Building From Ashes

Isabel smiled. “Ioan lived a wonderful life. A life of joy and companionship and love. But to lose a child, no matter how long you have loved them, is to lose part of your own heart.” She shook her head. “Humans take so much for granted now. I considered myself lucky to see my two sons live to have their own children.”

“But then you lost them, too.”

“I did.” Isabel gave him a sad smile and leaned against his shoulder. “It is not a unique loss, Father. You will move on from this. Ioan would have expected it. It is Deirdre I am more concerned about.”

Carwyn took a deep breath. “She sired Brigid out of her grief. It was not the young woman’s choice.”

“Does she have peace about it?”

“Deirdre or Brigid?”

Isabel shrugged. “Both, I suppose.”

He cocked his head. “They will find their peace. They have time.”

“Time…” Isabel reached up to squeeze his hand. “We all have time. Beatrice will have time to recover from her father’s loss and find joy again in her union with Gio. Deirdre will have time to mourn Ioan and maybe, one day, she will find love again. Brigid will have time to find her place in this world she did not choose.” Isabel paused. “What will you do with your time, Carwyn?”

“What I have always done, I suppose.” His daughter was silent. Carwyn looked at her. She had an odd, thoughtful look on her face. “What?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you resist change?”

He blinked. “I—I don’t.”

“You do.” She leaned away from him and crossed her arms. “As rebellious as you can be, you resist change… maybe more than any other immortal I have known. You know what respect I have for you, for the Church, for an eternal calling, but…”

“But what?”

“I wonder…” She frowned. “Who is watching over your flock, Father?”

“I am. Though there is a young priest from Cardiff who the bishop sent up to fill in while I’m dealing with family issues. Sister Maggie says he’s doing very well. He’s very popular with the young people in the village.”

Isabel nodded. “And who is watching over our clan?”

His voice was hoarse. “I am. As well as I can.”

Isabel squeezed his hand again. “You do very well, Father. We’re all well, even if we mourn. We are safe. Secure. You have blessed us with your wisdom for hundreds of years.”

Carwyn leaned over and pressed a kiss to his daughter’s forehead. “Thank you, Isa.”

“And who is watching over you, Father?”

He drew back. “What?”

She patted his chest, covered in a purple and green floral shirt that night. Isabel tugged at the collar and smiled. “Your heart has been pulled in so many directions for so long. You have to run away from all of us from time to time just to stay sane. And I don’t blame you. You have lived a life dedicated to others for hundreds of years. Dedicated to the church. Your family. Your friends.”

“What are you trying to say?”

She frowned a little. “Ioan’s death changes things. He was as much your brother as your son. Other than Gio, he was your best friend. Definitely your oldest one.”

“He did too much. There were too many things I left him to deal with on his own that I should have—”

“What?” Isabel broke in. “We’re not children. We call you Father, but we are all quite capable of taking care of our own affairs. We love you, Carwyn, but we don’t need you. Not like we did when we were young. Most of us have our own mates and our own clans now. We’re safe. Secure—”

“Not secure enough.”

“There is no such thing as secure enough. There are always dangers in the world, but you…”

He shifted in his seat and crossed his arms, frowning at her. “What?”

Isabel struggled, but eventually, her face broke into a grin. “You need to get a life!”

His mouth dropped open. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I have a very full life. Too full at times.”

“Yes, but it is full of other’s needs.” Isabel grabbed his collar and pulled it together at his throat. “You use your collar—the Roman one, not the flowered one—as an excuse. A shield, in some ways. You’ve been alive for a thousand years, Father. Even I would say that you’ve paid your dues to the church.”

“It is my calling.”

“But it is no longer your joy. Not as it was. Does God want that?”

He growled and pulled away. “Vows are not always about enjoyment, Isabel.”

“I know they’re not. I’m married, aren’t I?”

Carwyn rolled his eyes and stood up, pacing the length of the small den. “So you know—”

“I know that you will always be a servant of God. You will always be the one to comfort and care for whoever is in need. But you have devoted a thousand years to serving others.”

“A leader should be a servant.”

“But should he always serve alone?”

Carwyn shook his head and tried to brush the memory of smoke-tinged eyes from his mind. “I don’t know what you think you see, but—”

“I see you.” Isabel stood and walked to him. “I see the way you look at Gio and Beatrice.”