Everyone was stunned except Dante. He sighed and said, “Ah, love.”

“Circe, I…” Ruith said, trailing off.

Bullfrog looked down at his shoes.

“I thought−” Circe hesitated. “I thought you didn’t like each other.”

“Why would you think that?” Ruith asked.

“It matters not. I have been a fool!” she barked. Turning on her heel, Circe left the barn.

“Wait!” Ruith called.

“Give me a moment,” Dante said and chased after her. He grabbed her arm and asked, “Ruith is your closest friend, no?”

“I thought so,” Circe snapped.

“Bullfrog too?”

“Yes.”

“Why is their union so offensive to you?”

“Their union is not offensive,” she said and started walking again. “It’s that they did not tell me of it. I feel--I feel betrayed.”

“So they owed you their trust,” he stated.

“Yes, I think they did!”

“But there is more.”

She stopped walking, swung around and faced him. “Oh, really? What could that be, Mr. De la Rosa?”

“You are jealous. Never did you dream someone like Bullfrog or Ruith would find love. They would always be there for you like faithful old hounds.”

Circe’s jaw dropped and a bolt of pain shot through her. “You are a most unkind person.”

“I speak the truth.”

“Why are you here? I don’t want you to be a part of my life. Stay away from me!” she cried. With that, she marched into the cottage and slammed the door.

*                     *                   *

That night, when Ruith climbed up to the loft, Circe pretended to be asleep. They said nothing to one another until the next evening when Ruith came to the weaving room. When Wren left, Ruith asked Circe to sit down.

Circe would not look at her.

“I was going to tell you everything at Imbolc,” Ruith said. “But the children got sick, and we had worries much more pressing than my love affair.”

“How long have you two been meeting?”

“The first time was a few weeks ago. The weather was mild and Bullfrog came to Glendower.” Ruith blushed and dropped her eyes. “It was then that he told me of his feelings.”

Circe’s jaw dropped. “Bullfrog? Never in a thousand years would I have thought−”

“No,” Ruith interrupted. “I was the first one to share my love. I knew there was something growing between us. I could feel it. My sight has never been clearer on anything. And I knew he would never act. So I took the first step. I sent a note with one of the men when they journeyed downriver.”

“But the two of you seemed so uncomfortable with one another when we visited last.”

“Indeed, we were, but in a good way.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d like it. Bullfrog was your friend.”

Circe remembered Dante’s words and felt ashamed of herself. She wouldn’t have liked it.

“But I was going to tell you on Imbolc, Circe. Please believe me.”

“Of course I believe you, Ruith,” she said and looked down a moment. “But I cannot be false. I wouldn’t have liked it.”

“Bullfrog and I have made a mess of things.”

“And I made a rush to judgment—yet again,” Circe admitted, taking her hand. “Friends?”

Ruith squeezed her fingers. “Friends.”

*                   *                    *

Spring came early that year to the Massachusetts Bay Colony. Dante was ready to be on his way the moment the snow melted. He was going to Boston where he would catch the first ship back to the West Indies.

“Would you show that piece of linen to us one more time before you go?” Rhun asked him the day before he left.

“Yes, but it must be tonight. I leave in the morning.”

Cedric was visiting New Quay, so the three could not meet until almost midnight. The men gathered in the Rhys residence around the table to examine the linen once more.

“I still cannot make anything of it,” Rhun said, pulling the candle closer to the cloth.

“Nor can I,” Dante echoed, shaking his head.

Cedric slumped back in his chair with a sigh. “It must not be the proper time for the Goddess to reveal the purpose. By now she would have shown us its meaning.” Slapping his thighs, he said, “Since we can do nothing else, let’s drink to the health of our Spanish guest instead!”

“And wish him safe travels!” Rhun exclaimed.

Cedric jumped up and poured them each a mug of brandy. After warming the beverage with a poker from the fire Cedric and Rhun drank to Dante’s health.

Meanwhile, Circe had been asleep for hours, tossing and turning, plagued by nightmares. She was talking in her sleep so much that she awakened Ruith several times. She had many dreams. All of them were disturbing. In one nightmare, she was lost in the woods; in another, she was drowning; and, in the third, she was a midwife accused of witchcraft. When the minister threw her into the water, Circe bolted upright in bed, gasping for air

Pushing the soaked hair from her face, she looked around the room, panting. She was back in the loft with Ruith asleep on the pallet across from her. Her heartbeat slowed. Crawling out of bed, she walked to the washbowl and splashed water on her face. She jumped when she turned around. The room was filled with fireflies glowing with an ethereal luminescence.

Circe watched the tiny creatures floating around the room like fairies. It was spellbinding. At last, they gathered together into a large ball of blue light and entered her body. Suddenly she felt light as a feather, rose up and flew through the air. She had become a firefly.

Effortlessly, she careened down from the loft and darted out of the cottage through a crack in the door. She felt completely free once outside, dipping and darting across the night sky. While the village slept, Circe flew over the rooftops, dodging chimneys, coasting along the stream, flying over the treetops and under the new moon. But the carefree frolic was short-lived. Something urged her downward toward a candlelit window. It was the Rhys home and Circe saw her father sitting in front of the fire with Cedric and Dante. They were drinking and talking.

A piece of linen spread out on the table captured her attention. Compelled to get a closer look, she flew through a crack in the door and entered the house. The men were deep into conversation and alcohol with a flagon of brandy on the mantel. They did not notice her. Circe flew to the linen and hovered over it, trying to make sense of the design on the cloth. It looked vaguely familiar. What was it? The longer she looked, the more convinced she was that it held meaning for her. Darting back out under the door, she flew home and back up to the loft again.

The house was quiet. Ruith had not moved. The moment Circe landed on her bed, she was back inside her earthly form once more. She sat up. She was filled with anticipation, although she was feeling light-headed and fatigued. This dream was significant.

Dressing quickly, she left the house and dashed to the weaving room. After yanking open several drawers, she found a remnant of white linen, traced on it, cut it and then knocked on the adjoining door of the Rhys residence.

“Well, Circe Swinburne!” Cedric exclaimed when he answered the door. “Whatever are you doing here at this hour?”

“I must speak with you, please.”

When Rhun heard her voice, he jumped up. “What’s amiss, my girl?”

“Nothing, Father,” she said, taking his arm. “All is well, but I have something to share with you—all of you.”

She saw Dante’s dark eyes upon her.

“It is about this piece of linen,” Circe said, walking to the table.

The men came over as she unfolded her own piece of fabric. Rhun recognized the Celtic knot she had been drawing her entire life.

Carefully she placed it over Dante’s fabric. The holes cut into her design lined up perfectly with the amber spots on the linen cloth.

They gasped.

“You have created a type of code mask,” Cedric exclaimed.

“Yes, but what is it? What does it mean?” Dante said.

“I wish I knew,” Circe replied.

Rhun said nothing, staring at it.

“But Circe,” Cedric said. “How did you even know we were here?”

“I had a dream. I saw you through that window.”

He glanced at it and then back at Circe with amazement.

Rhun continued to search the fabric. Each hole of the Celtic knot perfectly encircled each spot on Dante’s linen. Suddenly he exclaimed, “Praise the Goddess! I believe this is a map, a map of this particular part of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. Look,” he said, pointing to the design. “Here is Glendower Stream,” and he ran his finger along one of the lines Circe had traced on the cloth. “And it bends around this amber spot. That is our village. And here is the river.”

“You are right!” Cedric cried. “Here is Cranberry Creek wrapping around the Davies Settlement and it runs along the coast not far from—this must be the city of Boston.”

“Is there any chance your father came to this area, Dante?” Rhun asked with excitement. “Could he have possibly charted this part of the New World?”

“He was in the English Colonies many years ago. I do not know if he was here.”

“Is he the one who gave your mother the linen?”

“Yes.”

Rhun looked at Cedric and said, “I believe this may be a map of thin places. Each spot is the location of a safe haven. Several of these spots are yet to be inhabited.”

“Astounding!” Cedric exclaimed.

Dante frowned. “Thin places?”

“Thin places are locations on earth where the boundaries between the material and spiritual world are almost transparent,” Rhun explained. “Many of the great Christian churches and shrines are built on these sites. They do not understand why but the builders are drawn to these holy places.”

“Ah yes, my father spoke of this. And you think the map pinpoints these places?” Dante asked.

“There’s a possibility,” Rhun replied. “Did your father have a strong intuition for such things?”

“Maybe; he always seemed to know where to find Celtic settlements. Is it possible he created this map for those fleeing Europe?”

“Yes, I think so,” Cedric said. “I believe he wanted us to know of safe places to hide. These are places where we could build settlements with strong spiritual walls−safe havens in the New World.”

Rhun looked at Circe. “And you held the key to the puzzle without knowing it.”

They all stared at her.

“I-I didn’t realize,” she said. “I have been drawing and sewing this design my entire life.”

Cedric chuckled. “Ah, the Goddess and her mysteries. We must make the journey at once.”

“Mr. De La Rosa, can you give us a few more weeks?”

“Impossible,” he said shaking his head.

“Then we must make haste,” Rhun said.

“We must gather supplies, and bundle up,” Cedric instructed. “It is a two-day journey on foot to the Boston area, and we should travel under the cover of darkness as much as possible. I know someone in Burlington who can house us during the day. We need Ruith for this as well.”

“We leave tomorrow night?” Rhun asked.

They nodded.

Dante handed the mask back to Circe. “I do not think the mask and map should be ever carried together.”

“Agreed.”

The next night, the group started for the river. They were wrapped in long woolen cloaks with the hoods raised. Rhun led one of the draft horses. It was a clear night, so their way was lit by moonlight. They cast long black shadows on the snow as they glided along the stream. Silence was necessary. They were venturing out of the protective confines of their village.

They hitched the horse to a sledge and traveled on the frozen river to Burlington where they slept during the daylight hours. From there they traveled on foot to the outskirts of Boston where they stayed with Mistress Charles’ brother who lived only a few miles from the sites that they wanted to visit. Late that night, Circe and her father, Cedric, Dante and Ruith took a deer path into the woods to search.

The wind was strong, whipping the bare branches overhead. It cast an unsettling shadow dance on the white snow-covered trail. At last, Rhun stopped, asking Ruith, “Are you feeling anything? If I am correct we are close.”

She shook her head.

They walked on, Rhun holding the linen map. He led them to a stream and he asked again. Ruith shook her head once more.

“Join hands with Circe,” Cedric suggested. “I believe Circe’s sight is heightened regarding this matter as well.”

The sisters joined hands, closed their eyes and tipped their heads back, the wind blowing their cloaks. After a few moments, they opened their eyes again.

Circe said, “Nothing.”

Ruith agreed.

“I may be wrong about this spot,” Rhun said with a sigh. “I apologize.”

Cedric shrugged. “Maybe we are wrong about everything. It is late, so perhaps we should return to the Charles home.”

“Wait,” Dante said, stepping forward. “Perhaps two pieces of the puzzle need to be joined,” and he held out his hand to Circe.

She dropped Ruith’s hand and took Dante’s hand instead.

Instantly, Circe felt a surge of power beneath her feet. The ethereal force bolted up her arm and moved their hands upward toward the night sky.

Dante inhaled sharply. He, too, felt the rush of energy.

Rhun smiled and murmured, “We have our answer.”

*                    *                     *

“Absolutely not,” Dante said when they returned to the Arch Derwydds’ home several days later. “I leave tomorrow.”

“But we need time to discuss how to proceed,” Rhun pleaded.

“That does not concern me. I delivered the linen to you and accompanied you to the site. I am finished.”

“Ships won’t be sailing anywhere for weeks,” Cedric argued.

“I’m tired of being buried back here. I leave tomorrow for Boston.”

Dante left as planned the next morning, and the Derwydds gathered at once. They met frequently for several days. Rhun set out for Boston per their request on the third day. On the afternoon of his return, little Ewan came to the weaving room.

“Are you coming home for supper tonight?” the boy asked Circe.

She looked up from her loom. “No, I won’t be done until late.”

“Papa wants you to come home to eat. He wants to talk with you.”

When Circe arrived at the cottage, the board was laid for supper. There were only two plates. Her father was the only one there.

“Where is everyone?”

“Saffir took them to visit Aunt Rowena.”

Circe looked suspicious. “What is this about, Father?”

“Sit down.”

When he reached for the stew on the fire, she said, “Nothing right now, thank you.”

“Very well,” he replied and sat down beside her. Circe noticed fine lines in his face; his red hair was starting to streak with gray. He was growing older.

“It seems as if I’ve had you such a short time,” he said, searching her face.

Her stomach jumped. “You’re scaring me. What is it?”

He sighed and started fiddling with a spoon. “As you know, ever since we discovered the map of thin places, we have been discussing what to do with the information. We have consulted Lady Enid, and of course, we have appealed repeatedly to the Goddess. We realize now that the only way to accurately navigate newcomers to safe havens in this part of the New World is to have you and De la Rosa show them the way.”

“What!” she cried. “No, please find someone else. And besides, Dante is gone.”

Rhun shook his head. “I found him and convinced him to help.”

“I can’t believe he consented.”

Rhun raised an eyebrow. “We plied him with money.”

“Oh, of course.”

“Please listen to me. I want to explain. We will set you up in a weaving business in Boston--”

“No!” Circe exclaimed, jumping to her feet. The chair scraped loudly on the floor. “I will have to leave Glendower?”

Rhun nodded. “I have been against it from the start. I want to keep you here with me. But you would be doing a great service to our people.”

Circe stared at him, trying to grasp what they were asking of her. At last, she said, “Why do I have to move to Boston? We only need to show the first few people the sites and then they can manage from there.”

He shook his head. “The newcomers cannot step off the boat and ask just anyone where the Celtic settlement is. Your storefront will be a secret contact point for them. More are coming every day.”

Circe rubbed her forehead and started to pace.

“There must be an easier way. Someone else−”

Rhun’s face flushed suddenly. “I agree!” he exclaimed, jumping up and taking her hands. “I don’t care if the Goddess hears me! It is dangerous and I don’t want you to go. You can say no. We will not force you.”

Circe collapsed into his arms, tears streaming down her face. “But I love it here, Father. You know how I love it here.”

He nodded and stroked her hair. “I hate seeing you unhappy. You have always been my little blithe spirit.”

“Grandfather Craft always said that too.”

Stepping back, Circe dried her eyes on her sleeve and said, “He set out for the New World to find a safe haven. And so did you. How brave you were and how terrifying it must have been. I know there were good people that helped you too. I’ll go, Father. I’ll be fine. At least, I am better off. There is no great ocean to cross if I want to come home to you.”