Thorn in My Heart

by Liz Curtis Higgs

  “ Och! And you deserve a reward for last night's performance, is that it?”

  “Jamie, please.” Leana touched the back of his hand. “It was not a performance. You thought I was Rose. And I thought you loved me. We were both—”

  “Deceived. By your father.” He threw his shoulders against the chair, frustration flowing off him in waves. “The man's motives and methods are canny beyond imagining. He saw a clever way to marry off an older daughter who has no prospects and to keep his lovesick nephew bound to him for seven more months, nigh to a year from when I arrived. Without wages, without any guarantee of getting what I want in the end.”

  She swallowed the sickening taste in her mouth. “You mean Rose.”

  “Aye. Rose. The woman I love, who will be here shordy.” He stood, straightening his clothes with brief, sharp movements, as coolly efficient as his words. “See that you are packed for our journey to Dumfries with due haste. My bags have been waiting by the door since Wednesday morning.”

  Leana stood, feeling as though she might be ill. “When…when will we leave?”

  He smoothed his cravat, then folded his arms over his chest. The same chest she had used for a pillow. How was it possible? Where was the Jamie who'd loved her yestreen?

  “We wont leave until Rose returns.”

  “Of course.” Leana held her breath and prayed for strength, her empty stomach tied in a knot. When was the last time she ate? The Hogmanay black bun. Fed to her from his fingers. Touching her lips.

  Leana gripped the corner of Lachlans box bed. “Which one of us will…will tell Rose?”

  His gaze remained even. “You will.”

  Fifty-Five

  Sorrow and ill weather come unsent for.

  SCOTTISH PROVERB

  Rose poked Willie in die ribs. “Cannot we ride a bit faster?”

  “Auld Bess has seen more than her share of winters, Miss McBride, and they've taken their toll on her legs.” To appease her, the orraman shook the reins and called out a sharp word of encouragement to the mare. Rose groaned when the horse merely tossed her mane back at him and kept plodding forward, no faster than before.

  She had to know. “How much—”

  “Twa miles,” Willie snapped. “Twenty minutes at most. And that's the last time I'll tell ye, lass, so busy yerself with yer knittin.”

  Poor Willie. It had been a difficult two days for him, stuck in the tiny cottage with her eccentric Aunt Meg and her two collie dogs. He'd refused to set out before daybreak, concerned at what they might find. What they found was sunshine, great shining pails full of it, poured over the Galloway landscape. On the first of January of all things!

  Hogmanay—her wedding day—her Aunt Meg had fallen on the polished flagstone and twisted her ankle, poor woman. Then, when they'd packed to leave that morning, her aunt had refused to come to Auchengray after all. “I'll just be a burden, hopping about on this bad foot. Best stay home and tend to it. I'll send you off with your present, lass, and regards to your sister, Leana. Write and tell me all about the wedding.”

  Write she would, the moment Rose knew when the ceremony would be performed. What a dreadful nuisance it must have been for her father, canceling the wedding on the very day it was planned! Leana probably handled every detail. Dear Leana. Rose had missed her terribly, almost as much as she'd missed Jamie.

  She closed her eyes to picture him, as she had many times a day, all eight days she'd spent in Twyneholm. Jamie, with his dark brown hair in a sleek knot, and his green eyes gazing at her, and his full mouth curved into a sly smile, and his carved chin with a hint of a beard, and his long legs, so handsome in his new boots, and his strong, broad shoulders. Oo aye! Picturing James Lachlan McKie had become her favorite pastime. Who could have guessed that spending a week apart from a man would make her feelings grow so much deeper and multiply like wildflowers in May?

  Twenty minutes.

  I love you, Jamie.

  She would tell him the very second she laid eyes on him, no matter who was listening, no matter how it might embarrass him.

  To keep her mind off her bonny bridegroom, Rose dutifully pulled out her knitting bag, untouched since the day before, and found the heel of the stocking she'd been working on. She eased it out of the bag so it wouldn't unravel. The needles were poked into the wool, right where they belonged. She'd no sooner sorted out the skein of yarn when Willie glanced over and brought Bess to a sudden halt.

  Willie's eyes were tea saucers. “When did ye start knitting that stocking, lass?”

  “Monday.” She held it up, proud of how much she'd finished. Knitting was her least favorite pastime. “They're for Jamie. Aren't they a lovely shade of blue?”

  “Did ye…” He gulped, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Did ye…leave the knitting needles in the stocking like that…all night?”

  She gaped at him. “Willie, whatever is the matter with you? Aye, naturally I left the needles there.” She glanced outside the chaise for some explanation. “Why have we stopped?”

  He sighed heavily, shaking his head like one of Aunt Meg's collies. “There's no cure for it now, lass. D'ye no ken how unchancie a thing it is to keep knitting a stocking from the old year to the new?”

  She stared at the wool in her hands. “It is? Unlucky, I mean?”

  He jerked the reins to start Bess on her way, though his gaze was still fixed on Roses hands. “Wise is die woman who finishes knittin her stocking before midnight on Hogmanay and puts the needles safely awa.

  “Hoot!” Rose laughed gaily, trying to conceal her uneasiness. “You are the most superstitious old Scotsman I've met in many a day, Willie.”

  “Aye, lass, but I've lived long enough to ken what I'm telling ye to be true. They say on the last day of the old year, a great gust of wind blows across the face of the earth, and all the earth is changed. ‘Tis our job to keep the old ways so that change will be for the better.”

  Willie sank down into his overcoat, two sizes too big for him, still shaking his head. “Seems to me a lass about to marry would need all the guid luck she can gather around her.”

  “I don't need guid luck,” she told him, tossing her black hair the way Bess tossed her tangled mane. “I have Jamie.”

  They rode on in silence, past Maxwell Park, then Lochend, then Glensone, each farm and cottage bringing her closer to home. She discarded her knitting, lest the needles themselves bear some unco curse, and clasped her hands in her lap, breathing in the crisp, cold air and basking in the brilliant sunshine, all too aware that such fine weather never lasted.

  When they turned into the drive at Auchengray, her heart was in her throat. Would Jamie be waiting at the window, watching for her? Or come running out the door, breathing out steamy puffs of air as he hastened to help her down from the chaise? She closed her eyes for the briefest of wishes—Let him hurry out to meet me!—then opened them wider than ever in joyful anticipation. Jamie!Jamie, I'm home!

  There was no sign of him at the door or at the window. Willie relaxed the reins, knowing Bess would find the shortest path to the stables, and stopped in front of the house long enough to help Rose climb out. “Go on, lass. Dinna keep yer man waitin.”

  She planted a kiss on Willie's leathery cheek, then fairly skipped to the front entrance. After pushing open the heavy door, she sang out her greeting, not waiting for someone to come as she pulled off her hat, scarf, and coat, laughing at how Aunt Meg had bundled her up from head to toe. She discarded her things in a careless heap by the door and went straight to the dining room, certain the family must be finishing dinner and hadn't heard her arrival.

  Finding them in their usual places, their untouched food sitting before them, she swept into the room, flashing them a brownies grin. “Is there no one in this house eager to welcome a weary traveler?”

  “Rose!” Jamie stood so quickly his chair tipped back for a moment. He held out his arms, a sheen of tears in his eyes, and she threw herself into his embrace.

  “Jamie, J
amie!” She stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear the news she'd waited all week to tell him. “I love you, Jamie. I do, I love you.”

  “And I love you, beloved.” Jamie's arms tightened around her, even as servants quiedy slipped out and the room grew strangely silent.

  Her father's stern voice cut through the air. “That will be quite enough, Rose.”

  She eased back, hating to lose the warmth of him, though Jamie's gaze embraced her still. “Forgive me, Father. I was…that is, I've missed Jamie.”

  “You've made that abundandy clear, lass. Find your seat at the table so we may begin our dinner.”

  It was only then she turned to look at Leana more closely. Her pale skin was smudged with shadows, and her eyes rimmed with pink, as though she'd been crying for hours on end. “Leana?” By the look of her face, her sister had aged a year during the last week. She hurried to Leana's side, taking the empty seat next to hers. “Dear sister, what is it? What's wrong?”

  Her father answered before Leana could take a breath. “Your sister is…tired. It's good to have you home, Rose. Would that ill weather had not prevented you from arriving at this hour yestreen.”

  “Aye, Father. No one is more sorry than I am.” She patted Leana's hand, resolving to keep an eye on her, and sniffed the pungent air, famished for some of Neda's steak and kidney pie. “Forgive me for throwing your plans in such an uproar. Did you not have the same ill weather here in Newabbey?”

  Leana spoke, her voice timid, almost apologetic. “We…did not.”

  Och!” Rose squeezed her sisters hand, noticing how limply it rested in her lap. “No wonder you're exhausted. All our guests must have arrived, not knowing what had happened. Dear me, what a bother, moving all our arrangements to another day.” She looked expectandy around the table. “What day have you chosen?”

  The three of them exchanged glances, then her father spoke. “No day as yet.” He exhaled with obvious impatience. “We have already blessed the meal, child. Let us bless your safe return and enjoy our food while it is hot. In silence, if you do not mind, as we have no guests to entertain, and it has been a…difficult two days.”

  Rose bowed her head slowly, watching the others, a knot of fear tightening in her chest—a knot made of wool yarn, with knitting needles sticking out of its center. Why were they all so solemn, as though they weren't pleased to have her home? It was common for them to eat without speaking during the meal, but why today of all days?

  Her father prayed, filling the room with long, dour phrases that sounded very holy indeed, though the pie grew cold beneath her nose. At last he finished, and they lifted their silver, cutting and chewing with nary a word spoken for the longest dinner hour Rose could ever remember. She and Jamie exchanged glances when the others had their heads down. His love for her shone in his eyes, but there was sadness there as well. Poor Jamie. Her delay must have put a terrible strain on the household; their grim faces were proof of it.

  Another long prayer closed the meal, and then she could bear it no more. “To your feet, Leana. Willie should have deposited my things in our room by now.” Rose stood, tugging her sister's sleeve. “We shall see what sort of wedding present Aunt Meg has sent along for Jamie and me.” She rolled her eyes, giggling all the while. “Smuggled salt, judging by the feel of it.” She glanced at Jamie, whose sorrowful gaze—there was no other word for it, the man appeared positively grief-stricken—followed her to the door. He looked as if he hadn't slept in two days.

  She pranced into the hall, letting her fingers brush the walls, she was that glad to be home. Everything looked different, as it often did after a time away. Shabbier, a bit plain compared to Aunt Meg's cheerful cottage, but still Auchengray, still home. However would she bear leaving it behind for Glentrool?

  Leana turned to her at the bottom of the stair, her expression as gloomy as Jamie's. “This way, my sister. I've a rather…delicate matter we need to discuss.”

  Fifty-Six

  Oh! how many torments lie

  in the small circle of a wedding ring.

  COLLEY CIBBER

  Come now, it can't be as bad as all that.” Rose pushed Leana ahead of her up the steps, cajoling her as they went. “I can see that Auchengray needs my speeritie ways, loud as they may be. While I've been gone, joy has positively vanished from this house.”

  “Aye,” Leana agreed, nodding as she slowly climbed the stair, two steps ahead of her, “that it has.”

  The knotted bow in Rose's chest tightened further. What was this all about? She followed her sister into their shared bedroom and found her trunk and packages neady stacked in the center of the room. How she'd missed home! Her gaze took in the familiar box bed, Leana's reading chair by the window, the stacks of books, and two gowns hung out to air—Leana's new embroidered one and her rosy wedding dress, still waiting for her.

  “We'll be wearing these soon enough.” Rose sighed witli delight as she hurried over to inspect the two dresses. Her gaze was drawn to the hem of Leana's claret gown, and her eyes narrowed. “Heavens! How ever did this get soiled?”

  “Rose.” Leana was standing beside her now, her hand gendy touching her elbow. “I have much to tell you.” Rose turned, dismayed to find tears streaming down her sister's face.

  “Leana! Dearest, whatever has happened, it cannot warrant such tears.”

  “Oh, but it does. I only wish my tears were enough for both of us.” Leana inclined her head toward their box bed. “Please, sit with me. Here, where I can look you in the eye and hold your sweet hands.”

  Rose sensed her own well of tears beginning to fill as she sat, her sisters clammy hands gripping hers. Was Leana ill, desperately ill? Was that it? Please God, no! She could not imagine life without her sister. “Tell me. Just begin. I cannot bear it another moment.”

  Leana swallowed, then moistened her lips. “I must start by asking for your forgiveness. What I have done…what we… Nae, what /have done is…” She choked on her words, releasing Roses hands to smooth away the flood of tears, though it did not stop them. “Rose…oh, Rose, when you did not appear on your wedding day, Father thought it best…in truth, he demanded that we…continue with the…ah, ceremony. With me as your proxy.”

  “Proxy?”Rose felt the knot in her chest rise into her throat. “What… what does that mean, Leana? A proxy?”

  Leana squeezed her hands over and over, struggling to get out a single word. “It means that…1 stood in the kirk and…said your vows for you.”

  “What?” Rose shot to her feet, throwing her sisters hands aside. “Why? Why would you do such a thing, Leana? It was my wedding!”

  “I know, dearie, but—”

  “What possible benefit was there to go on without me?”

  “Father said…” Leana looked up, her gaze filled with despair. “He said we could not postpone the wedding because of our many guests and because of the expense—”

  “Money!”Rose threw her arms over her head, now furious with her father as well. “I should have known! With Lachlan McBride, it always comes down to what a thing costs.” Storming about the room, she noticed her kell discarded in a wrinkled heap on her dressing table and gasped, snatching it up. “And this! I suppose you wore this when you said my vows.”

  “Aye.” Leanas head hung so low Rose could not see her face, only the coil of yellow braids on top of her head. “I did wear your kell. Father insisted.” Her voice thinned to a vapor. “He wanted me to wear your gown as well, but I refused.”

  “Och! And I'm to thank you for that, no doubt.”

  “You are to thank me for none of it, Rose,” Leana said softly. “We kept hoping you'd come. We didn't learn about the snowstorm until we arrived home for the bridal supper, and even then we prayed you might come riding up.”

  “If you expected me, why didn't you wait for me?” Rose swatted at her dress, her face crinkled with tears. “Why didn't you wait?”

  “We should have waited. I know that now only too well.” Leana stood and began pacing
back and forth across the room, wringing her hands as she tried to explain. “We had both gowns with us at the kirk so that you could dress at the manse and slip into the kirk in an instant. We never imagined the whole day would unfold without you, dearie.”

  Rose hated when her sister sounded so sincere. “ We, meaning you and Father, I suppose.”

  “ We, meaning all of us. Jamie, Neda and Duncan, Susanne—everyone in the neighborhood kept thinking you might appear, riding up in the chaise with Willie.”

  Rose pouted, not caring if it made her look twelve years old. “You were feasting on my bridal supper while I sat with old Aunt Meg, eating porridge.”

  “I'm so sorry, Rose. I would do anything, anything to have refused to stand in for you. How I wish I had.” Leana whispered those words again under her breath, turning away from her for a moment, looking as though she might be ill. “Father did not allow us much choice.”

  “And I had no choice at all. Och!“ Rose groaned, dropping into the chair by the window. She had missed her own wedding. Her own wed-ding!”lts all Father's fault. He can send a person spinning like a top with his endless reasons why a thing must be done.”

  “Aye, he can. But Rose…” Leana sank to her knees by the chair, laying her hands on Rose's lap. “That is not the worst of it. Wearing your kell, saying your vows, looking into Jamie's eyes…”

  Poor Leana! Rose nodded, understanding at last what she was trying to say. “It was terrible for you, wasn't it? To stand next to Jamie, saying those vows yet knowing that he loves me.” She squeezed Leana's hands, suddenly feeling generous. “You cared for him a great deal once. Shame on Father for expecting you to do such a difficult task.”

  “But, Rose, it wasn't difficult. It was…” Leana sank back, folding up on herself as though she could not bear to be seen. “God forgive me, it was…wonderful. We kissed outside the kirk…”