Fated Hearts 02 - Highland Echoes

by Ceci Giltenan

  Had it only been six months since her world began to unravel? It seemed a lifetime ago.

  Shortly after Michaelmas, her mother became ill and never completely recovered. Then, late in October, a terrible gale blew up suddenly, early one afternoon. Wind, rain, and ice pellets pounded the little cottage. Grace’s anxiety had risen as darkness fell and her father and husband hadn’t returned.

  “What never helps, Grace?” Her mother had asked the question that she had asked for as long as Grace could remember. It was intended to teach her to stay calm.

  “Panicking. Panicking never helps, Mama.”

  Still, it had been all Grace could do to keep from panicking when Sheila came to tell them the small fishing boat Tristan and Callum worked had gone down in the storm. Lachie and his men on a nearby vessel had witnessed it, but were barely able to stay afloat themselves and could do nothing help.

  Maybe her mother would have been able to recover from her illness if the heart of her heart hadn’t been ripped from her and dragged to a watery grave. However, the loss of her husband took a toll on Catriona’s already fragile health. She finally succumbed to her illness in February.

  Sheer determination had kept Grace rising to face each new day but she kept them fed and earned enough to pay the rents. She had convinced herself she could build a life for her daughter. Perhaps not the one she had always imagined, but at least they had a roof over their heads, food in their bellies, and some measure of security.

  Security. How could she have been foolish enough to believe they were secure in any way? She gave a mirthless laugh, which caused Kristen to stir, drawing Grace from her memories to the present where there was work to do. After soothing her back to sleep, Grace tucked her in. She had barely left the bedroom when a soft knock sounded at the cottage door. She called through the door, “Who’s there?”

  Sheila answered, “Friends, love. Ye can let us in.”

  Grace unbarred the door and opened it. She expected to see Sheila and Lachie but there were also several other men from the village. They all wore grim expressions. Sheila rung her hands and looked to be on the edge of tears. Lachie said gently, “Grace, lass, we need to talk with ye.”

  “Aye, Lachie. Come in, but we’ll need to keep our voices down, Kristen is napping.”

  They filed in, some taking seats, others standing, all clearly worried. “Ye all look so somber, surely it isn’t that bad.” But she knew that was wishful thinking.

  “Sit, lass,” Lachie said and guided her to the chair by the hearth. “What happened after ye left the square? I saw Fearchar leave as I spoke to the laird about me own rents. I worried that he was after ye so I excused myself as soon as I could, only to see Fearchar, clearly angry, striding back to the square alone. Were ye able to get back here and bar the door?”

  “Nay, he caught up to me and insisted on seeing me home.”

  Several of the men groaned. “Did he hurt ye, lass?” asked Hamish?

  “Nay, not really. He tried to kiss me. It scared Kristen.” Grace didn’t admit to how much it had scared her too.

  “What did he say to ye?”

  A hot blush rose on Grace’s cheeks and she looked at her hands, clenched in her lap. “He said that I will be living at the keep before the end of the summer and then…then…”

  “Then what, lass?” prodded Lachie.

  “He said…I will be his to use when he wants.” Grace’s voice was barely audible but by the men’s reactions, she knew they had heard her.

  Several men swore under their breaths.

  A pained look crossed Lachie’s face. “Aye, that’s what I feared. He threatened some of us before he left.”

  Grace was shocked. What could he do to her friends? “Threatened ye? How?”

  “He told me that he will not take any further public support of you kindly,” said Hamish.

  “Aye,” said another villager, “and he’s done worse. He told me he would be greatly pleased by anyone who tells the laird that ye have become a burden.”

  Grace bowed her head. “It is worse than I thought.”

  “Ye know we won’t lie about ye Grace,” said Lachie. “But when Fearchar wants something, he usually gets it. He will not rest until he has ye, regardless of what we do. The only thing to do is get ye off the island.”

  Sheila knelt beside Grace, and took her hands. “Yer mama and da weren’t born here on the island. Do ye know anything about their families?”

  Grace sighed. “I don’t know much. My Da was a Sutherland.”

  “I can get ye to Sutherland territory,” Lachie assured her. “We’ll sail to Durness. I have friends there who will be able to see ye safely south to the Sutherlands’ holding.”

  “Does yer mother not have people there too?” Hamish had asked. “If ye can’t find yer da’s kin, perhaps yer mother’s family would take ye in.”

  “Nay, I don’t think she has anyone,” Grace said. She didn’t want to admit that she didn’t even know her mother’s surname.

  “Then it’s settled,” said Lachie. “Gather what ye can carry. We will leave on the high tide tomorrow morning.”

  Grace was horrified. “Must I go right away? After all, the laird agreed to let me live on here, at least through the summer.”

  Hamish shook his head. “Nay, Grace, Lachie is right. There is no telling what Fearchar is likely to do to get what he wants. In fact, I don’t think ye and Kristen should remain in this cottage one more night. When ye are packed, ye’ll come and stay with me and my wife.”

  The assembled men all nodded or murmured their agreement.

  “Aye, that’s a good plan, Hamish,” said Lachie. “If he comes looking for ye tonight, lass, he won’t find ye, and ye’ll be gone before daylight.”

  Tears welled in Grace’s eyes and her throat constricted. She knew they were right. Leaving was the only answer, but that didn’t lessen the pain. This was her home. The memories of her parents and her husband were steeped into the very walls. Still, unless she wished to be Fearchar’s leman, she had no other choice. She bit her lips and blinked to keep from crying. Finally, she nodded saying, “Aye, well, if we are leaving at first light, I must get ready.”

  The men took her cue and rose to leave. Sheila hugged her. “I’ll send one of the lads up later to help ye carry yer things.”

  *

  It didn’t take Grace long to pack. Her most valuable possession, the loom which had been her mother’s, was too large and would have to stay. She did have a small ribbon loom that she could take along with a fair amount of linen thread that she had already spun and dyed. She also packed her wool combs, cards, distaff, and drop spindle. If she couldn’t weave, she could certainly spin and perhaps sell the yarn. Thankfully, she hadn’t purchased her new wool yet. She also packed her father’s knives and several small hand tools. Other than their clothes and some household linens, she and Kristen had few belongings.

  Of course there was the box.

  She walked to the hearth and removed a stone, behind which was a small cavity containing the box. Without bothering to replace the stone, she sat with the small finely carved wooden box which held their few valuable belongings on her lap. She traced her fingers reverently over the gorse flowers and rooster carved into the lid while she gave in to her tears for a moment.

  Finally she opened it and looked at each precious item within. There was her father’s silver filigree brooch, a gold pendant set with a pearl, and gold brooch resembling a ring of bog myrtle, both of which were her mother’s. She had never seen them wear these bits of finery. There was also a single gold coin bearing the image of a fleur-de-lis on one side and a man on the other, who, based on his halo and animal hair cloak, she assumed to be St. John the Baptist. The only other coins she had ever seen were the pennies, half-pennies, and farthings used in every-day commerce. Grace had no idea what the gold coin was worth, but she knew it was valuable.

  Ah, and the letter was in the box too. She turned it over in her hand, remembering the aft
ernoon her mother had told her about it. The letter was to Tristan’s mother. It looked as if Grace would be able to deliver it now.

  The sound of the bedroom door opening drew Grace from her memories. She swiped the tears from her eyes, replaced the box’s contents, and tucked it in with the rest of their belongings.

  Kristen padded across the room to her, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She crawled up in Grace’s lap for a cuddle. “Is the bad man gone?”

  “Aye, sweetling, he is.”

  “I don’t wike him.”

  “We don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

  “What if he comes back?”

  “Well, my precious, if he comes back he won’t find us here.”

  “Why? Wiww we hide?”

  “We are going on an adventure, pet. Tonight we will stay with Hamish’s family and then tomorrow we are going on a boat.”

  “A boat? Wike Da’s boat?”

  “A bigger boat. We will go across the water to Scotland on Lachie’s boat.”

  “I wike Wachie.”

  Grace laughed. “I like him too.”

  *

  When Lachie’s youngest son arrived, he frowned at Grace’s bundle of belongings. “Is that all?”

  Grace smiled. “Aye, lad, that’s all.”

  He cocked his head. “It’s hard to believe someone’s whole life can fit into such a small bundle.”

  Grace laughed. “That’s not my whole life, lad. That’s just things. This is my whole life.” With that she scooped Kristen up and tickled her until her daughter giggled and squirmed.

  Eyeing her with doubt, he simply nodded. “If ye say so. Still, I thought ye’d have more. I’ll carry this down and I’ll take Kristen with me if ye want me to. Mam said ye might want to visit the grave one last time.”

  Grace sobered. “Aye, I would like to say goodbye, but I’ll take Kristen with me.”

  He nodded, picked up the bundle, and left the cottage. Grace watched him for a moment before saying to Kristen, “Do ye want to climb the hill?”

  Kristen’s eyes lit up. “Aye, Mama.”

  “Then we will.” She twirled around with her once, making Kristen squeal with glee before putting her down. “I just need to put out the fire first.” Grace went to the hearth and smothered the fire with cold ashes. She took Kristen’s hand and walked out without looking back. She didn’t want the last memory of her home to be cold and empty. They walked to the little church at the edge of the village where Grace stopped and looked over the low wall into the church yard where her mother was buried. She made the sign of the cross and said a silent prayer for the souls of those she’d lost.

  Kristen looked up at her. “I want to cwime the hiww mama. Ye said we could.”

  “Aye, sweetling, we are going too.” She didn’t enter the graveyard or stay any longer, her loved ones weren’t here. Instead she walked past the church to the path leading to the top of the promontory, which looked out over the village and harbor. She picked Kristen up, putting her on her shoulders to carry her up the hill.

  When they reached the top, she set Kristen on her feet in the tall grass, warning her as she always did, “Don’t go near the edge.”

  “I won’t, Mama. I dust wanna pick fwowers.” She immediately busied herself picking the meadow flowers that were just beginning to open to the rare spring sunshine.

  Grace looked around, trying to absorb it all one last time. This was one of her favorite places. She came here as a child with her parents, her da carrying her up on his strong, broad shoulders just as she had Kristen. She also walked here with Callum when they were courting.

  Here, alone, there were no memories of sickness or loss; she had only spent happy hours in this spot so it is where she would say goodbye. She basked in the glow of those sweet memories until Kristen stood at her feet, her arms outstretched with a fist full of flowers, and demanded, “Up.”

  Grace swung her into the air, making her squeal and giggle before hugging her close. “Are ye ready to go on an adventure, sweetling?”

  “Can I see over fust?”

  “Aye, one last time.” Grace walked with her as close to the edge of the cliff as she felt comfortable and looked down at the sleepy little village by the edge of the sea that had been their only home.

  “Goodbye,” whispered Grace, “we’ll miss ye.”

  “Goodbye, we’ww miss ye,” echoed Kristen somberly.

  Chapter 2

  Late May, 1340 Sutherland Castle

  When Grace and Kristen arrived, Lachie’s friends, Dugald, a merchant, and his wife, Mary, had been extremely kind. Grace and Kristen had stayed with them in Durness for nearly a month until Dugald was ready to make his twice yearly trip to Inverness. He had two wagon loads of goods to sell there but they were delivering Grace and Kristen to Castle Sutherland on the way.

  They were near enough now to see the castle in the distance. Grace began to worry. She hadn’t known anything about her parents’ families until just before her mother died. After her father and Callum had died, Grace’s life became a blur of work punctuated by too little sleep but the day she learned she might have a grandmother was etched in her memory.

  She had been working her loom as quickly as she could, making the most of the waning light while Kristen napped, snuggled next to Catriona.

  Her mother had called to her, “Grace, my sweet, come sit with me. I wish to speak with ye for a moment.”

  “Mama, I won’t have the light long and it is much easier to work while Kristen is napping.”

  “I know, sweetling, but this is important.”

  Grace sighed but stopped what she was doing and went to sit by her mother. Once so strong and beautiful, her mother had wasted away to practically nothing. Her dark auburn hair, which had been so much like Grace’s own, was dull and streaked with gray. Her green eyes no longer sparkled. Grace took her mother’s frail hand in her own. “What do ye wish to tell me?”

  “My beautiful lass, I love ye so very much. I am so sorry.”

  “Wheesht, there is nothing for ye to be sorry for.”

  “There is more than ye know and I need to tell ye, my sweet.” Her mother closed her eyes.

  “Ye are tired, Mama. It will wait until ye are stronger.”

  “Grace,” her mother said, her voice surprisingly firm, “ye know full well, I am never going to be stronger. This will not wait.”

  Grace blinked back tears. Her mother had just given voice to the fear in Grace’s heart. After having lost her father and her husband, in spite of all her efforts, her mother was indeed slipping away too. “Aye, Mama. I’m listening.”

  “Ye know yer father and I came here from the mainland right after we were married.” Grace nodded and her mother continued. “We told ye we had no families but that wasn’t true.”

  Her mother’s words shocked Grace but she tried not to let it show. “It wasn’t?”

  “Nay. Yer da and I fell in love but my father wouldn’t let us marry. He vowed to kill yer da if he ever saw him again. We ran away together and came here.” Her mother panted; the effort required to talk had nearly been too much for her.

  Grace kissed the back of her mother’s hand. “None of that matters now, Mama.”

  “Aye, Grace, it does. I don’t ever want ye to seek my family out. I won’t even tell ye who they are. Yer grandfather, if he still lives, will see ye and Kristen as commodities or worse, kill ye out of anger and revenge. Promise me ye will never seek them out.”

  Grace wasn’t sure what her mother meant by commodities but she had never seen such abject fear in her mother’s eyes. “I promise, Mama.”

  Her mother closed her eyes for a moment, trying to catch her breath. When she was calmer, she said, “But yer father may have family left. He was from Clan Sutherland. His mother, Innes, worked at the castle there, in the kitchens. We never told anyone where we went.” She paused again, struggling to breathe. “My father was ruthless. If he ever found out what clan yer da was from, they would be in danger
and so would we. Yer da and I are beyond my family’s reach now. I think he would want his mother to know…what happened…why we couldn’t tell her…how much we loved each other. I wrote a letter…for yer da…years ago.” Her mother gasped for air between words. “He feared sending it. My father…” A tear slipped down her mother’s cheeks. “It’s in the box. I’m sorry we caused so much pain…but God help me…I would do it again. I loved him so.”

  “Mother, please, rest. We can talk again later.”

  Her mother shook her head, tears flowing freely. “Be happy, Grace.” With that her mother had closed her eyes. The effort to tell Grace all of this had exhausted her and she drifted off to sleep. She never awoke again, dying a few days later.

  The memory now caused Grace’s heart to ache. She missed her mother so very much.

  If her grandmother, Innes, still lived, she had heard nothing from Grace’s father in twenty-three years. If Innes had passed away, it was possible the Sutherlands would not remember Tristan from so many years ago. Grace prayed that they would let her stay in any case. Maybe they would welcome her skills as a weaver.

  When they reached the castle gates, Grace told the guard she was looking for Innes Murray.

  “She’ll be in the kitchens. I’ll find someone to show ye there.”

  Relief washed over Grace. At least her grandmother was alive.

  “Well, lass, it seems we have reached the right place,” Dugald said.

  “Aye it does. Thank ye for everything.” Grace gave him a quick hug.

  The older man blushed crimson. “It was nothing. I wish ye God’s blessings, lass.”

  “Dugald,” his wife called from the wagon seat where she held a sleeping Kristen on her lap, “we can’t just leave her here until we know she’ll be welcomed.”