Jamie MacLeod

by Michael Phillips

  She let out a loud laugh. “Oh, Robbie!” she exclaimed through her feigned laughter, “I thought you had something new to tell me. Is there a lass in all Scotland, or the wide world for that matter, that you’ve not been in love with?”

  “But it’s different this time, Sadie. At last I’m ready to change, to turn over a new leaf, to settle down.”

  “Settle down, Robbie! Is this you I’m talking to?”

  “Yes, Sadie. Settle down—get married!”

  “I—I don’t know what to say, Robbie.” Sadie was befuddled, though she kept up her half of the conversation bravely enough. If this was a marriage proposal, it was certainly an odd one. But then, this was no time to quibble.

  “Tell me I’m doing the right thing. Sadie, she’s an angel! You should meet her. But I forgot—you already have!”

  If the words shattered Sadie’s hastily constructed tower of hope, she did not show a thing. There had already been too many disappointments, and she had learned to deal with them silently and invisibly.

  “Al—already met her?” she managed to say as the bricks of her tower tumbled down about her.

  “Yes! You’ll never believe it, Sadie! Do you remember Jamie MacLeod?”

  Sadie’s mouth fell open.

  Now was indeed the time for laughter, but somehow she couldn’t quite manage it. “Aye. Scrawny and dirty as I recall,” she said finally.

  “No more, Sadie. She is a vision!”

  He stopped and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then continued. “When I was in Cape Town, a miner showed me some of the diamonds he had dug out of the earth up in the mines. Ugly things, really! I would have ignorantly pitched them aside like common rocks. How anyone could have seen value in them as they were was beyond me. I did the same with Jamie. I let a little grime and dirt, along with her rough speech and untrained exterior, blind me to what was really there—beneath the surface, the true person, the real her. I dare not do that again.”

  “Robbie, since when would you let a pretty lass spoil the life you have made for yourself?”

  “Spoil? Never!” he exclaimed. “I would kill for her! I would die for her! What a small thing it will be for me to—to, well . . . settle down.”

  “A small thing?” Sadie echoed. “Perhaps for some men, Robbie Taggart. But no small thing for the likes of you. You see, you could hardly bring yourself to say the very words.”

  “I was only joking!” He laughed to prove it. “I am ready to do anything for her!”

  “Don’t you know that the blood of a wanderer flows through your veins? You can’t change that! Think of what it would mean,” reasoned Sadie. “After marriage she’ll be wanting a crop of bairns. Women always do! Then of course you’ll have to have your own house with a fence and garden. And before you know it, she’ll be wanting you—to be there all the time, day after day.”

  “A small price to pay.”

  “And how will you earn a living, Robbie Taggart, answer me that? Do you think she’ll be content to let you go off to sea for eight months out of the year—and more?”

  “I’ll work on land. I’ll hire on down here on the docks.”

  “You work on land! The day that happens will be the day all the pubs along the row close down because all the sailors have become Puritans!”

  “Ah, yes, Sadie,” Robbie reflected, sitting back in his chair. “A fire in the hearth to greet me when I come home every night, and a dear wife waiting for me. Yes—it sounds just like the life for me!”

  He jumped up as if he would march directly to the Gilchrists’ door that very moment, though it was past ten o’clock.

  “Sadie, I can’t thank you enough for your advice!” he said.

  “My advice! My advice!” she exclaimed indignantly. “You haven’t listened to a word I’ve been saying, Robbie Taggart, you pestiferous bloke!”

  “But that’s the beauty of it, Sadie darlin’! By meaning the opposite, you steered me in the right direction. You know I never listen to you. A man couldn’t have a better friend, Sadie!”

  Sadie merely groaned in frustration.

  With mingled annoyance and heartbreak, she watched as Robbie strolled buoyantly from sight. She watched as if he were going to his doom, not into the arms of the woman he loved. But deep in her eyes was the loneliness which came from knowing Robbie Taggart would not be hers. Perhaps no man ever would be. For light-hearted, lovable Robbie was the only man who had ever shown anything resembling love to Sadie Malone.

  38

  Dreams

  The sun sparkled on the River Dee.

  The two picnickers found it a delightful setting, with the river on the one hand and the birch and alder wood on the other. At least Jamie was delighted with the view, and the blanket of flowers surrounding them and the newly green foliage sprouting from the trees. It had been a long walk out of the city and along the South Deeside Road, but well worth it. Robbie, however, was oddly detached and even—though Jamie had never seen him this way before—a bit nervous.

  She wondered if he was acting strangely because his stay in Aberdeen would soon be coming to an end. These past weeks had been so carefree, so happy. She knew she would miss him when the time came for his ship to sail. But she hadn’t examined her feelings beyond that.

  “I remember the last time we were together by the Dee,” he was saying.

  Jamie smiled. “It was all snow and ice then. But even in the starlight it was beautiful. I thought it was going to lead me to the fulfillment of all my dreams.”

  “I had no lofty dreams back then,” Robbie mused. “Except for something so far out of reach it didn’t hurt to dream about it.”

  “I suppose my dreams were so lofty they did hurt,” said Jamie. “Until I realized they were not the most important thing in life.”

  “But don’t you still long for them at times?”

  “Yes. Every now and then I hear my father’s voice saying, ‘Ye would hae been a gran’ lady someday, Jamie. . . . ‘ And there are times when I feel that perhaps I failed him a bit.”

  “I’m sure he would be proud of you if he saw you now.”

  “I hope so, for I think what he really wanted was my happiness.”

  “And Jamie,” Robbie turned his sea blue eyes intently upon her. “Are you happy?”

  “Well . . . yes—yes, I am,” she replied. Even as she said the words, she wondered why she had hesitated. Of course she was content with her life. She was surrounded by people she loved and people who loved her. And she had Robbie’s pleasant company. There was nothing she could possible want to change.

  “You seem unsure?” Robbie prodded.

  “Yes, I am happy,” she announced more firmly. “I’d be a fool not to be. But I’ve always had a streak of discontent within me. Not a wanderlust like you have, Robbie. More a wondering what else there is in life for me. It used to worry my grandfather—but I won’t let it spoil things. It just every now and then makes me pensive, that’s all.”

  “Perhaps your discontent is meant to tell you that your life is not yet complete,” Robbie said; then as if the words had ignited some spark within him, he suddenly jumped to his feet and paced about in front of Jamie, who still sat on the blanket they had spread out on the grass.

  “Robbie, whatever is it?” asked Jamie.

  “I’m no stranger to discontent myself,” he answered, still pacing. “The whole wide world didn’t seem big enough to appease my longing for adventure. But, Jamie, I’m ready to give all that up now.”

  He stopped talking, but continued to pace about.

  “Give it up? Why, Robbie? Why would you give up the life you love?”

  “Because, Jamie . . . because—Jamie, I—”

  He stopped and turned toward her, then dropped to his knees in front of her and fervently took her hands in his.

  “Jamie, I love you! I—I want to marry you!”

  Perhaps Jamie should not have been so surprised at his words.

  A more worldly-wise woman would have seen th
is moment coming. But Jamie still viewed herself as the ragged shepherdess, and despite Robbie’s lavish attentions over the last weeks, she could not believe that he didn’t also see her still as the same girl he had befriended two years before. In Jamie’s eyes, Sadie was still Robbie’s woman, and she was incapable of seeing how much, in the growth of her spirit, she had surpassed them both.

  So she could not speak for a long moment. And when finally his words did penetrate her senses, she did not know how to respond.

  “Robbie—”

  “Before you say anything,” he quickly broke in, “I know this seems sudden, and I know it may be difficult for you to picture me as the marrying kind. But I am a man of some means now. True, a military pay is not exorbitant, but it is more than that I now have—I have position, and the promise of attaining more. I can offer you a place in society one day. I can make you the lady you have always wanted to be. No one would look down on the wife of a naval officer, in any society.”

  “But Robbie, those things are no longer important to me.”

  “And love!” he added. “I offer you myself and my love! Forever!”

  He dropped her hands and leaned toward her and touched his lips to hers in a tender kiss.

  “Oh, Robbie!” she said as he leaned back and gazed into her eyes. “It is so much for me to take in so suddenly.”

  “Will you at least consider my proposal?” he said, jumping up to pace about again.

  “Robbie, if you would just sit still, I have something to say!”

  He stopped in his tracks and looked down to where she still sat peacefully.

  “Come and sit down,” she said. He complied.

  “Dear Robbie Taggart!” She smiled warmly at him, and this time reached out to take his hands, sweaty and clammy as they were, into hers. “How could I not consider your proposal? It was not so long ago that I thought my heart would break over you, and you have never stopped being dear to me. These last weeks have been some of the happiest of my life. I know it may be stupid of me not to tell you yes this very minute, but . . .”

  But what, she thought? Why can’t I answer him? What is preventing me?

  “ . . . but I know one thing I must do before anything. I must pray about it, Robbie. I must ask the Lord for His voice in the matter. I do care for you. So I hope you can understand—my life is no longer my own.”

  “Knowing you are close, I can wait,” he replied.

  ———

  When Robbie left her that afternoon at the Gilchrists’ doorstep, Jamie did not go directly in. Instead, she walked around back and through the yard and garden for a time.

  Robbie Taggart had asked her to marry him!

  This was something she had longed for, dreamed about. How many times had she envisioned herself walking arm in arm with Robbie—as his lady! True, her thoughts of him had dwindled during the past two years. But that was because her mind had been filled with so many other things. But now he was back, and he loved her, and it seemed as if her old dreams were coming true.

  Then why was there that nagging hesitation in the pit of her stomach? Wasn’t Robbie everything a young woman could possibly want—handsome, dashing, exciting, with the promise of society and travel and adventure thrown in?

  Yes, perhaps he was everything a young woman could want. But was he what she wanted? More importantly, was he what God wanted for her?

  And what did she want? Did she even know? At Aviemere she thought she could have remained there forever. But now back at the Gilchrists’, it seemed as if she belonged here, too. And now Robbie wanted her. Did she perhaps belong with him?

  Where did she belong? All her life she had been jostled from one place to another, but no one place with any one person had ever been completely home. Even on Donachie with her grandfather, her occasional discontent had focused her eyes on the distant horizon as her father’s words had rung in her ears. But she could not go back—not to her father’s cottage, not to the simple life on Donachie, not to Aviemere. The only place she belonged, it seemed, was right here, with the Gilchrists. But she could not stay here forever. Somewhere there was a life waiting for her. And perhaps . . . a person too—a man whom she could love and who would love her in return.

  “Dear Lord,” she prayed, “I don’t know what I want or where I belong, or even who I belong with. But you know, Lord. Do I want to marry Robbie or do I just think I want to because I thought I wanted it before? Oh, Lord, what do I want?”

  The answer came quickly, waiting only for her mind to focus on God and ask for His wisdom to be revealed. Even as she asked, she knew the answer.

  “I want what you want, Lord!”

  And for now that was answer enough in her dilemma. With that simple utterance she was reminded that He would direct her path as He had throughout her life—even before she was aware He was doing so. And she need never fear His direction, for no matter what it was, it would be what she wanted and what He wanted for her.

  She turned and entered the house in a much more peaceful frame of mind to share her exciting news with Emily. For now they could both pray together and await the Lord’s sending of circumstances to direct her steps in the way she should go.

  She did not have long to wait, for the answer to her prayer had been sent days before her need to pray it.

  When she walked through the door Emily met her with something which momentarily forced all other thoughts and considerations from her mind.

  “This came for you while you were out,” Emily said, handing her a folded note. “It came by special messenger from Aviemere,” she added with a concerned look.

  Jamie took it, quickly opened the envelope, and scanned the few lines from Dora Campbell. When she looked up to meet Emily’s eyes, all the color had drained from her face.

  “Andrew’s ill,” was all she said. It was enough.

  After that everything happened too quickly for words or thoughts. Without even reaching a formal decision, she hurried to her room and began packing. Emily hurried out to tell Walter to ready the carriage to take Jamie to the railway station.

  By late afternoon Jamie was on board the Deeside Railway between Aberdeen and Ballster. She would spend the night in Banchorg and then hire a carriage to take her the rest of the way to Aviemere.

  As the train picked up speed through Old Aberdeen, she beheld through the window the crown-like dome of the King’s College Chapel and the twin spires of ancient St. Machar’s Cathedral. Then the train wound its way into the countryside and Jamie sat back into her seat and relaxed. What a hectic afternoon it had been, getting ready and—

  “Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, suddenly clasping her hand to her mouth. “I’ve forgotten all about Robbie!”

  What would he think when he came to Gilchrists, hoping for an answer to his proposal, only to find she had left town altogether!

  Well, perhaps an answer would come to her at Aviemere. Who could tell? Possibly when she next returned to Aberdeen, it would be to become Robbie Taggart’s wife!

  39

  Andrew

  Edward Graystone fingered the miniature figurine on the mantel. It was not the one of the shepherdess, though that was the one he was thinking of just now.

  It was odd. He used to come into this lovely parlor and think of his wife, for it had been her special room. But now whenever he wandered in here, he could only think of that little statue shattering against the floor, and how terrified Jamie MacLeod had been—how frightened he had made her.

  He hated himself back then, but for some twisted reason he had tried to make it appear as if he hated everyone else—even his own son. But he had changed, and now the memory of it made him sick. He was no saint even now. But he had learned some of what truly mattered in life. And thanks to Jamie MacLeod, he had found the next most important thing of all—his son.

  Could it be possible that it would suddenly all be for naught? Would God have given him that precious relationship only to snatch it away! That hardly seemed like the kind of God in
whom Jamie had taught him to believe. But if he truly did believe, was not this the time, more than ever, to trust Him—even for the life of his son? He felt certain that’s what Jamie would have said.

  When Andrew fell ill, his thoughts immediately turned to her. But he could hardly call for her, when there was an extremely competent woman who had replaced her as nurse now caring for the child. But she had given so much of herself in the short time she had been here that it was impossible to forget, especially with Andrew asking constantly for her for five months after her departure.

  Andrew’s illness had begun with a minor cold three weeks earlier which eventually moved into his ears. The fever went on for nearly a week, during which time he neither ate nor slept with any regularity. Hopeful signs of clearing appeared, and then his chest became congested, and if his constitution had not already been weakened by the previous infection, he might have been better prepared to combat the forthcoming pneumonia. However, his condition quickly became very serious, and the doctor’s expression was grimmer with each visit. Edward’s young faith was stretched to the limit.

  Edward turned from the mantel and rubbed his hands across his face. The doctor had just left moments ago and there had been no change except that Andrew’s pulse had grown still weaker.

  “Dear God!” he cried suddenly. “Please let him live! Let me have him a while longer!”

  Carelessly he rubbed the fresh tears from his eyes, which had grown dark and hollow throughout the past several days.

  As he walked slowly from the room, he could hear the faint sounds of commotion from the direction of the front of the house. Immediately his body stiffened in fear.

  The house was always deathly quiet these days, in deference to Andrew. Something must have happened. The servants were looking for him!

  “Oh, God—no!” he moaned.

  He raced from the room and down the corridor. But the moment he reached the huge entryway from which the sounds had come, he stopped still in his tracks.