The Cottage

by Michael Phillips

  By ten o’clock, all three of the day’s arrivals were in their beds in the Cottage and Auld Hoose and, in the case of the two Americans, slept soundly in spite of their late naps. The rain striking the roof was as mesmerizing to Loni as would have been the sea in the distance had she been able to hear it.

  The next morning Loni treated Maddy to her favorite breakfast of oatcakes, jam, and tea—to which Maddy’s “No comment” brought Loni’s “It will grow on you!” in reply.

  After acclimatizing Maddy to her surroundings and taking the opportunity provided by a three-hour respite from the rain for a walk through the village, and giving Maddy a tour of the mill, Loni spent a good part of the afternoon putting Ernest’s study back in order. A more comprehensive search of Ernest’s file cabinet revealed more than had her cursory inspection three weeks earlier, including an unexpected discovery that would once and for all put to rest the nonsense about Hardy’s claim to the inheritance. She was excitedly on her way to the Auld Hoose immediately to show the document to David.

  ———

  Rain engulfed the entire Shetlands almost without stop for the rest of the week. Even David, whose walks over the island were legendary, kept close to one or the other of the two family homes. Loni was disappointed to have to postpone her reacquaintance with the moors and beaches of the island.

  Loni telephoned Jason MacNaughton to confirm personally that she was again in the Shetlands with a friend whom she wanted to look over the estate’s legal and financial affairs. He was eager to learn the upshot of the McLeod affair. They arranged to get together for a preliminary meeting on Friday.

  After returning from Lerwick the next day, Loni and Maddy joined David and braved the rain to enjoy evening “tea” at the Croft with Sandy and Odara Innes and widowed Eldora Gordon.

  “You three probably don’t know,” said Maddy, turning to her hosts during the meal, “what a popular woman our Miss Ford is back in our nation’s capital.”

  Loni looked across the table with an expression of perplexity. Maddy cast her a knowing glance, then returned her attention to the nods and questions from the two older women.

  “Oh yes,” Maddy went on matter-of-factly, “quite the hot ticket in town. In fact, a man who may be a congressman by the end of the year recently proposed to her. Bought her a huge diamond ring—the whole nine yards.”

  Wide-eyed looks and more questions went around the table. Loni shrunk back in mortification.

  “Tell us aboot it, lassie!” said Sandy.

  Again it was Maddy to the rescue. “She could have been an important lady . . . who knows, maybe even wife of the president someday.”

  Exclamations of wonder filled the small room as Loni tried unsuccessfully to shush her friend.

  “But she turned him down,” continued Maddy. “Gave him back his ring. That’s our Alonnah—a mind of her own. Wasn’t interested in the glamorous life. A simple girl, that’s her.”

  When the meal was over, as they were adjourning to the sitting room and the two older women disappeared into the kitchen to prepare tea, Loni pulled Maddy to one side.

  “What were you doing?” she whispered. “I nearly died of embarrassment!”

  “I’ve been waiting for you to tell him,” replied Maddy. “David had to know. For all he knew, you might still be thinking of marrying Hugh. So I decided to take the heat for you and get it out there. Believe me, you will thank me later.”

  “If you say so. But . . . wow, I wasn’t ready for that!”

  By the end of the evening, besides having embarrassed Loni, Maddy was beginning to perfect her Scottish brogue and had the other five in stitches as well with her Elvis, Bostonian, Texan, and Minnesotan accents.

  76

  Saturday at the Auld Hoose

  David Tulloch awoke on Saturday morning as he had on thousands of previous mornings. He descended the stairs and proceeded through his long-established morning routine—filling and turning on the water boiler, then stoking the fire in the great room and adding fresh peats.

  He rose from his knees in front of the hearth, glanced about the empty room, and shivered. The storm had indeed dumped several barrages of hail on the island, and not with a surface temperature of seventy degrees. This wintry blast had come straight from the Arctic. He doubted it was above forty-five. It went against his grain to use central heat during the summer months. On a day like this, however, the place would never warm up. Reluctantly, he walked across the room, turned on the thermostat, and upped it to sixty-five.

  He returned to the kitchen and set out a pot for tea as the water came to a boil. The pounding on the roof most of the night told him that this might not be the best of days for an early walk. He opened the kitchen door to have a firsthand look. A gust of wind blew splatters of rain against his face and sent the papers on the table behind him flying. Rain was driving down in slanted sheets so thick he could hardly see the barn. With some effort he closed the door against the gale.

  He poured water out for tea and waited for it to brew.

  After several weeks with Isobel, Saxe, and Dougal under his roof, he had to admit that today’s morning quiet was nice. Dougal was an early riser and constantly coming and going, and Isobel was such a fussbudget that she refused to let the chief brew his own tea.

  She was a dear soul, David thought with a smile, with a heart of gold and hands of service . . . just a little too helpful for one such as him who was accustomed to fending for himself. He was a man for whom solitude had always been as necessary to his spirit as oxygen to his lungs.

  He poured out a large mug of tea and wandered back into the great room, where his Bible and favorite devotional book sat waiting beside his reading chair.

  He sat down in front of the fire and let out a sigh of satisfaction. This was his favorite time of day, whether he was out on the island with his sheep or inside in this room surrounded by memories of family and clan contemplating the timeless truths of Scripture.

  An hour later David sat staring into the glowing embers of peat, lost in reflection. His Bible lay on his lap still unopened. He had long since emptied his cup but not refilled it. The silence seemed to be speaking. But he was not able to discern what it was saying.

  At length he rose, brewed a fresh pot of tea, and made a concerted effort to read. Still he could not concentrate. Finally he gave up, bundled himself in rain gear, boots and hat, and left the house for the barn. He found the sheep and cows huddled under the protective overhangs of their respective stables—the latter awaiting Dougal’s appearance for the morning’s milking, which must go on rain or shine. Not that they worried about a little rain. But this was a downpour and, all things being equal, they were not opposed to the idea of trying to stay dry. He greeted his woolly ovine laddies and lassies and their bovine cousins, and tossed a supply of oats and hay into their respective bins. On this day, however, his friends of the animal kingdom held little interest for him.

  Sight of the empty garage reminded him, if the rain did not let up, that he was stuck where he was for the day. The American ladies had borrowed his car for another trip to the big island. Unless there was a change, he did not envision getting soaked to the skin on a cold and windy day like this by a walk into town.

  He returned to the house, removed boots and mackintosh, and climbed the stairs to his office, where he sat down and tried to work. This last month had been so hectic it had put him behind on his book and two articles he had contracted for. He had a tour scheduled to begin in a week. He had not even begun preparations.

  Two hours later David still sat staring at open texts and notes on his desk, but had not yet written a word. The sensations filling him on this day were new, unfamiliar, disconcerting. He was out of sorts. He had his solitude . . . yet something unknown was determined to intrude into his place of inner quiet.

  ———

  Meanwhile, Loni awoke Saturday morning and discovered Maddy nowhere to be found. Even Isobel, busy in the kitchen, had seen nothing of her. Assumi
ng she had gone out—though for a walk on the moor or along the wild shoreline or to the village, she had no idea—Loni could do nothing but wait until she reappeared. Returning with her basket from her morning visit to her hens some time later, Isobel was at last able to shed light on the mystery.

  “Your friend is in the barn with Mr. Erskine,” she said, poking her head into the Great Room, where Loni sat with her tea.

  Curious, Loni rose, bundled up, and left the Cottage through the kitchen door. She found Maddy decked out in rubber boots, gloves, an old work jacket of Dougal’s that came down to her knees, and with pitchfork in hand. She and the gamekeeper were engaged in animated conversation while cleaning out several horse stalls.

  “Maddy!” exclaimed Loni. “This is a surprise!”

  “I haven’t had so much fun since I was a girl on my grandfather’s farm,” said Maddy. “How this takes me back!”

  “The lassie’s got the blood o’ her Scots kin in her veins,” said Dougal, “an’ is a hard worker as weel.”

  “Good for you, Maddy!” laughed Loni. “Dougal hasn’t yet privileged me with one of his pitchforks. Nor does he frivolously hand out praise. He must like you!”

  “Aye, but ye’re the laird, ye see,” said Dougal. “Wouldna be fitting for the likes o’ yersel’ tae muck oot a stall.”

  Still laughing, Loni left the two, who quickly resumed their conversation, and returned to the house. After Maddy was cleaned up an hour and a half later, they took the ferry in David’s car across to Shetland. Not surprising given the weather, they were joined by no villagers bound for Lerwick on such a day.

  “Did your mother ever read to you the story about the three lost boys?” asked Maddy as they set off across the sound in the rain.

  “My grandmother did,” replied Loni.

  “Oh . . . of course, I’m sorry, Loni—I forgot.”

  “It’s okay, Maddy,” said Loni. “What about it?”

  “Rough stormy water like this always reminds me of it in a nostalgic sort of way,” said Maddy almost dreamily. “No land behind us, nothing but open sea in front of us—we could be far out to sea just like the three boys who went out on a raft in the storm and were rescued by the ferry captain.”

  “Let’s hope no one will have to rescue us!”

  A good portion of the previous afternoon they had spent in Jason MacNaughton’s office, familiarizing Maddy with the legal aspects of the estate and its holdings. They were scheduled to meet him again on Monday, along with Mrs. Bemiss, for an in-depth analysis of balance sheet, income, and expense accounts of the estate’s properties and businesses, all the bank accounts, and a review of U.K. tax laws and their bearing on Loni’s inheritance. Their plan on Saturday was to visit most of the sites in northern Shetland in which the estate held interest. Armed with a clearly marked map and accompanying notations in the solicitor’s hand, they set out in the miserable weather, creeping along some of the narrow roads at thirty miles per hour, to locate several parcels of undeveloped land, one small refinery on land owned by the estate and rented to BP, and the sites of several oil fields where the estate maintained income-producing leases.

  “I still can’t believe it,” Maddy said as they returned to the ferry late that afternoon. “You own all those places. Girl, you are a land baron!”

  “It’s all so detached from my real life,” said Loni. “I suppose on an intellectual level I am aware that what you say is true. But it is in a dream world someplace. I’m just . . . me, and anxious to get back to work on the seventh floor of Capital Towers.”

  “Forget it, girl. If you think your life will ever be the same, no way. There’s no going back. And you’re forgetting the elephant in the room that will change your future more than being a tycoon.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know good and well what I’m talking about. Has he said anything?”

  “I can’t think about that . . . no, he hasn’t.”

  “Give him time.”

  “Maddy!”

  “Just sayin’,” said Maddy with a knowing smile.

  ———

  The remainder of David’s day progressed much as it had begun—walks back and forth through the house broken by reflective silences in front of one window or another staring out into the rain, with three or four more inconclusive sojourns to the barn and back, and an attempted walk out onto the moor in the rain, which ended after less than ten minutes when he turned back and returned to the house.

  As much as he had been looking forward to having the Auld Hoose to himself again, something felt wrong. Something was missing. The solitude that had always been such a refuge to his soul was disconcerting now.

  And so the long, dreary, empty, monotonous, unproductive, lonely day wore on as if each minute were an hour.

  By the time he banked the fire and covered the coals, turned out the lights, and climbed the stairs for the night, he was beginning to understand the message of the silence—that the season of solitude in his life was drawing to a close. It was time to share that innermost region of his self with another.

  The realization, however, brought in its wake an inrush of quandaries, complications, and impracticalities.

  Sleep did not renew its acquaintance with David until well after one in the morning.

  77

  Keeper of the Key

  For several days David had let it be known that he and Loni would be in church on Sunday. When the day came, the rain eased somewhat. By 10:30 the church was packed.

  Loni had asked Rev. Yates if she and David could say a few words. At the conclusion of the service, he was only too happy to turn the pulpit over to them. After a brief greeting from David to the villagers and his introduction of Loni, she rose and came forward.

  “It is nice to see you all this morning,” she said, smiling affectionately. “I realize you do not yet know me well, and I am still learning your names. I hope you will bear with me. I am also aware that the locked room at the Cottage has been a great mystery to you for many years. For those of you who have not yet heard, that room is now unlocked and open. Indeed, there was nothing dreadful inside, but rather evidence everywhere of the man of learning and study and wisdom that I am confident describes him whom you refer to as the Auld Tulloch.

  “I hope to dispel what has been such a mystery among you for so long. To that end, I would like you to see it for yourselves. Therefore, you are all invited to the Cottage this afternoon at two o’clock, or anytime thereafter, for what we call in the States an open house. You will be able to walk through the Cottage and see the study of Ernest Tulloch for yourselves.”

  Murmurs of approval spread through the congregation.

  “We will have tea and coffee on hand and as many oatcakes and sweets as Mrs. MacNeill has been able to bake in the last two days since I told her of my plan. I want to thank you personally, Mrs. MacNeill,” said Loni, looking toward the village baker, “for keeping my invitation a secret. Isobel Matheson and I have been busy baking as well.

  “As I said, I still do not know many of you. So please come so that I can meet you. At three o’clock I will share a little more about my plans, which I know you have all been anxious about. I will also make an important announcement concerning someone in your community. However, you will have to contain your curiosity until that time.”

  Loni glanced toward the minister and smiled. “Thank you, Rev. Yates,” she said, then stepped down from behind the pulpit.

  That afternoon most of the villagers turned out to walk through the Cottage and see the study and introduce themselves to Loni, everyone expressing their gratitude for what she had done to rescue the woolen mill and factory. Stirling Yates was on hand with the rest. During the two weeks since his announcement he had been enjoying himself immensely, meeting with and visiting the villagers on a more equal and less clerical footing than before. His friendly presence on this day at the Cottage in jeans and work shirt further deepened the increased regard in which he was hel
d by those getting to know him in a true way for the first time.

  Shortly after three, Loni took her place on the balcony above the entry foyer with David beside her. The villagers gathered below and on the stairs crowding in as best they could.

  “I want to thank you all for being here today,” Loni began as they quieted, “and for the welcome you have shown me in recent weeks. I know we had a bit of a rocky start, but I think we have weathered that at last. I almost feel that today represents a new beginning of a friendship between me and you that I hope is a good and happy one for us all.”

  She paused as she gazed down from the landing.

  “Before I begin with what I want to say this afternoon, I want to formally introduce my friend Madison Swift,” Loni continued, looking to where Maddy stood at the foot of the stairs. “If you haven’t yet greeted her, I hope you will make her feel welcome as well. Maddy is not only my friend, she is also my boss and a renowned investment analyst. I asked her to return with me to help me make wise financial decisions that will be good for all of you, and that will secure the prosperity of Whales Reef for many years to come. Not only that, Maddy also has Scottish blood in her veins, from the MacGregor clan no less. So she is one of us!”

  Whoops and cheers went up. Those nearby turned and spoke a few unintelligible words to Maddy.

  “Listen to me,” laughed Loni. “I am talking like I’m one of you!”

  “Ye’re aye one o’ us noo, lassie!” cried Noak Muir from the back of the crowd. “An’ we’re a’ prood o’ ye for what ye done wi’ the Texan bloke!”

  More cheers and shouts joined Noak’s.

  “Thank you, Mr. Muir—” laughed Loni.

  “Nae, nae, lassie,” interrupted Noak again. “If ye’re oor laird, there canna be this carryin’ on wi’ misters an’ the like.”

  “All right, then, Noak,” said Loni, smiling. “I shall take your admonishment to heart. The man you call the Texan was a handful all right. Coincidentally as I’m sure some of you realized from what I said, it turns out that I knew him as a child, though I knew he didn’t remember me.”