by Laurel Kerr
* * *
Magnus was halfway to Orkney by the time he sobered up. He debated about getting off the train at the next village and taking the earliest one back to London. But he didn’t because it wouldn’t resolve anything. He’d been running since eighteen, and it was time he stopped.
He spent the next couple hours staring at the passing landscape, trying not to think. He’d slept on the train during the night, so he doubted he’d fall asleep even with the remainder of the rail journey and ferry ride ahead of him. Alcohol would have helped, but he needed a clear head. He wasn’t showing up blootered on his mum’s doorstep. Even if he barely remembered the hen, there were some things a son shouldn’t do.
He supposed he should be thinking of what he would say, but he wasn’t. If he tried, he would’ve turned right back around. And that wouldn’t do. He was done being a feartie.
* * *
Magnus stood at the ferry’s rail as the seacraft pulled into Stromness harbor on the Mainland, Orkney. Although Magnus had lived fairly far north of the large isle, he couldn’t help but feel a prick of homecoming. To his surprise, he didn’t find it wholly unwelcome. In fact, an odd sense of peace crept through him at the sight of the fishing boats in front of the gray-stone buildings dotting the hills beyond. He knew this place, knew these people. Perhaps more of the Isles had seeped inside him than he’d known.
He’d missed Orkney, he realized, and the revelation wasn’t as jarring as he would’ve imagined. Beside him, he heard a couple of auld men havering in the melodious Orcadian accent. He could smell the tang of the sea. Aye, there was beauty here, and part of him still loved it. His da hadn’t managed to destroy that after all…but Magnus nearly had.
Instead of catching the bus, he decided to hike first northward to the dramatic cliffs of the Brough of Birsay and then catch a bus to Kirkwall. As a lad, he’d done a lot of walking, and now it helped steady his rioting nerves. This was ancient land. Before it was owned by Britain, the Picts and Norse had made this group of islands their home. As early as the late Stone Age, people had begun building villages and monuments here, and some of those structures still stood. This place was in Magnus’s very DNA, and he’d been wrong to try to splice it from his essence.
With the tide out, Magnus walked along an exposed sandy stretch that connected the tidal island to Mainland, Orkney. Although it was off-season, a few tourists and their children stooped to collect smooth rocks and shells. Memories flickered. He remembered scouring the beach on Bjaray for the small cowrie shells that Orcadians called groatie buckies. There was a tradition on the isles to keep a collection of them. Magnus had long since thrown his away, but he bent down and gathered a few into his hand and shoved them into his pocket. Perhaps, it was time to start another jar.
Climbing up the steep hill, he stood at the edge of the tall cliffs, breathing in the scent of the blue-green sea and soaking in its power as it crashed on the rocks below. In the dim light, he spotted a few seals bobbing peacefully in the water. As a lad, he’d watch the animals from his da’s croft. He’d heard the stories of the selkies—magical creatures who looked like seals in the water but could shed their pelts and become human on land. There were many legends of mortal men and women stealing a selkie’s fur, forcing the fae creature to remain ashore with them. The stories always ended with the selkie finding his or her pelt and returning to the sea. Magnus used to imagine his mother as one of those legendary sprites, and he’d dreamed of her coming back, not to stay but to bring him to her ocean home. His mum had returned to Orkney, but it was now Magnus who lived beyond its shores.
* * *
Despite Magnus’s fantastical musings about creatures of the sea, it turned out Mady Budge lived in an ordinary postwar council home on the outskirts of Kirkwall. Located on a quiet street, it was a nondescript residence with flowers growing in a small, well-tended bed. Magnus heaved a sigh as he made his way up the walk. He paused for only a second before he jabbed the bell. He stood there, resisting the urge to bounce on his feet like a peedie lad.
The door swung open to reveal a tall, stout woman. Even though Magnus hadn’t seen Mady Budge in years, he would have recognized his mum on a crowded King’s Cross platform. After all, he took after her. Same stocky build. Same dark-brown curls. Same strong features. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Magnus. The only physical attribute Magnus shared with his rawboned da was the startling blue eyes all Grays possessed.
As he stood looking at an older, feminine version of himself, he felt a roar inside him like a great wind. He swallowed. Gales like this had a tendency to reshape the landscape.
He had no doubt Mady Budge knew him. She stood there frozen, tears shining in her brown eyes. She raised a shaking hand to her mouth and pressed so hard her lips turned white around her fingertips. She didn’t make a sound, though, not even a sob or a gasp. Neither of them did. They remained rooted there—he on the front stoop, she in the foyer, her other hand still resting on the door.
Someone moved on the street. A boy on a bicycle from the sounds of it. Magnus didn’t turn, but he did start.
“I d-d-d-drunk-d-d-d-d-dialed a b-b-b-bear. Thought t-t-t-talking to a human would be b-b-b-better,” Magnus said in way of explanation for his presence. Then he winced. Maybe he should have at least considered his first words to his mother. To Mady’s credit, she showed no reaction to his bizarre announcement other than stepping back and gesturing for him to enter. He ducked inside and followed her into a comfortable parlor at the front of the house. They stood awkwardly in the small room.
“Tea?” Mady asked. Her voice had a rich timbre to it, and an old memory jangled in the back of Magnus’s mind before it flitted away, unformed.
“Aye,” Magnus said, grateful for the offer. It would give him something to do with his hands.
Mady bobbed her head before she left the room. She moved like him, quiet despite her large frame. Magnus wondered what else they shared. He heard her in the scullery and considered whether he should offer to help. He thought of June then. She would know what to do in a situation like this. The raw pain started again, and he studied the walls to distract himself and then froze. On a prominent shelf stood every book he’d written. He stepped forward, but then a framed magazine page caught his eye. He stopped and stared. Like all of his publicity photos, he stood with his back to the viewer, his gaze trained on the churning sea. It had been taken early in his career. He’d been practically a lad at the time, but between the camera angle and his bulk, he looked like a full-grown man.
Magnus heard the fall of footsteps behind him. He turned to find his mother watching him, her brown eyes hesitant and guilty. The tea tray clattered, and with shaking hands, she bent to place it carefully on the coffee table. She straightened and nervously wiped her palms on her dress.
“Are you satisfied?” Magnus blurted out, and his mum’s entire body stiffened. He realized how aggressive his words sounded and quickly corrected himself. “I didn’t m-m-m-m-mean that as an accusation. I just wanted to know if you had—have—a good life.”
His mother’s eyes held his for a moment before flitting away. She heaved her shoulders and then returned her gaze to his. This was difficult for her. Any nyaff could see that. But she was trying to do it right, and for that, he respected her.
“Aye,” she admitted, her voice laced with guilt. “I do.”
“Did you remarry?” Magnus asked. He hated asking a personal question, but he needed to know that a body could heal and trust another after a life with his da.
His mother hesitated before nodding. “Aye. To a man named Robert Stewart. We have no children, if you’re wondering about that as well.”
Magnus hadn’t. He should have, he supposed, but he’d never thought about having siblings.
His mother continued speaking as she rubbed her hands nervously. Now that she’d started talking, she didn’t seem to know how to stop. “My Robert
’s at work now. He’s a good m-m-m-man—”
“You stutter?” Shock crashed through Magnus, and it felt almost like a physical blow. He nearly stepped back from the force of it.
His mother nodded as she studied him. “You didn’t know?”
Magnus shook his head. “No.”
“It’s a sair fetch for m-m-me to say the letter ‘m.’”
Magnus stared at her in disbelief. “Then why did you name m-me M-M-M-Magnus?”
Mady glanced down at her hands. Distantly, he noticed bits of paint on her fingertips before she spoke again. “M-M-Magnus was a Gray family name. Your da wanted it.”
“Ah,” Magnus said as he immediately understood. His mother raised her chin, and Magnus could see the tears spilling down her cheeks.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I never should’ve left you. There’s not a d-d-d-day goes b-b-b-by that I don’t think of you, my peedie laddie.”
To his horror, Magnus felt a burning sensation behind his own eyes. Before he could embarrass himself, he strode over to his mother in two giant steps. When he took her into his arms, her body went as tight as a mooring rope. Then she collapsed against him, her head on his shoulder.
When Magnus spoke, he kept his voice low and gentle. “I never blamed you for leaving.”
That startled his mum from her bawling. She pulled back to study him, and he allowed the scrutiny.
“How?” she finally asked, the word as soft as spring moss.
“I lived with him too,” Magnus said simply, and his mother’s eyes grew wide with something akin to horror. Before Magnus could stop himself, the rest of his words came tumbling out. “But I’ve never understood why you left me in his care.”
His mum stumbled back from him, her face peely walley. “He didn’t t-t-t-treat you well?”
Magnus felt his mouth twist bitterly. He couldn’t help it. “Oh, he t-t-treated me well enough…if I did exactly as he wanted, which was bloody impossible.”
His mum sank into the settee. Magnus found a chair across from her. He sat, folding his hands over his knees as he waited.
“I…” She paused, visibly collecting herself and then continuing. “I thought it was b-b-best to leave you with him.”
Magnus couldn’t speak. He could only stare. His mother fidgeted nervously as she spoke, “I had no m-m-money. I only went to secondary school to year four. I was afraid I was going to starve on m-m-my own, and I didn’t think I could earn enough to put food in your puggy.”
Magnus could hear the woman’s raw pain. He believed it. Believed her. But he couldn’t stop the flow of words spewing from him. “He hit m-m-m-me. For stuttering. For burning the neeps. For not m-m-m-moving fast enough. For b-b-b-blethering to the coos.”
His mother squeezed her eyes shut. “I didn’t think he’d do that. He had a less violent temper than m-m-my own d-d-d-da who was always guttered at the pub. Your d-d-d-da was always yelling at m-m-me for how I was ruining you. He said it was m-my fault that you stuttered and that you seemed like a sensitive lad. I b-b-believed him back then. I thought you’d be better without m-my influence.”
“Aye, he was always one for d-d-d-destroying confidence,” Magnus said bitterly.
Her lips formed a trembling line. “I didn’t have m-m-much to begin with. I was a ‘B-B-B-Blootered B-B-B-B-Budge Lass.’”
Stunned, Magnus sank back. “Fuck me. We’re the same.”
“I paint,” she said suddenly.
He blinked at the non sequitur, but she continued. “Landscapes of B-B-B-Bjaray and T-T-T-Tammay. They sell—not as well as your books—but they bring in a little extra dosh. I started doing it to heal. I put m-myself through university working as a caretaker for a p-p-primary school in Glasgow and got a degree in art therapy. But I never felt whole until I started letting people in. Robert showed me how.”
Magnus held himself very still. His mother’s expression had softened as she regarded him warmly. A recollection slipped into place. He knew that look. Something unlocked inside him. His throat tightened, threatening to choke him. An anxious feeling chased through him as he debated about standing up and walking over to her. He’d been trained first by his da and then by himself to avoid emotion. But if he wanted to repair things with June, he needed to stop running.
“I know this is not m-m-my place,” his mother said gently. “I’ve lost all rights to knowing about your p-p-p-private life. But if you were talking to a bear while drunk, I’m assuming you’re no longer with the lass who called me.”
“No,” Magnus said shortly.
His mum opened her mouth, stopped, and then continued, “The lass shouldn’t have contacted m-m-m-me without your knowledge.”
“Aye,” Magnus agreed.
“She wasn’t trying to be a wee clipe, though. Her heart was in the right place.”
“Aye.” Even when he’d been boiling mad, he’d still recognized that. “And I made all go to b-b-b-bruck.”
His mom reached forward, her hand hovering near his. They stared down at it, both of them waiting to see what she’d do. She appeared to come to a decision and let her fingers rest on his. “I doubt that, lad. The lass fancies you, and she didn’t seem like the type to let a wee b-bit of a temper fleg her off.”
“You said Robert is a good man. Are you happy with him?” Magnus asked again, needing further assurance that Mady had managed to find and hold on to joy. “Not just content, but happy?”
“Aye,” his mum said without hesitation, “I love the man. And we’ve a good m-m-m-marriage.”
“How?” Magnus asked.
His mum sighed and poured herself a cup of tea. Her hands were steady now. Magnus wished he could say the same about himself. She handed him a teacup and saucer, which he managed to keep from rattling as he reached forward to add sugar and milk.
“It wasn’t easy in the b-b-b-beginning,” his mother said as she eased back into her seat and took a sip. “Not with my first m-m-marriage, and m-m-my own d-d-da’s criticisms in my head. There were times I had trouble catching my breath and times I felt like I had to run again, but Robert understood and he helped me through it. He convinced me it was time to m-m-m-move back here. He told me I shouldn’t let my previous husband chase me from the land I loved. He was right. It’s b-been healing being back in Orkney.”
To save himself from responding just yet, Magnus drank some tea. He didn’t know if he could trust June like that. Just the thought of relying on someone made his skin clammy. The china in his hands clinked together. His mum said nothing, but her eyes followed the movement.
“If you want a future with this lass, you need to stop letting your d-d-da win and learn to trust.”
* * *
Protect. Nurture. Shelter.
New instincts crashed into Honey as she stared down at the tiny hairless creature burrowing against her fur. The sight of something so defenseless should have repulsed Honey. Their kind did not tolerate weakness.
Yet Honey did not want to attack and destroy this new life. She wanted to take care of it, which made no sense. But she could not stop herself.
The kit opened its tiny mouth and squeaked plaintively. It was a pathetic sound, but Honey did not wish to swat the interloper to her den. Instead, she used her nose to guide the blind creature to her belly.
When the little speck began to drink eagerly, Honey felt content…a new and surprisingly welcome sensation.
* * *
June sat in her SUV staring at her best friend’s house. Katie’s mom had volunteered to take care of Nan for the day, and June was supposed to pick up Katie to go shopping in the city. But when she’d pulled up, she couldn’t bring herself to ring the doorbell. Because June, the perennial social butterfly, needed a break. From people, of all things.
June pulled out her smartphone and checked the clock. There was still plenty of time before the store
s opened, even with the long drive. Pulling out her cell phone, she texted, Mind if I see the animals before we leave?
Katie’s response was quick. No prob. Running late anyway. Hubs will let you in.
Bowie met June by the zoo’s entrance. Covering a yawn with one hand, he pulled back the gate with the other. Locking it behind them, Bowie said, “Katie told me to tell you not to rush. She had a lot of heartburn and back pain last night, so she’s moving slowly this morning.”
“Rough night for the mama-to-be?” June asked. “How’d Dad handle it?”
Bowie rubbed the back of his head and smiled. “Well, I’m not the one carrying twins, so you’re not going to hear any complaints from me.”
June leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “She can’t hear you out here.”
He chuckled and then sobered. “I’m fine. I’m just glad everything’s going well with Katie aside from her stomach issues.”
“Doesn’t she have the sweetest little waddle already?” June asked.
A huge grin broke over Bowie’s face, and she could hear the warm affection in his voice when he spoke. “Yes, but don’t tell her I said that.”
Fresh pain burst inside June at Bowie’s obvious love for his wife. She didn’t envy her friends their happiness. They’d had a rough road finding it. But that didn’t mean blissful couples didn’t remind June of what she’d ruined.
“She’s upset enough,” Bowie continued. “Honey had her kit last night, and Katie is a tad jealous since she still has months to go.”
June straightened. Bowie and Lou had realized a couple weeks ago the little minx was expecting. Since not much was known about honey badger births, they’d set up a webcam in the den Honey had dug. The feed had been getting a lot of traffic from researchers and the interested public.
“My word, that was a short pregnancy.”
“Six to eight weeks,” Bowie confirmed. “That’s why Katie is so irritated.”
“I would be too.”
“Thanks for going into the city with her today. She could use some time away.”
