"Can you stay to dinner, then?" Moira asked him. As soon as they were alone on the road, their arms had gone around each other. Moira hooked her thumb in his belt loop as they matched strides.
"Not tonight," Ian said. "I think Katrina's got a shepherd's pie in the oven. Some night this week, though."
She smiled at him, then sobered as they reached the section of road where they had performed the dark wave spell a year before. Only recently had the grass started growing back on both sides-it had remained scorched and sparse for ten months afterward.
"Will we ever be able to get past this place without it feeling bad?" Moira wondered aloud. "I don't know," Ian said.
So much had changed since then. Hunter had never left her and Mum's cottage, and the guest room had become his. In the past year there had been so much rebuilding: rebuilding Hunter's health, her mum rebuilding her relationship with Hunter. Moira and Hunter had slowly gotten to know each other, a bit shyly at first, and then more and more comfortably. She still called him Hunter, though. She couldn't bring himself to call him Da.
At Moira's garden gate Ian stopped. "I better get back," he said. He bent down and kissed her, and she smiled up into his eyes. "Can you meet me tomorrow?" he asked. "Before the circle? Take a walk or something? Or we could go to town, get tea."
"Yes," she said happily. "Come by around two, all right?"
He nodded and kissed her again. Then Moira stood and watched him walk down the road, back to Gran's.
Inside, the house smelled like baking bread and beef stew, and Moira sniffed appreciatively. Hunter was setting the dining table, and her mum was just coming in from the back garden with some fresh bay leaves.
"Hi, sweetie," she said, smiling. "How's the decorating going?"
"Good," said Moira, sitting down in the rocking chair. "It all looked really great."
"I've always liked Mabon," Hunter said. His voice had smoothed out quite a bit but would always be slightly hoarse, Moira thought. She watched him as he moved around the table. He looked very different than when she had first seen him. Over the past year he had gradually put on weight, and now she could no longer see his knobby spine through his shirts. All of his bruises were gone, but there were scars he'd always have.
His magick had come back, very slowly. It had been hard, watching his frustration as he couldn't perform the simplest spells. Then one day he'd been able to snuff a candle by thinking about it. Just that had made him so happy, Moira had almost cried. It had increased after that, and though Mum said he wasn't as strong as he had been, she thought he would continue to get better.
"Okay, supper's ready," Moira's mum said, starting to serve up the bowls.
The three of them sat down around the table. The sun had almost set, and inside the cottage it was cozy and lamplit. Moira picked up her spoon and waited while Hunter cut slices of bread.
"Thank you," said her mum as Hunter served her first. The smile she gave was so deep, so perfectly happy, that it made Moira feel warm inside.
Next he passed Moira her bread. "Thanks." Every once in a while she was still surprised that this man, living in their house, sharing every meal, was her actual father. And after a while her guilt over the feeling that she was betraying Colm by caring for Hunter had lessened. Gran had promised her that Colm would have wanted her to be happy and to have a relationship with her biological father.
And Hunter really was an amazing person-she could understand now why her mum loved him so much. He was funny in a really dry way, but Moira could trust him to be serious when she needed him to be. She loved talking with him about spellcraft- his mother had been a Wyndenkell and a great spellcrafter. She'd met his father, Daniel, her grandfather, who had been old and kind of crotchety but pleasant enough. Aunt Alwyn had been really nice. Sky came back every couple of months to visit. Moira's whole life, whole family, had changed. But it was good. It had been good before, with Dad and Mum and her, and it was good now. She was so lucky, so fortunate. Tess and Vita hadn't seen it that way, when she'd first told them about Lilith, and the island, and lona. They'd felt so sorry for her, going through that. But Moira wasn't sorry for herself. Those horrible experiences had helped her so much in learning who she really was and what was truly meaningful to her. Since they'd gotten back, she and her mum had far fewer rows about unimportant things. They'd been reminded of what was truly important.
Now she sat at the table, warm and happy, already planning what she and Ian would do tomorrow before circle.
"I've been thinking," Hunter said into the silence.
Moira and Morgan both looked up.
"Oh, good, that's coming back," Moira's mum teased, and Hunter looked at her with a pained expression. She laughed- she laughed more often now.
"Despite your attempts at wit," Hunter went on, as both Moira and her mum laughed, "I've been thinking that this is good, what we have, the three of us."
"Yes, it is," Morgan said, her eyes shining.
"I'd like to make it permanent," Hunter went on, his voice softer. Morgan's eyes widened, and Moira stopped eating, her spoon in midair. His sculpted face caught the candlelight, and Moira saw the smile gently curving his lips.
"Morgan, for the second time, will you be handfasted to me? You're my heart's love, my heart's ease, my savior in every sense of the word. Will you be my wife?" Hunter reached across the table and took her hand.
Moira held her breath. She'd known this would be coming and hadn't been sure how she'd feel. But now she knew-it was right. It was perfect.
Morgan looked at Moira, then back at Hunter. "Yes," she said, her voice clear and firm. "Yes." She looked again at Moira, love and hope showing plainly on her face.
Moira was speechless, looking from one to the other. She felt strange and happy and surprised and excited and a tiny bit sad as well.
"I think it's a very good idea," she said, nodding. "I really do."
Morgan tilted back her head and laughed, and Hunter laughed, too. Reaching out, he took hold of Moira's hand, and she reached for her mum's, and the three of them sat around the table, joined. They had gone through pain and horrors and tests of fate to get here. But they had made it. And they were a family.
Cate Tiernan, Night's Child
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