Everyone thought that a splendid idea, and they set about planning the festivities. Uriah sighed, glad he’d removed his meager belongings long ago. Once the embers cooled, he walked around, searching for anything which might have escaped the purging fire. A glint of silver caught his eye. Stooping over, he found a pair of silver daggers. He retrieved them from the ruins.
Of the bodies, nothing was left. The wreckage was cleared out that day and taken out of town to hallowed ground, to be buried. Every holy man in town was out there to add his blessings to the burial grounds. All this, and Raven slept.
Weeks passed and Raven’s ships were restored to him. The Governor was jailed in disgrace, and he was asked to take his place. He turned it down, suggesting Mr. Sterner in his stead. A unanimous vote put the solicitor into office. The former governor’s belongings were sold and the proceeds put into the town and its environs. Raven used the private docks for his fleet. The first journey his new flagship made, was to Maine to clear up the issues there. He returned to Labrador a few weeks later, to find Rose waiting for him.
She seemed thicker around the middle. It was with joy that he heard her news—she was with child. His child. A whirlwind wedding followed, and they moved into a house by the private harbor.
Months passed and her time grew near. One night, Raven had an awful dream about Osceola. She stepped from the air as she had before, snatching his newborn child from his mother’s arms. Stricken with grief, Rose flung herself in the sea. Waking with a stifled cry, he remembered Osceola’s condition for helping him.
“My son,” he whispered. “Please, my beautiful, dark temptress, do not take my son. I’ll come back to you. Father your own child. Just please. Please….”
Unable to sleep, he dressed, and kissed his bride upon the brow. Taking himself to the dock, he stood alone by the water. All the ships were out to sea, so he was alone. Standing there, he felt a presence beside him. Turning he saw the awesomely beautiful Osceola. Walking close, she took his hands, bringing them to her lips.
Raven fell to his knees, clutching her hands. “My love, you honor me with your presence.”
“I’m no longer your love,” she whispered, insisting that he rise. “You have given that to another.”
“No, I’m fond of Rose….”
Her finger touched his lips. “I do not fool myself into thinking that’s true. If you believe it, you’re a fool.” She gazed at him a long time. “Would you really come with me, give me a child?”
“If that’s what you wish. If it will keep you from taking this child.”
“Why is this child so special?”
“He is my first. My only.”
“He is the fruit of your union with the woman you love.”
“You may say it.” Her face grew soft. “Say it.”
“Yes. The woman I love, had never hoped to love. This son….” He sobbed, nearly falling once more. “I will give you what I can, but I beg you, do not take my son, or my wife will surely kill herself. I cannot lose her, Osceola, or I will lose myself.”
“Would you lie with me for a year?”
“A year is a long time.”
“In my cove, a year is minutes. Will you?”
“May I see my son born? May I hold him first?”
“As you wish. And tell your wife, if you dare, what you do to save them.”
Unable to answer her, he watched as she glided back through the air. It shimmered and twinkled around her, and she was gone.
As he walked up to the house, he heard Rose scream. Mrs. Renard came out of the room, flushed and bothered.
“There you are! She’s asking for you. Don’t be long, it will be a while until you meet your son.”
Raven did as he was told. Seeing Rose’s face contorted in pain, he took her hand. Speaking gently, he told her about meeting Osceola, and the deal he’d struck with her. He wasn’t sure how much of it Rose took in, but the words spilled out.
Mrs. Renard returned with a midwife, and they shooed him out of the room. Hours passed and the screams continued. Raven paced and listened, hearing an increase in activity in the room. After a nearly deafening scream, there was silence, punctuated with the plaintive wail of a babe.
Rushing to the door, he pulled it open, nearly colliding with the startled form of Mrs. Renard. She smiled up at him.
“Come meet your son,” she said.
“It’s a boy? In truth?”
“Yes. A fine, beautiful boy, who looks just like his father.”
Raven sat on the edge of the bed, gazing at his son and his exhausted wife. Giving her a sweet kiss, he peeped around the corner of the blanket, at his little, mottled son.
“Do you wish to hold him?”
“In a moment. Give us a minute, if you would?” he asked the women.
Nodding, the went out.
©2021 Dellani Oakes