“Yes?” asked Loni slowly.
“I don’t suppose I can call you a knight on a white horse riding in to save the mill and rescue the island from everyone’s worst fears, but perhaps I shall call you a princess on a white horse.”
Loni began to laugh again but caught herself. A strange look came over her face.
“I’ve never been called that before.”
“A princess?”
Loni nodded.
“I meant it,” said David. “That’s how people think of you. What Maddy said earlier is true—everyone on the island loves you.”
“After the way it began, that’s hard to believe.”
“You have won them over. They are very proud to have an American Tulloch as their laird.”
They left the monument and continued down the north slope of the Muckle Hill. The turn of the conversation settled deep into their hearts. Both were quiet.
1. Gaelic translation by John Angus Morrison.
81
The Chief’s Cave
Twenty minutes later David and Loni were standing at the northeast corner of the island, gazing out over the treacherous North Cliffs to the blue of the sea that stretched toward Norway.
“What a terrifying height to be looking straight down,” said Loni, taking a few steps back.
David nodded. “It’s a dangerous place. The Shetlands are full of cliffs like this.”
“Has anyone ever fallen?” asked Loni. “Any of the villagers, I mean—not, you know, visiting Texans,” she added with a shudder.
“There are always stories. No one in my lifetime. But this is where I came close myself after learning of my father’s death. He is still out there . . . somewhere,” said David pensively. “It is a fear all fishing families live with.”
Loni gently laid a hand on David’s arm.
“David, I am sorry. I was only one when my parents were killed. I have no memory of it. But as a teen, I can’t imagine the pain you must have gone through.”
“It was a hard time.”
“Especially for someone like you, who is . . .” Loni’s words trailed off. Unconsciously she withdrew her hand from his arm.
“You were about to say?”
“What I meant was that . . . well, you aren’t like most men—tough and macho like Hardy. You’re sensitive and gentle—you feel things deeply. Losing a father would be harder for you.”
“You may be right,” said David. “But enough of my reflections on the past. It’s time to think of the future. Come, we’re almost to the place I wanted to show you.”
He led them a short way along the edge of the bluff. “It’s been raining so much that it may be slippery,” he said. He took her hand, then started down a steep path that led over the side.
“Is it safe?” said Loni.
“Probably not,” laughed David. “But I could walk this path with my eyes closed. And I’ve already been out here today just to make sure. Stay close and hold on tight.”
“You won’t have to tell me twice.” Loni’s grip on his hand was already strong enough to alleviate any fears David might have had.
Gingerly he led down the steep trail that was beginning to dry out from the north wind following the storm. Halfway down, Loni’s feet slipped and she slid into David’s side. He stretched an arm around her to steady her. Keeping her close, they made it the rest of the way to the bottom without incident.
David released Loni and stepped back. Again he took her hand and led her under an outcropping of stone into the dark interior ahead.
“Oh, this is great!” exclaimed Loni. “Who would ever know it’s here over the side of the cliff?”
“Everyone on the island knows it’s here,” laughed David, “though its use is supposed to be restricted.”
“To whom?”
“Me.”
“Just you?”
“It’s called the Chief’s Cave.”
David released Loni’s hand, and she peered about in the flickering light of the darkened little chamber.
“And with a small peat fire burning, it looks as though you thought of everything.”
“I told you, I came out here earlier. And for your dining pleasure, m’lady, I have oatcakes and tea. You may take a seat on the tartan blanket. The water in the pot should be just right for tea.”
“How fun—David, this is wonderful . . . it’s so dry and cozy. Thank you for bringing me here.”
Soon they were seated side by side, cups of tea in hand, staring out the mouth of the cave over the blue expanse of the sea. Cries of gulls and many varieties of seabirds filled the air. Otherwise they might have been completely alone in the world.
“It is so beautiful and peaceful,” sighed Loni.
“I suppose this is like your meadow,” said David. “It is my favorite place in the world. Did you see Superman?”
“Didn’t everybody?”
“Probably not most of the people of Whales Reef,” chuckled David. “I saw it in England when I was at university. This is my Fortress of Solitude. This is where I discovered God, and eventually came to terms with who I am and who I want to be. It has been my refuge ever since. This is where I feel most fully myself.”
“I know exactly what you mean. That is how I feel in my meadow.”
“I’m glad I was able to share that with you,” he said. “I have wanted to share my special place with you ever since.”
The silence that descended inside the cave was lengthy but not uncomfortable. The peats burned low and faded into dying orange embers. Both were enjoying the Eternal Now of the moment. It was a Now almost too full. Both were feeling many things.
It was David who broke the silence. His voice was soft, almost as if continuing a conversation already in progress. “Will you be going back with Maddy?”
“I, uh . . . I hadn’t decided for certain,” replied Loni hesitantly.
“Is there any way I could persuade you to stay?”
Loni did not answer.
“I don’t want you to go,” said David after another long minute.
Loni’s throat was dry.
“I didn’t just bring you out here for the view,” David went on. “It was because . . . how do I say this? . . . because I wanted to invite you into my place of solitude . . . not merely the cave, this is just a symbol of something deeper inside me . . . inside my heart.”
David let out a sigh. “This isn’t as easy as I hoped it would be,” he said. “I had it all planned and it made perfect sense. Now I’m fumbling over my words like a schoolboy.”
Loni’s heart was pounding.
“What I am trying to say,” David went on, “is that I think I finally understand why Brogan left the island. What I mean is that I want to share my solitude with you, my life, everything. I want to share everything with you—every minute, every idea, everything I am thinking. Yes, you are a princess . . . my princess riding onto Whales Reef on her white horse to rescue me from my Fortress of Solitude.”
Loni laughed lightly. The warmth creeping up the back of her neck began to engulf her whole body.
“Do you understand what I am trying to say?” asked David.
“I’m not completely sure, David,” said Loni softly, a hint of fun in her tone. “Why don’t you try to explain it to me just a little more clearly?”
David drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You don’t make it easy on a guy, do you?”
“That’s not a girl’s job!”
“All right, let me put it as simply as I can,” began David again. “When we were in the States, I said the people needed you and that you needed to make your decisions here. What I really wanted to say is that I wanted you to come back more than the rest of them. I knew something was happening between us. But with all you had to cope with, I didn’t want to put added pressure on you. Yet I suppose there is no way to keep such feelings hidden forever.”
“I don’t think so,” rejoined Loni, smiling. “And knowing you, you probably already knew I was f
eeling the same way.”
David smiled.
“I had a pretty good idea. At least I hoped so. But I could see you were unnerved by it. I didn’t want to rush.”
“Ever the gentleman.”
“I don’t know about that. But has this been clear enough for you?”
“It will do,” replied Loni, slipping her hand through David’s arm and snuggling close to his side. “And for my part I would just say I wasn’t quite ready to go back to the States. So perhaps I might stay just a few more days.”
They did not return to the Cottage for several more hours. By then they had crisscrossed the northern half of the island several times and had been talking continuously since leaving the cave.
As they approached the Cottage, realizing that after this day life would no more be the same, their conversation gradually ceased. Leaving Loni at the door, David took her in his arms. She leaned her head against his chest for several long seconds.
Their respective places of solitude were now shared with the other. No words were needed.
———
At the same time that David and Loni were seated in the Chief’s Cave, two detectives appeared on Whales Reef. They instituted intensive interrogations with all those willing to talk to them who had been present at the town square on the previous Wednesday. Everyone told exactly the same story. With so many eyewitnesses to the heated argument, there could be no doubt.
At five o’clock that afternoon, as he stepped off the Hardy Fire onto the quay at the harbor, Hardy found two men in suits, accompanied by two uniformed bobbies waiting to take him into custody.
It was all over the island within an hour that Hardy Tulloch had been taken to the jail in Lerwick, charged with the murder of Jimmy Joe McLeod.
82
Cloudy Future
Loni stood at the upstairs window of the Cottage’s fabled study, staring out over Whales Reef. It was a crisp sunny day. The sea eastward was flecked with whitecaps. She remembered how empty and forlorn this view had seemed when she first arrived on the island. Now it was full of life.
Quiet life. Peaceful life.
Maddy had been gone four days now. She would be back in the office bright and early today, this Monday morning in the second week of August, ready to start the new week.
Loni glanced at her watch. Eleven-thirty . . . hmm, that would make it six-thirty back home. Maddy was probably already at her desk, thought Loni with a smile, with a tall cup of coffee—strong and black—beside her. Maddy would refuse to let a little jet lag slow her down.
Home . . .
The word repeated itself in Loni’s mind. She was beginning to seriously wonder what that simple word meant.
A week ago she had assumed she would return with Maddy and be with her now, excitedly talking over the week’s agenda, outlining her boss’s speaking schedule, putting together prospectuses for potential clients as she had a year ago with the Midwest Investment Group—which, she was proud to say, was exceeding expectations. Not to mention that Maddy’s long-delayed New York promotion was at last imminent. Maddy continued to talk about it as a partnership promotion, fully assuming that Loni would accompany her to the Big Apple.
That world of investments and high finance seemed remote and far away now, as if from another time, as if the Loni of that world were a different person.
She was a different person. Here she was standing contentedly with a cup of tea in her hand, looking out on the barren moor of a remote island in the North Atlantic she had never heard of two months ago, staring out on land that was hers from inside a huge, roomy, historic, wonderful “cottage” that everyone called the haa, the “laird’s” home.
That laird was her. This was her cottage, her house. But was it also her home? She had not yet figured out the answer to that question.
Giving Maddy a final hug last Wednesday, with a few tears to match, watching her walk across the tarmac in gusty wind to the small waiting plane that would take her from Sumburgh on the southern tip of Shetland to Aberdeen, and from there to London and the U.S., watching her smile as she turned for a last wave . . . waiting for the plane to take off and disappear into the clouds above, then walking to David’s car . . . it was obvious to Loni that everything had changed since her arrival with Maddy and David a little over a week earlier.
She had stayed. Maddy had returned to Washington without her.
How long would she stay this time?
The drive back to Whales Reef at David’s side was quiet. Neither felt talkative. Their minds were busily reflecting on the same question.
What did the future hold?
Most of the legalities of the estate had been sorted out. The mill was flush with operating capital and again functioning at peak capacity.
The spirit on the island was full of enthusiasm and smiles. Even the fact of Hardy’s arrest only dampened the spirits of a handful of his closest family and friends. Many secretly said to themselves that he had been bound for such a fate all his life. It was no more than he deserved.
The business aspects of the estate and village had been settled. But the personal scenario that had engulfed her was a different matter.
Business these days could be conducted anywhere. Oceans and time zones were no impediment to the internet.
Personally, however, it was a different story. Relationships could not be conducted long distance. She was in love with a man who lived in the middle of the North Sea five thousand miles from her home and career. On that front, the future was cloudy.
Loni took a satisfying swallow of tea and turned from the window in Ernest’s study, the Bard’s Chamber. She sat down at the rolltop desk whose contents she had tried to arrange as closely as possible to how she remembered them when she had first entered the mysterious room a month earlier. She had even managed to retrieve from Hardy prior to his arrest the letters between Brogan and his father that Jimmy Joe had pilfered.
She glanced at her left hand. The fourth finger was empty. The sight sent Loni’s thoughts briefly toward Hugh.
For Hugh it was about appearance, influence, looks, glamour, impressing the right people. She wondered if Hugh had ever known her at all . . . or even wanted to. He would have received the ring back with her note by now. Could he possibly understand?
David’s words had been with her continually since last Tuesday: “I want to share everything with you—every minute, every idea, everything. . . .”
It certainly hadn’t been a classic American declaration of love. No fanfare. No brass band. No dropping to his knees to express some syrupy sentiment while she stood awkwardly waiting with red face and neck.
It was quiet, unpretentious, almost unemotional . . . though her heart had pounded like a bass drum as David poured out his thoughts and feelings. And when he had quietly taken her in his arms, she knew that at last she had found something she had been searching for without even knowing it.
She had found her home . . . the surrounding warmth of David’s embrace.
Since that day she had learned the old-fashioned British term that perhaps described what had taken place better than most Americans could grasp.
Within two days it was all around the village that she and David had an “understanding.”
Loni smiled. Ever since word began to circulate from cottage to cottage, across fences and gardens and beside clotheslines, from the bakery to the post office and everywhere up and down the main street, the village women had fussed over her and smiled and greeted her as if she were the personally adopted daughter of everyone. Having grown up without a mother, suddenly she had a hundred mothers.
Even Rinda Gunn, David’s aunt, could occasionally be seen with the hint of a smile on her face, though whenever she saw David, it was still a curt, “Weel, yoong David,” that greeted him.
Loni looked down again at her hand. She needed no symbol to know that she loved David, and that he loved her.
It was understood.
83
The Color of Love
Loni walked from the study downstairs, poured herself a fresh cup of tea, and returned to the Great Room.
Her eyes strayed to the mantel above the fireplace where she had set the tiny sprig of heather David handed her on the first day they met. She walked to the fireplace. Gingerly she picked it up. Though dry, the tiny blooms of heather still retained their color.
How fitting, she thought. It was just as true love should be. Though the newness fades in time, though the experience of age replaces the energy of youth, though perhaps the body weakens . . . the color of love never dies.
What an appropriate symbol to have been the first exchange passing between she and David before she even knew his name—a tiny heathery token of lasting and vibrant color.
Loni was reminded of another bouquet. She replaced the sprig of heather on the mantel and turned, set down her cup, left the room, walked across the entry and opened the front door. Several feet away still sat the storm-battered vaseful of tiny wet American flags and drooping brown chrysanthemums. How perfectly appropriate, she thought with a smile, were the two floral gifts from that day—the showy chrysanthemums full of glitz but no staying power, while the little sprig of heather was as full of color as ever.
She picked up the heavy vase with its dead blooms and tasteless ornaments, walked to the nearby garbage bin, and dumped them inside.
Half an hour later, again seated in front of the fire, the doorbell intruded into Loni’s thoughts. She and David had planned to join each other for lunch at the inn and spend the afternoon in the village. It was time, David said, to let themselves be visible, to walk the lanes and streets, to let themselves be made over and questioned by the auld wives to their hearts’ content.
Loni opened the door.
David smiled. “Do you remember the first day we met,” he asked, “right here?”
“How could I forget? It seems like ten years ago. Has it really only been a few weeks?”
“Time has a way of playing tricks on the brain.” David paused, then said, “I gave you something on that day—”
The Cottage Page 37
