by Tanya Allan
He wasn’t much of a cook, but he did a mean apple pie! He could not make pastry, but I could, so together we managed the task. It was fun, and we found something else we loved doing together. I wanted him to make love to me on the kitchen table, but couldn’t because of you know what!
Our mental communication was almost incessant. Mostly it was of emotions, love and contentment, affection and desire. Sometimes we ‘spoke’, but usually it was just a reinforcement of how we felt. I never imagined I could ever feel so much for another person, and I know he felt the same.
I heard the sound of tyres on gravel, and knew that my parents had returned. I checked the pies, and looked at Ed.
‘You’ll be fine, honey.’ he thought to me.
‘Why am I so shaky?’
‘Because you are fulfilling your mother’s dream for you, and it is an awesome thing to be doing.’
‘Why do I love you so much?’
‘Because you are a lovely fool.’
‘That makes two fools then.’
‘Sure does.’
We kissed, and I felt this huge feeling of reassurance and love from him.
I heard footsteps in the hall.
“Hello? We’re back,” said my mother.
I walked out and stood in the hall, with my hands clasped in front of me. Ed stood behind me, with one hand on my shoulder. Mother put her bag on the chest, turned and stared at me. Dad just stopped dead, doing a passable goldfish impression.
“Hello Mummy, Dad,” I said.
“Gillian? Dear God in heaven! My darling, how wonderful. You look, what can I say? You look absolutely lovely,” she said.
I went up to her and hugged her, but she started to weep. I had never seen my mother cry, not like this at any rate. We just held on to each other, and I found myself crying too. But these were tears of pure joy.
Dad stared at us, and then at Ed, who was standing patiently in the shadows, as he did so well.
“You must be Edward. I am Richard MacLeish,” Dad said, and they shook hands.
“Please call me Ed, sir. The last person to call me Edward was a teacher in third grade, and I sure hated that woman,” Ed said, and Dad laughed.
“Then Ed, please don’t call me sir, I’m Richard, or Dick to my friends.
“Thank you, Dick; I hope as a son-in-law, I can also be a friend.”
“How?” Dad said, staring at me, which made me laugh and cry at the same time. Mother stopped crying to listen to Ed.
“I ain’t no expert, but I think what we have here is a home grown miracle. It is a long story, and I am sure that Gillian is the best person to tell it,” Ed said.
Mother looked into my eyes, clearing away some of my makeup, which had obviously run, with the corner of her hanky. Then she looked at my dress.
“Oh Gilly! You have no idea how hard and how long I have prayed for today,” she said, and that started us both off again. It was a strange mixture of laughter and tears.
A beeping noise came from the kitchen, and I remembered the pie. Ed put his hand out.
“Leave it, honey. I’ll get it,” he said, and casually disappeared to take control.
Mother looked worried, and I laughed.
“It really is safe. He is very domesticated and 100% reliable,” I said.
“I haven’t even said hello to the poor man. He must think me terribly rude,” she said.
“No, he understands, better than you can ever know,” I said.
Ed returned. “It all looks good enough to eat,” he said.
Mother turned to him, and after a moment’s hesitation, flung her arms around his neck.
“Ed. Thank you! From the bottom of my heart, thank you,” she said, and I just smiled at Ed’s baffled expression.
“Hey, Ma’am, she has done as much for me as I have ever done for her.”
Mother smiled, and kissed his cheek. “Och, my name’s Jeanette, so none of this poncey ma’am stuff. Welcome to Scotland; welcome to our home! I never thought I would see this happen, and I am just overwhelmed, so I am so sorry,” she said, and Ed simply smiled.
“You don’t have to apologise ma... Jeanette; believe me, I understand,” he said, and Mum just smiled her gratitude,
“You both must be so tired. It’s such a long flight, and you lose some hours coming this way,” she said.
“We’re fine, Mummy, we’ve rested and had a shower. Will met us and brought Ed, while I picked up my bike.”
“Oh, Gilly! You haven’t still got that beastly thing?” Mum said.
“Yes, but I think I will have to sell it,” I said.
“Thank God for that,” she replied.
“But I’ll get another one when we get to America,” I said, just to be naughty.
‘Gigi, that was bad.’
‘I know, but she has to know I am my own woman.’
‘You ain’t, you’re mine.’
‘Poo to you, buster.’
I had to burst out laughing at Ed, but mother thought I was laughing at her, so she looked a little hurt.
We went into the kitchen and carried the food through to the dining room. Alex appeared with his wife Helen, with their sons David (seventeen) and Bruce (fifteen). The eight of us sat down to one of mother’s enormous pies. Dad offered Ed a beer. Ed looked at me, so I shook my head slightly, so he frowned.
‘What?’
‘You may not like Dad’s beer, it’s bitter.’
‘I’ve had English bitter before.’
‘Did you like it?’
‘It’s okay. Beer is beer.’
‘Fine, I don’t. But I like the stuff we had in the states.’
Smiling, Ed accepted a beer, so Dad went and brought back a tankard full of a dark pint of bitter.
“Anything for you, Gillian?” he asked.
“Just water, Dad, thanks.” I said.
‘Goody-goody,’ Ed thought at me.
I had to laugh, so everyone stared at me.
‘Sh!’
‘I want to screw you, very slowly and very hard.’
‘You are a beastly man. Go away!’
Ed laughed, receiving some stares as well. Mother dished up, and the serious business of eating got under way. It was a pleasant meal, but somewhat strained. Helen tried to get her sons to stop staring at me.
“But I don’t remember Aunt Gillian looking like that before,” Bruce said.
‘That’s what you get for being fucked by a Marine.’
‘Go away; I hate you!’
‘No you don’t, you just want my body.’
‘Yes, but you can leave your brain behind.’
‘I love you, Gigi.’
‘Me too, hunk.’
I had to go through the whole story again, so the boys started to look at Ed with awe in their eyes. So I embellished his part slightly.
‘Gilly, stop making things up. I am embarrassed enough, without you making me out to be Superman.’
‘You are my Superman.’
‘That makes you my lump of Kryptonite.’
I laughed again, for no apparent reason, and Dad was looking worried, which made me get the giggles more.
Ed produced his lump of knee parts, which caused much oohs and ahs from around the table. I took the opportunity to clear the table, and brought out our apple pie. Mother looked at me very strangely, so when I told her we had made it together, she went a little pale.
Finally, with hunger sated, we cleared the table. Dad took Ed to look round the farm, leaving me alone with Mum, so I brought out a few things I had brought as presents. There was a little bowl made by the Islanders, with a small clay figure. I particularly loved the length of matting that had been woven from palm fronds and coloured with local earth pigmentation. It was a screen, so could also be used as a mat or a fan. It depicted Ed rescuing Bose from the tree, and Gorran from the swirling waters. And lastly, there was a picture of us dancing. Kali had painted the pictures and they were very good. The only problem, it showed six girls dancing in the
scene, and all were naked. There was one white girl, while five were dark brown. It was obvious that the white one was me.
“So, where were your clothes?” Mum asked, predictably.
“We didn’t wear them. One, it was too hot, and two, I didn’t want to.”
“What really happened?”
“How do you mean?”
“Gillian, I knew you so well. I can see you have changed so much. So what really happened to you out there?” she asked, holding one of my hands.
“I have been set free, Ma. The things that made me what I was have gone”
“Yes, I can see that, but how?”
“I don’t know, Ma. You see, Ed and I drifted together before we ever got to the island. He and I were both trapped by different things. Whatever happened on the island freed us both, uniting us in that freedom. I don’t understand how, but I am now the person I should always have been.”
“You look so well, and you really are so beautiful.”
“I feel wonderful. None of it makes any sense, but I am really happy for the first time in my life because I feel complete,” I said. She reached out and stroked my face with her hand.
“My sadness is that it has taken you so long,” she said.
“Don’t be sad, I’m not. We will still try to produce several other grandchildren for you,” I said with a smile, watching as the tears started rolling down her cheeks. I held her and waited for her to stop crying.
“I don’t think I have ever seen you in a dress,” she said. “It is a very pretty one, where did you get it?”
“In Florida as soon as I got back from the island. I’ve even had my ears pierced.”
“I had noticed.”
“Look, this is the ring Ed gave me for our engagement,” I said, showing her my ring.
“By the sounds of things, this marriage is merely a formality,” she said, slightly disapprovingly.
“I want everything done properly. As far as the islanders are concerned we are man and wife. But that means nothing here or in the States. So we will do things properly, besides, you have always wanted me to be married in the local church.”
“What I want in irrelevant. Besides, what I have always wanted was for you to be happy.”
“No it isn’t, Ma. It is very important, and the main reason why we are here. And I have never been unhappy, not really. I wasn’t as fulfilled or content with myself, but I was never unhappy. You and Dad gave me so much love, and growing up here was great. I was just never the girl you wanted, and never the person I felt I should have been. I am now.”
She started to cry again, so I had to hold her.
“What are you doing about a dress?” she asked.
“I thought we could go and find one,” I said, and she cheered up enormously.
“We haven’t much time; the wedding is only a week and a half away.”
“I’m sorry, but Ed couldn’t get any more leave.”
“It should be fine. Helen and Susan will help with the food, and the ladies from the church have agreed to do the flowers. How many Americans are coming over?”
“I have no idea, I don’t even know if Ed has even asked any,” I said honestly.
“It would help if we knew dear. I have invited about sixty people, so we really do need to know.”
“I’ll find out, I am sorry, I am not very switched on at weddings,” I admitted.
“We will cope, I’m sure. I am just so glad that you are finally getting married.”
“So am I.”
‘Ed, how many are coming over from the States?’
‘Huh?’
‘Duh, come on Ed, get with me. How many of your friends and relatives have you asked?’
‘Just Rick and Macey. My sister and brother-in-law can’t make it.’
‘Thanks.’
“Two, mum.”
My mother jumped and stared at me. “What?”
“Ed has asked two. I remember now. He had asked his sister and her husband, but he’s a cop in Ohio or somewhere like that and can’t get time off.”
We went over the arrangements, and when I told her that a Lieutenant Colonel was going to be the best man she was delighted.
“Are you sure that Ed won’t accept a commission, dear?” she asked, making me laugh.
We went for a walk with the dogs, meeting up with Dad and Ed on the lower part of the grouse moor, by the loch. Dad was pointing out various landmarks and telling him a wee bit of the local history. Several pairs of grouse called, with one pair flying over our heads.
“Those are grouse,” I told Ed.
“Ah. Thanks, now I know,” he said with a smile.
“They come into season for shooting on the twelfth,” Dad said.
“So I understand. Poor little critters,” said Ed.
“Have you never shot the grouse?”
“Not to my knowledge, but I have shot some very strange things in my time.”
“Ah, then we will ha’e to alter that,” Dad said, with a chuckle.
We all walked back to the house together, past Alex and Helen’s house, which was slightly smaller than the main one.
“How many homes are on the property?” Ed asked.
“There’s the big house, Alex’s house, the three cottages and the bothy,” Dad told him.
“Bothy?”
“Aye, the bothy is a wee house, wi’ bunks, basic cooking and washing facilities. The beaters use it in the season to live in.”
“Those would be the grouse beaters?”
“Aye, folk come and live in the bothy for several weeks at a time, to spend all day beating. They spend holidays doin’ that.”
“That’s a holiday? Spending all day walking through heather, on a mountainside, being shot at by drunken Scotsmen?” Ed said, with a smile.
“Well, not all the guns are Scots, sometimes they are foreign, or worse, English,” Dad said, with a wicked smile.
Ed laughed. “Do you guys really hate the English as much as they say?”
“They’re fine in England, and no’ so bad spending their money up here, but on the rugby pitch, that’s a separate story,” Dad said.
“I think the Canadians are like that with us,” Ed remarked.
We took a slow walk back to the house. I had missed the view of the hills, as it really was very beautiful. The heather was in full bloom, so in the August sun the hills did look lovely.
“You have a fine home, in perfect surroundings,” Ed said.
“We like it. Have you thought about where you two are going to settle down?” Mum said.
“I have a few more years in the Marines before I retire. I have a training post to fill, so that’s a five-year tour. After that we shall have to see.”
“Will you not consider Scotland?”
“As long as we are together, I am willing to consider anywhere,” Ed replied, as I hugged him.
“I had offered to leave the Marines and move here for Gillian’s work, but she was ahead of me.”
“I have had enough of Edinburgh, and besides, if I am going to start having babies, then his work is more vital than mine,” I said. Mother looked at me, her eyes glistening damply.
“To be honest, I have no special desire to stay in the States, but we’ll just let our lives determine where we end up,” Ed said.
“Can you not get a posting to Scotland?” Dad asked.
“I have no idea. I know the Navy have bases over here, and there are some U.S. Marines here, but it is not something I know much about. I’ve never had reason to before.”
“Well, I am sure you will get yourselves sorted out eventually. I would like to go to America, as it’s one place I’ve never been,” Ma said, and we all smiled. I knew that apart from a couple of trips to the Costa Brava in Spain, mum had hardly left Scotland.
It was approaching three o’ clock, and Dad muttered something about sorting out the VAT. Mum disappeared towards the kitchen and I was left with Ed in the hall.
“I like your family,”
he said, as he put one of his huge arms around my shoulders.
“That’s a bloody good job.”
He laughed. “I had no idea that Scotland was so beautiful.”
“Aye, this is the cultivated bit; you wait to see the unspoiled parts.”
“This is unspoiled.”
“No, not like the real highlands. We’ll go up to Inverness, then travel the Great Glen down to Fort William on the West Coast, and then travel up and over the top. Then you will see unspoiled; except for the occasional bloody tourist.”
“You mean like us?”
I laughed. “Aye, just like us.”
“You know, now you are home, your accent has become more pronounced.”
“Has it?”
“Yeah, you have become a real Scottish Lassie.”
“You will find that your accent will really stand out.”
“Hell lady, I’m American, I don’t have an accent.”
I punched him in the ribs and he laughed, resorting to tickling me.
Chapter Eight
ED
I fell in love with Gilly’s part of Scotland, as it was the most tranquil and beautiful place I had ever been. I’d been in spectacular places, serene places and marvellous places, but never had I been anywhere like this. The gentle rolling hills, the call of the wild birds, with the deer roaming the moors and forests, combined to give me a real feeling of peace.
The mountains weren’t high, the rivers weren’t wide, but there was an air of ancient tranquillity, despite man’s best efforts to spoil it through wars and strife down the centuries.
The days passed in a blur, but I was made to feel so welcome, it choked me up. It wasn’t as if I was joining a family, it was if I had always been part of it. Gilly’s mom kept hugging me for no real reason, while her dad got into calling me ‘son’.
On that first tour of the farm, he had been very curious as to my career.
“I understand you’re a Marine?”
“That’s right.”
“I was a Marine,” he told me.
“Is that a fact?”
“Aye, I was in the Royal Marines for five years.”
“I have the utmost respect for the Royal Marines. I have worked with them on joint exercises in the past. Is it book-necks, they call them?”
