There is a place where the young folk go to dance and laugh and although Mary went there, she was not happy. While the others played at the games of love, Mary sat alone beneath an overhanging bush and wept. Every night it was the same.  

       Then one night, when the young people were well into there fun, a tall handsome stranger came. All the lasses danced with him, but Mary never noticed he was there. She didn’t notice when the dancing stopped and one by one in pairs and alone, the young people went home, and the stranger stood before her.

       "Why does such a young and pretty lass sit alone and weep?"

       "I weep for my love Jaime who’s gone off to sea and drowned."

       "Well I knew your love Mary, it was months ago he left and it is time to get on with living. Come dance with me."

       "I’ll dance with no other than my Jaime and he is gone."

       Before Mary could say another word, the stranger took her hand and pulled her to her feet. He turned her in great circles.

       Little by little Mary looked up until she looked into his face. She knew those eyes, that nose. And the mouth she had kissed a hundred times. It was her own true love. Mary was overcome with joy and the two danced into the wee hours to music only they could hear.

       But as morning drew near, Jaime said "I must be gone before daylight Mary." and he whistled for his horse.

       A steed black as midnight came to the call.

       "Oh no," said Mary. "Now that I’ve found you, I’ll never let you go."

       "Mary, the house is cold and dark and small. You cannot come with me."

       "But I will." she replied. And he had no choice but to put her on the horse behind him.

       Jaime kicked the horse’s side and off they flew across the landscape, or so it seemed to Mary that the horse’s hooves left the ground. Faster and faster they went until the world was a blur around them and Mary grew cold. She leaned closer to Jaime for warmth but he was cold and wet. And it was not raining!

       As quickly as they had begun, the horse came to a halt inside the village cemetery. Mary knew the place for it was here she had erected a stone in memory of her Jaime. He slid from the horse and gave her a hand to help her down.

       His hand was cold and pale and when Mary looked into his face she saw the once vibrant rosy cheeks were grey and sunken. Jaime pulled Mary to him and she struggled to free herself.

       "Let go whoever you are!"

       "I am your love." he said "And now that I’ve found you I’ll never let you go! No longer will you keep me awake with your weeping. No longer will you wet me with your tears."

       Mary pulled and pushed and finally freed herself but the plaid shawl wrapped about her shoulders came loose in the deadman’s hands. Mary ran for the gate and he chased her. She could feel him on her heels but she never looked back. Just as Mary crossed the threshold, the sun rose over the trees and she fainted.

       When Mary woke, she found herself in a safe warm bed with a fire in the fireplace beyond her door. An old couple had found her on the road and now heard her stir.

      "You’re awake at last." said the old woman. "Tis good to see the color in your cheeks."

      They explained to Mary how and where they had found her and she told them her story.

      "Tsk," said the old woman. "We dream such strange things at times."

      "Twas no dream." said Mary. "Go to the cemetery and find my shawl, then you’ll see."

      It was plain to see there was arguing with her so the man took two of his friends to search in the cemetery. They found a scrap of plaid near a headstone. The stone read "Jaime, Beloved of Mary, Lost at Sea." They tried to pick up the cloth but it was buried in the earth. They sent for the priest and the old man sent one of his friends to the shed to fetch a shovel.

      "We’ll dig it up."

      And dug they did. They dug and dug until they came to the roots of an old tree that grew nearby.

       "Look! It’s tangled in the roots." one man said.

       "And more," said another. "It’s tangled in the fingers of a corpse!"

       The priest helped give young Jaime a proper burial then they returned the shawl to its owner.

       Mary pressed it to her face. She breathed in the scent upon it. It smelled like the earth. It smelled like the grave. Mary wrapped the shawl about her shoulders and went home. Never to weep for her Jaime again.

In Celtic mythology, the crossroads is a place of magic where anything can happen. In early Ireland, unbaptized children were buried at the crossroads and coffins were processed through it. Some traditions say that you can meet the devil at the crossroads and if you are lost, you only need toss your keys over your left shoulder while standing in the crossroads and they will point the way home. In addition, this story is perfect for loved ones who are grieving a loss. It teaches us that we can remember those we love and at the same time, we must let them go.