Free Spirited Away - A Novel of the Stolen Irish by Maggie Plummer Page A

her was a knife, and next to it lay several curled locks of Birdie's
thick black hair.
           Freddy
sank to the floor and took one of Birdie's hands. With her other hand Freddy
touched Una's cool cheek. It was not possible. Through red-rimmed, aching eyes
she searched Una's still face. Freddy was too stunned to weep. People died
every day on this muddy, disease-ridden island, but never before someone close
to her. How could brave, smart Una be gone? Where was her rebellious spirit
now?
           In
a shocked daze, Freddy looked up through the cookhouse window at the eastern
sky, now clear and glowing cobalt blue where the sunrise would soon inflame the
horizon. Suddenly a bright, long shooting star streaked diagonally through the
indigo. Freddy's jaw dropped.
           "Ohhh, Una," she breathed.
"Go with God."

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER
13
     
    November
1653
     
    "These
are for you," Freddy whispered, slipping Colin three shiny knives and a
gold pocket watch. This night no candle was lit in the hut, as an extra
precaution. The sky had cleared to reveal an almost-full moon.
           Surprised,
Colin held the watch up to examine it in the moonlight that beamed through the
open hut window. As he inspected the timepiece, Freddy studied his bare chest.
"Where did you—?" he began.
           "It's
better that you not know." She turned away, flustered, rubbing her upper
arms through the thin white muslin of her shift. How could she say good-bye to
him? Did he feel anything for her?
           "It's
time," he said in Irish. After a week of Birdie's nursing, he was so much
improved he insisted on walking the mile down to the strand on his own. It was
all arranged. The estate night watchman had been taken care of, as had the
militia's night patrolmen, Father Sean promised. The runaways would meet on the
beach at the appointed hour. Colin had already said a grateful good-bye to
Birdie.  
           "I
could walk with you…" Freddy offered, her voice tight with anxiety. Her
back was still turned to him. "What if you weaken?"
           "I
won't," he answered. "We must say farewell here."
           She
felt she would burst. There were so many things unsaid, things that needed
saying. What if she never saw him again? What if she never felt like this
again? She yearned to run off with him, but knew it was not possible. Only
those whose lives were in immediate danger were making this perilous escape.
Also, she was with child. Father Sean said that there was work for her to do
here.
           "Look
at me," Colin said in a low voice, turning her around and holding her shoulders.
The milky shaft of moonlight lit their faces from the side as he gazed
intensely into her eyes. In the silver glow Freddy studied his features, trying
to memorize his sideburns, the firm line of his mouth, his hairline, the slope
of his strong brow, and those deep-set eyes. 
           "We
will see each other again, Freddy O'Brennan," he was saying. "I know
it."
           She
nodded mutely, her luminescent almond eyes filling with tears that glistened in
the pale moonbeam. As one tear spilled down, Colin leaned in and pressed his
cheek against hers, cupping the back of her head with one hand. They fell into
a tight embrace, his other hand pressing her waist to him. Her eyes squeezed
shut, Freddy held the back of his neck and the hard muscles of his shoulder,
her nose nestled against his throat. As she inhaled his scent, she knew she
could stand like this forever.
           "I
must go," he whispered into her blue-black curls, his voice cracking.
           "I
know," she answered in a strangled whimper, dropping her arms to her
sides.
           Colin's
hands moved back to her shoulders, and he slowly pulled himself away from her.
He reached down for his canvas pouch, put the knives and timepiece in it,
strapped it across his chest, and began putting on a black coat. The runaways
would be garbed