Thorn in My Heart

by Liz Curtis Higgs

“An innocent remark, Leana.” His tone was kindness itself. “Think nothing of it.”

  Leana forced herself to continue, silendy berating herself for being so careless. Whatever must her cousin think of her now? Swallowing her shame, she started on the side seams, which ran nearly to his knees, and pretended not to notice the doeskin breeches beneath her fingers. She worked her way along one shirt seam, pinning as she went, then bent down to add a final pin at the hem. Without looking up, she held out the fabric to show him how much remained. “Do you prefer a generous hem, Cousin, or a longer shirt?”

  “Whatever pleases you.”

  You please me, Cousin. There, the truth of it.

  She rose, keeping her gaze to the floor. Jamie was pleasing—to look at, to talk to, to spend time with. But he was not courting her; Fergus McDougal was. “Perhaps a longer hem is best,” she murmured, moving behind him where she would be less distracted. Her hands flew along the second seam until she finished, then she stepped back to judge the fit.

  “Will I do, Cousin?” Jamie slowly turned around, still holding his arms away from his sides. “As a shirt model?”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to say more, and gathered up the rest of the pins. “You 11 be relieved to know I wont ever put you through such misery again. I can simply pattern any new shirts after this one.”

  “What a clever woman you are.”

  Leana ventured the smallest of smiles. “Now its your turn to be clever and lift that new shirt over your head without sticking yourself.” He did so with remarkable ease, handing it over with a gallant sweep. “Well done.” She nodded at his discarded coat. “Do dress yourself, Cousin, for I have reason to expect visitors shortly.”

  “Someone to see you?” He slipped on the coat, which was also too small. If Jamie was planning to stay at Auchengray for very long, something would need to be done about his wardrobe.

  “Indeed not. To see you? She watched him button his blue coat. ‘Twas a fine color with his brown hair. “Duncan crossed paths with one of the shepherds from Troston Hill yestreen and shared the news of Auchengray's visitor. Your arrival will soon be the favorite topic of conversation in the parish.”

  “I see.” His gaze narrowed. “Will they want to know why I've comer

  She chose her words carefully. “Is it so odd a question?”

  “Nae. ‘Tis the most natural question in the world. I'll tell anyone who asks that I've come to meet my Newabbey cousins before they marry and flit” He inclined his head. “Is either of you in danger of doing so…anytime soon?”

  “I'm afraid—ouch!” Surprised by a sharp knock at the door, Leana instinctively pulled the unfinished shirt tight against her and stuck herself in several places. She ran her hands over her skin, feeling foolish. “Do forgive me.”

  Jamie looked genuinely distressed. “Cousin, there is nothing to apologize for.” He gendy touched her neck, then showed her the spot of scarlet on his fingertip.

  “Och!” She held out the shirt, horrified. “Bloodstains are the very worst to get out.”

  Another sharp knock sounded at the door, which Jamie ignored. “Never mind the shirt, lass. Are you in pain?”

  Neda hurried by, eying Leana as she passed.

  “Truly, I'll be fine, Jamie.” She patted her neck, checking for other wounds. “If you might have a handkerchief.

  He produced a worn square of cotton and pressed it against her neck. “I'm sorry, Leana.”

  A woman's merry laugh floated across the room. “I'm not sorry in the least, for I would not have missed seeing this for all the world.”

  Jamie abrupdy stepped back, and Leana turned toward the door, relieved to see her dearest friend. “What is it you think you've seen, Jessie Newall?”

  The red-haired young woman strolled into the room, a round-cheeked babe on her hip, a toothy smile on her face. “I've seen a bonny sight: Leana McBride talking to a man her own age.”

  “Ah.” Leana smiled. “That.” She nodded at her cousin, who bowed from his waist as she introduced her neighbors. “Mistress Jessie Newall of Troston Hill and Miss Annie, kindly meet my cousin, James McKie of Glentrool.” Pleasantries were exchanged, though Jamie did not kiss Jessies hand in greeting, Leana noted with the tiniest bit of satisfaction. “Jessie and her husband, Alan, have the farm on top of Troston Hill.”

  “Herds or crops?” Jamie asked politely, at which both women laughed and the baby squealed.

  “Och, Mr. McKie, if you could see the property!” Jessie shook her head. “Naught but rocks and gorse and the roughest farmland in Galloway. We've a good pasture for blackface sheep, and I've a garden or two, but you'll not find us pushing a plow at harvest time.”

  Leana remembered her manners. “Cousin Jamie, might you kindly ask Neda to bring us some tea?” He nodded and was gone, looking a bit relieved, she thought. Perhaps he did not care for children.

  “Tea would be lovely.” Jessie sighed and put her babe down on the slate floor with care. “Annie gets heavier by the day but refuses to start walking.”

  Leana dropped to her knees in front of the child, smoothing a hand over Annie's curly head of hair, as red as her mother's. “When Annie is ready, nothing will stop her. Isn't that so, dearie?” Annie waved her arms and blurted out a long, nonsensical sentence, which Leana understood perfectly. “And I'm happy to see you again as well, wee girl. May I hold you for a bittie?”

  Jessie shook her head. “You'll be sorry, for she'll ne'er let go. Be calling you Mither before you know it.”

  Leana scooped up the child and held her close, cooing in her ear and nuzzling her soft head. Her throat tightened. “I can think of nothing finer than having a child call me Mother.” She closed her eyes to stem her tears and drank in Annie's sweet baby scent. Soap behind the ears. Milk in the folds of her tiny neck. “Dear Annie,” she whispered, cradling the child against her, humming a lullaby. “Baloo, baloo, my wee, wee thing.” The two of them stayed that way for some time until Annie stirred and Leana slowly opened her eyes.

  Her cousin stood motionless in the doorway, his solemn gaze riveted to her and the babe in her arms.

  Jamie.

  In the hearth a corner of the peat broke free and tumbled down into the grate. “Look at that, will you!” Jessie crowed. “You ken what the old gossips say, Leana. ‘Fire bodes a marriage.’ There'll be a wedding in this house before the year is out.” Jessie turned toward the gendeman she'd just met and dipped a curtsy in his direction. “Begging your pardon, Mr. McKie. Have you given any thought to taking a wife?”

  Twenty-Six

  Love gilds the scene, and women guide die plot.

  RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN

  So that was why Jamie had come to Auchengray!

  Rose pressed the letter to her fast-beating heart, but only for a moment. No point being dramatic when there was nary a soul to appreciate her performance. She needed to get home; she had to tell Leana. Och! The mere thought of it quickened her steps along the country lane, her skirts sweeping aside the brighdy colored leaves in her path. In less than an hour she would be whispering in Leana's ear, telling her sister a secret too good to keep to herself.

  What a grand ending to an ordinary day. She'd spent several hours with dear Susanne, helping in her fathers grocery, taking Susannes youngest brother for a walk along the Newabbey Pow. Elliot, they'd named the boy—Elliot Elliot! Rost laughed every time she said it. Whatever were they thinking, giving their poor child a double name? Pray God, the lad would not grow up to resent it.

  Later that afternoon the busy grocer had remembered a letter for her father, left in his care by the postboy from Dumfries. “But, Mr. Elliot, I have no coins to pay for it,” Rose had fretted, stealing a quick glance at the letter with the boldly scrawled address:

  Lachlan McBride, Esquire Auchengray Newabbey

  “Fair maidens wear nae purses,” Mr. Elliot had said, pressing the letter into her hands. His head was as round as the cabbages he sold, his body stouter than the ox that pulled hi
s cart to Dumfries on market days, yet Newabbey thought him a most amiable grocer. “You've been a good help today, Rose. Suppose we let your labors pay for your father's post. Now run along.”

  Run she had, like the wind, all down the winding street full of gossiping villagers. It wasn't until she reached the bridge leading home that she'd stopped to examine the letter more closely. The paper was not of good quality, nor was the waxy thumbprint that sealed it. But above the seal, in the same bold hand, was the name of the one who had sent it: James McKie of Glentrool.

  Jamie's letter had arrived after all. Too late to matter to her father, too late to be of use to her cousin. Dare she break the seal and read it while she walked? Her mind was adamant: She would not open a letter addressed to her father. Very risky. But her heart was lenient: Her father would never know. What harm could it do? With Jamie already at Auchengray, Lachlan would no doubt toss the letter out unread. A pity to waste the cost of a post, even if it was earned by her own labors.

  Rose had fingered the coarse paper as she walked, the fading sunlight casting long, slanted shadows across the dirt road. After many minutes of deliberation she'd opened the letter, sliding her thumbnail under the wax to keep it intact, taking great pains not to tear the paper. One never knew when a letter might need to be sealed shut again. She'd read the contents and reveled in her sister's good fortune.

  Now, half an hour later, Rose couldn't bear it. She had to read the letter again, though she'd already committed the best parts to memory. Holding the letter before her, she smoothed out the creases and read the words once more.

  I am to inherit Glentrool at my fathers death…

  Jamie, the second son, awarded his father's heirship! Curious that he'd never mentioned it.

  …and am seeking to marry a woman of proper upbringing.

  With such a vast property to his name, no wonder he intended to marry well. “Aye, but not just any woman, Jamie.” Rose smiled at the paper as though it might smile back at her. The next line was her favorite.

  It was my parents’ stated desire that I choose one of your two fine daughters.

  Well said, for Leana McBride was very fine indeed. Although Jamie's letter stated that he would choose, Rose knew better. Only one daughter had marriage in mind, and it was decidedly not the younger one.

  I would request the pleasure of your generous hospitality for a few weeks at most, until all necessary arrangements can be made.

  “Necessary arrangements,” indeed. Rose had hoped to have a full month to convince Leana and Jamie of their mutual affection and chase old Fergus away. It seemed she might have that much time and more.

  She grinned as she carefully refolded the letter. Except for the loosened wax, the post appeared unopened. Leana, fearing discovery, would no doubt want it tossed in the fire and the ashes strewn about her garden. Rose had no intention of letting so vital a paper be destroyed. She would hide it safely in their room for a day, many years hence, when Leana would delight at seeing the letter that had changed her too-quiet life.

  Rose hastened up and down the gende hills as the sun sank lower in the sky, staining the horizon crimson. Cultivated fields gave way to more rugged land, with gnarled old trees and outcroppings of rocks the size of cows. Past the dark fell that rose to her left, the road straightened for the last mile home, much of it uphill. The orchards of Auchengray came into view first, then the whitewashed stone house, built some distance from the road. As a child, Rose had feared the many-paned windows across the front because they reminded her of eyes, unblinking and unkind. Leana had cured her of that notion soon enough, telling her to think of them as a row of teeth and the chimneys at each end of the house as the corners of a smile.

  “Then what is that frichtsome gray slate roof?” Rose recalled demanding.

  “A jolly mans mustache,” was her sisters wise answer.

  The only jolly man who lived at Auchengray was Duncan and only when a term day didn't loom over him, demanding that his ledgers be in order and his workers satisfied enough to stay with the farm another term. In a month, come Martinmas, Duncan Hastings would not be jolly at all.

  Aye, but Leana might bel

  Rose knew her broad smile would give her away. How could she possibly contain her excitement with such a letter tucked in the hanging pocket beneath her dress? She flew up the drive to the front door, bursting across the threshold like water over a linn.

  “Leana!”

  Her sister called to her from the hearth, “In here, dearie.”

  Rose found her sister sitting close to the fire, two candles on a nearby table barely providing enough light for sewing. Even wearing her spectacles, Leana had to hold the fabric close to her eyes, squinting at her tiny needle weaving in and out of the seam, her mouth firmly pinched into a frown.

  Rose was aghast at the wretched scene. In the darkened room, with her face and hair colorless in the firelight, Leana looked like an old woman. Older than Fergus McDougal. Much too old for their braw cousin. Had Jamie seen her like this? He would not soon forget it if he had. Something must be done and quickly

  “Enough sewing for tonight,” Rose announced, gently pulling the linen from her sisters hands. “Its too dark, Leana. You'll go blind trying to stitch like that.”

  “Too late.” Leana gave a weary sigh and put aside the shirt. “You are right. I mustn't strain my eyes more than necessary.” She slipped off her small spectacles and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Jamie's shirt can wait until Monday, I suppose.”

  “Did he…see you?” Rose dreaded the answer. “Working on his shirt, I mean?”

  “Of course.” Leana flexed her slender fingers, no doubt cramped from a long afternoon with her needle. “In fact, he was sitting with me here by the fire until a few minutes ago when he asked to meet with Father before supper.” She gestured toward the closed spence door. “Perhaps we'll finally learn why Jamie is here.”

  Rose closed her eyes, seeing her hopes for her sister dashed against the cliffs like the Solway at high tide. At that very moment, Jamie was probably telling their father that he could not marry weak-eyed Leana, with her plain face and dull ways. That, although he must marry a McBride lass, it would not be the older daughter he would claim for his wife.

  It would be the younger one.

  NaelRose felt her limbs trembling. She was not ready. Not ready to leave Newabbey, not ready to setde down in a lonely glen far from her friends, not ready to marry a man she did not know, not ready to manage his household, not ready to bear his sons, not ready to have children crawling about her skirts. Nael She fell into a chair like a sack of coal landing on a doorstep. “I know why Jamie is here.”

  Leana stared at her. “How could you know when you ve been gone all day?”

  Her sister sounded wary. Nae, hurt. Rose would show her the letter. Leana would see the sad news for herself. Jamie would make his choice, just as Fergus had made his. None of their lives would ever be the same. Rose reached in her hanging pocket and pulled out the letter, her fingers suddenly as stiff as elm twigs.

  “Who is that letter addressed to?” Leana sounded suspicious.

  Rose handed her the post, unwilling to read it again, ashamed to confess her sin.

  “Rose!” Leana's hoarse whisper did not hide the fear in her voice. “This was meant for Father.” Leana turned her back toward the spence door, then held a candle close to the paper, peering at the words, her mouth slowly opening to an astonished O. “Rose…what does this mean?

  “You know what it means, Leana.” She snatched the letter from her sisters hand and thrust it into the flickering candle. The edge of the paper ignited at once, burning black across the page, eating Jamie's words whole. Rose held it as long as she could, dien tossed the letter into the peat fire, afraid it might singe her fingers. “We did not read this,” she said grimly. “We do not know why Jamie is here.”

  Leana reached for her hand. “But, Rose—”

  The door to the spence flew open, and Jamie walked into the
room as though he'd just signed the deed to Auchengray. “Rose!” A warm smile bloomed on his face. “Welcome home.”

  Both sisters stood as one, deftly closing the gap between them to block Jamie's view of the hearth. Behind them, the remains of the letter lay in the grate, smoldering. He seemed not to notice.

  “Cousin Jamie,” Rose said, forcing a smile to her face. “I trust you've spent an agreeable day?”

  “Very agreeable.” He nodded at Leana. “Your sister is sewing me a new shirt, and Neda is making cock-a-leekie soup for supper.”

  Rose lifted her brows. “Chicken and leeks. This makes you happy?”

  “Aye, lass, it does. My uncle is pleased as well.” He stepped closer, and they moved toward him, like a country dance without a fiddler.

  “Careful, Cousin,” Rose warned. “You'll find your soup brimming with prunes. Father's favorite.” Rose longed to glance over her shoulder and see if the letter had turned to soot. But she could not. She could only pray and stand guard, knowing they looked as guilty as they were.

  Jamie slowly shifted his gaze from one sister to the other. She felt inspected, like oysters at the market, and knew Leana must as well. “I will see you both at seven,” he finally said, striding from the room without looking back. Without seeing the last of his letter succumb to the fire.

  The sisters sank into their chairs and sighed in tandem.

  Rose spoke first. “Mr. Elliot gave me the letter for Father.”

  “And you read it.”

  “Aye.” Rose glanced over and watched a dozen emotions move across her sister's features. “For good or for ill, now we know why Jamie is here.”

  “Who will do the choosing? Father or Jamie?”

  “Jamie, of course.”

  Leanas cheeks lost what natural color they possessed. “Then it will be an easy decision, wont it?”

  Rose swallowed. “It will?”

  “Aye. No choice at all really.” Leana turned toward her, sorrow moving across her features like a cloud blocking the sun. “I'm to marry Mr. McDougal, remember? It's already been arranged. Which means you shall marry Cousin Jamie.”