An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
He sits, the tea that Claire made for him, beside him on the desk. It is bolted down against the tempest waves.
The tea helps him with the nausea being on the sea causes. He dips the quill back in the ink before returning to the letter.
Claire sits on the bed, nursing Faith. Fergus lays asleep beside her.Β
βWon't we get there before they can get it?β She asks as she switches her daughter to the other side.Β
He looks up at her and grins. The sight of his wife with their daughter on her breast brings him unspeakable joy.
βAye, most likely. Still, I feel the need to record what has happened. It is soβ¦β
βBrilliant. Amazing.β
βAye, that will do. One day our children will have this to read their papaβs thoughts during this time.β
She swallows the lump of pure emotions that feels her throat. βGo on then,β a smile as a full Faith drops off her breast, milk full and close to sleep, βbefore your ink dries β
She lifts her up and rubs her back as he returns to his letter.
βYou won't believe her, Jenny. She is the perfect representation of Claire and I. While our Fergus, though he doesn't share our blood, is becoming more and more like us everyday.
We are the reverse of Naomi, from the Holy Scriptures. We left empty but returned full.Β
I know you have received the letter telling of Faith βs death. That you had to grief too, forgive us for that. In truth, we really thought she was, as I have previously said.Β
A miracle is our Faith Julia Ellen. Fergus Murtagh James is as well. Just in a different way.Β
God has gifted us with two brilliant children. We are on our way home. You will soon meet them.
He places the letter aside to dry and turns back to his wife and children.
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