Rain turned to hail, pelting the windows as I handed Kenna the parcel with her full name scrawled across the front. Underneath her name, it said, From Grace Lockhart—In the event of my death.
For long seconds Kenna sat in silence, flipping the package over and over in her hands, and then threw it into my lap. “You open it.” Her gray eyes had darkened like the storm clouds that currently hovered over our cottage.
As I emptied the contents of the packet between us, lightning flashed nearby, causing the lights to flicker. When the electricity decided to stay on, we both stared at the floor where I’d dumped the single sheet of heavy paper and a clear plastic bag containing two rings.
Despite being completely illogical, I’d seen something the instant the rings had tumbled from the envelope. I carefully picked up the baggie, turning it back and forth. Surely the twinkling sparkles that’d hung in the air were a reflection of the storm outside …
I took the gold ring from the bag and admired the intricate symbols carved in swirls around the band. It was beautiful … Slipping it on my finger, I stared at the multifaceted red gem set into its center. A sudden rush of warmth spread along my hand, sending tingles throughout my entire body. My vision blurred and images flashed before my eyes … lush rolling hills, a meadow bursting with rainbow-hued flowers, pristine snow-tipped mountains, and ancient castle turrets stretching into a cloudless sky.
With a snap, the images were gone. I sucked in a sharp breath and stared down at the ring. The scent of the crisp, sweet air from my vision lingered around me. I squeezed my eyes shut and searched behind my closed lids trying to get it back. A sense of such intense longing filled me that my heart ached in my chest. The place was like nowhere I’d ever been, or seen, yet it felt like home.
“Vee, you okay?”
I blinked several times before focusing on the blurred figure of my friend. “Um … yeah. Check out this ring.”
Determined to act casual, I handed Kenna the baggie with the other ring still inside, reluctant to let mine go for even a moment. I watched her face as she pulled out the silver ring and slid it on her finger. Its carvings were identical to the one I wore, the stone in its center a brilliant green.
“I don’t remember Aunt Gracie ever having these.” Kenna examined what looked to be a Celtic design. “They look like antiques.”
“But do you feel anything?”
She searched my face as if waiting for a punch line. “Hungry, maybe … do you feel something?”
“Ah, well no, of course not. It just feels—you know—heavy.” I turned my attention to the envelope, checking to make sure that was all it contained.
Slowly, I looked up to find my friend biting at her lower lip as she battled her emotions. She reached toward the folded sheet of paper lying on the floor and then snatched her hand back like she’d been burned. “The letter from my aunt. Will you read it, please?”
I took the worn stationery and searched Kenna’s face. Unshed tears filled her eyes, giving them a silvery shine. “Sure.” An odd combination of trepidation and expectancy sent my already jittery nerves tingling as I opened the letter and began to read aloud.
My Dearest Mackenna,
At the time I write this, another chapter of my life is drawing to a close. Once again, my beloved Cameron calls to me. And I long to be reunited with him. This time, forever.
I paused and glanced at my friend. She stared at the floor, making it impossible to read her emotions.
As I scanned the next line of the letter, the paper began to shake in my fingers. Propping my elbows on my knees, I pressed on, relieved there was only a slight tremor in my voice.
I am one hundred and fifty-one years old and have lived a long, happy life full of love and purpose. My only regret, dearest Mackenna, is that I must convey your legacy in writing—for I would rather share this with you in person.