Return To Rhanna

by Christine Marion Fraser

  Ruth paused in the doorway and felt herself relaxing a little as Shona threw her a dazzling smile. She wondered at the older woman’s strength of spirit. So much had happened in recent months, things that might have quelled the strongest of hearts. The shadow of bereavement still hung heavy over Laigmhor. Just as recently as late summer the McKenzie family had suffered the tragic loss of Lewis, struck down in young manhood by a tumour on the brain. It had been a traumatic time for everyone concerned and as Ruth came further into the room she couldn’t stop herself from observing, ‘Shona – I – don’t understand how you can be so lighthearted after everything that’s happened. You seem so – carefree.’

  She was immediately sorry she had spoken in such a fashion. A cloud had passed over Shona’s face and the smoothness of her brow was once more marred by a troubled frown. ‘Ruth, Ruth, how can you think such things?’ she appealed, her voice low, her shoulders drooping in a sudden posture of weariness. ‘I cried for my brother till there were no tears left. After that came the emptiness, a great emptiness, Ruth, in which I couldn’t even feel sadness – I was so numb – in here.’ She bunched her hand and pressed it against her breast, a note of anger creeping into her voice as she went on. ‘But I have a husband and daughter whom I love dearly and for their sake I had to force myself to go on and I don’t feel guilty about that, Ruth. I’m still having to force myself and it gets easier, each day a little easier and while I’m here on Rhanna I’ll force myself even more for my father’s and Kirsteen’s sake and if you thought anything at all of Lorn you would do the same. He went through hell when he lost the twin brother who was everything in the world to him and fine you know it too. But he had you, Ruth, he loves you and you’re supposed to love him, yet according to Kirsteen you’ve hardly been near Laigmhor for weeks. It seems whenever Lorn tries to see you you always have some excuse to be off somewhere else just when he needs you more than he’s ever needed you in his life!’

  Ruth’s face had gone deadly pale. She slumped onto a chair and put her flaxen head in her hands in a gesture of complete despair. ‘I know, I know.’ Her voice was barely audible. ‘Och, Shona, I don’t know what I’m doing these days – something – terrible has happened, I don’t know where to turn or who to turn to – I – I can’t tell Mam! I’ve never been able to tell her anything and I don’t want to burden Father, he’s so weary and his life has been worse than ever since Mam found out about me and Lewis – I’m being punished for that. I only did – what I did to give Lewis a bit of comfort in his last days and now – now . . .’

  Her voice trailed away and she folded her arms on the table and buried her face in them. Shona gazed at the top of her golden head and a wave of compassion tightened her throat. Ruth’s life had been an unhappy one almost from the moment of birth and if it hadn’t been for the love of the man she thought of as her father it would have been worse still. Her narrow-minded, prudish mother, a confirmed spinster of many years’ standing, had, in a mood of abandonment, succumbed to the lusts of the flesh she had so often condemned in others. Little Ruth had been the result of her impetuosity and though Dugald had married her without question, he had soon discovered that his wife had allowed herself to have been involved with several men, so that the question of Ruth’s true identity had always hung in the balance.

  To compensate for her sins, Morag had become a religious fanatic. She had condemned her husband and daughter to lives of misery which were only made bearable by their shared interest in writing and the deep love and respect they had for one another. When Ruth and Lorn had fallen in love it had seemed that at last she had found happiness, but recent events had complicated matters. Shona knew that Lewis had turned to Ruth for comfort and companionship in his final weeks of life. The affair had caused a rift between Lorn and Ruth which had eventually been healed but now it appeared that something else had occurred between them, something serious enough to make Ruth turn away from the only boy she had ever really loved.

  In a rush of sympathy Shona stretched out across the table and put her hand firmly over Ruth’s. ‘Tell me what ails you,’ she urged gently. ‘It might not be as bad as you imagine. Only when we lock things away do they get blown up out of all proportion – and fine I know it too – I’ve done it often enough in my time, but a problem shared is a problem halved – as Mirabelle used to say after she had skited me round the lugs for sulking.’

  Ruth had heard many of Mirabelle’s sayings. Shona was forever quoting the old housekeeper who had reared her and whom she had adored. Normally Ruth smiled at the amusing way Shona had of recounting such things, but there was no response from her now. For a long time she remained silent, then slowly she raised her head to draw the hem of her dress over eyes that were red and swollen, ignoring the square of white cotton that Shona proffered. Drawing in a deep shuddering breath she deliberately turned away to gaze unseeingly at the window, a small slight figure looking much younger than her eighteen years, the poise of her head, her fine flaxen hair, giving her a mantle of vulnerability.

  ‘That’s how my troubles began, Shona,’ she said in a husky trembling voice. ‘I made Lewis tell me his and he was only too anxious to share his burden with someone. I’ll never forget that day. The sun was shining and the sky was wide and blue. It was the sort of day made for rejoicing but after Lewis told me that he was dying I felt that the sun had gone in forever and that I would never again feel joy in all the bonny things God made. I never thought I would be strong enough to bear the pain of Lewis’s sorrow or be able to still his fears but I found a strength I didn’t know I possessed and I was able to give him all the comfort he needed – at a terrible cost to myself. I hated myself for the things I had to do to help him but, och! He needed me so bad! What else could I do? I wasn’t thinking of the future. Lewis had none and with me and Lorn separated I felt I had none either and – and now I might as well stop looking ahead for it seems I have nothing to look forward to anymore.’

  Her words trembled off on a note of despair and Shona’s grasp on her hand tightened.

  ‘You were wonderful to my brother, Ruth. I knew him well – better perhaps than he knew himself. He was terrified of illness and pain and all his life he feared death – yet – when it came to the bit he was prepared to face it alone though thanks to you he didn’t have to. Lewis was always a carefree spirit. Folk loved him whether they wanted to or no’, but he could also be very demanding and he must have drained you. Maybe you’re only feeling the reaction now and it might be that’s the reason you don’t want to get involved too deeply with Lorn at this stage. Believe me, I’m talking from experience and I understand. You need a wee whily to yourself – time to sort things out in your mind. If you explained to Lorn I’m sure he would understand.’

  Ruth shook her head and whispered, ‘I love Lorn, I always have. His is a good love, he gives as well as takes – he’s already given me so much understanding. That’s why I can’t bear to face him now. I can’t hurt him – not again. I think it might be better for everyone if I went away.’

  Shona stared at the back of Ruth’s head. ‘Away! Och, c’mon, Ruth! Why on earth should you do that?’

  Ruth shook her head from side to side and cried aloud as if in protest, ‘So that I can have Lewis’s baby! Maybe have it adopted so that it can have a decent start in life!’ She stared down at the soft flatness of her belly in disbelief. ‘It doesn’t show yet but soon it will. Can you imagine it? Mam beside herself with shame; the cailleachs gossiping their heads off. They won’t be able to call me the Virgin Bride anymore.’ She gave a short bitter laugh. ‘It will be something far worse than anything I’ve been called before and – and I’m just not strong enough to stand any of it. The only answer is to go away.’

  Shona felt as if she had been dealt a sledgehammer blow. All the air seemed to squeeze out of her lungs leaving her breathless. It was the last thing she had expected to hear, yet somehow she felt she ought to have known what was troubling Ruth. She of all people ought to have known!
She shook her head as if to clear it, but felt instead as if she was being sucked through a long black tunnel – back – back into a past she had thought buried. She had experienced the same thing as Ruth and she too had carried the burden alone, afraid to tell anyone she was expecting Niall’s child. She must have been Ruth’s age – no, younger; sixteen – sixteen years old, unmarried and terrified.

  Biddy had come to her rescue, had made her pour it all out. Biddy had given her comfort and hope – hope such as she had to give Ruth – yet she was unprepared for the sudden pang of resentment that seared through her like a knife. Why should she? It seemed as if she was always acting the part of Mother Confessor. She had taken Ruth back to Kintyre after Lewis’s death, had soothed and comforted, tried to be lighthearted when her own grief for her brother was an ever-present shadow in her life.

  Was that really what was bothering her? If she was honest with herself she had to admit that her resentment might be born of jealousy. She closed her eyes. Yes, she was jealous, jealous of a girl who was expecting a baby she didn’t want. It was so ironical after what had happened to her. She had craved a baby and she had lost it, just as she had lost the little son of long ago; now here was Ruth, weeping over a baby she had no desire to bring into the world. Oh, it was so unfair! If she had been younger things might have been different but soon it would be too late for her to contemplate having another child – and she could hardly bear the thought of that. Wild and impossible ideas surged crazily inside her head. If Ruth didn’t want the baby then perhaps she could adopt it – bring her brother’s child up as her own . . . She opened her eyes. Ruth was watching her, her white, strained face full of a terrible suspense.

  Shona was immediately ashamed of her thoughts. Taking a deep breath she reached briskly for the flask. ‘A good strong cuppy is what you need.’ She paused. It might have been Biddy sitting in her homely kitchen saying these words. She felt as if the old woman was beside her, guiding her, making her sound full of a confidence she didn’t feel. She remembered how Biddy had reached out to take her to her kindly old bosom before even attempting to offer words of advice. Shona knew that she was incapable of giving Ruth that kind of comfort. Biddy’s unique ability to see things objectively had sprung from the simplicity of a life uncluttered by personal entanglements and Shona recognized that the complications of her own emotions put her at a disadvantage in the present situation. Nevertheless she had the advantage of knowing first hand what Ruth was going through and felt that she could offer some practical advice. Pushing a cup of hot tea into the girl’s faltering grasp she said firmly, ‘Now, Ruth, this is a case of first things first and you must begin by telling Lorn about – the baby—’ She held up her hand to ward off the expected protests. ‘You must at least give him the chance to hear the truth from your very own lips – let him know the reason why you’ve been avoiding him. Far better that than for him to hear it second hand from the mouths of the gossips. There will be plenty of that as fine you know and the important thing is to beat them all to it. Love begins as a very fragile thing, it can only be strengthened by mutual trust, and if you care for each other the way you say you must be able to talk things out face to face for no one else is qualified enough to do so.’

  Ruth folded her hands on the table and lowered her head. ‘What if he turns away from me?’ she whispered. ‘I couldny stand that.’

  ‘You must stand it, Ruth – if it should happen that way, but knowing Lorn I don’t think he’s the sort to just turn his back and walk away. When is the baby due by the way?’

  ‘April I think.’ Ruth’s voice was laden with shame. ‘I – can’t really be sure – I – I never thought of such a thing happening, I never thought of anything much at the time. It was all so unreal, as if it wasn’t me with Lewis but somebody else I didn’t know at all. All I could think about was Lorn – and mixed up with it all was Lewis – dying.’

  Absently Shona nibbled at the corner of a sandwich. ‘April,’ she murmured, her blue gaze fixed on the bronzed bulk of Sgurr na Gill rearing upwards to the smoky drift of the autumn sky. ‘Just about the time I’ll be coming back to Rhanna.’ She became brisk again, going to the sink to wash the flask and rinse out the cups, saying over her shoulder, ‘I’m finished here for today, Ruth. I promised Kirsteen I’d be back early. I brought some curtain material over with me and we’re going to measure it out this afternoon.’ She had promised no such thing, but felt that she couldn’t bear to while away the afternoon on her own knowing what she did. Laigmhor was a cosy cheerful place and there was always someone popping in for a crack and a cuppy and she knew she needed to have company around her if she was to keep her mind off this new crisis which had arisen. For a moment she wished that she hadn’t asked Ruth over for a strupak, she had only succeeded in disrupting what, for Shona, had been a most pleasant and satisfying morning with nothing more important than the planning of home decor to absorb her thoughts. Guiltily she tossed her hair back from her face and turned to Ruth with a smile of genuine warmth. ‘Well, Ruth, will I tell Lorn that you’ll meet him this evening?’

  ‘This – this evening?’ stammered Ruth.

  Shona’s eyes were very blue as they held Ruth’s troubled gaze. ‘Ay, this evening. The sooner you get it over with, the better. Where would you like to see him?’

  Ruth stood up, running her fingers over her brow in a distracted fashion. ‘Och, I don’t know. I can’t think as quick as you, I never planned it this way – I didn’t plan anything as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Now’s the time to start. You could come over to Laigmhor. I’d see to it you and Lorn got the parlour to yourselves.’

  But Ruth rejected the suggestion violently. ‘No! Not there. Up by Brodie’s Burn, it’s where I always went when I needed to sort myself out. After tea – about half past six.’

  She looked ready to faint, and on impulse Shona reached out to draw her close. Her hands were like ice and Shona picked up her own woollen cardigan from the back of a chair and wrapped it round the girl’s slim shoulders. ‘Come on, I’ll walk you over the glen. Kate will be wondering what’s happened to you.’

  She guided Ruth outside, very conscious of her fragility and of the limp that marred her otherwise graceful movements. ‘Is your leg bothering you again, Ruth?’ she asked kindly. ‘It seemed so much better when you were staying with me in Kintyre.’

  Ruth flushed, embarrassed as always by any reference made about the thing which had always been the main source of her mother’s demented guilt. ‘It always gets worse when I’m bothered about something. I’m used to it.’

  ‘You’ll feel better when you’ve had your talk with Lorn.’

  Ruth shivered. ‘I don’t know about that but I don’t feel nearly as bad as I did. Talking to you has helped. I don’t know what I would do without you, Shona, you always seem to be at hand to thole my ails with me. I wonder you’re not sick of me by this time.’

  Shona didn’t answer and they went on in silence. The sun’s rays were slanting over the green hill slopes and pouring in cascades across the purple-tipped moors; the clean amber water of the Fallan foamed over great boulders on its way to the Sound of Rhanna which sparkled blue in the distance; the chimneys of Portcull were smoking peacefully, wafting the distinctive scent of burning peat into the air. Shona paused for a moment to absorb the sounds of the moors. Far over the tracts of empty moorland the piping of golden plover came plaintively, mingling with the bubbling of the curlews and the strange lost cry of the oyster catcher. At that moment the sky became patterned with formations of great birds streaking in an excited gaggle towards the flats by Loch Sliach. The barnacle geese which came every winter to Rhanna were arriving in their hundreds and their excited cries as they swept in over the Atlantic were almost as spectacular as the grandiose manner of their flight.

  A little smile of pleasure touched Shona’s lips and she breathed deeply, revelling in the breezes which caressed her face and lifted her hair to toss it in disarray over her shoulders. Eve
rything was going to be all right. She and Niall would come back to Rhanna and it would be a wonderful occasion in their lives. Niall wouldn’t be here all the time, of course, but she wouldn’t weary during his spells away. She would have her father and Kirsteen, Phebie and Lachlan, and so many folk to visit there wouldn’t be enough hours in the day. She also planned to see a lot of her friend, Babbie Büttger, the district nurse, and when Ellie came home from school during holidays, her days would be busier than ever . . . She came back to reality and again glanced rather guiltily at Ruth. She had been so wrapped up in herself she had almost forgotten Ruth’s presence. She was very quiet, walking rather unsteadily, her purpled gaze faraway, not seeing any of the beauty that surrounded her.

  Shona felt suddenly oppressed, as if Ruth’s unhappiness had draped over her in a stifling shroud. She was almost relieved to see Dodie loping quickly towards them, his thin lips already stretching into the familiar ‘He breeah!’ with which he greeted everyone.

  ‘Ay, it is a fine day, Dodie,’ agreed Shona. She eyed his gaunt frame critically, glad to see that he had good colour in his somewhat wizened cheeks. ‘You’re looking well enough. I’m thinking that your stay in hospital has maybe done you a lot of good.’ Immediately and self-consciously Dodie’s blunt, calloused fingers shot up to rub the side of his nose from which, until recently, a large growth had sprouted. For years Lachlan had wanted Dodie to have it seen to, but the old eccentric had resisted the suggestion fiercely, his fear of ‘furrin parts’, which included mainland Scotland, making him suffer the inconvenience the growth had caused him. But some months ago it had begun to cause him real discomfort and without ado Lachlan had set about persuading him to go into hospital to have it removed. Dodie, though terrified at the idea, had finally capitulated and for the first time in his life had made the trip to the mainland. Now, the rigours he had undergone while in the hospital were only a memory though he never tired of speaking glowingly about the ‘fine leddies’ who had tended to his every need and who had put him in mind of Biddy. Only to a privileged few had he admitted to the embarrassment he had undergone during the trauma of ‘bathing his private body in front o’ wee bits o’ lassies’, an event which had overshadowed the very operation itself, for hardly at all had he mentioned the apprehension he had felt during the preparations for surgery.