BooksBarbecue
Back The Darkest Shore Save as PDF
Chapters (76)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Also by Karen Brooks
  4. Title Page
  5. Dedication
  6. EXPLANATORY NOTE
  7. PART ONE
  8. One
  9. Two
  10. Three
  11. Four
  12. Five
  13. Six
  14. Seven
  15. Eight
  16. Nine
  17. Ten
  18. Eleven
  19. Twelve
  20. Thirteen
  21. Fourteen
  22. Fifteen
  23. Sixteen
  24. Seventeen
  25. Eighteen
  26. Nineteen
  27. Twenty
  28. Twenty-One
  29. Twenty-Two
  30. Twenty-Three
  31. Twenty-Four
  32. Twenty-Five
  33. Twenty-Six
  34. Twenty-Seven
  35. Twenty-Eight
  36. PART TWO
  37. Twenty-Nine
  38. Thirty
  39. Thirty-One
  40. Thirty-Two
  41. Thirty-Three
  42. Thirty-Four
  43. Thirty-Five
  44. PART THREE
  45. Thirty-Six
  46. Thirty-Seven
  47. Thirty-Eight
  48. Thirty-Nine
  49. Forty
  50. Forty-One
  51. Forty-Two
  52. Forty-Three
  53. Forty-Four
  54. Forty-Five
  55. Forty-Six
  56. Forty-Seven
  57. Forty-Eight
  58. Forty-Nine
  59. Fifty
  60. Fifty-One
  61. Fifty-Two
  62. PART FOUR
  63. Fifty-Three
  64. Fifty-Four
  65. Fifty-Five
  66. Fifty-Six
  67. Fifty-Seven
  68. Fifty-Eight
  69. Fifty-Nine
  70. Sixty
  71. Sixty-One
  72. Epilogue: Autumn 1706
  73. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  74. GLOSSARY
  75. LIST OF CHARACTERS
  76. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

In the main bedroom Nettie’s belongings were arranged neatly upon the dresser. Sorcha sat on the bed she once shared with her husband Andy, the same bed that had belonged to her mor and da. Dropping the burlap at her feet, she brought a pillow to her nose and inhaled deeply. Convinced it no longer smelled of Andy or her parents, as she used to believe, but bore the cherished fragrance of Nettie, she replaced it carefully, smoothing it out. Lying back on the covers, she folded her arms behind her head and studied the ceiling. Little light found its way into this part of the house come nightfall, but she could still remember the shapes the damp had imprinted above her. When she was a wee bairn, she’d climb into bed when her mor was sad or ill and try to identify them. Years later, Andy had indulged her by playing the game too, and together they’d discovered seals, urchins, the sail of a boat, a mangy cat and even, one time after a few drinks, the face of an old woman.

‘A witch,’ Andy had chuckled.

‘Nae, a wise woman,’ she’d countered.

It was a game she once imagined she’d play with her own child.

A sudden sorrow threatened to engulf her and she sat up and found a shawl she hadn’t realised she’d left behind draped on the end of the bed. Marvelling it was still where she’d evidently left it, she wrapped it around her shoulders. Hanging on the opposite wall was a mirror, still covered with a swathe of fabric from when Andy died. There hadn’t even been time to remove it before wee Davan’s soul was also taken. God bless Nettie, she’d kept it there. Perhaps now she could, should, take it down. After all, it had been almost two years.

She rose and drew the cloth away slowly. Her shadowy reflection stared back at her in the spotted glass. The light from the main room behind her made her hair glint, threads of fire that formed a halo about her head. Waiting until her eyes adjusted, she could see her face was fuller than she remembered; her mouth looked wider as well. Her eyes were great dark pools, their vibrant colour surrendered to the gloom. Touching her cheek, she ran a finger down her face, pushing into the soft flesh, watching the way it resumed its former shape. Would she?