by Norma Gail
“You know what I mean.” Kari didn’t attempt to hide her irritation. Bonny imagined how Kari’s students must feel when caught doing something they shouldn’t. “We’re in love. If you met him, you’d understand my feelings.”
“You would stay in Scotland?” It sounded like more of an accusation than a question.
Bonny wished she hadn’t called. “I don’t know. I feel so right when we’re together. We’re two wounded people getting to know each other. He understands and cares in a way Adam never could. It’s too early to discuss marriage.”
Following a protracted silence, Kari said, “Bonny, you were engaged before your dad died, but he asked Dan to watch over you. Doesn’t it seem odd that he would ask your best friend to watch over you rather than your fiancé?”
Bonny exhaled hard. Her dad had not been pleased that Adam only came to see him once in the hospital.
Kari continued. “Think hard before you transplant yourself to Scotland for the rest of your life.”
“Don’t worry, Mother Kari.” Bonny regretted her sarcasm, but constant criticism grew tiring. Kari’s remark about her dad left her feeling stunned. Why wasn’t she happy for her?
“Go slow, please.”
“I will.” Bonny hadn’t felt so chastised since her teen years.
“Bye, I love you.”
“I love you, too. Give Dan my love.”
“I will.”
Bonny remained seated as the light faded. Things were complicated—Kieran’s lack of faith, her growing desire for faith, the long distance between Scotland, and home. Adam was handsome, charming, successful, ambitious, but she wasn’t certain anymore why she had loved him. It seemed like something she should know.
When she didn’t see Kieran at school, Bonny checked in the office and discovered he had requested a substitute. His battle was with himself. For the first time in a long time, she prayed, asking God to help him overcome the turmoil in his heart.
Around eight o’clock on the evening of the third day, she heard a tentative knock at her door. Through the peephole, she saw Kieran with a bouquet of yellow roses and her notebook of poems.
She opened the door, letting him in out of the cold. He was unshaven, his curls sticking out in a burning bush. His shirt was rumpled, and his eyes rimmed in red.
“These are for you.” His voice sounded strained as the tired eyes met hers. “I—I needed time alone, but there’s no excuse for failing to tell you where I was. Your singing touched me in a way I can’t describe and your poems also.”
His pain tore at her heart. She accepted the roses, burying her nose in them. “They’re lovely, but you don’t need to apologize, I understand. Would you like some tea? I have a fresh pot, ready to pour.”
He followed her into the kitchen, where she put the roses in a vase, and he helped her carry the tea. When they sat down in the living room, he heaved a ragged breath and began. “I owe you a deep apology. I was selfish in everything I said and did from the time you invited me to hear you sing. I care too much to hurt you.”
She started to speak, but he put his finger to her lips. “I spent the last four days alone in an old bothy, a shepherd’s cottage on the farm, reading your poems over and over. I can’t forgive God for Bronwyn’s death, but neither can I deny my love for you. At first we agreed on our lack of faith in an impersonal, uncaring God, and now—ach, I can’t lose you, lass. I don’t merely love you, I need you.”
Bonny’s heart leaped, but she remained silent.
“The sight of you on stage, with the light shining down on your hair—that hymn was Bronwyn’s favorite. Bonny, God isn’t the Lord of my life. Perhaps He never was. If my faith slipped away so easily, maybe it wasn’t real. Can you be patient with me?”
“You don’t owe me an apology.”
“Wait and hear me out, please? I appreciated the sermon. But I can’t change overnight. If you’d prefer to break it off now, I understand.”
Bonny laid her hand on his wet, unshaven cheek. “Oh, Kieran, don’t you understand? I’m so familiar with your struggle. I’m the one person best suited to stand beside you now. Please, don’t shut me out?”
The sole sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock. He slid to his knees, putting his face closer to the level of hers. Grasping her by the shoulders, his eyes peered into her soul. “If you’re willing to walk this road with me, I accept. Nothing can change my feelings. I love you.”
“I love you, Kieran. We both need an understanding friend. If you aren’t ready for more than ...”
“Ach, lass, it’s so very much more than friendship.” The expression in his eyes sent a tingling sensation through her as he reached for her hand. “I’ll go to church, and I’ll sing in the Christmas program. I can’t promise anything else right now.”
She cupped his face in her hands. “It’s enough.”
“You’re kidding me. Gaelic must be the most confusing language there is. It’s nowhere close to anything I’ve ever heard in my life.” Bonny felt her frustration mounting after only one lesson in the Scottish Gaelic Kieran asked her to learn for their duet of “Silent Night.”
“Give it another try. I’ve spoken it since I was a wee laddie.” Kieran pointed to the words with his pencil.
He helped her syllable by syllable. It meant hours with the man she loved, well worth the difficulty of convincing him to audition. He loved to sing, and singing with her proved to be the potent persuader she hoped.
“Scottish Gaelic is unique,” he explained. “It flows together without breaks between words or sentences, unlike English.”
“There are sounds the American tongue just can’t be trained to make.” She gave it her best shot, but the lessons ended with hilarious laughter at her pronunciation.
Her heart swelled to hear his deep baritone singing of the birth of the Christ Child, “Sàmhach an oidhch’, naomha an oidhch.” Once he made up his mind to participate, he had definite opinions on how to do it. He recorded it so she could hear the correct pronunciation. When she grew comfortable with the words, they added the harp accompaniment, creating an ethereal quality.
He left her at her door after choir practice, tilting her face up to his. “Singing together is an intimate experience, mo gràdh. I feel very close to you when I hear how our voices blend.”
Love washed over her from deep blue eyes, an ocean tide, threatening to sweep her away. The melding of their voices made it difficult to remember he lent his voice alone. His heart was still full of anger toward God.
Chapter Fourteen: Anything But That
The Afghani wind whipped the tent flaps hard, howling and sending sand sifting through the fabric. Dan sat on his bunk in their temporary headquarters, using a notebook for a desk as he attempted to compose a letter to Kari. Out here, in the open, they were so vulnerable. In preparation for launching a new offensive, the squadrons were traveling by Humvee to a different base. He hated traveling in this enemy-infested country. The desert swarmed with rebels and their improvised explosive devices, known as IEDs.
He stared at Kari’s photograph on the trunk next to his cot. Once he made it home, she would be his forever. He prayed to God to keep him safe.
Becoming a Marine was Dan’s childhood dream. Born the son and grandson of Marines, “Semper Fidelis” was more than a motto. His father and grandfather emphasized love of country, respect for his leaders, being faithful to do what he promised, and to give his absolute best. He believed in a loving, all-controlling God, who was present everywhere. He clung to God when fear overwhelmed him, sharing his faith with his men and encouraging them.
A young corporal stuck his head through the tent flap. “Major, the Colonel wants you on the phone in the command tent.”
“Thank you, Corporal. Has the mail come yet?”
“No sir.”
Dan needed to finish the letter to Kari. Writing reassuring words to her might settle his inner thoughts.
At daylight, Dan, his buddy Jeff, and the others climb
ed into their Humvees with an armed escort, and headed out. Half an hour later, they passed a WWII Jeep full of locals. When they got about one hundred yards further down the road, everything exploded.
Men began yelling and the searing heat of fire grew closer. Dan struggled to surge into action. “Jeff,” he yelled. “Jeff, where are you?” The heat drew closer while he lay trapped in a twisted tangle of hot metal. Everything turned black, and with the heat on his back and legs, he didn’t need sight to know it was creeping closer.
“Jeff, where are you?” No answer. Stay calm, Dan. He shouted names and heard cries from outside, but didn’t understand the words. Lord, please, don’t let me burn to death. Anything but that ...”
Bonny stepped out of the shower to hear the phone ringing. “Bonny, thank God you’re there. Dan’s injured, he’s burned …”
“Oh, Kari, no. How bad is he?” Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach.
“It’s bad.” Kari’s voice quaked with fear.
Bonny had experienced death and loss. Healing wasn’t in her realm of experience. Her losses destroyed any hope of help. Dan was her best friend, a brother in all but blood. She willed herself to stay calm. “What happened?”
“His Humvee hit a roadside bomb. Burns, Bonny, my poor Dan. Oh, there’s another call ...” The line went silent.
She dropped to her knees, praying as she hadn’t done in years. At that moment, a wall came down, and she knew God heard her. She hadn’t made a connection with Him in such a long time. It felt so right. She was still praying when the phone interrupted her.
There was real panic in Kari’s voice now. “They hit a roadside bomb and the gas tank on the Humvee exploded. Dan’s the single survivor. Guys from the other vehicle pulled him out. His buddies, closer than brothers—they’re all dead. He’s in critical condition with third degree burns over forty percent of his body and down into his windpipe. His eyes were damaged, but they don’t know how badly yet. They’re air-lifting him to Germany.”
“Kari, he’s alive.” Bonny struggled to keep her voice from betraying her rising alarm. Lord, I can’t lose him, too.
“His back, legs, and face. He must be in such pain.” The heartbreak in Kari’s voice made the miles between them unbearable.
Bonny’s mind searched for scriptures, memories from long ago, and pieces from Pastor MacDholl’s sermons. “Remember, Kari, the Holy Spirit prays for us with groans words can’t express. He knows what Dan needs right now. How long will they keep him in Germany?”
“From Landstuhl they’ll transfer him to Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio. He’ll arrive there tomorrow evening. His dad’s arranging for plane tickets. Bonny, what if …” she broke off, crying.
“Don’t, I can’t stand it.” Bonny began sobbing, also. “He’s alive. People can survive burns. Gather everything encouraging you can think of, your Bible, journal, favorite devotional books, and novels to help you relax. They’ll help you through the difficult days and sleepless nights.”
“Okay, I will, and Bonny, thanks. I know it’s scary for you too. I wish you were here.”
“If you need me I’ll come, Kari. I love him too. I’m praying.” For the first time in a long time, she found the promise easy. She knew God heard her.
“Thank you. I’ll phone again when I know something. Will you ask people there to pray also?”
“Yes, there’s a prayer chain at the church, and at school. I’ll take care of it right away. I love you.” Bonny prayed again and then notified the prayer chains. The words she shared with Kari warmed her cold heart the way warm winds thaw ice in the spring, and there, in place of her fear, was God. For the first time in a long time she didn’t feel alone, and it had nothing to do with a person.
“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies,” she whispered. “Take my fears, God.”
She needed Kieran. The emotions she held in tumbled out the second she heard his voice on the phone. “When I hung up, I fell to my knees and prayed. For the first time since my dad got sick, I felt God’s presence, Kieran. I moved away, He didn’t, and now I’ve moved closer again.”
The silence lasted so long she thought the connection was bad. “Kieran?”
“I’m so sorry about Dan, Bonny.” She heard his sincerity. “What do you need?”
“Pray I don’t fall apart. I have to teach. I can’t cry.”
“He’s receiving the best of care.” His words were soothing, but his voice sounded hollow, a measured tone as if holding back. “They know what they’re doing in Germany. A lad from Beauly was there. Dan will be in my thoughts and so will you. My student is here. I’ll see you tonight, mo gràdh.”
“I love you too, so much.” She hung up the phone, comforted by his words, but confused by the sound of his voice. For the first time, she longed for him to pray with her. A slow, creeping chill spread through her, echoes of Adam’s responses when her dad was dying—a gulf opening between them. God—it began when she said she felt God. Oh please, not Kieran, too.
Bonny requested prayer from each of her classes. She found it too easy to slip back into the calm-on-the-surface façade she had learned to put on when her parents were ill and after Adam left. Calm on the outside, but everything on the inside was churning, turning, and crying for help.
Scotland had men fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan also. The Royal Highland Fusiliers and the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, nicknamed “Jocks,” had recently deployed. Her students prayed and showed sympathy, lifting her spirits with their concern.
She performed her job as if everything was fine, though inside, her world was shaking. Now she carried with her the assurance of God’s control, peace in the midst of the storm.
Bonny ran to the car when Kieran arrived, craving his arms around her and praying for God to help him understand the change which had taken place in her heart. “I haven’t heard anything more. Kari was flying with Dan’s parents to San Antonio, Texas, to the military burn center. Kieran, I can’t stand it if something happens to him. Poor Kari, I wanted to help, but I kept remembering when my parents died. I remembered scriptures I found helpful when my mom was sick and shared something from Pastor MacDholl’s sermon last week. Then I prayed and ...”
“Noo jist haud on.” He wrapped his arms around her.
“What?”
“It’s what my mother used to say when I was a wee laddie and speaking too fast. Slow down, lass. Your words are tumbling out as fast as water in a rushing burn.” Guiding her inside, he handed her a new tissue, then brought her a glass of water and seated himself beside her on the couch. He clasped her hands between his own, the reddish-blond hairs on the back of his hands shining in the lamp light. His touch felt warm and comforting, and she inhaled his unique scent of hay, farm animals, leather, and aftershave—masculine and strong. Maybe she had imagined the coolness over the phone.
“I know being so far away is difficult.” The hand he placed on her back warmed and steadied her.
“Yes.” The tears began welling up again and she brushed them away.
“What will help you, mo annsachd?” He cupped her face in one hand, and she saw her own pain mirrored in his deep blue eyes. He understood on an emotional level, she had no doubt.
“There’s only one thing—prayer.”
“I’m not a hypocrite. I love you, but I won’t lie.” She heard it again, the hollow sound in his voice, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Then I’ll pray, because it calms me. Do you mind?” She wasn’t imagining it. The crevasse opening between them was real. He moved away from her, not much, but enough that she noticed. He bowed his head, putting his hand on her back again. It felt so warm—so reminiscent of her dad.
“Lord, I lift Dan up to you,” she prayed. “Please guide the doctors to the best possible treatment. Heal him and repair his eyesight. We pray for his parents and for Kari. They’re so frightened, Father. Give them courage. Give me courage also. Keep me calm and help me speak wor
ds of comfort to Kari, in Jesus’ name, amen.”
Solid and strong as ever, Kieran pulled her into his arms. “Should we have dinner another time?”
“I can’t be alone right now. Please?” The warmth of his hand lingered long after he removed it.
Kieran chose the quiet Crannog Restaurant on the pier. He was more quiet than usual, his words coming slow and deliberate. She knew he wanted to avoid sensitive topics, but she needed him near to distract her racing brain. “Growing up on the farm, you must have enough entertaining stories to occupy my mind.”
He leaned forward in his seat, holding her hand across the table. “One time we rode our horses over to the Bolinn Hill area. Our parents forbade us to go near there. My cousin, Billy, crawled into a crevice between some stones to hide, but he fell asleep. We searched everywhere, and finally went home and confessed.” His voice warmed, his taut expression relaxed, and the light came back to his eyes. “Our parents met him on the bridge as they headed for the woods. When he explained, they restricted us to pretty tight boundaries for the rest of the summer.”
They drove back to her house in the midst of a story. He told her how he once let the sheep out when he forgot to close the gate leading to the road and loch. Before they realized it, the clock struck midnight again. Standing by the door, Bonny reached up, tracing his strong jawline with her finger. “Thank you for distracting me. I’ll cook dinner later in the week, when I’m in a better frame of mind.”
“Aye, and we’ll take our hike tomorrow. Tha gaol agam ort.” He kissed away the wet drops on her cheeks, before brushing her lips.
“Tha gaol agam ort,” she whispered as he drove away. She craved the warm comfort of his arms. But even more, she desired to pray with him. Please God, I need him so.
Chapter Fifteen: Confessions
Janet’s piercing look made Bonny uncomfortable. “Mum will be pleased her scones tempted you. Kieran said you didn’t eat enough to keep a wee cheetie alive yesterday. Kari will call when she knows more.”
