Prentice’s eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling.
He understood it was selfish, hearing this additional evidence of Elle’s loneliness, but he couldn’t deny what registered deep in his soul.
And he knew exactly what it was because he’d felt it many times before.
He felt it when he first met Elle.
He felt it when they were reunited after their first separation, when he saw her adorable, nervous stutter step while she was approaching him in Fergus’s driveway the second summer she came to Scotland.
He felt it again, only moments later, when she was in his arms and she said to him with such deep feeling, “Not as much as I missed you.”
He felt it when she agreed to marry him.
He felt it when he watched Fiona walk toward him down the aisle.
He felt it both times Fee told him she was pregnant and after both times she safely delivered a healthy child.
He felt it when he moved his family into the house he’d designed and built for them.
He felt it when he read the ridiculous good-bye note Elle left after the first night they shared together, a note that included a PS that there was coffee made and Danish at the ready.
He felt it when Sally woke up from her coma and recognized him instantly.
He felt it when Elle forgave him for his betrayal.
And he felt it now.
And that feeling was blessed.
Careful not to disturb her, Prentice rolled and turned off the light.
And, within seconds of pulling Elle close, Prentice joined her in a deep, dreamless, peaceful, sated, blessed sleep.
Fiona
Fiona woke up in her tent wondering when she’d get to go wherever she was going.
Her work was done.
And she was pretty damned satisfied with it if she did say so herself.
Therefore, she was kind of surprised she went back to her tent.
This couldn’t be it.
If Fiona existed, both her Nans and her Granda’ were somewhere out there and Fiona couldn’t imagine why she’d be kept from them. She couldn’t imagine eternity was alone.
Then again, it could be that horrible black place, so she probably shouldn’t complain.
She wandered out of her tent and stopped dead.
A man stood at the stream. He was wearing a white suit, he had thick white hair, a white goatee and a white string tie.
He looked like a thinner, younger Colonel Sanders of chicken fame, except his string tie wasn’t black and he wasn’t wearing glasses.
“Are you God?” she whispered, thinking it was kind of funny that God looked like Colonel Sanders.
Then again, the Colonel’s chicken was nothing to sneeze at, it couldn’t be described as divine but it certainly tasted good.
The man smiled and shook his head.
“An angel?” she breathed as he walked to her.
“I’m not an angel, Fiona, I’m a messenger.”
“An angelic messenger?” Fiona asked.
“Um…” he hesitated, “something like that.”
“Are you here to take me to heaven?” she enquired, certain she knew the answer, certain that he was definitely there to take her to heaven but suddenly uncertain she wanted to go.
She hadn’t had a chance to say good-bye to Sally and Jason.
Or Prentice.
Or, even, Bella.
“No, Fiona, your work is not yet done.”
Fiona stared at him not getting a good feeling about this.
Then she asked, “My work?”
He nodded.
“What work?” Fiona went on.
“Before you…” he paused a moment then continued, “move on, you have to commit one selfless act.”
There it was.
She got it.
And she just knew it.
She had to give up Prentice and her family to Bella before she could move on.
“Tick that one off, Messenger Man,” Fiona state proudly, straightening her shoulders. “Last night –”
“You don’t think it would be that easy,” Messenger Man interrupted her and Fiona was back to staring.
Easy?
He thought that was easy?
That wasn’t easy!
It was, at first, frustrating. Then annoying. Then heartbreaking (okay, so all of the time it was heartbreaking).
And a lot of other things besides.
What it wasn’t was easy.
“I don’t get it,” Fiona told him and she went statue-still when his hand came up and rested on her arm.
She stared at his hand.
No one had touched her in fifteen months.
She didn’t know this man but his touch felt good.
She swallowed and looked back at him.
“There isn’t much time and there isn’t much I can say. You’re learning your way but you have to be faster, Fiona. If you don’t, they’ll win,” he told her.
“Who’ll win what?” Fiona enquired, confused.
“They’ll win…” he hesitated again before he said, “you.”
Instantly, she understood.
And it frightened the life out of her (figuratively, of course).
“The black,” she whispered and he nodded sadly.
“We can hold it at bay for only so long,” he explained.
“I don’t want to go there again,” Fiona told him in a horror filled voice.
“And you don’t belong there but you have to succeed and you have to do it soon.”
“But, Bella –”
“Has experienced a lifetime of pain,” he interrupted her. “One night of understanding is not going to erase that, Fiona.”
What he said made sense.
And it was also irritating.
“I’ve been doing everything I can,” Fiona informed him. “And it hasn’t been easy.”
“It isn’t supposed to be.”
“Well, then, you gave me a good task because it’s not,” Fiona shot back.
“There are dangers,” he warned, his voice was dire and Fiona felt her stomach twist.
“Dangers?” she whispered.
“To Isabella. There are dangers lurking,” he replied.
Oh no.
“What dangers?” Fiona asked. “Her father?”
He shook his head, clearly not going to answer.
Fiona’s irritation grew. “You have to help especially if Bella’s in danger! I wouldn’t know what to do!”
“Use your magic,” he advised.
Fiona, again, stared. What was he on about?
“Magic?”
“Yes, your magic.” When she continued to stare, he explained, sounding impatient, “You are her fairy godmother.”
Fiona broke her stare to blink.
Then she asked, “Fairy godmother?”
His brows drew together. “You didn’t know?”
“No,” she snapped. “I didn’t know. I’m Prentice’s wife. Sally and Jason’s mother. I thought I was a ghost. A fairy godmother is fat and jolly and has a magic wand and didn’t used to be in love with and married to the heroine’s handsome hero, for goodness sake!”
Messenger Man got closer and squeezed her arm. “There are those, not many, who slide straight to black. There are those, not many, who lived lives so filled with good deeds, they move directly on. But all the rest, Fiona, are put to one final test. Especially if they’ve lived lives, no matter how short, filled with bounty. You,” he squeezed her arm again, “had a life cut short but it was a life filled with bounty. You have to share your bounty before you move on. It might be difficult, my dear, but it is the way, the only way, for you to move on.”
Fiona sucked in the breath she did, indeed, breathe in this strange world.