Return Chapter 3: A Spell
When weird becomes wild and wild becomes wonderful.
Return explores the definition of home in the external and internal realms,
reframing the notion of belonging, be-longing.
Readers can begin the Rumored Woman Series with either Reflect or Return.
Here I am riding a Friesian along a beach in Scotland. How is that even possible? Disbelief swept me up again. When Faith guided me in the underworld, I’d become accustomed to having my beliefs challenged. Today, even though Saorsa and I were in the lead, Katrine became my guide. She taught me that the reeds topped with tiny tufts of white cotton balls were indicative of marsh, and we avoided them like warning flags to keep the horses on safe footing as we crossed the bogs.
Thankfully, Katrine didn’t attempt to converse while trotting or cantering. For me, riding meant engaging in a conversation beyond words. It reminded me that when I’m supple and centered, even the subtlest squeeze of my hands conveys meaning—this sense of communion with such a powerful being humbled me. My body felt soft and reverent, no longer braced against the world. My pelvis had become more pliant and welcoming, moving with Saorsa in a fluid, rhythmic dance. I felt at home in my skin, as if Faith accompanied me again.
When Katrine suggested we walk back to cool them down, my homeless status leapt the distance from where I’d left it at the barn and muscled its way back into my thoughts. Our return to words felt imminent, so I reengaged my offensive strategy by asking questions. “It must have been difficult being a single mother. How’d you cope?”
“Nae well.” She sighed. “After Kieran died, ah was a wreck. His memory was everywhere—mah grief was relentless. Mah world had become a dull chore. Even gettin’ up from bed required more of me than ah had to give. Oddly, it was Caim who coaxed me back to life. When Brìghde and Fiona were at school, mah mum often watched Maeve while ah rode every inch of the island. Ah religiously scoured the shore lookin’ for any fragments of his boat, but she swallowed every last trace of him. The cliffs to the west became mah widow’s walk.” Katrine looked as if she was back there again, as if the years had never happened. “Ah could nae imagine mah life without him, so for a time—ah gave up on livin’ mahself.”
I waited for her memories to release her.
She patted Caim’s neck. “Caim was green when we got her. Ah gave mahself over to trainin’ her—more than ah raised mah own daughters. Thank God mah mum and friends stepped in. Brìghde mothered Maeve, and Fiona had to fend for herself. Ah’m nae proud of those years, but ah survived. ’Tis only a dull pain now and then. Ah miss Kieran most in the big transitions ah’d expected to share with him. It was tough when Brìghde married, and he was nae there to walk her down the aisle. Now that ache has returned—we cannae be grandparents together.”
She choked on the words ‘grandparents together,’ and her eyes teared up with mine. The back of my throat tightened as I held back my rising emotions, and focused on the sounds of hooves clopping on the ground.
“Trainin’ Caim took mah full attention, like the fire demands while smithin’. She offered me a much-needed respite from mah grief. Caim means an invisible circle of protection, and she is indeed—she kept me sane. Eventually, ah recovered mah strength to care for our bairns.” She stroked Caim’s neck in praise again. “If Fiona wasn’t at school, she accompanied me in the barn—groomin’ her, neglectin’ her studies. Caim was a sanctuary for the two of us. Ah dinnae want to be around folks, so ah spent mah days between mah studio and the barn. Ah needed her calmin’ presence. Caim obliged by rollin’ in any patch of mud she could find, but her bad habits were nae match for Fiona and mah groomin’ obsession. Her coat glistened with an otherworldly sheen.”
The sunlight highlighted the red in Caim’s coat. “She’s still a beauty. What about Maeve? When did she start learning your craft?”
Katrine laughed. “She became mah shadow whenever ah went to my studio. Ah’d done the same with mah dah. Ah’m grateful she has a trade to fall back on if communications dinnae work out for her.” Katrine had been looking ahead as she spoke. When she reached the gate, she said, “Listen to me, tellin’ ye mah whole life story. ’Tis like ye cast a spell on me. Ah dinnae ken a thing about ye other than ye’r keen on scones, but cannae bake, and ye ride like ye were born on a horse.”
A spell. “We can save my story for another time.” Katrine had swung the gate open for us, and we walked to the center of the pasture before I dismounted to curb any chance of conversation. My stomach had started announcing itself on the latter part of our ride, and by the time we were back in the stable, rubbing the horses down, its rumblings sounded like another animal in the stall.
Katrine laughed when she heard how persistent it had become. “Ah hear ye clammerin’ for another of mah scones.”
“I am making a racket. Think of it as me singing your praises. Seriously though, Katrine, thanks so much for this morning. I can’t imagine a better welcome and introduction to Iona than sharing tea and scones with you and riding Saorsa. I feel blessed and refreshed.”
She appeared on the threshold with her saddle over her arm and bridle in hand. “’Tis been a lovely start to the day. Ah’v appreciated yer companionship. Ye remind me of mah own lasses—as they travel far from home, ah’d want strangers to show them a kindness.”
My hand rested on Saorsa’s neck. I didn’t want to leave the safety of his stall. Maybe I can sneak back and sleep here. “You’ve been more than kind with your generous hospitality.”
Katrine simply smiled and tipped her head in acknowledgment.
I noted she hadn’t put a halter on Caim. “Will you turn them out to pasture now?”
“Och aye, ah leave their stall’s doors open along with one barn door during the day. They can come in if they want some shade from the heat or shelter from the rain.” She walked into the tack room.
I stroked Saorsa’s neck. “You, my friend, are a dream come true. I hope to be seeing you again soon. Try not to miss me as much as I’ll miss you.” Reluctantly, I gathered his bridle and saddle as Caim clopped down the aisle and nickered. Saorsa followed her out to the pasture. It was time for me to reckon with real-world matters.
I joined Katrine in the tack room, returning Saorsa’s saddle to its rack and resting his damp pad upside down on top of it. Our shared silence was comfortable as I imitated her routine. I dipped Saorsa’s stainless steel bit in a small bucket of water and rubbed the grime until it shined before hanging it on the hook.
What can I say if she asks me where I’m staying? How will I dodge it? My chest tightened. I wanted to be honest with Katrine, to be worthy of the radical hospitality she’d shown me. Seeing the saddle rack reminded me she had offered to show me her studio. Maybe just one more diversion.
She asked, “Shall ah warm ye a scone or two?”
My stomach answered before I could say yes, and we both laughed.
“Ah’ll take that as an affirmative.” The phone rang while we walked toward the house. Katrine dashed through the door to answer it. Upon entering, I heard her saying, “Grand. Ah’ll be on mah way shortly.” She hung up, giddy. “’Tis time. Mah grandchild’s on the way. Brìghde’s gone into labor and she’s headin’ to the hospital. Ah’v got to pack up and make a call.”
“I’ll be out of your way as soon as I change my clothes.” Reality rushed back in. I’d hoped to keep it at bay until my stomach was fed again.
Coming back downstairs, I overheard Katrine saying, “Dinna fash yerself, Mary, ’tis okay. Take good care of yerself. Angus can tend them, and ah’ll let ye ken when the wee one arrives. Bye for now.” Katrine hung up and said, “Feck.”
“What’s wrong?”
“’Tis Mary. She was meant to care for the horses. But she fell and broke her hip yesterday. She said she called earlier. Ah must have missed the message. Ah’m the worst at checkin’ mah machine. Despite Saorsa takin’ to ye today, he typically dinnae behave so well with others. Ah’ll have to ask…”
I blurted, “I can do it. Take me back out to the barn and walk me through their routine. Let me grab a pen and paper, and I’ll write it all down. I can call you if I have questions.” I tripped over my words in eagerness to stay.
“Ah cannae ask this of ye—’tis yer holiday. Besides, Mary was to stay overnight here for the week.”
“Honestly, I can’t imagine a place I’d rather be. It’s no problem at all—you’d be doing me a favor. I can ride every day. It’d be heavenly.” I hoped she didn’t hear the desperation in my voice.
“Ah am in a pickle.” She hesitated. “If ye’r sure, it’d be grand. Ye’r a godsend. Who ken when ah decided to swim today ah’d find mahself an angel in disguise.” My stomach growled on cue. “Ye’r a hungry angel, nonetheless.”
“Ignore my stomach,” I said. “Walk me through their routine.”
“Ye have to let me pay ye. Mary’s cash is already on mah dresser in an envelope with her name on it. We’ve plenty of feed for the horses, and since they rode out well today, their shoes should be fine.”
I pulled Fiona’s boots back on. With my shift dress, it was a fashion statement I wouldn’t ordinarily make, but I didn’t care about my appearance. My stomach grumbled its way to the barn. It may have been launching a protest at the change of plans, but the rest of me was silently proclaiming hallelujah. Faith was still watching out for me. I searched around to locate her but felt her inside as a rush of warmth in my core.
Saorsa and Caim stood head-to-tail beside one another in the field, grooming each other with their lips, itching those impossible-to-reach places. In a way, Katrine and I were doing the same.
Katrine swiftly told me how much hay and grain she fed them and reminded me to close the stall door where the hay was stored to avert a feast. Her barn design was unusual. Typically, a horse’s stall had a back door that opened to a paddock, giving them the freedom to be outside or under cover. She’d worked within the constraints of her narrow property to provide them with access via the aisle door.
At the threshold of the tack room, she pointed to the upper shelves. “These blankets are for warmth and rain protection.” Walking outside, she showed me the faucet. “Be sure they have fresh water. Ah generally feed them before ah eat dinner and often before breakfast, typically earlier than today. Always lunge Saorsa before ridin’ him. He might act up without his mum or me around. Ah alternate their turnout each day by closin’ off one of the barn doors. It gives the grass a chance to rebound. After dinner, ah close them in at night. Another shipment of hay comes next week, but ah should be back before then.”
We were nearly at the front door when a black cat, with one white front paw, sauntered up and rubbed against her legs.
“Och aye, Sarah meet Demeter. Are ye allergic?”
Demeter came alongside Fiona’s boots. “Actually, I am, and cats seem to know that about me.”
“Dinna fash. She’s an outdoor cat. Ah never let her in the house—despite her yowlin’, dinnae relent. She ken mah home is off limits, even when ah leave the door open like today. Occasionally, ah offer her a saucer of milk for her huntin’ skills. Her dried food is on the bench above the grain bucket. Her dish is in the tack room. I keep it half full. She keeps mah barn free of mice, and the horses love her.”
Demeter had foregone finding any affection from me and wandered back between Katrine’s legs. “Does she need to be in or out of the barn at night before I close up?”
“Pay her nae mind. She jumps in and out the window at will.” We walked past her car. “The ferry waits for no one. Do ye ken how to drive a manual?”
“Yes, I own one.”
“That’s rare for an American. Ah thought t’was all big, automatic motors on yer roads.”
I grinned at her accurate stereotype. “You’re right, but I’m a fan of standards. Downshifting offers more control driving in the snow, and it’s all around more fun.”
Katrine scampered straight up the stairs. “Ah need to throw some clothes in mah bag. Be back in a jiff.”
While she packed, I made her a ham sandwich from her well-stocked fridge. I was putting away the lettuce when Katrine appeared with an unzipped overnight bag in one hand and an envelope in the other. She didn’t put her bag down. When she offered me the envelope, I exchanged it with her wrapped sandwich.
Katrine said, “Thanks, that’ll come in handy on the journey.” She grabbed the keys from a silver dish on the counter.
The envelope had heft. I slipped out two large, colorful bills with a twenty on the diagonal corners and tucked them in my pocket before leaving the rest behind.
Katrine drove us in her red Kia Sportage and parked it beside the café. The ferry approached at a distance. “Ah’v got about ten minutes before ah board. Let’s get a coffee, and ah can introduce ye to the island.” We walked into the café. “Guid day, Trish. We’ll have two coffees and a sandwich.” Katrine turned to me and asked, “Will a ham sandwich do ye?”
I smiled. “Yes, thanks. That should quiet the beast nicely.”
We sat at a round metal table with spindly folding chairs. When Trish arrived with the two handmade pottery mugs, she sized me up warily. I recognized her as the same redhead who told me there were no banks on Iona. Her eyes glanced toward Fiona’s riding boots.
“Guid day, Kat. Who do ye have here? It seems ye picked yerself up a stray?”
“This here is Sarah. She’s visitin’ for a spell and will be takin’ care of mah horses. Brìghde’s gone into labor, and ah’m catchin’ the next ferry.”
She placed Katrine’s coffee before her but withheld mine. “Such guid news—soon to be a nana. Ah heard Mary broke her hip yesterday in a fall. Ah could help ye with the horses if need be. Ah dinnae want ye to fash about anythin’ here.”
“Thanks, just the same, Trish. Ah was sorry to hear about Mary’s fall. We’re all sorted out, though. Sarah had a lovely ride with Saorsa this mornin’, and they’re fast friends.”
Trish finally placed my coffee down on the table. She tipped her head to me. “Ah’ll be back with yer piece.”
I assumed that piece meant a sandwich. It felt like Trish had just vetted me and reluctantly accepted me, but it might not be a lasting truce. The taste of my first coffee in months erased the tension of our exchange.
Katrine had been holding her mug. The table wobbled when she put it down. “’Tis the end of our tourist season, and everyone’s ready to have the island back to ourselves.”
“You’d be the exception to that. You’ve shown me such hospitality from the moment we met. I can’t thank you enough for inviting me in for tea and trusting me with your horses and now your home. I feel as though I’ve known you for years—not hours.”
“Och aye, ah hear ye.” She drummed her fingers on the table a few times. “’Tis been an uncanny day. When ah woke and saw the light on the water beckonin’, somethin’ long forgotten stirred in me this mornin’—it must’ve been mah grandchild passin’ through the veil. Ye’r a godsend, and ah’m grateful to have met ye.” Katrine pulled the keys from her pocket, and they clattered on the metal table. “Ah’ll be off now, and dinnae want to be takin’ these with me. Nae that ye have far to walk. Soon enough, Trish will let everyone ken ye’r a welcome stranger. Island news spreads fast, as ye can see with Mary’s fall. Ah’v nae time to introduce ye properly mahself.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” It was the first time today that I actually believed it.
She took out her cell phone. “Do ye have a mobile number ah can ring you at?”
I squirmed in my seat. “Oh, no. I left without it.” Stick to the truth, Sarah, as best you can. “Surprisingly, I’ve enjoyed not having it.”
She put her phone back in her bag. “Ah’ll ring ye on mah landline. Mah mobile number’s written on the envelope. Ye’ll be needin’ more eggs and milk. The only grocer is next to the café. Nae one drives unless ’tis to the ferry with their luggage, so ye might as well pick up a few items now and fetch yer things. Ah never asked, where were ye stayin’?”
I didn’t see the dreaded question coming. “At your place, remember?”
She tilted her head slightly. “That ye are.”
“I can sort myself out.”
Katrine sat with her back to the café door, but I saw folks walking up the street from the dock.
“I think the ferry’s here.”
She stood, taking the last sip of her coffee. “Och aye, ah’ll be off then. Thanks ever so much.” She squeezed my shoulder. “Dinnae get up.”
“I’m the one who is grateful.” I placed my hand upon hers.
Trish set my sandwich with homemade bread down and hugged Katrine. “God bless.”
Its diagonal cut bulged in the center, thick with ham and fresh tomato. Once I pinched the corners of the first half, it never touched the plate again. I feasted on it while I marveled at how my day had unfolded. Not one aspect of my plan had worked out, and for that, I was grateful. For the next week, I had a place to sleep, clothes to wear, and, best of all, two gorgeous horses to care for and ride. I even had an envelope filled with cash. If the island had a second-hand store, it might be enough for a pair of shoes and maybe even a change of clothes.
Trish asked, “Do ye want a tap off?”
“Yes, thank you. The sandwich is delicious.” I raised my cup to her.
She poured. “Ye made fleet work of it. Do ye want somethin’ else?”
“No, I’m set. Can you bring my check when you have a moment, please?”
She wiped her hand on her apron as she held the coffee pot before me. “Kat’s already asked me to put it on her tab. Ye’r set for now.”
I detected an undertone of suspicion again. Who could blame her? Maybe she—or someone else—saw me wash up on shore this morning, and I was already the talk of the town. There’s nothing to be done about it, so there’s no point worrying about it. What was their expression? Dinna fash.
I savored my coffee and glanced toward the beach. My thoughts turned toward my more immediate worries: Ian and anticipating our first conversation.
He’d want me to come home immediately. Only a few hours ago, that was my plan. But that wasn’t possible now, nor desired. I relished the idea of time to myself, time to land and integrate everything that had transpired on my odyssey, and most of all, time to love up Saorsa and Caim. The promise of riding every day caused an irresistible smile that broadcast my happiness.
How can I talk to Ian after all this time and tell him we still needed to be apart? He’ll probably insist on coming here to me.
I felt uncomfortable adding another stranger to Katrine’s home or even asking her if it would be okay.
Ian will have to understand. I doubted he would. I briefly considered waiting to call him until the end of the week but dismissed it as too dishonest. More coffee had been a mistake. Jitters filled my chest and sitting still proved increasingly impossible.
The grocery store had two short aisles with an open refrigerated unit on the left wall that the cashier was restocking with more produce. At Katrine’s recommendation, I filled my handbasket with eggs and milk. A loaf of homemade zucchini bread begged to be taken alongside a baguette. Carbohydrates have always been my comfort food. A bag of salty potato crisps jumped into my basket too. There was a scant selection of wine, and I chose a Sauvignon Blanc. As I placed my items on the counter, she rang them up without bagging them. After paying, I caught on. I was meant to provide a bag.
She offered me the box she’d unpacked the vegetables from. “Ye can have this today.”
“Thanks.” It was far larger than I needed but better than nothing. I stashed my items toward one corner, carried the lopsided weight to the car, and put it on the back seat. I stopped before opening the front door because there was no steering wheel.
Now was the time to notice and alter my unconscious patterns, like always trying to plan my future. What if I became more like the hitchhikers I’d dreamt about in the fox’s den—living in the moment, relying on the kindness of strangers?
A witness might have doubted my ability to drive a stick shift as I lurched out of town. Her car’s clutch was more sensitive than mine. When I pulled into Katrine’s driveway, my incompetence was forgotten as two bewitching sculptures of muscle, with manes and tails rippling in the wind, galloped along the fence. Now, that’s my idea of a welcoming committee. A quiet gasp escaped my lips, followed by a sense of a déjà vu. A black horse galloping was the first image I’d seen when Faith held her hands over my eyes before she said goodbye. I parked the car and closed my eyes, attempting to recall the other images—a circle of black stones in the water, and a fire, not the wild kind—one contained in a fireplace.
Inside, I unpacked the groceries and more closely inventoried her refrigerator’s contents. It held plenty of food for a week, so my remaining cash could be spent on other necessities. I counted the mix of fifties and twenties in the envelope, which came to nearly two hundred pounds. Horse-sitting paid well.
When I slipped it back in the envelope and placed it beside Katrine’s stack of papers, I saw her mail with new eyes. The mail contained dates. I sorted through it until I discovered the year remained the same and exhaled. Thank god. Re-entry was hard enough without navigating the dynamics of a time warp. I ticked off the number of months since May on my fingers. Six months felt like a long time for Ian to wait without a word. I couldn’t blame him if he’d moved on with his life. Before I’d left, we’d discussed marriage, starting a family, and buying a home together, but I told him I wasn’t ready. Contemplating those commitments had put me in a tailspin. I was too young for a midlife crisis, but I was in the midst of one, questioning everything and worrying that I was somehow missing my life.
Six months ago, I’d been second-guessing the societal expectations I felt imposed on me: career, marriage, children, homeownership, and the iconic white picket fence. Now, my check-list was more basic. Date? Check. Shelter? Check. Food? Check. Money? Check. Clothes? Check. Relationships? Question mark. Job? Question mark.
I’d woken on the day that Faith appeared in our bedroom with the adage, Be careful what you ask for; you may surely get it. I sensed it needed a caveat—And be prepared to make sacrifices. I hadn’t wanted to make any sacrifices. Who does? But what had I set in motion when I chose to leave with Faith? I’d likely lost my job and maybe my relationship with Ian.
I flashed on the tarot card on my altar back home. The Tower. It portended a time of significant internal change, destruction, and regeneration. Suddenly, the full sweep of the last six months hit me behind the knees. Dizziness warned me that if I didn’t sit down, I might fall down, and I moved toward the high-back chair overlooking the sea. I perched on the seat’s edge, letting my head hang between my knees. My body flushed with heat, yet my hands felt clammy. A vortex of questions that didn’t have easy answers swirled in my head.
What was the purpose of my underworld odyssey with Faith? How will I ever explain to Ian or my friends what happened? Will they believe me? What do I believe? If I don’t tell them about it, is that lying? If I do, how will it impact our relationship?
My immediate inclination was to be protective and say nothing about my journey until I understood it. I feared subjecting myself to others’ predictable disbelief and projections. Yet my close friends’ opinions mattered to me more than I cared to admit.
Nausea threatened to upend my lunch. I lifted my head and pushed back into the chair for support, longing for my Peaceful Warrior’s protection. My nose flared, and a lump rose in my throat. Are you here? Hugging my knees to my chest, I closed my eyes, trying to conjure her with memories.
I recalled our first embrace, when she transformed from Rage into a quiet, formidable strength, and the bars of her cage bent open, freeing her—freeing us. She resided somewhere within me, and I needed to summon her now.
Imperceptibly, at first, I felt her light touch on my lower back, as if a finger traveled up from the base of my spine, inviting me to straighten from my hunched posture. I uncurled, released my legs, and planted my feet on the ground. As the pressure landed between my shoulder blades, I tucked them closer together, letting my shoulders drop. My chest opened as I inhaled more fully, and her touch continued up my neck and vanished after reaching my skull. I rested with the accompaniment of my Peaceful Warrior at my back and opened my eyes to the sea, taking in the lovely surrounds of Katrine’s home.
A wave of gratitude rushed in for arriving on Iona, a marked reversal from the anxiety that riddled my first hour here when nothing had conformed to my expectations. Now, I relished the space and time to reorient myself in this world, time to invite into my life the aspects of myself I’d begun to form a relationship with—Faith, Compassion, and Forgiveness. I don’t need to get ahead of myself. I need to slow down and listen.
My right palm rested on my chest, my left palm on my belly. My hands rose and fell with each breath, and eventually, a weighted, settled peacefulness arrived in my body. Everything I’d gone through had a purpose, even if that purpose still eluded me.
This is my life, my story unfolding. I can take my time to discern what I share, how I share it, and with whom I share it.