There was quiet yet urgent knocking on her door, waking Tara up a few hours later. She opened her eyes with some difficulty, since they were glued shut with her dried tears and sat up to look blearily at her phone. It was three in the morning and the knocking on her door continued persistently. She slowly got out of bed and opened the door just a crack, and when she saw Noah standing there wringing his hands, she shut the door again, but he knocked harder this time and whispered, “Tara, please hear me out.”
She opened the door even when she knew she shouldn’t and Noah hurried in, holding her hands. She snatched them away and he said, “Tara, please, you’ve got to listen to me. I promise you it isn’t what it seems.”
“Really, Noah? ‘Cause it seems like you’re engaged to Denise. What is it? Is she pregnant?” Tara spat the words at him angrily and he held up his hands and said, “I know it looks bad, alright? Look, you were right- someone was watching last night- it was Denise. And when I went back to my room, she confronted me about it. I tried to break up with her on the spot- I swear I did Tara- but she threatened to tell my dad and Eileen about us. She said she would tell unless I married her.”
Tara stared at him, and said, “So you proposed?” Noah ran his fingers through her hair and said, “What else was I supposed to do? I can’t have your mom and my dad find out about us- we’re going to be siblings, Tara- do you realize how fucked up that is?”
Tara nodded and said, “So why are you here then? Why explain yourself? Go and marry Denise- I wish Denise and your credit card a long and happy life together.” Noah held her wrists and said, “Come on, Tara, you know why I’m here. I don’t want Denise- I just want you.” Within seconds, he was kissing her and she kissed him back as his hands started to roam.
*****
The next morning, Tara lay in bed until the sun was high in the sky and poured in through her window, casting everything in a bright golden glow. Despite the bright cheeriness of the weather, Tara felt awful as she pulled the covers tightly around herself. She still smelled like Noah and she regretted sleeping with him the night before. She had just slept with someone else’s finance, and even though he had still been with Denise before when they would meet secretly, Tara had comforted herself with the knowledge that neither Noah nor Denise cared for one another and that Noah would leave Denise for her. Now, she knew that it wasn’t going to happen, even if Noah wanted it to. Her head hurt from all the crying she had done since Noah had left her room in the early hours of the morning, and now, she was ignoring her incessantly buzzing phone, flashing her mother’s name on the screen.
A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door and before Tara could even ask who it was, her mother had thrown open the door and walked in. “Tara, what’s wrong honey? Are you sick?” Tara sat up in bed and her head hurt as she tried to steady herself. Her mother’s face swam into view as Tara groaned and Eileen shrieked, “Oh my God, Tara what is it? Do you need to go to a doctor?” Tara shook her head and weakly said, “I’m fine, Mom.”
Eileen laid a hand on Tara’s forehead and said, “Hmm, you don’t have a fever but you’re all red and your face looks swollen.” Eileen then noticed the mascara stains on the pillow and the tissues littering the bed sheet.
“Tara?” Her mother said slowly “Have you been crying, sweetie?” Even as Tara shook her head, she burst into tears again and Eileen threw her arms around her daughter as she said, “Baby what’s wrong?”
Tara didn’t respond but she stayed like that for a while, letting her mother stroke her hair and finding some comfort in the embrace. Finally, she broke away from her mother’s hug and said, “Mom, I have to tell you something.” She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve, as Eileen peered into her face and said, “You can tell me anything, what’s wrong? Are you in trouble?” Tara shook her head and said, “I’m in love, Mom.” Eileen beamed and said, “Tara, that’s wonderful,” but her face fell and she asked, “So why are you crying? Does he not love you back? Or is it a she? Is that the problem, honey? Are you gay?” Tara shook her head and said, “I’m not gay, Mom, but the guy- he does love me- I think he does- but he can’t be with me.” Eileen tucked her daughter’s hair behind her ear and said, “Why not? Is it because he’s in New York and you’re here? Darling you can go back soon.”
Tara shook her head again and said, “No- it’s not that. He can’t be with me because he’s with someone else, he’s engaged. And- and he’s in Miami, Mom.” Her mother looked confused and she said, “But darling, you hardly know anyone here in-” and suddenly, she stopped speaking and raised a hand to her mouth. “No- Tara, you can’t be serious.” Tara nodded and started crying again as she said, “I know it’s disgusting Mom, I can’t explain it, but I- I truly love him.”
Eileen backed away from her crying daughter and said, “Tara- he’s your- he’s Paul’s son.” Tara wiped her tears away shakily and said, “I know, it’s all so messed up.” Eileen moved away and sat at the edge of the bed with her back towards Tara for a few minutes while Tara sobbed quietly, certain that her mother would never speak to her again.
After a few minutes, however, Eileen stood up and faced Tara, crossing her arms over chest as she said, “What about Noah? You said he loves you too- so why marry Denise?” Tara shook her head and explained everything to her mother, leaving out the gory details of what exactly had been happening in the pool and when she was done, Eileen looked scandalized. “Tara- how long have you been- it must have been two weeks since the day Paul came home, and that’s when you two…?” Tara nodded, ready to start crying again when her mom said, “Alright. I’ll- I’ll do something, you leave it to me.” Tara stared at her mother and said, “Mom, what are you gonna do? There’s nothing you can do. If Noah and I are- if we’re together it means you and Paul can’t…” she trailed off.
Eileen sighed and sat down next to Tara again as she said, “Tara, you asked me something the first day you got here- you asked me if I was happy, and if I loved Paul. Darling, the truth is, I’m happy, but it’s only on the surface- it’s not the kind of happiness I felt when your dad and I got married. And as for Paul, he’s a sweetheart, he really is- but I don’t love him.”
Eileen took a deep shaky breath and said, “There I said it- I don’t love him. I like him, I certainly enjoy his company and I think he’s a lovely man, but I don’t love him. I don’t feel for him the way you say you feel for Noah. And baby, if I can give you the chance of being happy, of being truly happy, I would never take it away from you.”
Tara stared at her mother and said, “What are you saying?”
Eileen stood up and took off her ring, “I’m saying that I’m going to call off the wedding.”
Tara leaped up from the bed and hesitantly said, “Mom, are you sure?”
Eileen sighed and took Tara’s hands into hers, “Darling, one day you might have a daughter of your own, and then you’ll understand.”
Tara flung her arms around her mother’s neck, feeling for the first time in her life, completely and truly happy.
THE END
Another bonus story is on the next page.
Bonus Story 6 of 44
A Soldier’s Love
Description
The story is set in the aftermath of The Jacobite Rebellions, just after the bloody conclusion of the Battle of Culloden. As violence and terror seize the land, a young widow banished from the clan due to the traitorous actions of her husband. She finds the wounded son of their laird, a man she used to hear about when she was young. From the moment she decides to nurse him back to health, she is hunted by English Soldiers until an enigmatic deserter from the English Army save them.
Bringing with him stories about her husband’s bravery, and his dying words, what secrets does he have about her husband’s death? How is the laird’s son involved? And will she be able to escape the carnage of the rampaging English Army and start a new?
*****
A heavy morning mist cloaked the long wild grass of the glen. Al
ice followed the rough dirt path that descended into the bowels of the misty valley. A thunderous peal of musket fire echoed off the looming grey crags. Startled, she dropped her empty wooden bucket she was carrying to the ground. The whole country had been plunged into chaos since the defeat at Culloden. The sound of firing squads executing “rebels” who had escaped the battle were becoming more common place. Whispered tales about the savagery and butchery of English Army dominated the local gossip circles.
Alice couldn’t help but think this country was in its death throes. Last night the peals of musket fire were non-stop and a red, raw fire from the direction of the laird’s castle scarred the sky heralding the death of her clan. Alice felt a tinge of sadness in her heart for her people. But were they still her people? She was an exile in all but name since her husband had betrayed the Jacobite cause. She was as much a topic for disgust as the English Soldiers in the gossip circle.
“That’s her, the one who was married to the traitor,” they’d whisper just loud enough to make sure she heard. And that’d just been the start. Soon she had to pay double for any sundries, she’d been spat at, and even reprimanded by grieving widows about how her husband’s cowardice had caused their husbands death months after his betrayal. She knew they just needed someone to push their grief on to. The sad part was that had it been someone else she might be doing the same herself without really realizing what she was doing. They hated her and she had no real idea what her husband had really done. She wondered if any really did.
She readjusted the green woolen shawl, tucking her long wavy red hair beneath it, before picking up her bucket. She continued her journey down the winding path to the small brook nestled among the crop of trees. A gentle breeze rustled through the drooping trees shaking the white-petalled flowers. Alice was basking in the captive beauty of the Scottish Highlands and nearly screamed as she discovered the unconscious, bloodstain clansman slumped against the base of the tree. At first, she wasn’t even sure if he was even alive. A cut to his face had soaked his long-rugged brown beard in blood. There were scores of cuts that covered his fore arms, and a dark red bloodstain had expanded across his dirty white shirt and spilled across his tartan kilt. His one hand was curled around an expensive walnut handled pistol and the other a small well-loved dagger. She recognized him. He was the was laird’s son.
Part of her blamed him for what had happened to her husband, Graham. The simple farmer went off to play soldier for the Jacobite cause because of the nonsense he’d filled Graham’s head with. They could have an independent Scotland under a new and righteous king. What did the cattle or crops care about the king or his righteousness? They’d still graze or catch disease just the same no matter who sat on the throne. And did kings really cared about the plight of the farmer, and the crushing tithes that were forcing them off their enclosures? She’d fought and argued with Graham for weeks before he went trying to change his mind. But men were such idiotic things willing to die for unachievable ideas and romantic songs. And Graham was a special brand of idiot that always followed his heart. It was why she loved him.
A larger part of her just felt sadness. The laird’s son had always been handsome with long-brown hair, and earthy brown eyes. When she was younger her and her friends always used to fantasize and giggle over the idea of him whisking them away to his castle. And from the looks of his body, the months of marching and fighting had done wonders to define his already lean body. It was such a shame it was now a smoldering ruin. Just how many handsome men had died for such a fruitless cause?
“Water,” the body croaked. Alice’s terrified scream echoed off the walls of the valley.
“By gods woman, are you a banshee or some kind of hag of the mist?” The body spoke a second time and Alice suspected it may not be dead after all.
Alice couldn’t help but feel like she was cursed. The most sensible thing she could do was turn and run. The last thing that Alice needed was to draw the attention of the English head-hunters who were scouring the country for traitors and rebels. He’d be the death of her, and she had enough of men drawing her into their stupid wars. And this fool had already involved her in his war more than she ever wanted to. Why was she even contemplating help the man who’d taken everything from her?
She went to the brook and filled her bucket with the intention of walking by.
I should just take my water and go back home, she thought as she bent down by the injured man. She cupped the water in her hands and lowered it to his pale pink lips. He pressed his warm lips against her hand and gulped down the water greedily. His coarse thick beard prickled tickled her as his lips moved against her hand. Her hand tingled as sucked against and she was surprised by just how it felt. How long had it been since she’d last felt the touch of another person? It must have been before her husband had the fool notion to go war almost a year ago.
“I’m no hag, you just startled me.” She filled the silence with the only thing that came to mind.
Alice made sure that he had his fill of water before she removed her shawl, and her long curly red hair spilled out. She dipped her shawl in the water, and began washing the blood from his beard to examine the cut on his face. Despite the blood there seemed something innately intimate about stroking a man’s cheek. He gazed at her from beneath the tangle of his dark brown locks. His warm hazel eyes probing her sparkling green eyes.
“Aye, I can see that. Your definitely an angel.” His thin lips stretched into a smile that Alice would have found flattering if it wasn’t for the blood. She rolled her eyes.
Men, they’d even die for it and the state he was in he’d most probably die before he finished. Definitely before she did. She smiled as she joked to herself, but couldn’t help wondering what those tittering girls in her village would make of this. Had she ever had a fantasy about coming across him wounded and alone in the woods? Or had he always been the hero? The meeting hardly ever mattered it was what happened next that she focused on.
Luckily the scar on his face wasn’t that bad. It was very shallow and the skin had already begun to knit together although the young girls may never consider him pretty again. Distinguished maybe, but not pretty.
She turned her attention to the stomach wound. She pulled at his shirt revealing his flat muscular stomach, muscles honed from the fighting of the past few months.
“Whoa, slow down lass. You should at least tell me your name first.” If he was making jokes that terrible the wound couldn’t have been that bad.
“Alice.” She stated her name and nothing else as she began to caress his hard stomach to wash away the dry blood and get a better look at the wound. The wound was small but deep enough to cut both skin and muscle. It didn’t look particularly life threatening and the bleeding had already slowed. That was a very good.
“I’m Roland.” He offered his name back.
“I know. You were the pretty young ladling that seduced my man off to war. From the battle?” Alice tried her best to keep the bitterness from her voice.
“Aye.” His light mood changed to muted and sullen, maybe even a little guilty. “Who was he?”
“Graham. He died a traitor.” There was a tone of accusation in her voice, exactly what she was accusing him of she didn’t know.
“I know. He was a good man that one, maybe too good. That was a bit of bad business. If only I’d…”
“I don’t want to hear it. I told him what would happen if he left.” Tear welled in her eyes, she still hadn’t forgiven him for abandoning her. Even so she had fantasized of him coming back, that there had been a mistake. For all she knew she was the last person alive that couldn’t see him as a betrayer. She knew she was delude. They’d been married months and he betrayed her twice. Why did he still deserve her tears, and her love? Why did she still care?
“He said you were a harsh woman. Always talked about you he did, worshipped you like a damn goddess, though he did you little justice.” He tried to feign a brighter mood one again as he pretended to flirt.<
br />
“So, what happened to you? Culloden?” she asked wanting to talk about something else. Anything else. Although she did find the flattery amusing, from a hag to angel to a goddess, but she did wonder how he’d escalated that one.
“No. I wasn’t there. After our surprise attack failed and we marched back, most of my men deserted. They’d been suffering for months and that, that was the final blow. I followed them to try and talk them back and the battle had already started by the time we’d got there. It was obvious we were overwhelmed. The artillery had devastated us and where the fighting was the thickest there seemed to be one of us to every three of them. Charles Stewart had already fled. I knew they were doomed so I turned and fled with the few kinsmen I managed to entice back. We escaped battle without a scratch, just bone-wary and hungry. I just left them to die.” His tone was sullen again and Alice thought that he might actually cry.
“You did the right thing. You couldn’t do anything. It’d have only led to more death. What else could you do?” Alice tried to comfort. She felt awful about bringing up Graham. He was already suffering enough.
“I know. I tell myself that too. We were finished. There was nothing I could do. Our army was destroyed, those of us left were scattered to the wind and our spirit already shattered after months of hardship. And I thought that be it. I’d never imagined the savagery after. The English butchery and bloodlust knew no bounds. I saw things that’d make the devil queasy in the aftermath of that battle. I know if I’d entered the battle, I would be one of those men mutilated on the floor or a pleading captive who was executed. And despite that I still had a little voice in my head telling me I could have tried but I ran. I could have tried.”
THE HEALING HEART Page 20
