Summer of Love (14 page)

    
As he climbed higher, he found horse tracks, but they seemed to turn
around short of the lochan. He observed Helen alone near the shore. Her wet
hair told him that she had gone for a swim.

    
When Helen saw him walk along the shore, panic gripped her for a few
seconds. She immediately knew why he was here. Steeling herself against
giving their secret away, she answered her father question with a disinterested "No, I haven’t seen anybody… Don’t we keep the goats here because
the lochan is so well hidden?"

    
Dougal, being of a suspicious nature, checked the glen behind the lochan
for any horse tracks. He found none. The rain the day before had removed
any traces.

    
After he left, Helen tried to calm her nerves. What would her father have
done if Andrew had been here? She didn’t want to think of it. Suddenly, she
was glad that Andrew hadn’t come and gave silent thanks.
I’ve to warn him,
she reminded herself.
Why didn’t I do it before?
But she knew why. She
found it difficult to talk about that horrible day.

 * * *

That night Andrew woke up to a wet dream, seeing Helen standing in the
sun, her hands raised to arrange her hair, lifting her proud breasts.

    
Already on the next day he rode back to the lochan. He didn’t understand
why he dawdled around, delaying his departure. When he reached the crest,
he scanned the area.
Am I hoping to see her nude again?
he asked himself,
feeling ashamed, but unable to help it. Then he saw her, standing half
submerged in the water, rubbing soapwort into her hair to form a lather. He
dismounted and sneaked to the lake. Hidden behind bushes, he quickly
undressed and swam toward her. She was still standing at the edge, rinsing
her hair. When he got closer, he floated silently. She turned around, saw him,
and submerged over her head into the water for a short moment.

    
"Why are you here when I’m bathing?" she chided him, after surfacing
again. "Did you think I didn’t see you coming?"

    
"But if you saw me coming, why didn’t you get out?"

    
"Because I didn’t think that you would come all the way to me." But the
smile on her face belied her reproach.

    
They circled for a while with laughing eyes, splashing water at each other.

    
"Do you swim often," asked Andrew.

    
"No, just to wash myself. But now we have no soap left… The water only
gets warm enough for swimming about this time of year."

    
"It’s still horribly cold. How can you stand it?"

    
"Not for very long, that’s why I want to get out now. Turn around and
don’t look."

    
"But I want to see you. You’re beautiful." He swam closer to her. "I’ll
help you get out. It’s slippery here."

    
He got out of the water and stood on a boulder, holding out a hand. She
reached for it, and said: "Look away now, I’m coming out."

    
"Why? You’re looking at me too. Why shouldn’t I look at you?"

    
And she was looking, seemingly intrigued by his slim, but athletic body.
It lacked the broad shoulders of the MacGregor men. His chest was almost
hairless. Her gaze was caught by his manhood, shriveled up from the cold
water of the lochan, innocent like a boy’s. The tight curls of his black pubic
hair formed a narrow point reaching toward his navel.

    
With his help, she pulled herself out of the water, and immediately ran
away to her clothing, pulling her petticoat over her wet body, her back to
him.

    
He jogged back to this clothes, got dressed, and fetched his horse. When
he came over the crest, he could not find her. The goats were still loose, but
there was no sign of Helen. He knew that she could not have left for the
shielings. She would not have reached the ridge yet. He called out softly. No
response. He pleaded with her that he would never again intrude on her when
she was bathing. After a quarter of an hour, he placed the pouch with the
food he had brought on a rock near the path and left, discouraged, afraid that
he had spoiled their friendship, that she might never again want to see him.
At the crest he cast another searching glance over the lochan. There was still
no sign of her.

 * * *

It was several days before Helen found Andrew’s horse grazing near the
lochan again. She had expected him back a day or two earlier. But now she
suddenly hesitated going up to the rock to meet him. She felt still embarrassed about having remained in the water when she saw him come over the
crest. After releasing the goats, she sat near the shelter for almost an hour,
battling with conflicting emotions, wanting to be with him, ashamed to face
him, ripping out grasses, tearing them up, nervously pulling the petals from
daisies one by one, and getting more and more angry with herself. Finally,
her desire to be with Andrew won and she slowly walked up the path. When
she came to the rock, she saw him repack his pouch. She leaned against the
wall, watching him, her arms tightly crossed under her bosom. Suddenly he
became aware of her, looked up, and after a short hesitation came over to
her. She lowered her eyes.

    
"You’re cross with me, Helen, aren’t you?" he asked, his voice expressing
his regret.

    
She met his gaze and answered: "No."

    
"Then why didn’t you come to meet me sooner?"

    
"I was embarrassed about the other day."

    
"I’m sorry, Helen. It won’t happen again, I promise."

    
He took her hand. She did not withdraw it. "Come, I brought delicious
food for our banquet."

    
Smiling bashfully, she followed him, her hand still in his. He set out the
food and offered her liver pâté in a crust of flaky pastry. She tasted it and
nodded approvingly. Both were uncharacteristically quiet while they ate,
stealing glances at each other. When their eyes met, they blushed embarrassed.

    
"Helen," Andrew began, searching her eyes and then looking away almost
bashfully.

    
"Yes, Andrew?"

    
"Helen, … I … I love you," he said softly.

    
"I know, Andrew."

    
"You know?"

    
"Yes, why else would you be so kind to me?"

    
He blushed deeply. They remained silent for a while, Andrew visibly
working up the courage for the next question. Helen knew what he was going
to ask, but she didn’t know her own answer.

    
"Helen, do you love me too?" It was out. His eyes were pleading.

    
"I don’t know, Andrew," she murmured.

    
He averted his gaze again, fighting his disappointment, trying to smile
bravely. She reached out and touched his hand. "Andrew? … I honestly
don’t know. I’m confused. I’ve never loved a man before. I don’t know what
it feels… Please, believe me! Let’s be friends."

    
Their eyes met. She could almost feel the desperate love pouring out of
his. The urge to run and flee again rose in her, but she knew that she couldn’t
do this, that this would hurt him even more.

    
"Is this the reason why you didn’t rape me, but helped me escape?" She
had wanted to ask that question for a long time, but never dared.

    
"I don’t think so. I find it abominable if a man forces a woman against her
wish."

    
Again, she touched his hand briefly. "I’m glad it was more."

    
Emboldened by his open and willing answer, she asked: "Have you ever
been with a woman?" The glimpse of a women slip behind the church where
Andrew had gone earlier rose in her mind, and she blushed at her own
question.

    
He looked at her for a while and then replied: "No."

    
His answer surprised her. She had heard all these stories of the young
gents in the castle, all of them out to seduce the gullible maids and servants
with promises, and then dropping them when they were with child.

    
He seemed to sense her surprise and added, his voice but a low murmur:
"Maybe it’s my own background that has held me back. You must surely
know that I’m an illegitimate son."

    
Helen nodded, blushing again.

    
"Is that the reason why you …?" His voice trailed into nothing.

    
"No, Andrew. I honestly don’t know," she murmured.

    
After a while he continued, not looking at her: "I know what it means
growing up without a mother or father. I had no mother. And my father
didn’t care for me. I don’t wish this on any child." The tone of voice got ever
more bitter as he spoke.

    
"You don’t know who your mother is?"

    
"No."

    
She looked down at her hands, moved by his openness. She hadn’t
expected it. Neither spoke for a long time, Helen confused, but strangely
content and happy, Andrew visibly downcast.

    
"Andrew?"

    
He looked at her.

    
"Andrew, after that day … father swore that he would kill every one of the
men who attacked us. He said he would kill you too, although I told him that
you had helped Betty and me to get away. He said you were one of them, that
you were as guilty as they."

    
Andrew looked down at his hands.

    
"Four days ago he suddenly came to the lochan. He asked if I had seen
somebody. That a man had been seen riding into the mountains. I’m afraid,
he suspects something… Maybe you shouldn’t come up here anymore." The
last few words were barely a whisper.

    
He looked up quickly. His hands tightened into hard fists, the white of the
knuckles showing. "Is that what you want?" There was deep resignation in
his voice. Their eyes met again. "I want to see you again, Helen. I need to,"
he murmured.

    
"I would like to see you again too, but I’m afraid, father might harm you."

    
"I’ll be more careful. Take a different way to get here. Please, Helen!"

    
His eyes held hers. Try as she did, she couldn’t avert her gaze.

    
"I’ll leave the horse hidden somewhere else."

    
She nodded and managed to break eye contact. He too went back to study
his hands, casting a furtive glance at her, the pressure of words unspoken
building up slowly between them. Her urge to flee became overpowering.
She rose and said: "Andrew, I need to go back to check on the goats."

    
He got up too. As she began to walk away, he called out: "Helen, wait, I
almost forgot. I brought something for you."

    
He rummaged through his bag and offered her a small round object,
wrapped in cloth. She opened it, and a smile lit up her face, shattering the
tension of awkwardness. "Oh, you brought me soap! How did you know?"

    
"You said you had none when we swam," he murmured, blushing, visibly
pleased by her reaction.

    
"Thank you, Andrew." She smelled it. "It even smells of lavender."

    
She started to leave again.

    
"I’ll come down with you. I must go back to work too."

 * * *

Ruminating with a heavy heart on Helen’s response to his admission of love,
Andrew took the usual path down the Achmore Burn along to Loch Tay on
his ride home. Helen’s warning had slipped his mind, nor had he taken the
threat that seriously. He wasn’t sure whether Helen had just used this to
persuade him not to come and see her again. So he was taken by complete
surprise when he found himself surrounded by Dougal MacGregor and two
tall lads as he came out of the bushes and trees hugging the bottom of the
mountain slope. Rushing forward with his sword drawn, Dougal shouted:
"Ha, we caught you, you traitor!" while the two lads howled eagerly.