Highlander's Captive

by Mariah Stone

  “I am?”

  “I think so. You are calmer, and…happier.”

  “Happier?” Amy cried. “I don’t think I’ve been more miserable in my entire life.”

  “Well yeah, you’re sad. But the haunted look you’ve had ever since you were ten—like you’re a wild animal being hunted, and all you need is your safe cave—it’s gone.”

  Amy shook her head, looking into her glass. “I had no idea I had a haunted look.”

  “Whatever that Craig did—in reality or in your head—he changed you.”

  Amy raised her brows and kept silent. Maybe she’d feel that change if not for the constant pain in her heart and soul. But wasn’t that what Sìneag had said?

  …the one man that ye truly love. The one ye change for.

  Had she changed for Craig? She had found herself back on that mountain in the Highlands.

  And, strangely, she thought of Dad. And instead of the resentment and contempt she’d felt for him her whole life, she felt pity. It probably hadn’t been easy for him, when Mom died. And then finding out what he had done to his daughter—that he’d almost killed her.

  “How’s Dad?” Amy asked.

  Jenny cocked her head, puzzled. “Dad? He’s fine. Why?”

  “I think I’m going to go with you to North Carolina. To see him.”

  Jenny’s face went blank. “Seriously?”

  Amy nodded. “Yes. I think so. I haven’t seen him for a long time. And, I think, I’m finally ready.”

  Chapter 35

  Inverlochy Castle, January 1307

  “Brooding, again?” Owen said.

  Craig turned to him, one eyebrow arched. Owen was walking from the Comyn Tower onto the northern wall overlooking the river and the loch. The tops of the hills and mountains were white, the bottoms still brown and gray.

  “Aye,” Craig said. “And ye’re disturbing me.”

  Owen came to stand by Craig’s side and leaned against the parapet as well.

  “Brood as much as ye want,” Owen said. “Mayhap I came to brood, too.”

  “What do ye have to brood about?”

  “The general absence of women in my life.”

  “I hope Lachlan’s death taught ye a lesson about that.”

  Owen looked at him out of the corner of his eye and said nothing.

  “Ye ken I’ll never trust ye again.”

  “Ye dinna mean that, brother, surely.”

  Craig held Owen’s eyes for a long time. “I do mean it, Owen. I would go against any enemy with ye to fight, knowing well that ye’ll have my back in a battle. But other things… Ye kent well why ye shouldna seduce village girls. And ye did that anyway. How can I trust ye?”

  Owen nodded. “Fair enough. But ye will still fight at my side in a battle?”

  “Aye.”

  “So ye ken I wilna betray ye to the enemy.”

  “Aye. I canna imagine ye would. Why would ye?”

  “Right. I wouldna. But if ye ken I wouldna betray ye, why do ye not allow Amy the same benefit?”

  Amy.

  The name slashed him across his abdomen like a sharp sword.

  “Because I grew up with ye, that’s why,” he growled. “And she…”

  “And she isna yer enemy. She wasna raised with the MacDougalls. She wasna even born here. She’s a complete stranger. An outsider.”

  “Aye.”

  “So she hasna a reason to betray ye.”

  “But she did. She lied. And the MacDougalls are still her family even if they are her ancient ancestors. She might want to help them after all, for all I ken.”

  “It wasna a betrayal.”

  “Sure feels like it. Why do ye protect her, anyway?”

  “I dinna protect her. I protect ye.”

  “From what?”

  “From yer stupid stubbornness.”

  Craig wished now he had something in his hands he could throw over the wall and watch it smash on the ground.

  “Loyalty is important to me. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing. Except, ye’re confining yerself to a lifetime of misery.”

  His words resonated painfully in Craig’s chest. It wasn’t like Craig hadn’t imagined Amy in his life. She was his wife. They’d never even divorced, never said the words. But he thought about spending long, warm nights together, the trips to the mountains they’d take together, how she’d meet Marjorie. Marjorie would love Amy. Both had a very strong core. Both had gone through a lot but had survived and come out stronger. He imagined his and Amy’s children. Would they be red haired like her? Or dark haired like himself?

  And he imagined many days, months, and years when he’d be thanking God for the gift of love and happiness that he’d have daily.

  But he couldn’t have that. Because every minute of every day, he’d doubt her.

  How could he ever trust her again?

  Not that he’d see her again in his lifetime, of course.

  Craig stood upright and faced Owen, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Why are ye concerned about my misery or happiness? Did ye suddenly become such a believer in love? Ye, who canna miss a skirt.”

  Owen looked down. “No,” he said. “But I can see that ye, without her, are a much more stupid arse than ye are with her. And I like ye much more when ye’re a less stupid arse.”

  Craig shook his head. “Ye’re definitely a more stupid arse with women around.”

  “But it isna about me. ’Tis about ye.”

  “Aye, aye. Try to change the subject.”

  “Nae, I’m serious. Ye need to learn to trust people ye love, brother. Ye canna live like that anymore. Ye will regret it.”

  “If the price for peace is regret, I’ll take it.”

  “I dinna think ye will, though. One day, ye’ll be on yer death bed, as will we all. Will ye not regret driving Amy away? Will ye not regret missing a lifetime of happiness with her and risking the possibility she’d make a mistake?”

  Craig exhaled, trying to think. He was angry at Owen for talking about it, for raising the doubt in him again.

  The questions that had spun in his head ever since he’d found out the truth.

  What if he was strong enough to believe her? What if he was brave enough to allow the possibility that she could be loyal? That she was an honest person. That she would rather die than betray him.

  Like he would for her.

  He’d already made himself believe in her once—and look how that had turned out.

  But life without her would be empty.

  Life without her wouldn’t be a life.

  It would be waiting for a miracle. The miracle he’d had in his arms but hadn’t had the courage to believe in.

  Loving was being open to heartbreak and suffering like that. Loving was risk. Happiness was risk.

  He would never have complete assurance in another human being—Owen, Amy, Bruce, or even himself.

  He was betraying himself right now by sticking to his old habits and beliefs. If he was truthful to himself, there was nothing he wanted more than to forgive Amy and beg her to stay with him forever.

  He’d give her all the freedom she wanted. He’d make sure she felt safe. He’d worship her every day and ask nothing in return.

  “Aye,” Craig said. “I very much will regret it. In fact, I already am.”

  Chapter 36

  Thornberry Hill Farm, North Carolina, February 2021

  The house smelled old. Old carpet, old wood, old memories. The familiar pale-green walls and kitchen cabinets; the dark-wood furniture; the dingy lampshades; the faded landscape paintings of mountains, fields, and lakes. The whole interior looked faded, as though Amy was looking through a sepia filter. The floor planks sank and squeaked a little as she stepped on them.

  Amy took a deep breath, preparing herself. She counted to four, gathering her strength, and finally, after more than twenty years, looked into her father’s eyes.

  An old man stood before her, hunched, wrin
kled, and weathered. She was taller than him now. Like the house, he looked faded, washed out. Sharp pain pierced her chest.

  “Amy,” he said, his pale-blue eyes watering.

  “Hi, Dad,” she said.

  Jenny walked past Amy into the kitchen. “Hi, Dad, I’ll boil some water for tea.”

  “Yeah,” he said, distracted. “Come in, Amy, please.”

  He gestured into the kitchen and Amy nodded and walked in. She sat at the round table they’d had many dinners at. The memory of her mom, bustling about making food flashed through her mind. Everything looked smaller now. Everything looked surreal. Like she were in a dream but still didn’t know if it would turn out to be a nightmare.

  Dad took out the cups and a box of tea bags, his hands shaking.

  They settled at the table with their teacups. Silence hung.

  “How are you, Amy?” Dad said, his voice soft.

  “I’m good. I’m sure you know about search and rescue and Vermont and all that from Jenny.”

  “I do. I do. Good for you.”

  This felt weird. Like stepping on eggshells. As if every word was heavy with meaning, and every change in intonation might break this temporary truce and reveal the old aches and heartbreaks.

  “And you, Dad?”

  “Holding up, holding up. Rented the fields out—I can’t do the farm work no more.”

  Amy wondered if he’d also rented out the barn, or if it still stood empty and abandoned.

  They lapsed into silence.

  Jenny stood up. “I’ll go see if the bedrooms upstairs need any cleaning,” she said.

  Amy watched her sister walk out of the kitchen, almost wanting to run after her.

  “Your health okay?” Amy asked, turning back to her dad.

  “I have the cirrhosis, you know. But it’s stable for now.”

  “Well, you let me know what you need. I’ll always send money.”

  He looked down and nodded, his expression mournful. “You’ve been too good to me, Amy. I don’t deserve it.”

  His chin trembled a bit, and tears welled in Amy’s eyes. Who was this man? He was a shadow of who he’d been when she’d seen him last. There wasn’t any malice in him, not a sign of aggression.

  Just pain. Regret.

  Amy reached across the table and covered his hands with her own.

  “It’s all right, Dad,” she whispered.

  He met her eyes, and his were filled with tears. Amy had never seen Dad cry. Not even at Mom’s funeral.

  “I’m so sorry for what I did to you. I’ll burn in hell, anyway, for locking up a little girl and forgetting about her. But if you’d died there, I’d—”

  He broke into tears and slouched over the table, covering his face with his hands. Amy moved to sit next to him, wrapping her arm around his shoulders, his back shaking under her palm. She pressed her head to his. Her own tears fell, and she didn’t mind.

  Her face burned, her heart bleeding, her stomach quivering.

  They cried.

  They cried for Amy’s mother who had died too early. For the man Dad used to be—the man who had died with her mother. For the girl he had locked up in the barn. For the years they’d lost, the years she’d rejected Dad’s attempts to contact her.

  For the broken life he’d lived and the broken life that Amy had. For the little time he had left.

  After a while, their tears dried, and they just sat like that, pressed against each other.

  He wanted her forgiveness, she knew. He’d wanted it for years.

  But Amy hadn’t been able to forgive him. All she’d been capable of was distracting herself and not thinking of it anymore.

  Maybe she’d been doing the same as Craig. Unable to forgive. Unable to forget.

  But she was able now, she realized, because she’d found the girl she’d lost in that old barn.

  “I forgive you, Dad,” Amy whispered.

  He straightened up and looked at her with puffy bloodshot eyes. “You do?”

  “Yes, I forgive you. Whatever happened, it made me who I am now. It’s part of me. That’s why I’m good at finding lost people. I help them, saving their lives, returning them to their loved ones.”

  “I am so proud of you. I was sick. Had I not drunk, I’d never have…”

  “I know. It’s okay. I wish you had had the strength to abstain from the bottle. I wish I hadn’t been scared of monsters under the bed. We both did the best we could given the circumstances.”

  He nodded.

  “Thank you for understanding. Thank you for your forgiveness. You don’t know what it means to me, Amy. All these years, I spent with regret eating me up like acid. I don’t have much time left, Amy. And your forgiveness is the biggest gift you could ever give me.”

  Amy found the strength to smile.

  “It’s also a gift to me,” she said.

  They sat in silence for a while, letting this new reality sink in—where there wouldn’t be any more resentment, and the lost parts of them both could come back and live again.

  “What now?” Dad said. “Do you have a man in your life?”

  Amy sighed, the memory of Craig resonating in her in a dull ache. “Sort of. But I…I thought we wouldn’t be compatible because I couldn’t be happy in a relationship. My previous marriage didn’t work out—I felt trapped. And I didn’t think I’d ever meet someone I would feel like myself with.”

  “But you did?”

  “I did. I think so.”

  “And you aren’t together?”

  “No. We broke up. But now… I don’t know, something changed in me.”

  The truth was, she looked at Dad and she didn’t want to end up like him, full of regret in the last years of his life. He’d lost his wife, the love of his life, and it had broken him. What if Amy lived her life here, as broken and as regretful as he was?

  This reconciliation with him, it shifted things in her soul. She wasn’t afraid of closed spaces anymore. She wasn’t afraid to talk to him anymore. Forgiveness opened places she’d locked within herself many years ago. And what she found wasn’t scary.

  It was healing.

  It was bravery.

  It was acceptance of herself.

  What Craig had said. Ye lost yerself somewhere back in that barn… Ye must find yerself first.

  Well, she finally had. Now, talking to Dad, she’d found the girl she’d lost.

  And she felt complete. Strong. Loved.

  The only thing missing was the man she loved.

  “Yes, I think it did. Does he deserve you?”

  “Oh yes. He’s the kindest and strongest man I know. You’d like him.”

  “Maybe we can meet someday? I’m sorry, I don’t want to insist or anything. It’s up to you.”

  Amy smiled. “No, no, I’d have loved to, but he lives in Scotland.”

  Dad’s eyes lit up. “In Scotland? Coming back to your roots then, Amy. You’re Scottish through and through.”

  “Not sure.” She chuckled. “He’d probably disagree.”

  “Does he love you?”

  “Yes. Yes, he does. He’s just as afraid to commit. I was, too. But I’m not anymore. And I think I can make him see he doesn’t need to be, either.”

  She imagined herself with Craig, living with him in the Highlands. Exploring mountains together. The family they’d have. He’d be a wonderful father. He’d never do anything to hurt her or their children. He’d protect them.

  It would be a hard life, back in time, no doubt. A life full of hard work without modern comforts or modern medicines.

  But Amy wasn’t afraid of that. She’d take that any day for a chance to be with Craig as long as she could.

  She sighed.

  Was she considering going back to him?

  Not just considering. She’d decided.

  No matter what he said about not being able to be with her, she’d go. She’d make him see. She’d stick with him, and eventually he’d realize she’d never lie to him again. She’d be lo
yal to him.

  Yes, she just needed to make him see that.

  He needed time to trust her.

  And she’d give him that time.

  And if he still couldn’t trust or forgive her, at least she’d know she’d given it her best shot. She’d come back to her own time with no regrets.

  “That’s good,” Dad said. “Maybe you two can reconcile then?”

  “Yes, maybe we can,” she said.

  She took her father’s hand in hers and squeezed it. How strange it was that it was her father, the man she’d blamed for her misfortunes her whole life, who had given her the greatest resources of all.

  Forgiveness. Strength. And bravery.

  Chapter 37

  Inverlochy Castle, late February 2021

  Amy looked at the empty courtyard, the ruined towers, the crumbled walls. There was no moat, no kitchen, no great hall. No stables where Craig and she had made love for the first time. The Comyn Tower looked like a stump again. It was quiet, just the wind rustling the bare branches of the trees.

  The smells of a working castle were gone. As were the people she’d known. Craig. Owen. Hamish. Fergus. Elspeth.

  She wondered if the rocks held memories of everything that had happened since then. The people who had lived here. Loved. Struggled. Died.

  Amy adjusted her backpack. It was heavy with medicines, binoculars and other search and rescue tools, books on herbalism and how to do useful stuff like make paper. And she’d packed tampons. Many, many tampons.

  Jenny had insisted Amy take as many as possible. Smart girl. What would Amy do without her? Amy’s heart ached at the memory of her sister and the knowledge that they’d never see each other again.

  Jenny had had a hard time letting Amy go, and Amy still felt guilty leaving her sister to take care of their dad alone. She had put her house and all her possessions in Jenny’s name so that she could sell them if she wanted to. They’d cried for what felt like hours.

  “I still have a hard time believing it,” Jenny had said through her tears.

  “Just imagine I’m in a foreign country with no phones, no email, and no communication possible.”

  Jenny sobbed. “It will be like you’ve died!”