The Gift: The Pocket Watch Chronicles

by Ceci Giltenan

  And nuns didn’t climb trees.

  When he pointed these things out to her one afternoon as she sat on the branch of an apple tree, she just looked down at him and laughed. “Exactly how many nuns do ye know?”

  “Well…none.” He frowned. “But ye know plenty and by yer own admission, ye wanted to experience these things. So, I can’t imagine ye’ve had many opportunities to do so over the last ten years, living in the abbey.”

  “That’s a fair point…but maybe I’ll be the very first barefoot-wading, wind-chasing, tree-climbing, nun ever.”

  “Claire, I’m serious.”

  She sobered. “I know ye are. But I don’t understand the reason. Why does what I choose to do with my life matter so much to ye?”

  He sighed. “Because I believe the abbey isn’t the place ye’re meant to be. I’m certain of it. You are too full of life and joy.”

  “One can serve God with joy.”

  “And one can serve God as a wife and mother, well-loved, and surrounded by her clan and children.”

  She canted her head. “Why is this so important to ye?”

  “Because I think Coll was right. Ye spent too many years in the abbey. Over the last few weeks, ye’ve come alive here and I think ye’ve barely just scratched the surface. Claire, ye have so much love in ye, and ye’re so easy to love, how can ye lock that away from the world?” Had he just said she was easy to love? Clearly she is, his parents, his little brother, and everyone working in and around the keep loved her.

  Her brows drew together as she appeared to consider his words. Finally, she shrugged. “Love takes many forms.”

  He shook his head in frustration. Why was she digging in her heels on this?

  “Tavish, can I ask ye something?”

  “Aye, of course ye can.”

  “Ye’ve asked me a lot about my decision to return to the abbey, but I’ve never once asked ye why ye don’t want to be married.”

  He huffed, impatiently. “What I want doesn’t matter. Ye know I have no choice but to be married…eventually.”

  “Aye, but why do ye not want to be married yet?”

  He shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about this. “I’m just not ready.”

  “Oh, that clears it all up.”

  “Nuns don’t mock people either,” he said, but he couldn’t keep from chuckling.

  She arched a brow at him. “Again, how would ye know that?”

  He laughed. “I’m making an educated guess.”

  “I see. So, ye’re not going to answer my question?”

  “What was yer question?”

  Clearly exasperated, she rolled her eyes. “Why don’t ye want to be married yet?”

  He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had been completely honest with him about her desire to return to the abbey. “I guess I do owe ye an explanation.” He looked away for a moment before saying, “The absolute truth is that I love someone else. I have for years but I can never have her.”

  He put up a hand before Claire started offering optimistic solutions. “Nay, it’s impossible. And I refuse to marry someone while I’m in love with someone else. At least I refuse to marry someone who deserves more than I can give them.”

  ~ * ~

  Oh dear God. That was not what Cassie had expected to hear. “I’m sorry.”

  She understood that heartache better than he would ever know. But over the last couple weeks she had begun to believe that she could feel the pain, remember the love, and still move on with life.

  “Tavish, do ye not think if ye opened yer heart, ye might find room for someone else too? People lose loved ones to distance…or death, all of the time. They have to find a way to move on.”

  “I know that.” He turned away from her, running his hand through his hair. “As long as I’m being completely honest, deep down, I don’t want to move on. I’m afraid if I make room for anyone else, I’ll begin to let her go—I’ll forget her.”

  Cassie swung down from the tree branch and walked to him, placing a hand on his back. “Ye won’t forget her. I’m as certain of that as ye are that I don’t belong in the abbey. People like that—people who make that kind of mark on yer heart—stay in yer heart forever.”

  He turned to face her, his expression full of anguish. “How do ye know that?”

  She smiled gently. “Are ye seriously asking me that? I essentially lost my whole family years ago.”

  “But I’m already having trouble remembering what she looks like.”

  Cassie considered that for a moment, remembering a line from one of A.A. Milne’s Winnie-the-Pooh books. Piglet asks, “How do you spell love?” Pooh’s answer is, “You don’t spell it, you feel it.”

  She captured his gaze and said, “Isn’t it more essential to remember how she loved ye?” How ye loved her? As long as ye can feel her in yer heart, is the rest important?”

  “Maybe…aye, of course remembering the love is vital, but I want more.”

  “And ye’re certain being with her is impossible?”

  “Absolutely certain.”

  She shrugged, shaking her head sadly. “Then ye can’t have more. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, Tavish. But it’s simply the truth. The only thing ye can do is remember the love and the joy. Sadly, ye have to let the rest go. There is no other option.” At his pained expression, she added, “Ye said to me ‘ye have so much love in ye, how can ye lock that away from the world?’ Well, this also applies to ye as well. Furthermore, if the lass in question was worthy of yer love, I suspect she’d tell ye the same.”

  He frowned and cocked his head to one side. “Has anyone ever told ye, ye’re annoying?”

  She laughed. “I’m annoying because I tell ye the truth?”

  He grinned. “Ye’re annoying because ye tell me painful truths that I’m not ready to hear.”

  “But, ye needed to hear it,” she said gently. “Tavish, ye deserve to be happy too. Find a way to move on so ye can be.”

  He looked away, then nodded resolutely. “I’ll try, if ye promise to consider not returning to the abbey.”

  “I’ll consider it,” she said, knowing that she really had no option either. She had to leave.

  ~ * ~

  Late that night, long after most people had found their beds, Tavish lay awake. He had done this far too many times recently and once again, it was because of Claire. After those first few days, he thought he had found the solution. He wasn’t ready to open his heart, but something about her had touched him. He’d done his very best to convince her she shouldn’t spend the rest of her life amid an order of contemplative nuns.

  But today, she turned the table on him. He’d never told anyone as much as he’d shared with her. In fact, the first time he’d mentioned having ever been in love before was when his father asked him if there was someone else. Until then, his beloved was simply tucked away in his heart.

  When Claire pushed him, he was forced to examine exactly why he didn’t want to love anyone else. He hadn’t been completely sure of the answer himself until the words came tumbling out. It wasn’t a sense of honor or commitment, or the vain hope that he could be with her again someday. It wasn’t even that he was cautious of being hurt again. It all came down to the fact that he feared if he let anyone else in, the woman who first held his heart would be edged out forever. He simply wasn’t ready for that.

  Claire had told him to remember the love and joy but to try and move on. The problem was that when he remembered the love and joy, he had trouble thinking of anything else, least of all moving on. But Claire had also said the lass in question wouldn’t want him to lock his heart away. He knew that was true. But understanding it and acting on it were two different things. He wasn’t sure he could actually move on. He’d walled off that part of himself long ago.

  And that’s where it would stay.

  For now, he would just continue his task of convincing her to stay in the secular world. In order to do that, he needed to spend as much time with
her as possible. He wanted to show her the world of opportunities that lay outside the cloister.

  He remembered that she had wanted to learn to dance. That was something that he could make happen rather easily. But he wondered if there were other things that might pique her interest. He’d have to find out.

  Chapter 12

  So far, Cassie had loved every minute of her time in the fourteenth century. It wasn’t always easy—modern plumbing might be the thing Cassie missed most. But it was always interesting and she tried to experience as much as she could.

  Everything required more patience. She could have finished Claire’s “Virgin and Cherry Tree” painting in hours using acrylics. Whereas she’d been here for over five weeks, during which she had worked on it nearly every day, and it still wasn’t quite done. But it wouldn’t take long now—perhaps only a day or two. She intended to give it as a gift to Lady Ranald before leaving. She also planned to help Boyd finish his painting. He was beginning to add the foliage and it should be far enough along by the time she had to leave, that he would be able to complete it when she was gone.

  When she was gone.

  Thinking of leaving always distressed her and that meant she needed to figure out how she would do it. The day she had to say her return word was growing ever nearer but still, she tried to avoid it. There was plenty of time to sort out the best way to get them to return her to the abbey, and it was just easier to simply keep putting it off. She had weeks.

  Until one day the reality of it all came crashing in on her and forced her to begin making plans.

  It was the twentieth day of September—exactly three weeks before she had to go back to the twenty-first century. Cassie had spent the early afternoon with Lady Ranald in her solar. The painting was nearly done and she was deeply absorbed in her work as she added the final touches. She stepped back and looked at it, tilting her head from one side to the other. Satisfied with it at last, she said, “It’s finished. I just need to apply a layer of varnish tomorrow.”

  “It’s beautiful,” said a masculine voice.

  Surprised, she turned to see Tavish standing behind her, looking over her shoulder at the painting. “Oh, Tavish. I didn’t hear ye come in.”

  Lady Ranald laughed. “When ye’re lost in yer art, ye wouldn’t notice if Christ himself were to appear on a golden cloud.” She rose and crossed the room to see the finished work. “Claire, dear, it is stunning. Ye’re a fine artist.”

  “I agree,” said Tavish, glancing at the other smaller work of art in-process that stood on a table easel. “Is this what Boyd has been working on?”

  “Aye,” said Cassie smiling. Boyd had shown more patience and persistence than his mother had given him credit for. His tree was rather good for a ten-year-old boy. “He’s doing very well.”

  Tavish nodded. “I see that. I can tell it’s meant to be a tree and that alone is impressive coming from my little brother.”

  Cassie slapped playfully at his arm. “Stop it. He’s actually learned how to use light and dark to capture dimension. Look at the texture on the trunk.”

  Tavish laughed and grabbed the hand she’d swatted him with, kissing the fingertips. That small gesture stunned her, causing a strange fluttering in her belly.

  “I was teasing. It’s obvious Boyd has learned a lot from ye. But since ye’re done painting for the day, I want to claim ye for the rest of the afternoon.”

  Tavish had taken her riding nearly every day the weather was fine. But today was dismal.

  His mother glanced out the window, evidently arriving at the same conclusion. “It’s drizzling rain. Ye can’t mean to go riding in this.”

  “Nay, mother, I don’t. It came to my attention, at the feast of Saint Mary, Claire doesn’t know how to dance. And I think that should be remedied before the next feast.”

  “It certainly should,” agreed Lady Ranald. “And Michaelmas is just over a week away.”

  “My thoughts exactly. So, Claire, if ye’ll join me in the great hall, one of the minstrels has agreed to provide us with music.”

  She was touched that he’d remembered she wanted to dance at least once. “I’d love to.”

  “Excellent.” He tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her to the door.

  She pulled back. “Wait, I have to clean up here first.”

  “Nay, lass,” said Lady Ranald. “Go on. I’ll take care of yer paints and brushes. I’ve listened to what ye’ve told Boyd, and watched ye enough times myself to know what to do.”

  “Are ye sure, my lady? It won’t take me long.”

  “I’m sure. Go now.” She waved towards the door.

  Cassie grinned and looked up into Tavish’s storm grey eyes. “Then I guess I’m yers.”

  She had always loved to dance. Learning ballroom dancing was essential when one grew up in a family that held balls and galas. She’d begun lessons at an early age, and had truly enjoyed it. Like a lot of little girls, she took tap and ballet classes too. But, in her opinion, those were not nearly as much fun as gracefully waltzing around the room in a partner’s arms wearing an elegant dress. Unfortunately, ballroom dances such as those she knew wouldn’t come into fashion for nearly five hundred years. The dances that she’d seen at the last feast were country dances, like jigs and reels and she had little to no experience with them.

  When they reached the great hall, several minstrels seemed to be warming up.

  Tavish started by teaching her the basic steps and common patterns used in the dances. She caught on quickly. She’d had a bit of a head start because she’d tried to learn as much as she could by watching the dancers at the last feast.

  But once she had become proficient with the fundamentals, Tavish frowned.

  “What’s wrong? Am I hopeless?” teased Cassie.

  “Nay. Far from it. The problem is I hadn’t counted on ye being quite so good. Ye’ve got the basics down. But moving on, many of the dances require changing partners, or dancing through and around other couples. We need more people.” He grinned and winked. “But never fear, any problem can be fixed with a little ingenuity.”

  Amused, she watched as he asked a few guardsmen and housemaids to help. Not surprisingly, everyone he asked was more than willing to stop work for a while and dance. Within an hour, after some stumbling and bumping into people, she was beginning to get the hang of it.

  At the end of one dance, which she managed to complete without a single error, Tavish lifted her and spun her around. Everyone laughed, but before Tavish put her down, the laughter trailed off.

  “Exactly what is going on here?” asked Laird Ranald. Although his voice sounded gruff, his eyes twinkled.

  “Da,” called Tavish, “I apologize for commandeering yer staff, but the mission was important.”

  “How so?” asked his father.

  “Lady Claire had never learned to dance. And what with Michaelmas rapidly approaching, I thought it was high time she learned.”

  “Ah, I see,” said his father. “And I agree. It’s an absolutely vital mission.”

  The other dancers chuckled and appeared to relax. The laird clearly wasn’t upset.

  His father continued, “As it happens, our Michaelmas celebration will be particularly festive this year.”

  “More than usual?” asked Tavish.

  “Aye, we have visitors coming.”

  “Really?” Tavish appeared surprised. “I can’t remember ever having guests at Michaelmas. Who is coming?”

  “Claire’s brother, Coll, for one.” The laird turned his gaze on Cassie. “Claire, I asked him to come for a visit shortly after ye arrived. I thought ye might like to see him. I understand it’s been quite a while. When we first began discussing a betrothal, he mentioned that he’d been in training for two years before ye went to the abbey.”

  “Aye, laird,” said Cassie. The idea of meeting Claire’s brother caused her a moment of panic. But as the laird had just pointed out, it had been many years and she had been so young the last time
she saw him, no one would expect her to remember anything.

  A frown briefly flitted across Tavish’s face. “He’s just coming to visit his sister?”

  The laird laughed, clearly misreading Tavish’s concern. “Afraid he’s decided to take Claire home are ye? Well never fear, we will discuss the betrothal. But he’s coming for another reason. He has been seeking an alliance with Laird MacLean, so I invited the MacLeans as well. I’ve just received a message from the laird confirming that he and his family will be joining us. Hugh will be with them, which will please yer mother no end.”

  While it seemed like good news, Cassie was surprised to see Tavish frown. “Laird MacLean is considering an alliance with Morrisons?” His posture stiffened and his voice sounded tense. “What kind of alliance?”

  Laird Ranald snorted. “What do ye mean, what kind of alliance?”

  “Is he seeking a marriage alliance?”

  The laird shook his head. “Nay. Although now that I think about it, it’s not a bad idea.”

  “It’s not a bad idea? You don’t mean that.”

  “Of course I do. Coll needs a wife. I’m sure Laird MacLean would be very happy to see his half-sister, Cathleen, become a laird’s wife.”

  “Oh, ye meant Cathleen.” Tavish sounded relieved.

  “Aye. Who else would I mean? Greer is married to Laird Urquhart’s heir and Adara is already betrothed.”

  “I’m aware of that,” said Tavish. “I…uh…thought maybe something had changed.”

  Cassie wondered if maybe Adara was the girl he loved or possibly even Greer. It would fit. If the woman in question was truly unattainable, Cassie figured she had to be either betrothed, already married, or deceased. Of course while it was also possible that she wasn’t a noblewoman, or perhaps was the daughter of an enemy, Cassie had ruled these last two out. Those things might be impediments, but she couldn’t imagine that Tavish would be unable to find a way around them. However, a betrothed woman was as good as wed, so marriage to either Adara or Greer would be impossible.

  Laird Ranald shook his head. “Nay nothing’s changed that I’m aware of. As far as I know, neither laird has raised the issue of a betrothal. Coll has offered to take Brandon’s oldest son, David, into training as his squire.”