place I was thinking of, my dear." It wasn't the child who needed caring for - it was the woman. Ireland was the home of the girl.
Green eyes narrowed. "Then what exactly did you mean?"
Moira sighed - it wouldn't do to let her inner pleasure show just now. Temper almost always meant the patient was getting better. "We all have places in the world where we feel rooted and watered. It isn't weakness to take time to be nourished. Go to yours."
Cass flared - and then deflated and nodded slowly. "To Margaree."
Moira had made the journey to the heart of Celtic music once or twice. It was a place of honesty and hard work. And deep, abiding passion. As a nest, it would do just fine. "A place well worth resting a while. "
The lovely woman across from her wavered. "It feels wrong to go."
And that was a very good thing - but it wasn't yet enough. "It seems that it also feels wrong to stay."
Sad eyes met hers.
A crossroads on the journey. Moira recited a quiet blessing for safe travels. And hoped she was doing the right thing. "Kevin and Morgan are not the only ones who will shed tears when you go." She squeezed hands strong from years of discipline and practice. "Go find your truth, Cassidy Farrell - and know that you carry a piece of this old witch's heart with you when you go."
Cass's eyes had found a new supply of tears. And as Moira stood, her own weren't entirely dry either.
It had always been Rosie who knew how to speak when she couldn't. Cass poured her aching heart into the instrument on her shoulder, every note painful.
And every one inching her feet back underneath her.
A traveler, finding her balance before she hit the road.
And a witch, trying to find her courage. Perhaps it wasn't cowardice to leave, to go seek solace in the music and the rocks and the people of Margaree.
But she had one thing to do before she went.
A gift she wasn't at all sure was in her power to give.
Cass gentled the music now, preparing. Gathering. Sophie and Nan believed healing lived in her hands. The power to share the rocks with others. A conduit for the heartbeat of the planet.
It sounded absurd. Her fingers danced, quick notes of disbelief. She was only a simple fiddler.
The rocks hummed steadily under her feet. They were simple too.
Cass closed her eyes, fingers slowing to a quiet lullaby. And setting aside all notions of the impossible, prepared to show a small boy where to find the gentle heartbeat of sleep.
She sank down into the timeless vastness of the rocks, letting them soothe. Listening. Ears seeking a baby this time. A boy not quite in step with his world. A child loved so very deeply by two who lived in harmony with the earth.
Ever so slowly, distinct beats emerged. The quiet notes of each life in Fisher's Cove. Some bright and quick, others ponderous and slow. One at the center - wise and waning and well beloved by the rocks. That would be Moira.
Cass marveled. The rocks had never shown her this.
A dancing brightness that was Lizzie, and the quiet sureness of Kevin. Those with earth magics were the music's clearest notes. Cass shifted, playing in harmony with those she could hear best. Seeking the two that should be strongest.
Marcus, she wouldn't find. He had fled, Morgan tucked in the back of his car, even as gentle hands had brought her in from the cold.
She would go so that he could stay.
His note wasn't here, but she played for him anyway. Apology. And sorrow. A wish, and a hug for the small girl who couldn't possibly understand.
And then, heart ready to crack, Cass moved on, listening for the waterfall chord that was a family in constellation.
She found them, clustered. Waiting. Healer, rock witch, and a baby whose note was still muddy and uncertain. Rosie picked up Adam's signature, her rosewood and ebony shaping the note he was trying to be. The baby's muddy sound cleared, resonating in time with Rosie's exacting harmony.
Again and again, Cass drew her bow. Solidifying. Teaching.
And then remembered she was leaving. Adam needed an anchor that wasn't victim to a musician's whim. He needed the rocks.
Carefully, quietly repeating the note that was Adam, she backed into the womb of the rocks. Calling him to follow.
His sound wobbled, shaken by the growing distance.
Babies needed to be held close. Cass riffed in frustration. Rocks