Bridget's Nights Ch. 10

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patricia51
patricia51
1,898 Followers

I sat down between the graves of my parents. I touched the two headstones. I had them replaced every 50 years or so, using the proceeds from the trust fund I had set up to build the church. Everyone else had forgotten Michael and Mary O'Brien centuries before. I never would.

There was a discreet cough. I wasn't surprised. I looked up at the old man, the angel, whatever he was.

"I see you got your cane back," I nodded at it as he limped up to me.

With a grunt he seated himself beside me. His eyes searched mine. "What are you doing here, Bridget?"

"I'm waiting for the sunrise." I answered him. "I'm just tired." I couldn't read his face, but I thought I could see sympathy flash through his eyes and it encouraged me. "I'm tired of watching every one else die around me. I'm tired of living for pleasure. I'm even tired of fighting for Mom and apple pie and my country. I've tried to do my best at some things and just enjoy the rest. Now, that's all I want, to rest."

"What about that young man you just met?"

"What about him? There's no future with him. He'll grow old and die and I'll still be here. Or I would be if I didn't see this sunrise." I pointed my chin towards the eastern sky. "Its beginning to lighten. I'd forgotten how beautiful it is to watch the sun come up."

He took my hand in his. "Well, if you've made up your mind. I'm not allowed to do anything about your situation myself. But perhaps someone else might." He paused. "Close your eyes for a moment." When I looked at him quizzically he added, "Please."

I shrugged and did what he asked. Images came and went. I guess it was my life and unlife flashing before me. So many faces, so many things I should have done, or shouldn't have done. So much time. It all made me dizzy. So dizzy...

Something was brushing over my face. I reached one hand up and tried to swat whatever it was away. As I did, I managed to open my eyes, squinting against the bright glare.

"Miss? Miss are you all right?" A soft Irish voice penetrated my mind.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you," I managed to answer as I pushed myself to my feet. A strong hand took my elbow to help me up, then steadied me. I covered my eyes with one hand against the sunlight on my face.

"Oh, my, GOD!" I all but screamed. It was daylight. I was standing with the full rays of the sun beating down on me. I frantically pressed my fingertips against my neck. I had a pulse! I was ALIVE!

My knees gave way and I was sitting down on the green sod again.

"Are you sure you're alright Miss?"

I looked at the young man. He looked a bit like Seamus. Then another face came into my mind and I scrambled back to my feet. "I'm wonderful. Thank you so very much for your concern. But right now," I scanned the area and spotted my car parked by the church. "Right now I have to get back to America. Someone's waiting for me."

(The End)

***********************************************

(Epilogue)

Father John MacNeill wandered from the parsonage to the church. As he came in, he noticed an unfamiliar woman standing in the aisle. She was slight, with red hair and, he was willing to bet, green eyes.

"Good Day, Father," she greeted him. More than one accent seemed to float through her voice, but Father John could detect the faintest hint of an Irish one buried amongst them. "What an unusual place for a church. There's no village here."

"Ah, but there was one at one time. Would you like to hear the story?"

"Please."

Father John launched into the tale about a long ago village that had seen the daughter of the leading family somehow come back to grisly life after her murder. The terrifying apparition had been driven from the village but was rumored to reappear from time to time. The family had begun the building of the church, but it had stopped when the majority of the family died over the years and the last ones moved away.

"Amazingly though, about two hundred years ago, the local bishop received a large grant of money. Much was to be used for charity, but a sum was specified to complete this church and maintain it and this graveyard. For example the headstones of the family are replaced when they break or become disfigured."

He smiled. "Of course the story itself of the O'Brien maid is nothing but an old legend. Still, it is interesting. I often wonder what could have been behind it, and whatever happened to the woman, if she did indeed exist.

The woman looked at him "There's more to the story than what you know Father. Would you like to hear the rest of it?" Her eyes burned into his for a moment.

He stammered. "More? There's more?"

"Oh yes." The woman's expression softened. "Bridget was her name. Did you know that?" At the shake of his head she went on. "She wandered far from here. She traveled through Europe and even to Asia and Africa. She went to the New World. But she was always driven to return here, in hopes of finding what she had lost."

"She tried to somehow find atonement, as though she had done something terribly wrong that caused what happened to her. She finally realized that she hadn't. She grew. She managed to forgive her family. No matter how much it hurt when they rejected her, she came to understand it was a natural fear."

The woman walked back and forth. Father John's mouth grew dry as he realized she was avoiding the sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows. He inched back towards the altar.

"She finally accepted that she was what she was, but that at the same time she could be a good person. She worked for good although she was by no means any kind of saint. Then," the woman turned to face him again. A smile crossed her face as she saw he had moved away from her. "Then she had an opportunity the likes of which she never expected. She was brought into play in the struggle between good and evil. She triumphed in the small part she was allotted."

The woman stopped and sat down in the last pew. "She came back to Ireland, as she had before, tired and weary of heart. She met the one who had aided her last fight. Who he is, what he is named, is not important. Suffice it to say that she was granted her heart's desire. It may have been for her fight. It may have been for nothing she did, simply a gift of the infinite mercy from above."

Father John, drawn in spite of himself, came to her. She looked at him. "Her heart beat again. More than that," she stood and he saw tears in her eyes. "She was allowed to find what she had lost before." Merry laughter floated through the doorway. A tall man strode through the door with three tumbling young children behind him. He stood in the square of bright sunlight and she went to him.

"Father John has been telling me the story of how this chapel came to be." The man's arm circled the woman's shoulders and she leaned against him. "Father, this is my husband, Michael Gibson, Jr. and our children, Michael, Linda, and Mary."

"Pleased to meet you Father," the man acknowledged in the soft voice of the American South. He turned his attention to the woman gathered in the circle of his arm. "This is as beautiful as you said it was. I'm glad we came, Bridget."

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. She looked again around the chapel. "Might I be asking when Mass will be, Father?"

Father John smiled in understanding. "If you would like, right now." With the family following behind, he walked to the front of the little church and began.

(Finale)

(My thanks to Marian, my bestest friend and editor, for all of her work. Thank you to Dotti, who has held my hand since I first announced I wanted to try writing. Thank you to all the friends who have written me and encouraged me and demanded that I finish writing the darn story before they were too old to read it. A special thanks to The Corner Gang, you are a wonderful group of friends.)

patricia51
patricia51
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oldpantythiefoldpantythief8 months ago

Because these stories have been written and posted many years ago, I'm not worried that we've seen the last of Bridget. This has been an amazing story and I'm looking forward to reading others about Bridget, written by this author. Outstanding!!!

ChopinesqueChopinesqueabout 2 years ago

Bestest former vampiress ever. Long live Bridget! Brave, bonnie lass. Many thanks for such a fine, fine tale.

EldarrionEldarrionover 12 years ago
Simply incredible.

It is rare that a story manages to move me as much as the Bridget series did. You are an excellent writer and I loved reading through all of them. Even though I came here looking for a bit of smut, I ended up actually skipping the sex scenes to get to the story progression and enjoyed myself greatly. At the end, I actually was crying because of the amount of emotion this story evoked in me. Hoping to see more of your work soon.

ILBurbsGuyILBurbsGuyalmost 15 years ago
Loved the Story

You have literally brought to life a wonderful character in Bridget. I want to stay up late and read more of your stories after finishing this great tale.

hemmo12hemmo12about 15 years ago
Amazing story

Didn't vote earlier, as was busy reading the next ep. Couldn't stop reading this. The writer should think of doing this professionally.

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