Goddess Born by Kari Edgren
Dedication
For Dale
Acknowledgments Special thanks...
To Dale Miller, a true renaissance man and die-hard champion; Dan Edgren and Rebecca Jones, extraordinary parents and constants among the variables; Thomas Miller, who proofread everything I wrote and always asked for more; Tonya Bindas, my personal anti-depressant and the Flash in disguise; John Burt and Cindy Burt, best friends and enthusiastic readers; Kerri Buckley, super-sleuth editor who found the story’s weak spots and helped make it a gazillion times better; Grace, Connor and Elsa for the teen perspective; the Savvy Seven (less me if anyone’s counting) Sheri Adkins, Holly Bodger, Amy DeLuca, Kim MacCarron, Bonnie Staring, Darcy Woods, a collective life vest in the vast ocean of publishing; Francesca Miller and Betsy Ross, ABNA friends and sharp-eyed readers; Hailey Boren, Gwena?lle Cattin, Carrie Fox, Katie LeFevre, Roxanne Owens, Virginia Deal Richins, Stephanie Svedin and Alexa Wilcox, who helped manage my brood so I had the time and energy to get the words out. Thank you!
Long ago in Ireland, the goddess Brigid married King Bres and had three sons.
Those children grew up, married mortals and had children of their own, for untold generations.
Part human, part divine, we are the Goddess Born.
Chapter One
Come Home Quickly
Pennsylvania, May 1730
The air was still, the sky silent and empty over the wheat fields that ran undisturbed to the forest’s edge. Not yet noon, the late morning sun beat against my back, pushing me toward home. I hitched up my skirts and tried to walk faster despite a shortness of breath and the painful stitch gnawing at my side. Dirt and loose rocks crunched underfoot, each step echoing the frantic cadence in my head. Hurry...Hurry...Hurry...
Over the past eighteen years I had traveled this road between Hopewell and Brighmor Hall at least a thousand times, but never before had these two miles been as onerous as they were today. Unable to go any farther without resting, I stepped off the road into the grass and leaned against a prodigious oak to catch my breath. Sweat coated every inch of my body, causing the skin to prickle wherever my shift brushed against it. Still a mile away, I was fraught with worry and more than a little inclined to slap Mary Finney senseless. Her note, clutched tightly in my right hand, held the promise of ill news.
Come home quickly.
That was all she had bothered to write before giving the note to a neighbor who happened to be passing by Brighmor Hall on his way into town. William Goodwin, older brother of my best friend Nora, tracked me down at the dry goods store and handed over the neatly folded paper. He then excused himself, leaving me to stare at those three ominous words.
Come home quickly.
And I would have done just that if Ben Hayes hadn’t taken the horse and shay out to the gristmill to discuss the expected wheat harvest after driving me to town. Not that I could blame him. As our family’s most trusted servant, Ben had been tasked with managing much of the farm since my father took sick. Any other day I would have gladly remained in the grass beneath the ancient oak and waited for Ben to bring me the rest of the way home. Staring ahead at the rutted, stone-strewn road, I didn’t know which I regretted most this morning—the closely fitted silk gown or matching brocade heels. Neither was meant for prolonged walking, nor capable of the slightest mercy. Flexing my toes, I winced from what felt like the start of a blister. The cloth and bone stays proved equally irksome, binding my ribs and not allowing for anything beyond a cramped breath.
Reduced to an anxious, hobbling mess, Mary’s thoughtlessness smoldered like a piece of hot coal inside me. I clenched her note even tighter in my fist, crushing the linen sheet into a sweaty ball. It’s not as though it would have killed her to write another line. My mind raced for answers, but there were only two reasons to justify such a panic and my hasty summons home: either my father’s health had grown alarmingly worse or a letter had arrived concerning my impending marriage.
These were my thoughts when I spied a man in the distance on his way into Hopewell. Having dallied long enough already, I readjusted my straw hat, making sure to tuck up any stray dark hairs, and continued on the road. It took no time for the distance to fall away, allowing me a clear view of his face.
“Ballocks!” I cursed under my breath.