in late Summer. |
| One hand gently bent down a low branch, the other lifted a delicate cluster of blossoms. Her expert eye took note of their perfection, the absence of blight or insect damage. |
| She was gratified ta see no damage from late frost - it had been a near thing with the apple blossoms but they, too, had weathered the Spring well and there would likely be an abundance of fruit. Without conscious thought, Maire's eyes no longer saw the snowy blossoms before her. Instead, she saw the gleam of white teeth between smilin, laughin lips as Bowman snatched an apple from her basket. Had that been so long ago? It seemed only yesterday..... or mayhap it had been an eternity. Her woman's tattered heart followed her wandering thoughts and her body, forgotten, froze in place as though cast of wax. |
| 'Twas thus she stood when fer the first time since her grief began there was somethin different: a flutter..........becomin stronger and stronger, deep within her breast. |
| Her heart was nae dead atall, fer now it leapt in unmistakable joy. Maire didnae think nor question - it was much too fast fer that. But she knew - she knew - that Bowman was near. She drew breath (when had she last breathed, a part of her wondered) and whirled, nae atall surprised ta see him - Him! - comin towards her. |