Wheeling Gull Isle healing prayers

jasmine was kind and pretty. heda felt more aged, more drawn.
she climbed to the top of the promontory she had come to think of as the greenhills, and sat with her back to the rest of the island, watching the shimmer of sun upon sea. 
she heard bartholomew's step and swallowed, shoulders tensing. she wanted to yell at him. she wanted to cry. she wanted him to look at her, to see the rivulets of exhausted tears which had worn their way upon her marble cheeks.
"i met her. she's nice." 
her voice shook. heda did not turn around.