The Song in the Silver (3 page)

He nodded.

“Yes.”

“And now it is her time. Go to her. Tell her the same. She has had a long and happy life, and your pain is but a story to her. Kiss your daughter good-bye. Her son is your concern now.”

***

Meaghan Reed lay in her bed, warm, comfortable, tired, and happy. William, her son, had just stroked her hand as he kissed her good night, and as he left the room, he’d turned and smiled that beautiful, wide smile that sparkled in his eyes and made her heart dance. Her own mother had told her of a similar smile, that of the father she never knew. It pleased her that she had seen William grow to be a strong, tall man to stand by his grandmother and remind her of her one and only true love, her William, the love that had brought her into this world.

Meaghan knew in her heart, in her gently fading heart, that her time was near. She felt close to something, to an awareness of a love that had always been with her. She’d always felt it, but never been able to put a name to it. It was just a sense that there was someone there, watching. There had been times when the feeling had been distant, but it had never not been there, keeping her safe.

The wind blew, and the curtain waved in the breeze. The moon shone through the gap and lit the room in its soft warmth.

And he was there, sitting by her side. Tall, strong, raven-black hair, and that smile, her own son’s smile, broad across his face, and she knew him.

“Father,” she whispered and reached a hand to him.

He took her hand and kissed it softly.

“Meaghan, my child.”

“Mother told me she felt you with her, always. And you came to her at the end, didn’t you? She knew you would. Just as I knew that you would for me.”

“And I will for him, Meaghan, for William. I will watch over him for you.”

“And now it’s time for her to come with me, William.”

The soft whisper floated on the breeze from the window, and Mary stood by him. She reached one hand toward her daughter and the other to her one true love.

A wolf’s call echoed across the glen, as Meaghan took her mother’s hand and her song gently faded.

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The Song in the Silver,
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Down on the Farm, volume 1

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Biography

Faberge Nostromo’s career has been one in the true sense of the phrase “move swiftly and in an uncontrolled way.” After being expelled from school, he finally arrived, through blind luck and belligerence, at a stage in life where he can genuinely claim to be a writer and musician. Whatever you do, do not encourage him.