by Norma Gail
What am I doing? He seems more sincere than Adam, but the similarities are disturbing.
As the beauty of summer gave way to the cooler autumn air, Kieran recognized healing taking place in his wounded heart. The same appeared to be true for Bonny, if her more relaxed attitude was any indication. At first, they had only walked in the gloaming after an early dinner, enjoying the peace of the hour right before dark. Now, they walked at lunch or after classes, spending evenings with books, music, and conversations that grew deeper and more personal daily. They rushed to grade papers and prepare their lesson plans in order to spend weekends together.
The following Saturday, Kieran stood just behind Bonny at the famous overlook to Loch Garry. Below them, the forest-lined loch shimmered silver under the high clouds. He had lain awake the last few nights, imagining this moment.
The warmth of her hand penetrated the sleeve of his tweed jacket. “Where is Stonehaven Farm?”
With one hand, he pointed, and then rested his other hand on her shoulder. “It’s hidden by the trees. See the bridge across the narrow part of the loch? Just a wee bit this side of the bridge is the clearing where the house stands. From this angle, the loch looks like a map of Scotland.”
“It does. It’s hard to believe there’s a farm in there. When you said ‘heavily wooded,’ you weren’t kidding.” She placed her hand on top of the one he rested on her shoulder, small and cool against his skin.
He held still, wondering how long she would let him remain so close. “Yes, but to the northwest, the forest thins out. Loch Garry begins over there to your left, where you can see the dam. The Munerigie Wood and the Gleann Lauogh Forest, my favorite childhood haunts, lie beyond it. There, near the turnoff from the main road is Daingean, the ruins of a village abandoned during The Clearances in the late 1700s. Reforestation covered it over after World War II, and they didn’t find it again until 1999. It’s so small that even old maps of the MacDonell landholdings failed to show it.”
She turned her sweet face up to his, and he thought she must hear his heart pounding. “Kieran, it’s amazing. The mountains around my home are beautiful, but nothing can compete with the green and the lochs.”
“I’m glad you like it.” It felt natural to take her hand as they headed back to the car. Once on the road again, Bonny stopped questioning, her head turning from side to side as if she was trying to take in both sides of the road at once.
He appreciated her silence after they turned off the A87 onto the single-track road running along the north shore of Loch Garry. There was an emotional reaction in bringing a woman to the home he had shared with Bronwyn for the first time. It had become very important for Bonny to love it.
The single-track road required a certain amount of concentration to avoid oncoming traffic or slow farm equipment. He couldn’t help laughing when they paused for a herd of Highland cattle blocking the road. “These are not mine, but cattle and sheep are a frequent road hazard in the Highlands.”
“I don’t mind. It’s superb. The mountains, Loch Garry, the forests—I love it. It must be magnificent in summer.”
“I hoped you’d be keen on it.” The slow thud of his heart changed to a fluttering in his chest.
“I know I’ll love everything about Stonehaven Farm. Tell me more.”
“Aye, gladly.” Seeing the rapt attention on her face, he took a couple of deep breaths to slow his heart. “They call this road the longest, most beautiful dead end in the UK.” He mimicked a travelogue, drawing a giggle from her.
“It’s single-track and steep in spots, with sharp turns. You need to pay close attention. You’ll find few passing places and lots of rugged hills and old stone bridges, though the roughest spots lie beyond the farm. Sheep are one of the few things this harsh land can support.”
Her cheeks glowed an attractive shade of pink. “This isn’t rough compared to the four-wheel-drive roads my dad and I explored in our Land Cruiser.”
Her enthusiasm was exhilarating.
“Are you truly as interested in everything as you seem?”
“It’s fun. I’ve never been around sheep.”
Her energy and enthusiasm were a drastic change from the listless melancholy which had threatened to overwhelm him the last two years. “For generations, my father’s family has maintained a strong herd of Scottish Blackface sheep and Cheviots. We produce wool, mutton, and lamb. It’s a good life.”
Rushing, gurgling burns tumbled toward the loch on every side. When they reached a patch of meadow at the crest of a hill, the two-story stone house came into view. He watched her face as she surveyed his home. The rapture in her eyes lifted the pall of grief a little. He tried to see his home through her. Screened by forest and overlooking the loch, the old, ivy-covered house stood surrounded by tall pines and large flower beds. Sheep grazed on the lawn, paying them no attention whatsoever.
“This is home.”
“Oh Kieran, what a perfect place to live.” Her wide eyes moved from the house to the loch and back again. “I can’t imagine leaving this for trigonometry.”
Easing the Land Rover into gear, he turned into the drive. “I can’t imagine it now either, but as a young farm boy I was eager to experience city life.”
When he came to a stop in front of the house, Loch Garry lay below them, obscured in part by a tangle of trees. A pack of barking, tussling dogs appeared from behind the old stone barn to greet them, jumping around in play as Bonny petted and laughed.
“What are their names?”
“The border collies are Corrie and Bruce, the English sheepdogs are Wally and Una, and the Labs are my hunting dogs, Mary and Darnley.”
“I love their names.”
He laughed, a rare occurrence since Bronwyn’s death, but even more so at the farm, where he seemed perpetually sad.
She gave him a quizzical look and walked toward him. “What are you laughing at?”
He placed one hand on her back. His heart hadn’t felt so light in two years. “The way you throw yourself into things with your whole heart. I haven’t enjoyed a woman’s company so much in a long time.”
“This is fun. I want to see it all.”
“You’ve got it. The trees you see are almost all the result of reforestation. The Highland Clearances, in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, stripped it bare. The wealthy landowners not only cleared the land of the people who worked it, but they cut the trees to create more room to graze their sheep as well.” He fought the sudden urge to put his arms around her. He was surprised she had let him put his hand on her shoulder. She seemed to pull away whenever he touched her for more than an instant.
“How many MacDonells?”
“Close to five thousand. The MacDonells of Glengarry claimed this area around the middle of the sixteenth century. Some survived The Clearances, but their descendants lost their towns and farms under the waters of Loch Garraidh when it was dammed for hydroelectric power after World War II. It’s become a haven for wildlife preservation, fishing, and reforestation, though. Only a few estates remain, making wildlife management one of my biggest concerns. I don’t employ a gamekeeper or ghillie. I enjoy taking care of it myself. There’s been a lot of poaching lately. I have to make certain no part of the farm goes long without being inspected.”
“You have quite a legacy, but what a shame. The Clearances changed the entire history of Scotland, didn’t they?”
He started toward the house. “Aye, they cleared the land of people and trees in favor of sheep. By the way, it’s Eleanor’s day off, so we’re alone.” Bonny Bryant seemed like everything he could want in a woman, and Eleanor thought he should be trying to move on. However, something made him want to keep things just between him and Bonny for the time being.
When she stopped again, he pointed down the loch to the West. “The bridge you can see, there, to the West, crosses over to Torr na Carraidh, commonly known as Tornacarry. The majority of houses on the far side of the loch are summer homes. The road leads to the
forests on the south side, and a large burn, Allt Coire nan Saobhaidh. I’ll point out the mountains to the North on our drive back. Stonehaven Farm consists of large pieces of land on both sides of the loch.”
She giggled. “You’re not going to test me on place names, are you? Does anyone else live here year around?”
Her smile and laughter created a warm feeling in his heart where a cold, hard knot had been. “The people at the salmon farm do. The others serve as hunting and fishing lodges or vacation rentals.”
Bonny pointed across the loch. “What spectacular mountains. Have you climbed them?”
“The ones you can see from here. Let me show you the house, and then we’ll take that ride I promised.” He guided her through the downstairs, showing her the family crest above the fireplace, pointing out heirlooms, antiques, and paintings of flowers and local landscapes. He couldn’t take her upstairs. That seemed too close to Bronwyn, too close to something he couldn’t let go of yet.
She stopped in the center of the room, turning in a circle. “I always wanted a library.” When she paused, she faced the case where awards from Highland Games, bagpipe competitions, and agricultural shows were displayed. “Are all of those yours?”
“Not all, but a good number. I told you I was the champion of Lochaber.” It was meant as a joke, but he sensed her stiffening, saw her eyes narrow and her jaw clinch. “Why do my achievements offend you so much?”
She turned bright red then and lowered her eyes. “It—it’s just that Adam is, well, competitive. He plays golf, soccer, racquetball, basketball. He’s interested in politics, always trying to get ahead at the law firm, and has, well, no humility at all. When I became a burden rather than a trophy he moved on.”
She faced him with a sort of half smile. “It’s a charming home, Kieran, really beautiful.”
He was surprised at how important it was for her to like his home, and himself. At the same time, he was experiencing an astonishing conflict of emotions over bringing a woman into Bronwyn’s home.
She stopped in front of a painting of wildflowers with the loch in the background, one of Bronwyn’s. “You weren’t kidding—she was talented. For an old house, it’s full of light and color. The gardens must be magnificent in full bloom.”
“Yes.” He closed his eyes, remembering. “She was—one of a kind.”
The dogs joined them again as they walked toward the barn. He enfolded Bonny’s hand in his, and was pleased she didn’t pull away. Its small, delicate coolness created a welcome contrast to the hard, lonely ache he had become accustomed to.
“The wind in the pines and the sheep baaing in the pastures give me a calm, tranquil feeling.” Bonny closed her eyes and breathed deep. “Everything is so picturesque. It must be even more spectacular when the sun shines.”
Kieran eyed the high, silvery clouds. “Ach, lass, we call this a sunny day in Scotland.”
Bonny laughed then, leaning her face against his arm as she turned it upward in a move that caught him off guard. “I wasn’t complaining. It’s just so different from home, especially the cool, cloudy weather. I love it here.”
“I want you to.” He put his arm around her shoulders, stifling a strong urge to kiss her. Instead, they ambled down the lawn toward the gate leading to the water. “We have our own kelpie.”
“In Loch Garry?” She stopped and turned to face him, her tantalizing eyes as green as the surrounding forest.
“You can’t have a loch without a water horse.” He laughed, pulling her close as a gust of wind blew off the water. “According to the legend, seven children played along the river. One touched it and his hand stuck to it. When the others tried to help, their hands got stuck also, and it dived under the water, taking them with it. Nothing was ever seen of them again, except for their hearts, floating in the water.”
“I usually like your stories, but that’s awful.”
He grasped her hand, tugging her with him. “It kept me from wandering too close to the water when I was young.”
She laughed and didn’t pull away. “I can imagine.”
Kieran pointed across the clear, rippling water of the loch, where a mountain stood surrounded by forests and smaller hills. “The mountain to the South is Beinn Tee, in the Glengarry Forest.”
They stood side by side, enjoying the peaceful scene, when a large bird snatched a fish out of the water in a graceful swoop. Bonny’s mouth opened in surprise. “Is that …”
“A bald eagle. Their grace and power amaze me, no matter how often I see them.”
“It’s paradise.” She shaded her eyes, watching the eagle soar overhead with its catch as they walked the last few yards to the barn.
“Aye, you’ll see eagles, falcons, hawks, and owls. We have everything from rabbits and squirrels to red deer and osprey. Let’s mount up so you can see as much as possible.” If he could have her around all the time, perhaps the lonely longing for what he had lost would subside.
Bonny let the large gray gelding in the first stall sniff her hand before stroking him between his ears and patting his neck. “What’s your name, handsome?”
“Storm is mine, and the best horse I’ve ever owned.” Kieran patted the horse on the neck and turned to introduce her to a gray mare in the next stall. “I call this one Misty. You’ll be riding her. I haven’t had her long, but she’s sure-footed and gentle. I bought her from a hunting guide in Tomdoun whose daughter moved to London when she married.”
“What a nice-looking dapple gray. Misty and Storm, huh? Was that planned?”
“No, but it’s suitable. Hello, Kelpie.” He pulled a wisp of hay from the mane of the small black mare in the next stall. His mother sometimes rode her, but it seemed wrong to put Bonny on Bronwyn’s horse. “Water horses can turn themselves into either a horse or a woman.” He granted the horse an extra measure of oats as she nuzzled his shoulder.
“What an unusual combination.”
“Ach, I simply tell the stories. I didn’t make it up.” He guided her on to the next. “The gelding there, Selkie, belongs to my Da.”
“He’s gorgeous.”
“Have you heard of selkies?” He gave her a handful of grain for the black horse nuzzling her hand.
Her beguiling eyes shone with curiosity. “No, you’ll have to further my education in Scottish folklore.”
He leaned one arm on the stall gate. “A selkie is a seal, usually a male. Once every seven years, they shed their skins and come up out of the water. They possess amazing beauty, and the stories are often tragic. They fall in love with a human, but in time, they must return to the sea. However, if the human hides their skin, they have to remain. Their haunting voices tempt people and lure ships to wreck in revenge for the killing of their fellow seals.”
Bonny’s smile created a warm feeling he hadn’t felt in two years. “Your folklore is fascinating. Do you know more?”
“These are just the thorn on the thistle.”
She fed Misty from her hand, rubbing her nose and face before moving to her mane and back, speaking in a quiet tone. Once he pointed out which tack to use, he went to saddle Storm, watching her out of the corner of his eye. The way she tightened the cinch a little bit at a time and then cleaned the hooves of debris proved she was as experienced as she said.
Kieran didn’t meet many women, but this American who’d entered his life without warning was unique. Once again, he wondered at Adam’s behavior. “You do know your way around horses. I noticed you let her sniff you before you started groomin’.”
“My dad made certain I knew how to care for my horse.”
Riding around the lower part of the farm, Kieran was seeing his home with new eyes. The fresh air, the soft breeze, and the beauty by his side made the land itself seem different.
When the often-skittish sheep failed to come to Bonny, Kieran quelled her disappointment by catching a ewe lamb for her to pet, and came up close beside her. “You’ll smell like sheep and horses, and everyone will stay away from you, i
ncluding me.”
“They look softer from a distance. Their wool is full of grass and burrs, and they’re oily.” She wrinkled up her nose, laughing as he captured one hand in his. “Besides, I’ll bet you smell the same, except when you come to town. I’ve been meaning to tell you how nice your aftershave is.”
“Arran Eau de Quinine, from the Isle of Arran, in the South.”
She leaned close and inhaled. “Quinine? It’s—woodsy. It suits you.”
A glow of pleasure spread through him. “Thanks, as long as the quinine doesn’t make you think of the plague or something.”
As she held the bleating lamb, the sheep began to crowd around. “Lanolin comes from the oil. These sheep are prized for their strong and supple wool.”
Bonny laughed as one young ewe nudged her leg. “So petting them will make my hands soft?”
Catching the other hand, Kieran held them to his cheeks. “It’s impossible for your skin to be any softer.”
With a smile, she moved on toward a patch of heather, the way a bee flits from flower to flower. She seemed so comfortable with everything, so genuine in her excitement and interest. Could hope overcome sadness and open the way to a new life?
They headed back to the house at noon. Eleanor had left a simple lunch of Forfair bridies, and Kieran and Bonny sat across from each other at the big table in the farm kitchen.
“I didn’t see any pictures of Bronwyn.” Bonny paused in between bites of the meat pie.
He hated to admit the truth, but he had promised never to lie. “There are two snaps in my office upstairs. During the worst of my depression, I found it easier if I didn’t see her face. It’s no different than you editing Adam out of your photos.”
“But it is different.” She pushed a crumb around with her fork. “You and Bronwyn shared a good life. I refuse to allow Adam to steal more from me than he already has. The photos remind me of the important part Kari and Dan play in my life. They’re my family now.”
After setting the dishes in the dishwasher, they headed back to the barn, where the well-watered horses awaited. “I noticed a lot of crosses decorating the house. They don’t bother you?”
