by Norma Gail
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something upsetting.”
“I can’t put it behind me.” He looked down at her, hoping to gauge her reaction.
“I understand.” She glanced up before turning her eyes on the horizon and hugging her arms to her chest. “I’m an only child. My mom fought a brain tumor for two years. She died last year. Six months later, I lost my dad.” In a whisper, she added, “My fiancé broke our engagement the day after my father’s funeral.” She turned red, looking out at the water with a frown. Watching her reaction, it was obvious she had not meant to say so much, and he looked away also, offering her the opportunity to regain her composure. When he glanced at her again, the sun caught a shining drop on her cheek, and he reached for his handkerchief, which she accepted with a tremulous smile. The brief touch of her fingers sent a tingle up his arm. His face grew hot with anger at the idea of someone treating her with such cruelty. Her shoulders seemed too slight to bear such a load.
She sniffled and continued. “Dr. Cameron and my dad did their graduate work in history together at the University of Edinburgh. They stayed close through the years. When my dad told him we had written an American History and Literature curriculum together, he invited Dad to teach it here, with me as guest lecturer on the Civil War. When Uncle Dùghlas—Dr. Cameron—called with condolences, he offered me the opportunity to teach in Dad’s place. I’m better here, but there’s still an empty house waiting back home.”
Kieran’s heart lurched at the idea of her struggling with such loss. “I’m sorry. You have no other family?”
“No, my friends are my family now.”
“It takes a lot of courage to leave everything behind. I’ve lost count of the times I wanted to escape. My wife was pregnant when she died. I’ve had a difficult time going on alone, but the sheep need tending, so I live with the memories.” He felt a choking sensation in his throat and paused to gain control. “We should head back.” He motioned for her to precede him. “There’s a culinary adventure waiting for me.”
She turned back the way they came, and Kieran followed, feeling the warmth of something shared. The lass is more alone than I am. At least I have my parents.
When they reached her house, he set the table while she dished up bowls of rich, steaming broth with chunks of beef, carrots, potatoes, and little bits of an unfamiliar green, which he guessed was the chili. He took a small amount on his spoon, blowing to cool it off, and tasted. “Mmm, it’s good. I thought it would be hotter.”
Bonny’s melodious laughter was contagious. “It gets hot enough to make your eyes water and can leave your lips and tongue burning. Not much will quench its fire, though in New Mexico we usually follow it with a deep-fried, bread-like delicacy known as sopapillas. You bite off the end and fill the middle with honey. Mmm …” She shut her eyes and smiled. “I’ve never tried them at a lower altitude.”
“From the look on your face, it must compare to ambrosia.” He couldn’t help smiling and realized he no longer felt tense.
“An excellent description.” Her eyes glowed incandescent. “Albuquerque is a mile high, so if they puff up there, they should turn out fine here, though they’ll cook faster. I live in the mountains outside of town, at about seventy-four hundred feet.”
“You live three thousand feet higher than Ben Nevis, but it’s desert?”
As their conversation continued, he was surprised at how much they shared in common, despite the differences in background. Both grew up as only children, living in the mountains with doting parents and a deep commitment to God.
“You have horses?” The question popped out so fast it surprised him.
“Three.”
“I have four. I enjoy riding when I make rounds of the flocks. Where are your horses while you’re here?” The more he found out, the more intrigued he became.
“My neighbors agreed to keep an eye on everything. Their teenage son loves horses.” She paused. “I miss them already.”
“Perhaps you’d enjoy coming out to ride with me sometime.” His heart continued its rapid palpitations. “My farm is only an hour and a half north of here.”
“I’d love to. That’s quite a commute. How do you teach and manage your farm too?”
“My farm manager has been there since before I was born, and I teach only three days a week. I have good people I can trust. After Bronwyn’s death, I discovered I needed to get away sometimes. It’s lonely. I enjoy teaching, but tutoring struggling students is what I love. The drive isn’t so bad once you’re used to it. I’m an early riser.”
She nodded in understanding. “I hated being in a big house alone all the time. I find I don’t sleep as well as I used to. You really like tutoring?”
“I do. Math is such an important skill. It damages people’s self-esteem when they struggle with it. I teach trig, but I tutor anyone who needs it. There’s nothing like seeing the light come on when they finally get it.” He paused when she smiled and shook her head as if in surprise. He had to ask. “What are you smiling about?”
She had leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed. Even the slight smile playing over her lips was dazzling. “When Janet and I talked to you in Ballater, you sounded pretty egotistical. I’m seeing a different side of you. Everything you’ve done today has been compassionate and kind. You went out of your way to help me. When you opened up about your wife and son, I realized you’re not like I thought at all.”
He felt as if sunshine had come out of the clouds. “That day in Ballater, you were talking to an athlete pumped up on the adrenaline of competition. You’re right. I realized later that my ego had taken the upper hand. I wasn’t very generous toward Brennan. He’s a good lad who works for me part-time on the farm. What else can I tell you to dispel the notion that I’m egotistical and self-centered?”
“I shouldn’t have judged. Janet told me I was wrong. She also said you play the bagpipes.”
“Oh, aye.” He was grateful for her abrupt change of subject. Things were getting too personal too fast. The heat began rising again at the thought of her and Janet discussing him. “I play in the evenings to relax and belong to the local pipe band. They played in Ballater, but I was occupied with the competition. Did you enjoy the games?”
A glow lit her alluring green eyes. “Very much. I enjoyed watching you. It must require incredible strength and constant training.”
His already-warm face grew warmer. “I enjoy it. Working on the farm helps me keep in shape.”
“I was impressed. Janet isn’t exactly an unbiased fan, you know.”
When she smiled again, he felt like he’d tossed the caber for a perfect score. “She’s as loyal as my mother. It’s encouraging to see a friendly face in a field full of strangers.”
While they cleared the table, Bonny shared her difficulties learning to drive on the left side of the road. “When I arrived, I drove around and around the parking lot—car park, trying to gather up enough courage to brave the traffic. My dad always said to look right and turn left. I repeat it over and over to myself at corners and roundabouts.”
“Aside from the driving, what do you think of our wee bit o’ land so far?” He exaggerated his brogue and wasn’t disappointed when she laughed. She’s lovely. If only dinner had lasted longer.
“It sounds ridiculous, but I feel I belong, even after such a short time. My grandmother came from Aberdeen—a Fraser—and my father used to tell me her stories. She met my grandfather near the end of World War II when he was there in the Army. She was eighteen when they married and moved to America. Dad enjoyed mimicking her accent. My name was his idea.”
“A perfect choice.” He rubbed his forehead, embarrassed at the unintended voicing of his thoughts. “I—I mean it suits you.”
“Thank you. There’s an apple pie for dessert.”
“That sounds lovely.” He wandered into the small dining room while she cut the pie and prepared the tea. His eyes were drawn to the bookshelves on either side of t
he fireplace. A brief glance revealed classic favorites. Walking back into the kitchen, he asked, “Are those all your books?”
She set the pie and tea on a tray with sugar, cream, and fresh lemon. “The ones on the right are. The others were already here.”
He drew close to her side at the kitchen counter. “I enjoy Mark Twain, James Fenimore Cooper—my mother raised me on Dickens.” Something else they had in common. He was eager to dispel any more false ideas she held onto from their conversation in Ballater.
“Dickens is my favorite. You’re familiar with the American authors too?”
“We receive a good education over here.” He picked up the tea tray and headed toward the living room. “Our tastes are remarkably similar. Maybe we can share books.”
“I’d like that.” She motioned him to set the tray on the coffee table and took a seat on the couch. “Is your sheep farm large?”
He chose a chair across from her, and his heart started pounding again. To describe the farm, he had to mention Bronwyn. “It’s a moderate-sized farm, compared to some farther north. Stonehaven Farm sits on the shores of Loch Garry, on traditional lands of the MacDonells of Glengarry. My second great-grandfather on my father’s side bought some of the traditional clan lands, reclaiming a wee bit of the family heritage. The house and main barn are over two hundred years old, new by European standards.”
She didn’t need a history lesson on the MacDonells, so he moved on. “My parents didn’t want to force me into farming, so I went to the University of Glasgow and majored in math. I chose to go straight into grad school and then studied for my doctorate while teaching.” He found it easier to continue when he remembered her losses. “I met and married Bronwyn. When she decided to teach also, we stayed in Glasgow. Starting a family proved difficult. When she finally became pregnant after fifteen years of marriage, we wanted to raise our child in the fresh air and slower pace of the Highlands.
“I enjoy teaching, but my heart leans toward the farming. We raise fine Scottish Blackface sheep and Cheviots. Last year, I added five hundred Kyloe, the hairy Highland cattle. I plan to add more.” He paused, surprised at how easy she was to talk to. “Tell me something about New Mexico.”
When she laughed, her eyes lit up the room. “Scotland and New Mexico are as different as water and dust. The sun shines about 278 days out of the year. When it rains, the sun comes out as soon as it finishes. It’s rarely over one hundred degrees in the summer, and it doesn’t stay below freezing for long, yet we have four definite seasons. The altitude is high, the air clean, and you can see forever, from desert to high mountains. One reason I find Scotland captivating is the mountains.”
Mountains—something else in common. “It’s obvious you love it there.”
“It’s home, but I needed a change.” Pain dulled the gleam in her eyes as she turned away, twisting a strand of hair between her fingers.
Her fiancé, of course. “A change, Bonny, or an escape?”
When her surprised eyes met his, the sadness shadowing her face indicated he’d hit a nerve. She cleared her throat. “More tea?”
He fixed his gaze on hers, holding out his cup. “I’m a good listener.”
“I don’t doubt it. Another time, though.”
“It’s hard to put the past behind and move on. No area of my life is untouched.”
“I agree. People are uncomfortable with pain and loss. They’ll do anything to avoid discussing it.”
“That’s the truth. Janet’s a good listener. We just disagree about how to deal with things.”
“Church?” Her tone was tentative.
“Yes.” He had to be honest himself if he wanted to learn about her. The subject was not something he felt right about hiding, and since she brought it up … “Since Bronwyn’s death, I attend church as little as possible. Dr. Cameron knows I struggle, but he doesn’t realize I no longer accept a personal God. You can teach trig without bringing up matters of faith. I teach one class and tutor ten hours a week.”
Bonny nodded. “I understand. I believe in God, but I haven’t noticed any evidence of His personal interest. I considered just visiting different churches, but Janet insisted I attend with her. I’ve run out of excuses for not going.”
He found himself leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Did he dare? “I won’t worship a God who allowed an innocent baby to die while my wife bled to death, without help.”
“How terrible.” There was a noticeable tremor in her voice, and she dabbed at her eyes with the napkin from her lap. Were her tears for his loss?
The electricity flowing between them sparked conversation on a level he had longed for. Someone understood at last. “It’s haunted me day and night for two years.” She’s easy to talk to, as if we’ve been friends for years.
Bonny set her teacup on the tray and settled back on the couch. “Tell me about her.”
He struggled to slow his breathing and calm his palpitating heart. “Charming, talented, intelligent, and poised. Her hair was a similar color to yours, but without the curls. She was tall, with eyes the color of sapphires. We met during my time as a graduate assistant, when she was an undergrad. What a superb mathematician, a terrific teacher, a gifted artist, and a talented decorator. She planted beautiful gardens around the farmhouse.” He sighed, staring down at his hand where the gold band still bound him to her. “I lost my best friend.”
“You loved her very much. I see it in your eyes. I think Adam’s eyes were possessive rather than loving.” Her cheeks colored at that, and her words cut to his heart in their honesty. It was easy to see how raw her emotions were. Her deep thoughts kept surfacing before she was ready. She was lonely too.
“Aye, we were soul mates.” He paused before plunging into the story of the darkest moment of his life. “I had gone into town for supplies, and Eleanor, the housekeeper, was away from the house long enough to carry lunch out to the men in the lambing barn. Bronwyn was alone when her labor began very abruptly—two months early. My farm sits in an isolated spot with no close neighbors. It’s subject to frequent power and telephone outages and the heaviest rain in the UK.
“We knew she had a problem, a partial placenta previa. The placenta covers the opening of the womb, creating a risk of early separation and hemorrhaging. I had seen it with sheep. I knew the dangers.” He stopped, swallowing hard. “The doctor put her on bed rest early on. He meant to admit her to hospital the next day. Eleanor called for help, but a storm kept the emergency helicopter from flying. I arrived in time to deliver our son, Liam, but he was stillborn. She bled to death in my arms.”
Bonny’s cheeks were wet. Her brilliant green eyes never left his face. “I blamed myself for leaving her, and went into a deep depression. My parents stayed at the farm for months.” He spoke no louder than a whisper, but her eyes held the understanding he longed for. “They were afraid I would kill myself—I planned to more than once.”
At two o’clock in the morning, he left with a promise to ring Bonny up and invite her to dinner, and then he began his long, dark drive to the farm. The evening was more than worth it though. For two years, he had hungered for the understanding and companionship he felt after one evening with Bonny.
She had told him enough about Adam for him to see her pain. It was disturbing to hear her say she had never seen love in her fiancé’s eyes. Bronwyn’s love for him had glowed in her eyes as she breathed her last.
Once home, he alternated between tossing and turning in bed and pacing the floor. How lovely it would be to hold Bonny close, to feel her tender lips beneath his own.
Chapter Five: Edinburgh
Edinburgh overflowed with excitement and people. Summertime, with the Edinburgh Festival and Military Tattoo, drew thousands. The crush filled the Royal Mile between the Castle at the top and Holyrood Palace at the bottom. People crowded the stands erected on the Parade Grounds of the Castle twice each evening to hear pipe bands from around the world.
“I got the tickets as soon as I fo
und out when you were coming. Everyone should visit Edinburgh during the Tattoo. The sight of the lone piper on the parapets of the castle, near the end of the program, makes me cry.”
“And tonight it’s Kieran?”
“Aye.” Janet opened her program to a list of performers and pointed to a pipe band whose name was a jumble of Gaelic letters Bonny could never hope to pronounce. “The Tattoo used to be exclusively for the military bands, but in the past couple of years they’ve begun inviting civilian bands. This band is one of the best in the world, and Kieran used to play with them when he lived in Glasgow. They’ve won the World Pipe Band Championship several times. So when they were invited to play this year, they asked Kieran to join them.”
“It sounds exciting.” Bonny’s cheeks grew warm at the mention of Kieran. She had yet to tell Janet about their meeting, holding it as a cherished secret, too fragile to reveal.
“You’ll love the bright-colored tartans, the skirl of bagpipes, and the rhythm of the drums as the bands perform intricate marching patterns.” Janet’s contagious enthusiasm became Bonny’s own. Soon she was tapping her foot, her heart thrilling to each new tune and thrumming in excitement to the ones she recognized.
From their seats halfway up in the stands, she spotted Kieran on the field through her binoculars, standing tall and proud, her pulse quickening every time he was in the arena.
Near the end of the evening, the awe-inspiring melody of his pipes from the torch-lit parapets added to the interest—too soon to call it romance—taking root in her heart.
She believed he felt the same. How would it affect his opinion to know what Adam did? Will he think something is wrong with me?
At noon the following day, Janet had arranged to meet Kieran for lunch at the castle. “You two need to get acquainted. Stay here and visit while I get the sandwiches.”
“You didn’t tell her about the other night?” His eyes indicated surprise, but Bonny heard approval in his voice.
