Land of My Dreams

by Norma Gail

  As they fished their way down the river, he turned back to check her progress, nodding with approval. “I must be an excellent teacher. You’ve mastered it.”

  “You are, if my full creel is any evidence.”

  He needed to spend more time with her. “Let’s clean our catch, and we’ll have a lovely dinner by candlelight.”

  Bonny reeled in her line with a smile that made him feel dizzy. “Candlelight, fresh fish, and you? Let’s go.”

  As fast as she had moved away, she came closer again.

  “Come see this.” Kieran and Bonny stood atop Grant Tower at Urquhart Castle, overlooking Loch Ness. For her, it was a place of poignant memories. He pointed to a rainbow arching from one side of the loch to the other as she moved into the crook of his arm. “Now, down there.”

  She stood on tiptoe and looked to where he pointed, at the base of the tower.

  “Step onto that ledge and I’ll steady you.”

  The warmth of his hands around her waist contrasted with the chill wind. She shivered and leaned close enough to hear the stubble on his chin scratching against her raincoat. “The rainbow enters the water at the foot of the tower. Another fifty feet, and it would form a complete circle. Amazing.”

  His arms tightened around her. “No more so than the woman in my arms.”

  She kept silent. Did he feel it? What could be more romantic than a rainbow all their own?

  “No one else sees it.”

  His warm breath tickled her ear, and she leaned against him, wrapped in a sense of wonder and delight. No one even wrote things this perfect. “Just we two.”

  Kieran bent over her, his lips touching hers, tentative and searching. She leaned into his arms, her heart leaping in her chest as she allowed her lips to reveal her readiness to move forward. The scent of him was becoming so familiar. The taste of him was even sweeter.

  He moved one hand to the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first night we talked.”

  She traced his lower lip with her finger. “Mmm, my gallant Highlander.”

  “My bonnie lass.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and a little hoarse.

  He smiled and smoothed the damp curls away from her face with a big, callused finger, his touch as tender as his kiss.

  She cupped his cheek in her hand. Somehow she had to let him know she was ready for a relationship. “The day I arrived, I stopped up there in the parking lot and cried. The ruins seemed to symbolize the wreck of my life. I never imagined how fast it could change.”

  His reply was to pull her to him again, and she turned her face up to his in eagerness. It began as soft as the mist surrounding them, but as the rain intensified, so did his kiss, neither caring if they got soaked to the skin.

  The rain lessened as they descended the tower steps. By the time they reached the Land Rover, the sun was shining enough for a picnic lunch. In between bites, Kieran asked, “Did Deirdre ever finish that paper?”

  “She got angry and said she expected me to handle the class with a more open mind. According to her, the entire faculty is a bunch of bigots lacking in understanding and tolerance.”

  His hair and eyebrows burnished gold in the sun, making his eyes a more brilliant blue. “Judgmental people frequently accuse those they disagree with of being more judgmental than themselves.”

  “She refused to rewrite it or discuss why it failed to meet the requirements of the assignment. I gave her the points for historical references, lowering her grade from pass to third class honors, and handed it back.” Bonny longed to smooth the tangled mess of curls at the back of his neck, but she lacked the courage, in spite of the closeness developing between them.

  He frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Is she rude in class?”

  “She sits in the back with a surly expression, but says very little. It will be interesting to see what she does for the final paper about America’s influence in the twenty-first century. Her test grades are excellent, so unless she blows her final paper, she’ll pass.”

  Frowning, he stroked the back of her hand. “Bonny, I don’t want you to talk to her alone again. If she confronts you somewhere, say you need to do something in administration, head to where there are people.”

  As he gripped her hand hard, his eyes changed to a steely-blue. After Adam’s self-centeredness, she found his protective nature endearing. “You think she’s dangerous?”

  The hair at the back of his neck reminded her of a bush turned reddish-gold for autumn. He twisted his fingers through it, and frowned. “I can’t say, but don’t risk it. She tried to get me to have dinner with her when she came for her tutoring session the other day. She wasn’t happy when I refused, and wanted me to lie to you about it. Protect yourself.”

  “I promise I will.” The impulse to smooth his hair was too difficult to resist. The thick curls felt soft and springy. He blushed, and then caught her hand, pressing his lips to the back of it, his eyes crinkling into a smile.

  Bonny answered the phone with an eager “Hello,” without looking at the caller ID. Kieran often called around eight on nights he wasn’t in town.

  “Finally you answered. I was afraid you never would.”

  Adam. She sat straight up on the edge of her chair, every muscle in her body tensing as she felt a familiar quickening of her pulse. “I didn’t look before I answered, or I wouldn’t have. But now I can have the pleasure of hanging up on you.”

  “Bonny, please?”

  Begging, that was a tactic he hadn’t tried before. “Give me a reason why I should listen to anything you have to say.”

  “Because I love you and want you back in my life.”

  “No. I’m over you. Now hang up and never call me again.” She turned the phone off and threw it to the other end of the couch.

  There would be no more grading papers tonight. In spite of her curt answer, the familiar sound of Adam’s voice evoked emotions she didn’t anticipate. His betrayal had changed her life even more than her parents’ deaths. If not for that, she never would have met Kieran. Why did a thrill of excitement run through her when he said he loved her? She was over him—wasn’t she?

  Chapter Eleven: Differences

  The pleasant, sunny weather at Loch Lomond and the picturesque town of Luss made for a romantic day. Multi-colored leaves of red, orange, and yellow shone as bright as summer flowers in the cooling autumn air. Bonny and Kieran hiked up a hill through the peaceful woods, along a path by a quiet, clear stream, where the beauty of the loch spread out before them. They meandered through the streets of small shops and stone houses, laughing and reveling in each other’s company.

  Later, in a borrowed boat, they floated among the small islands dotting Loch Lomond. He sang her the plaintive ballad as if it were a love song, in a hushed, deep baritone. “By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes, where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomon’, where me and my true love were ever wont to gae, on the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomon’.”

  They drove home after dark, holding hands across the console of the Land Rover. Bonny squeezed his hand, endeavoring to glimpse his expression in the dim light of the car’s display. “Kieran, come to church with me tomorrow?”

  “You weren’t going to pressure me.” He withdrew his hand and put it on the steering wheel.

  “I didn’t mean to, but I enjoy sharing things with you.” She regretted it at once, sensing a shadow fall over their perfect day. This was such a magical time of discovery. They were breaking free of the cocoons holding them captive and learning to trust the calling of their hearts. They were testing their wings, hoping to soar again.

  With a pang, she realized something of the utmost importance was missing, and a sense of panic arose, along with a memory of Adam, refusing things that were important to her. She would not ruin this. “I’m sorry.”

  They drove the rest of the way in silence. Kieran walked her to the door and put his arms around her, whispering into her hair, as so
ft as a kiss. “It’s as if I’ve been struggling through a long nightmare, and awakened to the lovely sunshine in your eyes. Our similarities are more than our differences. We mustn’t allow this to come between us.”

  The warmth of his embrace eased the sense of fear gnawing at her insides. If he was falling in love with her, she was not going to mess it up. “It’s fine, really. How about lunch instead?”

  Kieran was waiting when Bonny got home after church. They ate sandwiches and soup before driving out to Glen Nevis for a hike. “In the middle of church I found myself longing for the warmth of your arm around me.” If only she could take it back. She had promised not to do this, even if it was the truth.

  He crossed the room and set his plate down on the kitchen counter with a clatter. “You may miss feeling close to God, but I don’t.”

  “Will you at least come when I sing my first solo? Seeing you in the audience will encourage me.” Bonny set the plates in the dishwasher and closed it too hard.

  His eyes sparked with blue fire. “Ach, I’m there for you when you need me, but you understand my feelings.”

  She knew how to be demanding too. “No wonder they say Scots are stubborn. It’s my first solo here, and you attend Dr. Cameron’s church sometimes.”

  “Only to keep him satisfied. Coming to hear you isn’t the problem. We agreed on matters of faith, but if you change, I’m afraid it will ruin everything.” He walked into the other room.

  She called after him. “I didn’t say I believe everything, but faculty members belong in church, and I love to sing. I wasn’t asking you to commit yourself. I understand it’s difficult.”

  When she carried in the tea, his crabbit mood had vanished. The new word she had learned was very appropriate.

  “Bonny, do you keep a journal?”

  “Why?” The abrupt change caught her off guard.

  He slumped in one of the chairs by the fireplace, his hands gripping the arms. “You have so much passion. History and Lit professors mull things over, and they often write. I want to know everything—to see into your heart and mind.” He accepted the cup of tea she offered, his eyes roving toward the sticky toffee pudding.

  “And if it’s not what you expect?” She felt taken aback and embarrassed.

  “It will be.”

  She was at a loss, trying to decipher the expression in his eyes, but it made her stomach flip-flop in expectation.

  “It’s more of a notebook.” She served him a large piece of the pudding. “I write volumes and volumes, the feelings I can’t share with anyone. It’s therapeutic. I’ve written poetry too, but I don’t claim it as mine alone.”

  He set the teacup down, his eyes forming question marks. “I don’t understand. If you wrote it, it’s yours. What do you write about?”

  “God and my feelings—I can’t explain it. Words rush into my head, and I’m compelled to write them down.” She watched him inhale a forkful of the pudding. “At the time, it felt as if God was comforting me. A poem sometimes popped into my mind, and I was compelled to stop what I was doing and put it down on paper. When I finished, they came out within a word or two of their final form. It was uncanny, but they’re the best I ever wrote. I still journal sometimes, but I haven’t written poetry since …”

  “Can I read them?” He held his fork in mid-air, his eyes and voice bright with anticipation.

  “I—I guess. I don’t know what you’ll think.” She headed for the bedroom.

  “I’m sorry. It’s too personal a request. I’m no literary critic. I just want to understand you better.” He put the bite he held on his fork into his mouth, closing his eyes in delight. “Mmm, is this recipe from Agnes?”

  “Yes, Janet gave me her mom’s recipe.” She went to the bedroom and rummaged through a box in the back of the closet. She took a moment to compose herself before she walked out, hugging the notebook. “Letting you read them is a big step. I’ve kept personal feelings to myself for a long time.”

  “You don’t have to let me if you’d rather not.” He apologized. “It’s okay if you feel they’re too personal.”

  “No, I want you to.”

  Kieran propped himself up in bed, reading late into the night. There weren’t many poems in Bonny’s notebook, but the depth of emotion and clear articulation of feelings astonished him. It was no exaggeration. God spoke through her pen. They spoke to him also. He brushed damp droplets from the neat pages as he recognized issues he had struggled with for two years. Overwhelmed by the dimension of her personality, and variety of her gifts, one thing became clear—he wanted Bonny Bryant for his own.

  When they went hiking in Glen Coe on Saturday, she asked, “Have you read my poems?”

  How do I explain they haunt me? “More than once, and each time I see the lovely woman who wrote them more clearly. The one you named ‘My Refuge’ draws me again and again. I can’t identify with the faith, but I can with the pain. I can’t imagine how you believed with your heart torn in two.”

  Bonny’s eyes widened, and her jaw tightened. “Before my dad died, my beliefs were stronger. He was such an example and encourager. After I lost him, then Adam ...” She paused, her long lashes shadowing her cheeks. “No one has ever read them before. It’s humbling to discover something so personal can speak to someone else. My heart was speaking, and perhaps my spirit.”

  “Would you read my favorite out loud to me? I want to hear it in your own voice, please?”

  “I’ll try.” When they returned to her house, he asked again, and she complied.

  My Refuge

  I have asked the Lord many evenings

  Why my days seemed filled with pain,

  I have begged and pleaded with tears on my face,

  And over the years His answer came:

  “I have another path for you

  Than some of my children trod;

  It won’t be easy; you’ll not always see,

  But you will learn to know your God.

  I may lead you through the desert

  On a road of shifting sands;

  But there’s joy at the end of the journey

  If you never let go of My hands.

  Sometimes the way may be rocky;

  It will bruise and scrape and shred,

  You’ll feel that you can’t take another step,

  But My strong shoulder will cradle your head.

  There are dark caves and many shadows,

  But in My presence you will always be,

  For the only way through the darkness

  Is to take strong hold of Me.

  “Yes, my child, others’ paths may seem easy,

  It may appear that I shield their pain;

  But there’s no greater joy in the sunshine

  Unless first you’ve been through the rain.

  Your Savior was made perfect through suffering,

  He had a heavy Cross to bear;

  I won’t allow pain and struggle

  Without the promise that His glory you’ll share.”

  So if it seems you’re walking in darkness,

  When the enemy seems to win;

  Take your refuge in the arms of Jesus,

  Heavenly Savior and earthly Friend.

  They sat close together in the waning light of the afternoon, their emotions stinging like raw, open wounds.

  Kieran walked in darkness. Bonny offered the first light in two years. A renewal of her faith in God changed everything, unless he pulled off a convincing imitation. Keeping her was worth doing anything.

  Chapter Twelve: A Night to Remember

  The recent tension did nothing to diminish the increasing attraction Kieran felt for Bonny. He drew an involuntary breath at the first sight of her, dressed for the Charity Ball. The soft red of her strapless Fraser tartan gown made her skin glow white, and soft as rose petals. Her long skirt looped up at one side to reveal yards of frothy, white tulle beneath the tartan. She was the image of a lovely Highland lass.

  “Beautiful doesn’
t come close to describing you.” The love, loneliness, and longing overwhelmed him, making it impossible to find words.

  Bonny lowered her head, peeking up at him through her thick lashes. “You’re rather dashing yourself. I’ll have the most braw and bonnie Highlander at the Ball as my escort.”

  He laughed. “I’m forty years old, Bonny. My braw and bonnie days are far behind me.”

  She turned a bashful shade of pink. “I disagree. You’re the bonniest man I’ve ever met.”

  She turned for him to help her on with a hooded cloak of black velvet, his lips grazing the tempting spot at the base of her neck. “You could be a lady of old Invergarry castle.”

  “Thank you, milord.” Bonny curtsied, and then inspected him up and down, front and back. “I find a kilt and sporran very romantic. I feel as if I went to sleep in one time and awakened in another.”

  He bowed, and tucking her arm through his, guided her to the car. “M’ lady, your carriage waits.”

  Once inside the ballroom, Kieran escorted his diminutive jewel of a lady around, his giant hand covering her back, his ears attuned to whatever she said. He saw the rapture on her face at the skirl of his bagpipes when he performed with the pipe band. In a short time they had shared a deeper level of communication than he had ever experienced with anyone. Words were only a small part of it. They understood each other on a level many married couples failed to achieve.

  His triumphs in the Highland Games had made him famous. Respected and congenial as he was, women had attempted to catch his eye since Bronwyn’s death. His appearance at a ball he had avoided since then was creating a stir, as he anticipated. He heard the murmurs as he guided Bonny around the room, introducing her to old friends. He must convince her to stay with him. She was his one hope to escape the darkness.

  Graeme MacDholl offered a prayer before dinner. Though not handsome, his warm brown eyes and crooked smile were welcoming and friendly.

  Janet arrived unescorted and sat with Kieran, Bonny, and the university faculty. Bonny watched as Graeme stared at Janet from his place at the head table. She pointed it out to Kieran as they danced later. “They’re perfect together. She’s so lonely.”