The Guardian by Diana Knightley
Eleven - Hayley
We walked into the storm, trying to get as close to the center as possible, triangulating with the monitor to find where the vessel was hidden. Ahead of us was a small stone chapel with a slate roof and beside it some very simple graves, ancient-looking, worn and covered in moss. The stone markers tilted in different directions, a gnarled tree stood beside — just then, lightning sparked from the sky to the ground, illuminating the graveyard and setting my teeth on edge.
Fraoch and I crouched a distance away, watching, but with a storm this fierce there was no way we could get closer. It was clear that the vessel was there, on the grounds of the church.
“We can’t get closer!” I yelled to be heard over the storm. “We have to wait for it to stop!”
A loud boom of thunder, a flash of lightning — way too close.
Fraoch jumped up, grasped my hand, and we retreated to the horses, who were tied a safe enough distance away. There we sat under a tree with our hoods pulled down over our faces against the rain, waiting out the storm.
* * *
Suddenly, a last loud boom and the storm clouds rose quickly then dissipated into nothingness and clear skies.
I looked at Fraoch with wide eyes.
“Are ye ready, Hayley? We must go intae the graveyard where mischief is afoot.”
I groaned and checked my gun. “Do you think someone might have arrived?”
“I daena ken.”
We raced back to the church, cautiously watching from a distance, and then deciding it was all clear, scrambling over the fence into the graveyard. The ground was soggy wet. Some of the graves were mounded or eerily sunken, roots had broken through the earth, headstones leaned and some had tipped all the way. I sloshed across the muddy ground headed to the gnarled tree where I found a gravestone face down. A large root lay under it, having been instrumental in raising it from its foundation.
It was evening, growing dark and cold, and having been wet through, I was beginning to shiver. I called over to Fraoch, who was searching near the far wall, “Find anything?”
“Nae, not yet.”
I pulled futilely at the corner of the gravestone and then I dug some mud away and peered underneath — something shiny, metallic.
“Fraoch! I think I see the vessel!”
He splashed across the graveyard.
I had barely budged the stone marker, but then Fraoch pulled it up, and flipped it over, making it look easy.
I joked, “I loosened it first.”
“Och, ye want me tae think yer wee-lassie arms are strong.” He crouched down beside the marker and rubbed mud away. The name carved into it was Agnie MacLeod.
I watched his brow furrow, then he scowled.
“Is this your mother’s grave?”
He shrugged. “Aye, I had forgotten the placement of it, but we ken she haena been buried, so tis a marker coverin’ a vessel in the middle of the mud. Does nae seem fair tae place a headstone above naethin’ and tae tell the son that there lies his mother.”
I hugged an arm around him. “You’re right, it doesn’t seem fair.” I added, “Don’t touch it, Kaitlyn grabbed one just like this and it dragged her off.”
“But this one is nae on, tis off. Tis safe enough tae—”
“No, I don’t agree — but fine, if you’re going to touch it, I will at least hold onto you the whole time.”
“Och, I am nae going tae touch it. I am nae an idjit.” He looked around. “Hold here, Hayley, I will be back.” He rushed away to the horses while I waited inside that very little graveyard in the middle of... where was I?
Suddenly it was lonely and quiet and I was reminded of those first days when Fraoch was rescuing me.