Page 21 of The Healer’s Wish

“Aye, I am being overly sentimental.” She motioned to the table. “Sit.” Bringing two bowls filled with porridge, she placed one in front of him and the other in front of the empty chair, then sat. “There’s something I wish to discuss with ye.”

“What is it?” Gowan gave her a worried look. “Are ye unwell?”

Anne shook her head. “Nay, what I am is scared. Gowan, I dinnae wish to end like Agnes. Dying alone. It is my biggest fear. To become an old forgotten woman living in a cottage by the creek with no one to see after me or even to care. I have always wished for bairns, for a husband, and to be surrounded by my loved ones.”

“Ye can have all ye wish,” Gowan stated, his gaze locked on her face. “Why do ye think it is nae to be?”

She let out a long sigh. “I am seven and twenty. I have naught one suitor. Haven’t had in a very long time.”

The revelation made her brother gawk at her as if what she said was something he’d not considered and ever thought about. “Ye will always have me, Anne. If ye wish, I can come live with ye, or we can furnish another room, and ye move here.”

Despite the sadness in her heart, Anne chuckled. “I dinnae think yer future wife would wish to live with ye and yer spinster sister.”

“I have nae even given any thought to taking a wife,” Gowan argued. “There is plenty of time…years even… before I—”

“Dinnae dare wait years,” Anne exclaimed startling herself with the harshness in her tone. “Ye are near one and thirty. ’Tis past time ye take a wife and have bairns of yer own.”

Gowan shrugged. “I will nae marry anyone who does nae accept ye.”

For an unexplainable reason, ire rose. “So even ye consider me to be unmarriageable then?”

To his credit, her brother was wise enough to stay silent, head bent in thought before speaking again. “That ye have nae one suitor is possibly all my fault.”

Anne blinked. “Dinnae blame yerself. Why would ye say that?”

Color rose in his cheeks and he looked everywhere but at her. “I may have threatened that any man approaching ye, I would…”

“What Gowan? Would what?”

“It was at the tavern… I may have been drunk…” He blew out a long breath. “I may have repeated often… mayhap all the time… for a long time…” he paused. Glanced up at her. Then taking in a big gulp of air, he blurted out, “I threatened that anyone who approached ye would have their head slammed on my anvil and discover what being hit with a blacksmith’s hammer would actually feel like.”

Too shocked to do more than stare wide-eyed at her brother, Anne didn’t ken what to think. Being protective had been his nature since their parents had died in a fire that had left them orphaned, but what he’d done was not acceptable.

Finally, she stood, stared down at him, and through gritted teeth asked, “Ye threatened an entire village of men against pursuing me? Did ye ever think to tell me so that all this time I didnae think I looked like an ogre’s offspring?”

He shrugged, wide shoulders lifting and lowering. “I didnae think to.”

“Ye didnae think to,” Anne repeated, her voice raising an octave as she stomped closer to her brother and pushed her finger into his temple none too gently. “I have to go before I lose what’s left of my temper and beat ye with a broomstick.”

Grabbing her shawl, she wrapped it around her shoulders and stormed from the house. By the time she reached the village center, her ire had blossomed into rage. If she ended up a dried-up spinster, she would indeed move in with Gowan, and he would be the one caring for her. It was an appropriate punishment.

And to think she planned to ask him to help her find a husband.

“I would nae be surprised if Liam did the same,” Effie exclaimed between guffaws. “I can only imagine Gowan’s expression when ye threatened to beat him with a broom.”

They sat outside Effie’s home on a bench looking at the forest. Not wishing to go home and too angry to visit Florie, Anne found herself walking the short distance to visit her friend.

Despite her earlier ire, Anne chuckled. “He was terrified. Men are deathly afraid of broomsticks.” The pair of women collapsed into fits of laughter.

Effie sat up straight, her brow lowering in thought, followed by a look of excitement, eyes wide and lips curving. “There is a way to get ye married straight away.”

“Public auction?” Anne grumbled, picturing herself standing atop a high stage as men circled, examining her closely.

“The Miracle Stone,” Effie said in an awed tone. “Ye can look for it. I will help ye. I am certain it was the stone that healed my brother, although he will nae admit it.”

“The stone is naught more than a tale.” Anne let out a sigh. “If it were real, there would be nae sickness, broken hearts, or calamity ever befalling our village.”

Effie stood and dusted her skirts. “Say what ye will. It is real and appears here in our forest. It moves about the surrounding lands and appears upon those who are deemed worthy. When the fortunate person happens upon it, their wish comes true.”