by Uceda, Mayte
The others arrived a little while later, and the quiet campsite soon looked more like a military outpost. Two more tents went up, and then the campers turned their attention to building a fire. They broke up into groups to look for firewood. Berta and Rebecca headed to an area full of tall pine trees and underbrush.
“So, this excursion hasn’t been exactly stress free,” Berta said, as she worked to pull off a broken limb hanging from a tree.
“I feel bad for Sophie. She could tell something had happened and was trying to make the trip more pleasant.”
“Did you see the way Mary was looking at you? Even a blind man could see she’s in love with Kenzie.”
“The last thing I need is a jealous woman watching my every move.”
“Just enjoy this time, Rebecca. Don’t worry about anything else.” Berta bent down and picked up three pinecones.
“Anyway, Mary doesn’t need to worry. We’ll be gone soon,” Rebecca said.
“Yeah, but while you’re here I’m afraid you’ll be on the receiving end of her dirty looks. If you were Lola, you’d throw yourself into Kenzie’s arms just to mess with her.”
Rebecca smiled faintly as she shook the pinecones to loosen the pine nuts she was collecting. “Yes, I’m sure she would.”
“I’m not going to say I feel sorry for her,” Berta said, “but she has nothing to do with Kenzie. Whether you’re here or not.”
Rebecca remained pensive, concentrating on the fallen leaves covering the ground. Berta put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t waste your time thinking about it. When we get back home you’ll see everything differently, I’m sure.”
Rebecca nodded and pointed out a branch at their feet that looked perfect for the campfire.
“Liam said not to get the branches off the ground,” Berta told her. “They’re too wet. Just the dry limbs that haven’t fallen off the trees. I guess the moisture doesn’t penetrate the dead wood.”
“It looks impossible to start a fire with this.”
The girls made several more short forays for firewood. Then the boys began the job of splitting it. Kenzie took out a large knife and used it like an ax. He held small branches in a vertical position, made a notch with the knife in the top, and inserted the edge into the crack. Then with another stick he pounded on the top of the blade, splitting the wood easily. He broke the split pieces into shorter lengths for kindling. Scott, his long hair pulled back into a ponytail, used his knife to scrape off wood shavings, which would be used to start the fire.
In no time, they had a strong fire going, encircled by rocks some of the others had gathered. They put out the candles, since the fire would keep the midges away. Then they gathered around the blaze for supper.
The sky had changed. What had been a dark, gray mantle now showed patches of blue between the clouds. They were hopeful for good weather the next day. After eating, Liam took out a small flute and began to play a sweet melody. James accompanied him with a soft tapping on the bodhrán. As if in a dream, the three foreigners were captivated by the fire, the river, and the music. And just when they thought nothing could be better than the magic of the moment, Sophie began to sing a slow, quiet song. Rebecca sat mesmerized by the beautiful high notes and the sound of Gaelic words whose meanings she didn’t know.
She looked over at Kenzie, sitting across from her. He caught her eye and searched her face with an intensity that distracted her from the music. A wave of giddiness passed over her.
When the song ended, the spell was broken. As the others passed around beers and poured whisky, Rebecca vowed to stick with water.
Lola asked what the song was about.
“It’s called ‘Fear A’ Bhàta,’ ” Sophie answered.
She told them it was an eighteenth-century song about a girl in love with a fisherman. The girl laments her beloved’s long absences and the lack of news about him. Each day she climbs the highest hills, awaiting his return. She asks the other fishermen if they’ve seen him and if he’s safe, but their only reply is to say she shouldn’t have loved him. She responds, saying she will never regret her love and that her love is eternal. Her friends also encourage her to forget him, but she cannot. Her memory of him is as real to her as the constancy of the tide.
They were all silent. Rebecca’s eyes again sought out Kenzie’s. He was staring at the ground, tossing an occasional pebble. Her mind was flooded with the realization that what they had between them wasn’t just a physical attraction. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt it. Berta was wrong; she would never forget him.
It was then that she finally admitted to herself that she’d fallen in love with Kenzie MacLeod. Kenzie from the Highlands of Scotland, a land where the sun played hide-and-seek with the clouds. In that setting of breathtaking beauty, with the lake and clouds as witnesses, she knew she loved him, beyond a shadow of a doubt. He looked up, as if he sensed her eyes on him. Six feet separated them, too far to touch but close enough to feel; they seemed intimately and inseparably united.
Lola’s voice brought her back from her reverie. “So what’s the outcome of the song?”
“It’s got a happy ending. The young fisherman returns home,” Sophie answered lightheartedly.
“Good.” Lola smiled. “I like happy endings.”
URQUHART CASTLE
Berta woke early. It was already light at seven o’clock. She unzipped her sleeping bag and stood up. Nature was calling, but she didn’t feel like going all the way over to the area set aside for that. She thought if she was quiet enough, she could just duck behind a nearby tree. She unzipped the tent and peeked out. Everything was quiet. A light mist hovered over the lake, making everything appear to be moving in slow motion, as if she were looking through a milky lens. She was about to step out when she spotted Kenzie heading to the lake with a small towel in his hand. She watched him as he dropped it on the ground and began to undress. Her first thought was to look away, but curiosity and the shelter of the tent won out. Kenzie was naked. Berta simply admired the beauty of his masculine body. She saw him walk straight into the water until he was waist deep. He used his hands to rinse his face, arms, and chest. Just thinking about sticking a toe into the icy lake water at this early hour made Berta shiver.
Rebecca turned over in her sleeping bag, opened one eye, and saw her friend looking outside. “What’s going on?” she whispered in a hoarse voice.
The last thing Berta wanted was for Rebecca to see Kenzie au naturel.
“Nothing. Go back to sleep. It’s early.”
“Why are you standing there instead of sleeping?”
“I have to go to the B-zone.”
“The B-zone?”
“The bathroom.”
“So why don’t you go? Do you want me to go with you?”
“No, don’t bother. I can go alone.”
“Hold on, I have to go anyway. I must have drunk a gallon of water last night.”
Rebecca got up but Berta zipped the tent closed.
“What are you doing?”
“We’ll go later. Go back to sleep.”
“But I have to go now. Are you coming or not?”
“Don’t go out there!” Berta whispered more forcefully.
“Why not?”
“Kenzie’s out there,” she hissed. “In the lake.”
Rebecca looked at her skeptically. She opened the tent flap and looked.
Kenzie was in up to his waist. At that instant he dove completely under. A moment later he came up for breath, raked his hair back from his face, and started back toward shore. Rebecca’s breathing became uneven as she saw everything. She thought of Princess Nausicaa’s response when she first saw Ulysses’s naked body. “The gods themselves could not be more beautiful,” she had told her maidens. The same thought came to mind when Rebecca saw the man before her.
She watched him dry off with a towel.
She admired his white skin, reddened from the cold. She could see a shadow of fine hair on his chest. She looked lower, to his waist, and then down below his belly, where she saw a trail of hair descending to his pubic area. She paused there, appreciating his masculinity. Kenzie was still rubbing off the last bit of water before he dressed, which gave Rebecca time to complete her examination. His well-formed glutes, his long legs . . . She could even see a tattoo on the outer side of his left thigh.
He dressed quickly, and Berta put an end to the spy session.
“Fine, done,” Berta said. “You’ve seen everything; now let’s go.”
“Out there? Now? He’ll know we were watching.”
“I don’t care! If I don’t go now, I’m going to pee my pants.”
Berta exited the tent and ran into Kenzie by the lake. He didn’t seem bothered and chatted with her a moment before she made a beeline for the trees.
It was an unusually sunny morning. The campsite began to stir. Some people put on swimsuits to get in the water; others didn’t bother washing, arguing that it was just two days. Berta and Rebecca wanted to bathe in the waters of the mythical Loch Ness, mostly so they could say they’d done it. But they chose to wait until later, after it had warmed up a little.
Someone got a fire going for the breakfast tea; a log would be tossed on now and then to keep the mosquitoes away and to prepare lunch. Berta helped Sophie with the lunch while Rebecca wandered over to an area full of trees to look for dry branches. The sun peeked through the trees, creating bright patches of light. She turned her face toward the sun, enjoying the warmth, and noticed a large limb ready to come loose. It was high above her head, so she found a long stick to knock it down with.
“Need any help?” came a voice from behind her.
Kenzie was carrying a bundle of firewood, tied together with a rope. He set it on the ground and went over to Rebecca. As he approached, Rebecca’s mind flashed back to the sight of his naked body. Her face reddened.
“It doesn’t want to come down,” she said, pointing to the branch.
Agile as a mountain lion, Kenzie scampered up to the dead limb. He was wearing jeans and a dark blue T-shirt with his band’s name emblazoned on the front in white letters. The Scottish flag was on the back. He pushed down on the branch with his foot, and the limb snapped and fell. Back on the ground, he broke it in two to make it easier to carry.
“Thank you,” Rebecca said.
“’S e ur beatha.” He smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“I love the sound of Gaelic.”
He was smiling as he helped her gather the wood she’d found and tied it with a piece of rope. “This will be easier to carry.”
She thanked him and picked up the bundle. But he stepped in front of her, blocking the way.
“Why are you avoiding me?”
Rebecca froze, eyes cast down. “I’m not avoiding you.”
“Yes, you are. You haven’t even spoken to me.”
“You haven’t talked to me either.”
Kenzie looked around distractedly. “I thought you were mad at me.”
She put her arms around her bundle to get a better hold on it. “Forget it. We’re good.”
She tried to move past him, but he caught her by the arm.
“Rebecca, please. I like talking with you. I know I took advantage of you, and . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck with his other hand. “Well, I can’t say that I’m sorry, but I want to apologize.”
“It’s OK, really,” she said, shaking off his hand and continuing on.
She wanted to be with him; she didn’t want to shrug him off like that. But all the years under her mother’s thumb inhibited her. She seemed incapable of taking the initiative. Still, she risked one question. “Why don’t you want to be my friend?”
He narrowed his blue eyes. “Friends don’t kiss like we did.”
Rebecca put down the firewood as she felt the heat rise on her neck and face. “I think Mary agrees.”
“That didn’t mean anything to me. It was different with you.”
She didn’t know what to say, and she wanted to move the conversation to a safer topic. “What are the letters tattooed on your fingers?”
He didn’t answer at first. He closed his hands and put his fists together. The letters on his fingers formed two words: “Saor Alba.”
“It means ‘Free Scotland.’ ”
“Oh, right. I guess the old battles are never completely over.”
“And deep wounds are never completely healed.”
Rebecca stood motionless. He looked as if he wanted to ravish her. It was only for an instant, but she saw his desire reflected in his chest and in the tension in his jaw. He controlled it, but deep down she wished he hadn’t. Flustered by the intimacy of the exchange, she picked up her bundle and headed back to camp.
It was almost noon by the time Berta and Rebecca worked up the nerve to try the deep, cold waters of Loch Ness. They put on their swimsuits and went to the water’s edge. Kenzie watched as he tended the fire. The girls’ skin, bronzed from life under the Barcelona sun, was the envy of everyone present and did not pass without catcalls from Scott and James. Liam warned the girls to be careful and not go far from the shore, as the lake bottom dropped off quickly. Mary and Lola looked on, the former indifferently and the latter with camera in hand to capture the moment.
“Aren’t you getting in?” Berta asked Lola.
“Not for all the money in the world.”
The cold pierced like knives and paralyzed them. They splashed water on themselves so they wouldn’t look like total cowards, then got out quickly, goose bumps covering their bodies. Lola handed them towels, while Mary seemed to enjoy watching their teeth chatter. They huddled up to the fire, wrapped in their towels.
“Not like swimming in the Mediterranean, huh?” James said, blowing a piece of wayward hair out of his eye.
They shook their heads silently.
“You shouldn’t have gotten your heads wet,” Kenzie said, still focused on the fire.
“Consider it our Scottish baptism,” said Berta.
“Not all Scots are brave enough to try it, believe me.”
“I’ve never gotten in,” agreed James. “But it sure was fun watching you two.”
The welcome sun helped warm them. After lunch, they cleaned everything up and put out the fire. The boys and Sophie changed into their Celtic attire. With her red hair cascading onto her tight bodice, Sophie transformed into a beautiful Highlander. Taking advantage of the nicer weather, Rebecca put on a summer dress she hadn’t been able to wear yet. It was a flattering taupe color; the fitted waist emphasized the contour of her breasts, and the skirt was filmy and showed off her tanned legs. Kenzie couldn’t help looking at her; his was a look very different from the one on Mary’s face. Berta, in contrast, stuck with jeans and a T-shirt.
Urquhart Castle was brimming with tourists. The visitor center, well camouflaged by the vegetation to minimize its visual impact, had restrooms, a café, and a gift shop, all catering to tourists. It also displayed a large number of artifacts found in the area, and several models showing the original design of the fortress. Urquhart Castle had passed through many hands and many wars throughout its long history. The ruins were as well preserved as castle ruins can be.
Mary, who no longer had Sophie for company, reluctantly joined Berta and Rebecca as they wandered the castle ruins. Berta tried to break the palpable tension by asking Mary questions about the site. But not getting any interesting responses, she soon tired of trying and stopped asking. The paths—wide, clean, and well maintained—guided the visitors on their tour through the green grass.
The truncated keep, or fortified tower, was part of the original structure. Inside it, they could smell the musty odor of old stone and earth, creating an atmosphere that seemed somehow to connect them with t
imes past. They touched the stones, feeling under their fingertips the traces left by other hands, other lives still echoing in the present. Mary watched them insolently, as if they were the dumbest tourists on earth. But the girls didn’t let Mary spoil their enjoyment. They leaned out the narrow, elongated openings and contemplated the same views as seen centuries ago. Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of Liam’s bagpipe filled the air.
They hurried down the tower—Berta first, Mary in the middle, and Rebecca last. Mary stopped abruptly and blocked the way. Rebecca halted, surprised.
“Leave him alone,” Mary warned her unceremoniously.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb. I’m talking about Kenzie.”
The scorn in her tone shocked Rebecca. “There’s nothing going on between us.”
“Everyone in Beauly knows,” Mary cut her off. “You think Kenzie’s the only one in town who likes to fish? You’re just toying with him.”
Turning red with indignation, Rebecca blurted, “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know enough. I know you’re getting married soon but having a little fun while you’re away from home. Everyone knows about the foreign girl who’s been flirting with William’s son. And you know what people are saying? That the same thing will happen to Kenzie as happened to his father, who married a tramp who then abandoned him and his children. Maybe Kenzie doesn’t realize what he’s getting himself into, but his friends do.”
“Friends like you?” asked Rebecca, who didn’t want Mary to see how deeply hurt she was by the words.
“Yes, like me. I would do anything for him. Anything but hurt him.”
“I don’t want to hurt him either.”
“Then don’t go near him again,” Mary spat from clenched teeth. She wheeled around and left, blowing right past Berta, who was backtracking to find her friend.
