Sister Maggie halted and put a hand on his shoulder. “They still ask about you, Father.” She smiled. “The people still care.”
“I’m glad.” He put an arm over the stout woman’s shoulders and tugged her down the path. “But this is good. This is what needs to happen, I think. The village was dying, Maggie. I’d taken care of it as well as I could, but in this age, it needed… something more. Someone human. Someone who could take a bigger part in the whole community, not just shepherd the church.”
“Are you going away, then? Permanently?” Her eyes wore a worried frown.
“Well… mostly.” He paused. “I think there’s a new calling for me, Sister. There are things in my life that I’ve put off. People who need me.”
They both fell silent for a few moments. Finally, she said, “You’re leaving the church, aren’t you?”
“I think I am.”
“Is it a crisis of faith, Father? Do you need counsel? I often feel that there is so little wisdom I could share with you, but I can offer a willing ear.”
“Ah, Maggie.” He squeezed her shoulder. “What a fine friend you are. It’s not a crisis of faith. Just a change in calling. Since Ioan’s death, I’ve been unsettled.”
“How?” They approached the old stone house and a thin trail of smoke snaked out of the chimney. It was still chilly at night, so Carwyn was happy he’d left the fire burning for the sister. As vigorous as Maggie was, she was getting older, too. She often seemed to ache in the mornings, though she never complained.
“I think I realized that, by trying to be all things, I was truly being none. I was pulled in too many directions. And…” He pulled the door open for her. “I’m… lonely.”
A glint came into her eyes. “You’ve met a woman, haven’t you?”
He cleared his throat. “I—why do you say that?”
Sister Maggie snickered. “Because you didn’t deny it immediately.”
“Oh, fishing for information, are we? There is… someone. I think.”
The sister smiled and unpinned the cloak she wore around her old grey dress. “I’m amazed you’ve lasted this long. You’ve far more self-control than most men, particularly with all the attention the fairer sex has given you over the years.”
Carwyn unwrapped his jacket, loosening the tight collar he’d worn for Father Samuel’s benefit while they met. He could at least pretend to be proper… until he abandoned it completely.
“For your information, Sister, I had determined to leave the ministry—mostly—before the woman happened.”
“And what happened?” She grabbed two beers and opened them, handing him one as they sat across from each other at the scarred kitchen table. The same table where they’d counseled each other, harassed each other, and joked for over thirty years. Carwyn smiled as he raised his beer. “Cheers.”
He would miss her. He would miss them all.
“It’s time,” he said quietly. “One thousand, forty-four years ago, I was turned into an immortal in these mountains. It wasn’t a day’s walk from here, Maggie. I’d been traveling from our community to another in the North. My mother and father were watching the children. My wife had died the previous spring and I was in a deep melancholy, so my father sent me on an errand. A simple errand.” His eyes drifted toward the fire, lost in his thoughts. “It should have been simple. But the storm hit very suddenly. The snow covered the path and I tripped in a hole.”
He shrugged. “A simple thing now. A broken leg. Go to the physician and have it set. But then, I was alone on my journey. I’d wanted it that way. I passed out from the pain after some time and when I woke, I’d lost my sense of direction. But I could see smoke in the distance, so I went toward it.” He ran a hand roughly through his shaggy hair. “Maelona was there. And I was dying. I wanted to live. No matter what.”
Sister Maggie was watching him carefully. “You still want to live, Carwyn. Perhaps more than any person I have ever met. You love life. You love your family. And now you love another, don’t you?”
His voice was hoarse. “With my whole heart.”
“Of course you would. You love everything that way, don’t you?” She smiled, drained her beer, and patted his hand. “So, what’s her name?”
“Brigid.” Just the name made him ache with longing.
“A good name. A saint and a goddess. Straddling two worlds. A powerful name.” Maggie nodded in approval. “Brigid was a leader. A protector. She held the fire of knowledge in her hands. And she is an immortal?”
“Yes, a young one.”
“Well, she’d have to be. Who else would put up with you? She must not know any better. And does she love you, too?”
“Yes.” He grinned. “Won’t admit it, though.”
Sister Maggie snorted. “Arrogant man. Typical. Have you made your intentions known to her? Does she know what you want?”
He frowned. “She’s bothered by the collar.”
“Well, that just makes her a good Catholic. Nothing wrong with that. You’ve told her that you’re leaving the priesthood, of course.” Maggie stood and took the empty bottles as she began to tidy the kitchen. “It might still be a bit awkward for her, but if she’s accustomed herself to drinking blood to survive, loving an ex-priest won’t be that much more difficult.”