Chapter 4
The small bar area in the dining room was serving coffee, and the smell of the roasted beans gave her an instant lift. The old lady from breakfast was sitting by the window and smiled kindly at Andrea. Ordering a medium cappuccino, she sat at the only other table by the window, looking out across the water and letting her latest plans settle in her mind. She was doing the right thing, she was sure of it.
The coffee came and she stirred several sugars into the creamy white foam. The strain of the week had finally caught up with her, and she needed the extra energy. Sugar was definitely a taboo word in her circle back home. Letting out a sigh, she pushed back into her chair and stretched out her legs. She had set the wheels in motion now and would soon be back to her old life. These last few days would be as a dream. That was a sobering thought.
"How are ye liking our wee Isle?"
The soft lilting voice interrupted her quiet contemplation and she looked up to see the old lady was standing at her table, waiting to be invited to sit down.
"Do ye mind if I join ye?"
Andrea would have preferred a few moments alone but couldn't be rude to such a lovely lady.
“Not at all, though I haven't got much time before I leave."
The woman's blue eyes were steady on hers.
"That's something we have lots of on Iona. Time—it’s one of our greatest commodities."
The old lady laughed, and it made Andrea smile.
"I'm Geraldine MacDonald. It's a pleasure to meet you Miss ..."
"Andrea. I'm Andrea Taylor."
"And where be ye rushing aff to, lassie?"
"Back to New York. I live there with my partner, and he has his first art exhibition the day after tomorrow, and I need to be with him."
She didn't usually tell strangers her life history, but there was something about Geraldine that made her want to talk.
"Ye must truly love him?"
Andrea's smiled, uncertain how to answer that question.
"I came here as the last request of my grandmother Betty. She was an artist and came here in the 1950s. It's a strange request, but she wanted me to leave this on a grave by the old chapel."
Reaching into her pocket, Andrea pulled out the stone and slid it across the table.
A frail and age-spotted hand picked up the small stone between two delicate fingers and held it close up to her face, eyes sparkling as if she were holding a precious jewel.
"Ah."
Andrea frowned slightly. "Do you know what it is?"
"It's a rune from the old times."
The look on Andrea’s face must have told Geraldine that she did not understand.
"It's a powerful artifact. Ye better take care of it. The great Scottish clans would have used something like this against their enemy."
"You mean black magic?"
“There is no black magic. Just magic. But it can be used for good or evil."
Andrea was hypnotized for a few seconds, lost in the gaze of the twinkling eyes.
She laughed uneasily to break the spell the old woman was weaving. She would have to get moving soon to make it to Glasgow by nightfall. "But of course that's all silly nonsense. We know that now."
"Is it?” The old lady leaned forward. “This is such a special spot. It is said that Iona is a place where the thinnest of veils separates time and eternity."
Andrea felt uncomfortable. She knew what Geraldine was saying, but it was all a little too late for that. She had made her mind up and set the wheels in motion. There was to be no going back, and not wanting to be rude, she stood, ready to leave.
"I have to go. My flight is tomorrow."
The old lady handed back the stone and looked seriously at Andrea.
"Rushing towards the future, that's what everyone seems to be doing these days. But don't forget yesterday. We can learn a lot by reflection. Remember, as one famous author once said, “The past is a different country—they do things differently there."
It was a strange thing to say, but it had been a strange day all around. Putting the stone back in her pocket, Andrea smiled and bid farewell before quickly heading out. On the short walk back across the road and down to the chapel, she was conscious of the rune in her pocket and could almost feel it burning away against the denim of her jeans. She would be glad to get rid of it once and for all.