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Culdee woke up early today. The warm Saturday summer sun woke him, sliding its rays over his eyelids, as if gently encouraging him into a new day. Culdee sat up on the bed and stretched his arms. Today was a special day. There was no need to worry about work, Alaric usually worked weekend shifts with Eric, and Culdee was free today. He was going to meet his friend. Culdee smiled, thinking about it.
It was midsummer outside. Culdee walked with long strides, something he didn't usually do, as he preferred moderation and calm. The day was so wonderful. The sun was shining brightly, the gravel of the small country road crunched underfoot, and there was such a sea of greenery all around that even the quietest person would want to breathe in as much of it as possible. Culdee inhaled, looking around. His gaze swept over the mountain that loomed above a small town at its foot. The town carries name Kirk Machan, and this was where Culdee was heading.
The town met him with the sound of buzzing, busyness, and laughter. For such a small place, it was loud. Culdee smiled at the kids playing and greeted some of the townspeople. Then he sniffed the air. An enticing aroma of freshly baked goods wafted from somewhere. Culdee entered the bakery on the corner of two buildings.
"Hi there," he greeted. "I see you have something new today?"
The saleswoman, a sweet elderly woman, turned to him and nodded.
"Yes, sir, of course. The smell is good, isn't it? These are our new fluffy buns, our baker's family recipe. You should definitely try some."
"Can I have some with cream..." Culdee studied the showcase. "Two with cream, please. And two with raisins. He likes those."
The last few words he said more to himself. The saleswoman packed his order, Culdee paid, and left. On the way, he ate both cream buns and had to admit that they were the most amazing pastries he had ever tasted, making a mental note to come back again. Looking around, a street flower vendor caught his eye. Culdee's gaze was instantly drawn to a small bouquet of edelweiss. Such flowers grew in abundance on the mountaintop, as well as in his native Switzerland. Culdee loved plants: he had several pots in his house and tended a small garden. He looked at the bouquet for a moment, then walked over and bought it.
The road led him further on. Culdee looked at the people around him. A river flowed near the town, and on this Saturday morning, many had gathered on its bank. Children played, pushing each other into the water, while adults sat in the shade of the trees, chatting. In the field next to the school, closed on weekends but just as loud, children were playing ball. Culdee chuckled. It was simply a very good day to meet with a friend.
But the road took him in a different direction. Turning away from the bustle, Culdee left Kirk Machan. Here the road became rocky again, but just as well maintained - the residents loved their town not only on the central streets. Culdee made several more turns until he stopped next to a cemetery.
It was quiet. Culdee walked past old graves; Kirk Machan's citizens had laid their people to rest here for ages. He headed to the far side. Near some rocks and boulders, where the mountain began to rise, there was one more grave. Culdee approached it and brushed some leaves and dust from the gravestone. He smiled, warm and calm.
"Hello, Godred."
Culdee placed the bouquet and buns on the slab, then took a step back.
"How are you?" he said to the air. "Hope you are alright. Today I am alone, sorry, but the others have some problems. Shane Dooiney is ill, Alaric and Eric are working. Wilfred was sent to Switzerland for a week. So today I'm here."
Culdee stayed silent for a few minutes. He walked around, gathering leaves and branches, pulling the weeds that covered the slab and the ground around it. Culdee knew that soon, nature would wrap the grave in its arms again. He smiled. Culdee had always been the calmest, most collected, and most cautious of them all. But in the next moment, he succumbed to a surging wave.
Culdee fell to his knees, hugging the gravestone. He began to cry. Tears rolled down his cheeks, then fell onto the cold stone surface. Culdee squeezed his arms around it and pressed his face against the top of the gravestone. He sobbed, again and again. The deep grief, even after all these years, could not be overcome.
Years ago, a terrible disaster had taken place. Godred, proud and reckless Godred, had fallen from the mountain. Culdee knew that this image would remain in his memory forever: Godred stumbling over the edge, the stones crumbling beneath him, and the terror in his eyes as he realized he was falling. Culdee remembered finding him below. A trace of blood on his forehead. The limp limbs. At least his death had been instant, he had not suffered for long.
Culdee did not remember crying that day. He carried Godred to the hospital himself, even though he knew it was already over. Then he had been preoccupied with paperwork, funeral arrangements, and work. Those days had felt for him like just another task to complete, and he had completed it. Culdee always approached his responsibilities seriously, taking life's ups and downs with calm. But twice a year, he allowed himself to break.
Culdee's quiet grief overtook him. Then he felt the touch of a palm on his shoulder, and he turned.
"Culdee, my dear friend, I cannot bear to see you cry."
The palm, transparent and weightless, was Godred's. Culdee looked at his friend, who had appeared beside him, smiling, and returned the smile. Godred tilted his head in feigned scolding.
"If I remember correctly, it was you who was always calm, isn't it? Tears do not suit you."
"My friend."
Culdee and Godred embraced. The ghost's arms were not cold - they seemed to radiate a gentle, invisible warmth that brushed against the shoulders of the living. Then Culdee pulled back. A warm smile overcame the tears on his face.
"I'm so glad to see you, Godred. I'm very happy that you are well."
"The same to you. So, do we not have the whole day ahead of us? Where shall we go today? Last time you showed me the Skarloey Railway, and it was quite interesting. Wait, I have an idea. Let us go visit Alaric and Eric. Since they are working and cannot come, we will go to them ourselves. And then we will go to the river. I have not seen it in so long."
"I think you will like the town too. It's growing by leaps and bounds."
They spent this day together. After Godred's death, Lady took pity on him and allowed him to visit the earth twice a year: on the longest day and on the longest night. Godred spent this time with his friends, traveling along the mountain and the roads, living out the life that had been cut short too soon.
They visited the mountain railway, the town, and the stream. No one except the mountain team could see the ghost. Godred joked with Alaric, strolled through the narrow streets of Kirk Machan with Culdee. They were happy. But everything comes to an end eventually.
It was beginning to grow dark. The day was drawing to a close, and Culdee and Godred returned to the cemetery. Godred looked noticeably sad. When they approached the gravestone, someone was already waiting for them. Standing beside it was a woman in a long crimson dress, her hair flowing down like a river of flame. Culdee bowed his head respectfully.
"It is time to leave, Godred," Lady said, extending her hand to him. Her voice sounded in their minds, she did not need to move her lips. "Let's go. You will be able to return again in some time."
Godred lowered his head. Then Culdee gently placed his hand on Godred's arm.
"It will not be long, will it? We will meet at the winter solstice, and I promise to take you to Ulfstead Castle. They always decorate it beautifully for the holidays, so you will be able to see it."
Godred smiled.
"Thank you, Culdee."
He gave Culdee one last look, then turned to Lady and took her hand. In the next moment, they both vanished. Culdee remained by the grave for a while longer, then turned away and left the cemetery.
Each of them had found peace again today. There was next day ahead, and everything was okay.