I smiled my thanks, not sure what to say next, but Cora bridged the gap for me.
“I know there are some in this family that disagree with me, but I want you to know how I feel on the matter, because you can be sure those who feel differently will make their opinions known.”
Her face turned a little more serious, but I couldn’t imagine Cora ever able to convey the finer workings of those less savory emotions. “I’ve been a part of this family for over a century—a long time—and I’ve never seen William so . . .”—her forehead crinkled—“peaceful,” she settled for finally. “He’s always been a good man, far beyond good actually, but there was a tangible sadness that surrounded him. Seeing him yesterday was like seeing the same man, but without the chains of darkness that held him down.”
She smiled when one of the far off surfers careened into the water. “You’ve given him the hope and love he’s always searched for, and you two should not let anything, or anyone, stop you from being together.” She turned her eyes to mine and the sapphire color was ablaze with conviction. “Your love shouldn’t be subject to some ruling of a Council.” She stopped and poured herself another cup of coffee.
I stared at her for a moment, wanting to ask her a question, but I didn’t want her to think I was being nosey. The warmth of her face helped me to decide.
“But what about you and Joseph, and Abigail and Nathanial? You were all Betrothed and then United by the Council and you all appear to be perfectly happy with the ones the Council selected for you.”
“We are,” she answered simply. I blew at the wisps of steam flowing over my cup, waiting for her to explain. “I’m not saying our code and the Council’s ways are bad—I’m saying that if you already love someone with such magnitude, you shouldn’t have to gain the approval and blessing of the Council to be together.”
I shot her a puzzled expression, so she continued, “From the day an Immortal is created, we are taught the codes of our kind, so it is cemented into our minds that we are not the ones to select our mates, but to carry out our callings with selflessness and restraint and when the time is right, the Council will grant a Betrothal.” Her eyes squinted from her concentration. “But with you and William, it’s different. He’s loved you since the first time he saw you in his dreams. He’s spent two hundred years loving you, and you fell in love with him when you were still Mortal, so of course that love translated when you were Immortalized.” She looked at me knowingly, as if waiting for a rebuff. I kept quiet though. I had fallen in love with William as a Mortal.
“The code should have no right to deny or punish such righteous love.” She sat her cup down and clapped her hands as she sat up. “So . . . that’s all I’ll say on the matter. I love William, and because he loves you, I love you as well now. His and your happiness are my concern, not the Council’s,” she finished, standing up.
She collected her mug and the empty coffee pot, and slid through the slider door. “I’ll talk to you later, Bryn. Patrick wants to have a word with you.” She shot me a sisterly smile, and disappeared into the cottage.
When I turned to look at the figures riding the thrashing waves, there were only three. My eyes fell upon the missing fourth who was jogging up the beach towards the cottage. I stood up as he approached.
“Hey-a, Bryn,” he shouted, beaming. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
I looked up at the nearly black, rain-filled clouds above, and then to the form of the dark-haired older brother that sailed over the storm-induced waves. “Yes, it is,” I replied wholeheartedly.
“Can I steal you away for awhile?” he asked, as he stuck the end of his surfboard into the sand beside the patio. “As soon as he gets back,”—he motioned to the surfing figures on the horizon—“I’ll have lost my chance.”
“Sure, of course.” I was feeling especially generous today. Must have something to do with last night.
“Super. Let me get changed real quick and I’ll be right back.” His black wetsuit was dripping wet.
“Good idea,” I agreed quickly.
When he walked past me, he shook his head violently and his long blonde hair released a ring of wet spray, his target obviously me.
“Don’t press you luck, mister,” I warned, wiping away the droplets of ocean water on my face with the sleeve of William’s sweatshirt. “I may be in an extra good mood this morning, but it seems to run out quickly with you and your antics.” I smiled my warning at him.
“Yeah, I bet you’re in a good mood this morning. You know, we all took bets last night as to what color eyes you two would wake up with today,” he said, as he scrambled through the open door before I could find something to throw at him. “I lost fifty bucks!”
Since there were no clay pots lying around, I settled for sliding one of my sandals off and chucking it through the door where he’d almost rounded the corner out of view. Almost.
“Ouch!” he exclaimed, as I choked on the laugh I tried to stifle. “It’s a good thing you and William can’t procreate. With his speed and your accuracy, your kids would be deadly throwing machines,” he yelled back at me.
I turned my eyes back to the thundering ocean waves at the three remaining surfers; although, I really only noticed one. I took my seat and continued my lustful affair with the steaming cup of coffee while I waited for Patrick.
“Your weapon of choice, milady.” I startled as Patrick threw my sandal into my lap.
He’d changed in less than a minute, and while the rolled up khakis and cable-knit sweater had replaced his dripping wetsuit, his long hair was still drenched and had formed a wet ring around his sweater.
“Do you mind if we talk and walk?” he asked, motioning to the endless beach in front of us.
“Absolutely not.” I stood up and removed my remaining sandal and followed him onto the sandy loam.
Patrick was silent as we ambled down the empty beach. The cottage had long been out of sight, and Patrick still hadn’t uttered a single word. Wasn’t he the one that said he wanted to talk?
My silent patience ran out. “Just spit it out, Patrick. Really, I can take it.” My thoughts were on what Cora had said about other family members not agreeing with her, and even as annoying as Patrick was, I genuinely hoped he wasn’t one of them.
He stared back at a couple of stray logs lying at the bottom of a tall dune, and motioned to them. “Do you mind if we take a seat?”
I answered him by walking towards the sun-bleached logs and seated myself on one of their smooth surfaces. Patrick situated himself on the log across from me. His face was locked in seriousness and his eyes looked everywhere but into mine. I grew more anxious every second he kept silent, knowing whatever he was going to speak with me about held a great deal of significance.
I exhaled my anxiety when he started talking. “I love William the most of all my brothers.” He chuckled, somehow managing to make it sound serious. “Actually, we’d all say that about him—he’s been the leader of our family from the beginning, even when we were Mortals, and we all know there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for us.”
He grabbed a long crooked stick resting at his feet and began drawing in the sand. “Being the leader comes with a high cost, and he’s suffered a great deal. More than any of us can imagine.”
My stomach felt sick when I thought of the suffering he’d endured.
“Any of us would do anything to protect him from more pain. He’s tried his whole life to shield us from it, but we were all trying to keep him from the same thing. The Foretellings create a hell that none of us can even begin to understand, and then there was before—” Patrick stopped abruptly, and looked into my eyes for the first time since we’d left the cottage. “Has he told you anything about our Mortal lives?” he asked, his eyes filling with grief. “How we became Immortals?”
My throat was too dry to reply, so I shook my head. I’d been desperate to know since I discovered the magnitude of his blood family that were Immortals. I’d guessed it had to have been horrifying, but I couldn’t ruin the bliss of last night by asking William.
Patrick’s head rolled back, his eyes closed, and he took in a deep breath; as if preparing to unleash some unimaginable horror. “It was 1780, and we were living outside of Charleston. Our parents were well-to-do and had strong ties with the separatist movements. There were five of us children then.” His face flinched, and he looked away from me. “Nathanial, William, me, Joseph and our little sister, Elisabeth. She was only ten—far younger that any of us—but we adored her.”
He looked off into the distance, smiling as if remembering something from the past. “She was the female equivalent of William and Joseph combined—happy and likable like Joseph, and intelligent and compassionate like William.” He chuckled and shook his head. “She was fortunate she didn’t take on the rougher characteristics of Nathanial and me.”
I tried to imagine the Hayward brother’s little sister and how much she took after her brothers; with the wide, full-lashed eyes of William, and the quick, brilliant smile of Joseph’s.
“We were all avid colonialists, eager to be rid of Britain’s tyranny, but William was especially. So much, he started his own militia, and before long, they were well known throughout the colonies as an imposing threat to the British. The Colonialists idolized these brave young men, while the British prayed they would never meet them in battle. William was fearless and a natural leader. Men wanted to follow him . . . they gravitated to him, and soon his militia swelled in numbers.”
I heard the raucous chortle of seagulls overhead, but I paid them no attention—I was transfixed in the scene Patrick was painting for me of the Hayward’s Mortal lives.
“A traitor in William’s militia gave up the name and location of its leader, and the British surmised an army to march upon our plantation. William was on an unusual leave and enjoying a couple days away from the war when they came for him.” Patrick’s voice began to waiver, and he focused his eyes on the sand below him.
“We were all outside, just preparing to have supper, when they marched through the front gates. There had to have been a hundred. My father begged William to escape, to run away before they captured him, but he wouldn’t go. He wouldn’t leave his family behind.”
I bit the side of my tongue, trying to focus on that small pain so I couldn’t focus on the larger one growing inside me as Patrick’s tale progressed.
“William immediately surrendered, but they weren’t appeased with just him—they came for so much more.” Patrick’s eyes grew wide, and I bit down harder on my tongue, praying for the physical pain to chase away the emotional that was accruing.
“They grabbed our mother, Nathanial’s new wife, and”—he sniffed harshly, and the glassiness in his eyes paralyzed me—“they grabbed Elisabeth too. We tried to fight, but there were nearly twenty armed men to each of us. They bound our arms behind our backs, wrapped pieces of cloth around our mouths, and marched us to the large sycamore that stood in the front of our plantation. They had our mother, Emma, and Elisabeth already strung up and sitting on horses, and once they crippled our knees out from underneath us so we were kneeling mere yards away from them . . . they pulled the horses out from underneath the three woman we all loved, and we were forced to watch them die the slow, agonizing death of a merciless hanging.” Patrick buried his head between his hands, dropping the stick to the side.