A Love for Rebecca

by Uceda, Mayte

  Four songs later, the band ended its set. Kenzie grabbed a microphone and thanked everyone present for waiting to the end to see them, then yelled in Gaelic: “Alba gu bràth!”

  A thousand voices roared back.

  THE DRUMMER

  Once offstage, Kenzie’s band was the center of attention. The crowd gathered to congratulate them and take photos. It had happened with the other groups too, but Caledonia was the big hit.

  At some point, Mary had shown up. Rebecca saw her go over to Kenzie and wrap her arm around his waist as she asked Sophie to take their picture.

  Motioning with her head, Rebecca pointed out the blonde to Lola.

  “Mary?” Lola said.

  Sophie took the picture and then hurried over to her new friends. “Did you like it?”

  “A lot,” Lola said.

  “Yes,” Rebecca said, “you were awesome.”

  “I’ll introduce you to the rest of the band.”

  As they approached the group, Rebecca noticed an unexpected warmth on her cheeks.

  “This is Liam, and you’ve heard the proof that he plays the bagpipes better than anyone. Plus, he’s like a father to us.”

  “Hey, who are you calling old?” Liam said. He smiled and greeted the girls with a handshake.

  “This is Tambourine James,” Sophie continued, pointing to the youngest member, who waved a timid hello. He was the only one without tattoos on his arms, which were a waxy white. “And this is Scott and his drumsticks.” The young man with the long hair greeted them cheerfully.

  Rory offered to get them a beer, but Liam and Scott excused themselves, saying they had to get up early the next day. James trailed after them.

  “I’ll have a beer,” Sophie said, and her brother glared at her. “Come on, Kenzie, I’m not a little girl. I can have a beer, can’t I?”

  “You said it,” her brother responded. “One beer.”

  “I love him,” Sophie told the others, “but sometimes he’s worse than an overprotective father.”

  They walked over to a lively bar where the music sounded good. Lola didn’t seem to notice, but Rebecca found it odd that Mary and Kenzie didn’t act like anything more than friends. They appeared to be nothing like the two lovers she’d seen at the river.

  They ordered beers for everyone. Rebecca hardly ever drank beer, but rather than complain, she accepted the plastic cup Rory gave her full of the foamy golden liquid.

  Sophie suddenly remembered she’d forgotten to put away her bodhrán and ran back to the stage to retrieve it.

  A romantic slow song came on that made Lola jump and turn to Rory, her eyes sparkling. “Do you remember this song?”

  “I don’t think I could forget it.”

  “Rory sang this to me the night we met,” Lola said. “ ‘Spanish Eyes,’ by the BSB.” She smiled at Rory. “Mmm . . . It was magic.”

  “I didn’t know you liked the Backstreet Boys,” Rebecca teased.

  “Me neither . . . But I love this song.” Lola turned to her boyfriend and put her hand on his chest. “Dance with me, my love?”

  “Of course.”

  As they got up to dance, Lola realized she’d be leaving Rebecca alone with Mary and Kenzie. She had an idea. “Would you mind dancing with my friend?” she asked Kenzie. Before he could answer, and ignoring Rebecca’s glare, she pushed her friend toward him, causing Rebecca’s breasts to brush against the Scot’s arm. “I’m sure she won’t give you any trouble, seeing as she’s engaged.”

  Kenzie stiffened at the word “engaged” but smiled as he offered his hand to Rebecca. She hesitated. “Ignore my friend Lola,” she said, glancing at Mary. “You don’t have to entertain me.”

  He insisted with his outstretched hand, and Rebecca felt obligated to take it. Mary looked confused, turned away brusquely, and took off in the same direction that Sophie had a few minutes earlier.

  Rebecca noticed the blue hand wraps covering the drummer’s knuckles and the leather cuffs on his wrists. She didn’t know what to do with her left hand, because when she went to place it on his shoulder, she saw a little red devil with horns, a trident, and a pointy tail looking at her with a wanton expression. Rebecca didn’t want to look intimidated or put off by a few simple tattoos, so she opted to place her hand a little lower, over the Scottish flag on his bicep. When she felt his other arm wrap around her waist, pulling her toward him, their bodies’ sudden contact made her tense.

  “I don’t want to cause any problems with your girlfriend. I mean, if it bothers her for us to dance . . .”

  “My girlfriend?”

  “Well . . . I don’t know, I thought maybe you and Mary . . .”

  He thought a moment. “So that was you.”

  “What?”

  Kenzie whispered in her ear: “The spy from the river.” He pulled back and looked at her. “I thought so as soon as I saw you, but I wasn’t sure.”

  Rebecca’s cheeks were on fire. She was so mortified, she didn’t know what to say.

  “I . . . We were walking by, and . . .”

  “No worries. There are worse pastimes you could have.”

  The comment burned. She lifted her chin and looked him defiantly in the eyes. It was the first time she had dared meet his gaze, and she forced herself to hide her sudden trembling.

  “I am not in the habit of spying—”

  “I’m just joking.” He smiled. “Mary’s just a friend, and what you saw by the river was—”

  “You don’t have to explain anything to me,” she cut him off. “It’s none of my business.”

  “We were just kissing; no big deal.”

  Uncomfortable, Rebecca looked everywhere but at him. “Let’s drop it, OK? There’s no need to discuss it.”

  Her embarrassment made him smile again.

  “Fine. But one more thing.” She looked at him. “I don’t want Sophie to know. It’s not going to happen again, so I’d rather it remain between us.”

  “I had no intention of telling her,” she protested, as she thought about the fact they’d just met and already shared a secret.

  “Good.” Kenzie changed the subject. “Do you like Beauly?”

  “Of course. It’s a nice town,” she said without much conviction.

  “Sophie told me you’re from Barcelona.”

  “That’s right,” she said, feeling his eyes on her. Rebecca didn’t dare look up. She concentrated on the small silver symbol hanging from the black cord around his neck.

  “It must be a beautiful city, all full of sunshine.”

  “It is,” she replied, and added, “but my friend Lola says it’s possible to be happy even under cloudy skies.”

  “I agree,” he said with a grin. “If not, half the world’s population would be unhappy.”

  “I suppose so.”

  They stopped talking, and Rebecca concentrated on the music. Even though she wasn’t a fan of the Backstreet Boys, she had to admit the song had something special. But she was rather uncomfortable to have them singing about Spanish eyes while a tattooed and kilted Scot was pressing her against him. She felt a tickle on her stomach and realized his sporran was pressed against her belly and his legs were touching hers as they moved. Then she realized he was still looking at her. She looked up and found Kenzie’s dark eyes.

  “I suppose the eyes they’re talking about are like yours,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I was giving you a compliment. Your eyes are very pretty.”

  Rebecca stared at the ground and didn’t look up again until the song ended a few moments later.

  She saw a flash and turned toward the light. Sophie, who had returned with Mary, had taken a photo before they’d let go of each other. “Sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t help it.”

  A big smile spread over Sophie’s face. Mary, however, c
ast them a murderous look. Rebecca stepped away from Kenzie and moved over to Lola, who was still hanging on to Rory.

  “We’ve got to go,” Kenzie announced after downing his beer.

  “Come on, not yet,” groaned Sophie.

  “You know I have to work tomorrow, and we’ve got a gig again tomorrow night.”

  “Just a little longer,” she insisted.

  “No!”

  “We should be going too,” Rebecca said. She looked at Lola and Rory, who didn’t seem too happy about the idea.

  “Why don’t they take you?” Rory suggested to Rebecca. “You don’t mind, do you, mate?” he said to Kenzie. “That way we can stick around a little longer.”

  “Where are they staying?”

  “Riverside Road.”

  “It’s on my way.”

  Rebecca stayed out of it. It wasn’t her decision. She and Lola could talk later when they were alone again.

  “I’ll go get my drum,” Kenzie said. He strode off, kilt flapping. Lola’s and Rebecca’s eyes discreetly followed him across the field. Mary, for her part, looked on with a proprietary gaze.

  A few minutes later, Kenzie was back with his drum in a protective black case on his shoulder and two felt-wrapped mallets in one hand.

  “Shall we go?” he asked.

  Heading to the parking area, they were stopped a few times by people congratulating the musicians on their performance. Rebecca felt out of place with her two traditionally dressed escorts. Then she remembered her own Highland look.

  As if she had read Rebecca’s mind, Sophie commented on the rented dress. “That looks great on you. I wish I could fill it out like that,” she added in a low voice so her brother wouldn’t hear.

  But he did overhear her, and said, “That might be nice for you but not so much for me—I’d have to go around lopping hands off all the blokes who’d be all over that, which would be pretty much everyone.”

  “Don’t be such a pig,” Sophie scolded. “I can take care of myself.” Kenzie snickered. “And does that mean you’d be all over that?” she said, gesturing with her head.

  “What?”

  “Her.” She indicated Rebecca. “You said the blokes would be all over me if I looked like that. Well, she does look like that, and you’re a bloke.”

  “Oh, shut up, Sophie. You think too much.”

  Rebecca had missed some of the conversation, since the siblings’ English had started to blend into Gaelic and included words she didn’t understand.

  Sophie was about to say something when he cut her off.

  “Duin do bheul!” he said, glowering at his sister.

  “Fine, I’ll be quiet. But I’m right.”

  Kenzie huffed, and Sophie stuck out her tongue when her brother turned his back. Then she looked at Rebecca and grinned.

  When they reached Kenzie’s four-wheel-drive Nissan pickup, the musicians placed their instruments in the bed, which was covered by a tarp, and they all piled in. They rode in silence for a while.

  Sophie was the first to speak. “Will you come again tomorrow night?” she asked Rebecca.

  “I’m sure they have better things to do than come see us, Sophie,” her brother said.

  “Well, maybe your friend will feel better and will want to come to the festival.”

  “She won’t want to miss it,” Rebecca assured her.

  “The day after tomorrow we’re going to play at Culloden. Have you been there?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You could go with us. Right, Kenzie?”

  “Sure.”

  He didn’t sound very enthusiastic, and Rebecca wasn’t excited about accepting the offer.

  “Thanks, but I’m afraid we’d be a burden.”

  “A burden? Why? It’s all set: You’ll go with us, we’ll play, you’ll get a history lesson, and we’ll go home. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know . . . Berta might not be up to it . . .”

  “I’m sure she’ll be better,” Sophie said cheerfully.

  When they got to Riverside Drive, Kenzie stopped the truck in front of the cottage. Through the trees they saw the front door illuminated by the porch light.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Rebecca said, looking at Kenzie.

  “No problem.”

  “Oidhche mhath,” Sophie said with a giggle.

  “What?”

  “Good night.”

  “Oh, right. Buenas noches,” she replied with the same good humor.

  Kenzie and Sophie waited until Rebecca was inside before continuing on to the small house they shared with their father outside of town.

  William MacLeod was seated on an old sofa in the living room, drink in hand.

  “Halò, dadaidh,” Kenzie greeted him.

  “Hello, son. How was your night?”

  “Same as always.”

  “It was not,” Sophie said. She sat down next to her father and, giving him a loud kiss on the cheek, added: “He danced with a girl.”

  “I’m sure it’s not the first time your brother has danced with a girl.”

  “No, but you should have seen how he looked at this one.”

  “You talk too much, Sophie,” her brother said, removing his hand wraps and putting them on the small, round table next to the sofa.

  “Well, you’re old enough to find yourself a woman, son.”

  “But why should I?” Kenzie said. “Everything’s fine the way it is.”

  “She’s Spanish,” Sophie continued. “She’s from Barcelona, and she’s really pretty.”

  “Barcelona?” Their father frowned. “That’s awfully far away. Better not fall in love—people from warm climates don’t adapt well here, and I don’t think you could live anywhere else.”

  “What on earth are you two talking about?” Kenzie said. “She’s just another girl I met today, for crying out loud.”

  “Maybe, but it’s better to cut these things off at the root and not give them a chance to even get started.”

  “Tell that to your daughter, who’s been inviting her to go everywhere with us.”

  “I was just being nice,” Sophie said. “They’ve been here a few days and haven’t gotten out of Beauly.”

  “That’s not our problem.”

  “Well, I saw you liked her, so I wanted to help.”

  “Don’t help me, OK? Besides, she’s engaged.”

  “Engaged?”

  “Yes. And now I’m going to shower and go to bed before you say anything else stupid.”

  Sophie looked at her father and shrugged as her brother escaped to the bathroom, muttering to himself.

  “Well, that’s too bad,” Sophie said to her father. “I really like her, and I don’t care that she’s engaged,” she added with a giggle. “One of her friends has a cold, and the other one is going out with Rory Elliot, so she’s all alone and—”

  “You’re always worried about everyone else,” her father said.

  “Really, I’d like to be friends. I’m tired of always hanging out with Mary. She only wants to hook up with Kenzie anyway.”

  “You should do things with other girls from town, not foreigners who’ll leave in a few days.”

  “I know, but next month I’m going to Edinburgh with Mom, so it doesn’t really matter.”

  “Go on.” Her father’s face softened. “You go to bed too.”

  Sophie gave him another kiss.

  “Oidhche mhath, dadaidh.”

  “Oidhche mhath, my girl.”

  William MacLeod lifted his glass of whisky and knocked it back. He wasn’t drunk. He stopped getting drunk years ago; those had been dark times. He’d had to give up his children, to turn them over to his father, since he could do nothing in those days but drink and wallow in despair. He’d loved only one woman in hi
s life: Elisabeth. He’d always wondered why someone as beautiful as she, a woman with the face of an angel and hair like fire, had married him, a nobody who worked like an animal in the mines in the south.

  Still, every night, he sat on the sofa with a glass of whisky in his hand. He drank slowly, savoring, remembering. He closed his eyes and went back to happy times. Then, once the whisky warmed his veins, he forgot the love he still felt for her, despite everything, and turned to hating her with a visceral contempt from deep in his heart.

  “Sophie was barely three years old when she left, the whore,” he muttered, his thoughts clouded by the alcohol that brought out the repressed bitterness in his soul with each sip. “And Kenzie . . . I couldn’t bear the sorrow in his eyes. Damn bitch, why did you abandon them? I would’ve left if you’d asked, but you wanted to go so far away, without anyone holding you back. That letter you sent—telling me you couldn’t take it anymore, that you couldn’t raise the children because all you could do was think about how your life was over and how you would end up hurting them. You said that I could handle it, that I would take good care of them, but didn’t you know my world would crumble without you?”

  William opened his eyes, red and glassy from the alcohol and tears. As he leaned back and settled himself on the sofa, he closed them again with a whisper:

  “Elisabeth, mo ghràidh, my love.”

  DISCUSSIONS

  The next morning, Rebecca got up early. Berta wasn’t awake yet. Lola had come in at dawn, so Rebecca didn’t expect to see her until much later.

  She went out for a walk along the river path. She looked at the sky and saw clouds piled up. She detected at least eight different colors in that sea of cotton, and for the first time she truly apprehended the beauty in rain clouds, in the entire sky containing them.

  The river flowed silently along this stretch. The countryside was colorful and fresh, and the smells, intensified by the humidity in the air, made her feel oddly tied to her surroundings. She inhaled deeply several times, intoxicated by the aromas, as her senses were inundated with new fragrances that were nothing like the smells of the city.