“And I am glad to have ye as my husband, Archibald Macnab,” she replied. “I wish things with my father were different, though.”

Ever since Bram’s death was announced, her father had written to her—attempting to reconcile both with her and her mother. In all truth, Mia was shocked. Surprised too. Shocked at the fact that Conrad was apparently drowning in regret for all the horrible deeds and words he’d so openly offered them in the past. Surprised at herself for how she’d handled it.

It was way past dinnertime when Mia had approached her mother’s chamber and had lingered by the door for a moment too long, struggling to muster the courage to knock and then tell her about the letter.

“Come in,” Maeve had said when Mia had finally knocked on the door.

“Mother, there is… there is something I must show ye,” she had almost stuttered, her heart beating in her ears.

Maeve was sitting by the fire and upon seeing her daughter’s concerned demeanor, had instantly stood up. “What is it? Are ye not well? Bad news?” She had replied, her voice tinged with worry.

“Nay, I am alright. Well, I am rather… I feel strange.”

“Come, sit with me,” Maeve said, gesturing to the chair next to hers in front of the hearth.

“I… I received word from father,” Mia said, swallowing hard.

A flash of darkness passed through her mother’s face but she swiftly concealed it.

“I see. What does he want?” Her voice was firm yet pulsating with underlying emotion.

“He has asked for forgiveness,” she blurted out before stumbling on her own words.

Maeve’s eyes widened in shock.

“He… he wants forgiveness,” she stated incredulously.

“Aye, he does,” Mia said.

“From ye?”

“From both of us.”

“He wants me—us—to forgive him for nearly destroying our lives, then?” Maeve wondered aloud.

“Well—”

Her mother, then, had burst out laughing. A sound so inhuman, so maniacal, Mia was taken aback.

“Mother… mother, are ye alright? What’s so funny?”

“Funny? Funny!” She’d said, still laughing with eyes cold as snow. “There’s naething funny about this, my dear. There’s naething remotely jolly about Conrad asking for forgiveness.”

“Then—”

“The bastard! This utter piece of rotten dung! Asking for forgiveness when my flesh is still marred by his own!” She cried and then rolled up her sleeves, showing her arms.

“Look! Here, look!Thisis yer father’s legacy and there will never be enough time passed for me to forgive anything he’s ever done.Never!” She almost yelled, tears now freely streaming down her cheeks, her eyes red from all the agony pooling inside of her.

“Mother,” Mia said, kneeling before her and taking her hands in hers. “Mother, please, calm yerself.”

“How? His audacity—”

“I ken! I ken, mother, I do. He is here nae more,” Mia whispered, caressing her mother’s palm with her thumbs. “He is here nae more. He will never hurt us again.”

“Memory is ache enough,” Maeve said bitterly.

“I ken… the pain he caused us will always follow us but that doesnae mean it needs tae hold the same power it once did. He is a ghost now, he is nae more.”