Return to Oban

by Ruth Hay

  “I’m not sure. General Practice has its appeal. Not as exciting as a big hospital with lots of colleagues and drama every day, and yet, there’s something about getting to know entire families and building a picture of them over generations that has its own satisfactions. These days, doctors are not as isolated as they once were. It’s possible to consult with experts all over the world by internet.”

  “What would you do if Connor Williams decides to retire?”

  “Ah, that could change the picture for me. I’m not sure I am ready to take on a whole practice. Time will tell.”

  It was the longest conversation they had shared so far. It might be because of the intimate atmosphere created by candlelight and good food, much needed, but Edmund soon sank back into the comfortable small sofa with a sigh of content, bringing his arm into close contact with Ashley’s. His head slipped down onto her shoulder and before she knew it he had fallen asleep.

  She smiled to herself. Poor thing, he was exhausted.

  She could not move without waking him, so she sat there listening to him breathe and watching the candles burn down until they were in darkness once again.

  When he finally awoke, disoriented and still sleepy, perhaps still dreaming, he turned to Ashley and kissed her on the mouth.

  It took several moments before either of them grasped what had just happened. It was as if something very natural had occurred.

  Edmund recovered first. “Oh, God! I am so sorry! I was …….I was dreaming about you.”

  Ashley, who had been enjoying the closeness of a strong male figure practically lying in her arms for some time, merely responded with, “Don’t be sorry, Edmund. I liked it.”

  She kissed him back with some enthusiasm and he put his arms around her and looked into her eyes to be sure of her consent.

  “Don’t say anything,” she warned him. “Just enjoy the moment.”

  He did not require any further encouragement and they kissed more deeply, pressed together, content in each other’s arms.

  When they finally drew apart, Ashley was glad of the dim light from a street lamp. She thought she must look disheveled and somewhat flustered.

  Edmund glanced at his watch and drew in his breath when he saw the time.

  “It’s past midnight. Your aunt will have sent out the police by now.”

  “I doubt it! She’s probably fast asleep. I have my own key. I can slip in quietly and not disturb her.”

  “Are you………………..are we okay?”

  “Absolutely! I like your prescription for evening relaxation, but we’d better get on the road. We can talk more tomorrow.”

  The next day was one of those when everything happens at once. Ashley had scarcely wiped the sleep from her eyes before her aunt was tapping on her bedroom door.

  “Are you awake, Ashley?”

  “Hmmm, I guess so.”

  “Good!” The door opened to reveal Anna Drake, fully dressed and pulling on a pair of gloves.

  “I’m off for the day with Jeanette and Bev. It turns out Bev is a real fan of the television series ‘Outlander’ which is based on the novels of Diana Gabaldon. The local newspaper had an article on locations where the new second-season episodes are being shot and one of them is nearby. It will be wonderful to see those familiar faces in realistic eighteenth century costumes acting out the author’s exciting adventures.”

  Though scarcely awake, Ashley could tell how anxious her aunt was to be off.

  “I hope it’s all right with you, Ashley, and you don’t mind being left behind here. We plan to stop in on Fiona on our way home and tell her about our day. Jeanette has a movie camera so you will get to see some of the scenes, if the producers allow it.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about me. I have plenty to do. Off you go on a girls’ day out with your best friends. It will do you good. Call me later.”

  Ashley fell back into the warm nest of her bedclothes and was glad of a promised quiet day to think about last night with Edmund. Anna was not out of the door yet. Her voice drifted up the stairs.

  “Oh, I forgot to mention! Last night while you were out, the vet called to say it was possible Sylvia might be delivered today sometime. He’s anxious to see how she does on a trial basis. If he arrives, just give me a call. Bye, now!”

  Shortly thereafter, the front door shut with a bang and Ashley heard the sound of female laughter as a car revved up and sped down the track.

  She glanced at the clock on the mantle over the fireplace and saw it was still early in the day. A huge yawn escaped her as she calculated how little sleep she had actually had. It had been the early hours of the morning when Edmund eventually dropped her off at the estate house. This thought reminded her of his promise to talk with her today and she wondered how he would get the time since he must also be somewhat the worse for wear after a very busy day with patients. The next thought impelled her to get out of bed and look out of the dormer window to see the weather conditions.

  Slipping her feet into sheepskin-lined slippers and pulling the duvet off the bed onto her shivering shoulders, she tiptoed across the room and looked out.

  No snow. Sunshine. Blue sky. A beautiful day for her aunt’s adventure.

  It didn’t seem right to crawl back into bed on such a day. She had the house to herself. She had writing and thinking to do and the all-important text to her Canadian Publisher had to be sent. If the illustrated version of Anna’s story was to be a reality, Ashley suspected a co-author would be required to handle the technical and artistic parts of the process. She was not sure she was willing to give up her autonomy over the book. It had developed into a very personal project; one for which she felt responsible to her aunt. Had there not been the level of trust between them that had led to her confessions, the book would never have included such intimate moments between Lawren and her aunt. She felt instinctively that these private moments would be the book’s primary attraction for readers.

  Musing over these points, she threw on some old clothes and went down to the kitchen to seek sustenance for a day of hard work. There, on the table was a breakfast of cereal, bagels with cream cheese and marmalade. The kettle was filled and the brown betty teapot had been warmed with boiled water.

  “Exactly what I need,” she exclaimed, and set to it with a vengeance. She was on her second mug of tea when she noticed a hand-written note lying on the table.

  Have a good day, Ashley.

  I will bring groceries home, so eat whatever you want.

  I fancy some bridies for supper and if Sylvia arrives, I will invite Bev to join us.

  Love,

  Anna.

  Ah, so Callum Moir, may be coming. Edmund might call and I have to contact my publisher, I had better get started before the day is taken up with all kinds of interruptions.

  * * *

  The first interruption was a rather pleasant one. She was working with the office door open and she heard the crunch of a van’s wheels. By the time she reached the door and opened it, the young delivery man was holding out a bouquet of flowers for her.

  “Miss Stanton? These are for you.”

  He was gone before she could express her thanks. The card said a simple ‘Thank-you’ and was signed by Edmund. She blushed, remembering their kisses in the dark and hid her face in the blossoms inhaling the fresh scent. Flowers in the winter were an enormous extravagance and these were pink summer roses, fragrant carnations, white daisies and something exotic she could not name, all enveloped in a variety of greenery. She laid the bouquet on the table while she rummaged around for a suitable vase to contain such bounty.

  All thoughts of work flew out of her head. Her first impulse was to call Edmund, but then she thought it could be embarrassing if she enthused over the phone and was overheard by his receptionist or, even worse, by a patient. She decided to wait until later although it was hard to delay when she felt so delighted by his kind gesture.

  Leaving the floral display standing on the centre of the kitchen t
able, where it added a definite festive look to the house, she wandered back to the office and sent off the text to her publisher. She could not summon the energy to begin on the structure of the book again but had an idea of trying to create a title. Somewhere she had read that the title not only catches the attention of the reader, but it can also frame the entire purpose, if chosen with care.

  Well, I should do something useful. Perhaps this will help.

  She took out a sheet of paper and began to write whatever came into her head.

  Anna and Lawren: a Love Story

  Lawren Drake; the Man Behind the Portrait

  Anna Drake Speaks About her Marriage

  Painting a Legacy; A man and His Life.

  A Private Couple Revealed: Lawren and Anna Drake.

  Oban, Iona and Lawren Drake.

  * * *

  It rapidly became clear, this was not going to be easy. She could see some useful words but none of them immediately declared the perfect title to her, and a perfect title was what she needed.

  Could it be the answer to involve Anna in the final decision, thereby taking it out of the author’s hands? She was scribbling a pros and cons list about this when the doorbell rang and she jumped out of her seat in surprise.

  What now?

  The tall, slender figure of Edmund Jansen stood revealed on the doorstep as soon as the red door opened.

  “Did the flowers arrive? I asked for immediate delivery. I have only about thirty minutes left in my lunch hour. The staff are covering for me. I just had to see you Ashley. I have been so worried about last night.”

  “For goodness sake, come inside, Edmund. Come and see your gorgeous flowers for yourself. I love them. It is a lovely gesture but what are you worrying about, and why didn’t you warn me you were coming? I look such a mess!”

  In answer, he gave her a look that would have melted an iceberg and folded her into his arms for a kiss that made the previous evening’s explorations superfluous.

  When she could draw breath again, Ashley looked up at him with new eyes. Who was this Lothario who had appeared on the doorstep? Gone were his tentative approaches. This kiss had been felt clear down to her toes and he did not seem to be distracted by her careless clothing. Perhaps he was anxious to make his feelings known in the short time at his disposal this day. Whatever the reason, Ashley Stanton got the message.

  “Edmund, sit down for a minute. We need to talk. I think the tea is still hot.”

  She busied herself with pouring tea while her mind was racing. Declarations of undying devotion were impossible in the present situation but neither did she want to discourage him as a suitor. Genuine feelings were, in her experience, too rare to be disparaged so lightly.

  The future was uncertain for both of them. The best she could offer was a pleasant dalliance, as they used to say. How far he chose to take this was an unknown, and yet, her heart was lifted by his interest and his kisses and his presence here. Work had been her focus for years now. She had not had a relationship for longer than she cared to count. Edmund was likely to be in the same situation.

  She was saved from the predicament of how to convey this to Edmund, by his next statement.

  “Look, Ashley! I know this is sudden, and largely unexpected, but I have to tell you how I feel. Put aside all the impediments for a minute. I don’t deny there are plenty in our path. Neither of us is a teenager and we know how disruptive strong emotions can be. I think we are both able to understand how powerful our feelings are. I do want to see you again. Can we say we are dating?”

  It was an old-fashioned term, and yet, it seemed appropriate. He had put into words the exact things she had been thinking. She threw caution to the winds and plopped down unceremoniously on his knee, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close.

  “It is what it is, Edmund. Let’s enjoy it!”

  * * *

  He left, ten intense minutes later, with the promise to call and set up their next ‘date’. He was hoping Fiona Campbell would allow him to move into the cottage immediately so they could meet there without the town’s gossip mill going into high gear. If Fiona agreed, he would speedily get the electricity connected and contact the water company.

  Ashley’s head was in a spin. She found herself thinking of the cottage as a place she would be spending more time and her aunt’s words about the doctor’s comforts came back to her. A small electric fire would help as Edmund could hardly be expected to set a wood and coal fire every evening after his work ended. Obviously, an open fire was a fire hazard if he were to be summoned unexpectedly to an emergency house call.

  Mixed in with these thoughts was the obligation to move ahead with her writing project. Nothing could be allowed to impede its progress. Anna had made her return to Canada known and the timeline was short. All in all the prospects for a continuing affair with the local doctor were not promising. Each of them had commitments that demanded time and energy.

  She sighed and brought her reeling brain under control. This was no whirlwind romance. She did not know how to describe what it actually was.

  The scent of his flowers surrounded her and reminded her there was no time to waste from now on if Edmund Jansen was to be a part of her life. She ran upstairs with a song in her heart, to wash and dress in decent clothes then she would work all day on the book, getting her notes into shape and beginning the first chapter. Once that step had been taken, there was no going back. She realized she had been delaying this step for whatever reasons. Dr. Jansen had forced her to forge ahead with her project.

  He had already had a good influence on her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ashley was immersed in the world she created when she was writing. Hours sped by. It was not until she felt a pang of hunger that she realized she had not eaten lunch. She decided to bring a coffee into the office so she would not break her productive writing streak. While the water boiled, she was making notes on the back of Anna’s letter when she saw a shadow pass across the bay window and looking up she saw an older man carrying an animal cage.

  It must be the vet with Sylvia. Damn! Damn ! Damn!

  There was nothing else for it. She had to invite him in and pretend to be happy she was being interrupted yet again.

  Callum Moir introduced himself quite politely and set the cage on top of the table which she did not think was appropriate. Without asking, he had moved the flower vase to the other end of the table.

  He could see she was making coffee so she offered him a cup then asked if he had informed her aunt of his arrival.

  “I spoke to Anna on the phone last evening and mentioned my intention to stop by today unless something occurred to prevent me.” His tone was now decidedly cool. Ashley thought it matched her own so she could not complain.

  “The reason I ask,” she insisted, “is because my aunt told me to tell her if you did arrive. Do you want to talk to her or shall I? She is out with friends for the day.”

  He quickly deduced that it was preferable if he spoke in person to Anna Drake and so he walked into the larder for privacy leaving Ashley alone with the strange creature.

  She had never been a cat lover. In fact she thought most animal owners were somewhat unbalanced in their adoration of small furry pets. She had always been of the mind that the money spent on pets would be better spent on orphaned children or the homeless. But now she had to adjust to the idea of living with this unusual animal for a time.

  She sat down with her coffee cup and stared into the cage. It was at her eye level and immediately the gold eyes of a feral creature stared back. This was no timid kitty. Its ears were rather small but its eyes were huge. Its body was long and muscled and its tale was almost the length of its body with thick fur that was bristling up like a brush, at her gaze.

  Other than the eyes, she thought the only remarkable feature was the colour of its fur; a brindled combination of brown, black and gold, almost in stripes but broken up for camouflage purposes, she presumed.

&
nbsp; So this was Sylvia, the female version of the male wildcat Sylvester who had lived in this kitchen with Anna and Fiona for some weeks.

  Personally, Ashley could not see the attraction. Sylvia was rather ugly, in fact. The possibility that the feeling was mutual did not occur to her.

  She could hear the rise and fall of voices from the larder. Callum Moir emerged with a disgruntled look on his face. He was not pleased to have missed seeing Anna and he was reluctant to take the cage away again.

  “Would you be capable of watching over Sylvia until your aunt arrives home?”

  “Just a minute! I know nothing about this animal and I don’t want to be held responsible for its safety.”

  “Ach, there’s no danger to you, lassie. She’ll be fine in the cage for now. I’ll put a dish of water and some food inside for her. I saw supplies in the larder there. She can wait under the counter and she’ll likely sleep until later when Anna can settle her in her new home.”

  Ashley had to be content with this arrangement. She was determined to take no part in the cat’s care. As soon as she could get the vet out of the house she was going back to work.

  Anna Drake felt like a child given an unexpected day off school. Just spending time with her friends would have been reward enough, but to be off on an unexpected adventure in Scotland was beyond anything she could have hoped for. Her spirits rose with every mile and the atmosphere in the car was light-hearted and a trifle raucous.

  “You did not say that!” accused Bev, when Jeanette regaled them with her account of a recent customer’s refusal to pay his bill.

  “I damn well did!” she declared. “He gave me a ton of grief over his stupid wallpaper and there was no way he was going to guilt me into paying for his mistakes.”