Fated Hearts 02 - Highland Echoes (2 page)

“Does yer mother not have people there too?” Hamish had asked. “If ye can’t find yer da’s kin, perhaps yer mother’s family would take ye in.”

“Nay, I don’t think she has anyone,” Grace said. She didn’t want to admit that she didn’t even know her mother’s surname.

“Then it’s settled,” said Lachie. “Gather what ye can carry. We will leave on the high tide tomorrow morning.”

Grace was horrified. “Must I go right away? After all, the laird agreed to let me live on here, at least through the summer.”

Hamish shook his head. “Nay, Grace, Lachie is right. There is no telling what Fearchar is likely to do to get what he wants. In fact, I don’t think ye and Kristen should remain in this cottage one more night. When ye are packed, ye’ll come and stay with me and my wife.”

The assembled men all nodded or murmured their agreement.

“Aye, that’s a good plan, Hamish,” said Lachie. “If he comes looking for ye tonight, lass, he won’t find ye, and ye’ll be gone before daylight.”

Tears welled in Grace’s eyes and her throat constricted. She knew they were right. Leaving was the only answer, but that didn’t lessen the pain. This was her home. The memories of her parents and her husband were steeped into the very walls. Still, unless she wished to be Fearchar’s leman, she had no other choice. She bit her lips and blinked to keep from crying. Finally, she nodded saying, “Aye, well, if we are leaving at first light, I must get ready.”

The men took her cue and rose to leave. Sheila hugged her. “I’ll send one of the lads up later to help ye carry yer things.”

*

It didn’t take Grace long to pack. Her most valuable possession, the loom which had been her mother’s, was too large and would have to stay. She did have a small ribbon loom that she could take along with a fair amount of linen thread that she had already spun and dyed. She also packed her wool combs, cards, distaff, and drop spindle. If she couldn’t weave, she could certainly spin and perhaps sell the yarn. Thankfully, she hadn’t purchased her new wool yet. She also packed her father’s knives and several small hand tools. Other than their clothes and some household linens, she and Kristen had few belongings.

Of course there was the box.

She walked to the hearth and removed a stone, behind which was a small cavity containing the box. Without bothering to replace the stone, she sat with the small finely carved wooden box which held their few valuable belongings on her lap. She traced her fingers reverently over the gorse flowers and rooster carved into the lid while she gave in to her tears for a moment.

Finally she opened it and looked at each precious item within. There was her father’s silver filigree brooch, a gold pendant set with a pearl, and gold brooch resembling a ring of bog myrtle, both of which were her mother’s. She had never seen them wear these bits of finery. There was also a single gold coin bearing the image of a fleur-de-lis on one side and a man on the other, who, based on his halo and animal hair cloak, she assumed to be St. John the Baptist. The only other coins she had ever seen were the pennies, half-pennies, and farthings used in every-day commerce. Grace had no idea what the gold coin was worth, but she knew it was valuable.

Ah, and the letter was in the box too. She turned it over in her hand, remembering the afternoon her mother had told her about it. The letter was to Tristan’s mother. It looked as if Grace would be able to deliver it now.

The sound of the bedroom door opening drew Grace from her memories. She swiped the tears from her eyes, replaced the box’s contents, and tucked it in with the rest of their belongings.

Kristen padded across the room to her, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She crawled up in Grace’s lap for a cuddle. “Is the bad man gone?”

“Aye, sweetling, he is.”

“I don’t wike him.”

“We don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

“What if he comes back?”

“Well, my precious, if he comes back he won’t find us here.”

“Why? Wiww we hide?”

“We are going on an adventure, pet. Tonight we will stay with Hamish’s family and then tomorrow we are going on a boat.”

“A boat? Wike Da’s boat?”

“A bigger boat. We will go across the water to Scotland on Lachie’s boat.”

“I wike Wachie.”

Grace laughed. “I like him too.”

*

When Lachie’s youngest son arrived, he frowned at Grace’s bundle of belongings. “Is that all?”

Grace smiled. “Aye, lad, that’s all.”

He cocked his head. “It’s hard to believe someone’s whole life can fit into such a small bundle.”

Grace laughed. “That’s not my whole life, lad. That’s just things. This is my whole life.” With that she scooped Kristen up and tickled her until her daughter giggled and squirmed.

Eyeing her with doubt, he simply nodded. “If ye say so. Still, I thought ye’d have more. I’ll carry this down and I’ll take Kristen with me if ye want me to. Mam said ye might want to visit the grave one last time.”

Grace sobered. “Aye, I would like to say goodbye, but I’ll take Kristen with me.”

He nodded, picked up the bundle, and left the cottage. Grace watched him for a moment before saying to Kristen, “Do ye want to climb the hill?”

Kristen’s eyes lit up. “Aye, Mama.”

“Then we will.” She twirled around with her once, making Kristen squeal with glee before putting her down. “I just need to put out the fire first.” Grace went to the hearth and smothered the fire with cold ashes. She took Kristen’s hand and walked out without looking back. She didn’t want the last memory of her home to be cold and empty. They walked to the little church at the edge of the village where Grace stopped and looked over the low wall into the church yard where her mother was buried. She made the sign of the cross and said a silent prayer for the souls of those she’d lost.

Kristen looked up at her. “I want to cwime the hiww mama. Ye said we could.”

“Aye, sweetling, we are going too.” She didn’t enter the graveyard or stay any longer, her loved ones weren’t here. Instead she walked past the church to the path leading to the top of the promontory, which looked out over the village and harbor. She picked Kristen up, putting her on her shoulders to carry her up the hill.

When they reached the top, she set Kristen on her feet in the tall grass, warning her as she always did, “Don’t go near the edge.”

“I won’t, Mama. I dust wanna pick fwowers.” She immediately busied herself picking the meadow flowers that were just beginning to open to the rare spring sunshine.

Grace looked around, trying to absorb it all one last time. This was one of her favorite places. She came here as a child with her parents, her da carrying her up on his strong, broad shoulders just as she had Kristen. She also walked here with Callum when they were courting.

Here, alone, there were no memories of sickness or loss; she had only spent happy hours in this spot so it is where she would say goodbye. She basked in the glow of those sweet memories until Kristen stood at her feet, her arms outstretched with a fist full of flowers, and demanded, “Up.”

Grace swung her into the air, making her squeal and giggle before hugging her close. “Are ye ready to go on an adventure, sweetling?”

“Can I see over fust?”

“Aye, one last time.” Grace walked with her as close to the edge of the cliff as she felt comfortable and looked down at the sleepy little village by the edge of the sea that had been their only home.

“Goodbye,” whispered Grace, “we’ll miss ye.”

“Goodbye, we’ww miss ye,” echoed Kristen somberly.

Late May, 1340 Sutherland Castle

When Grace and Kristen arrived, Lachie’s friends, Dugald, a merchant, and his wife, Mary, had been extremely kind. Grace and Kristen had stayed with them in Durness for nearly a month until Dugald was ready to make his twice yearly trip to Inverness. He had two wagon loads of goods to sell there but they were delivering Grace and Kristen to Castle Sutherland on the way.

They were near enough now to see the castle in the distance. Grace began to worry. She hadn’t known anything about her parents’ families until just before her mother died. After her father and Callum had died, Grace’s life became a blur of work punctuated by too little sleep but the day she learned she might have a grandmother was etched in her memory.

She had been working her loom as quickly as she could, making the most of the waning light while Kristen napped, snuggled next to Catriona.

Her mother had called to her, “Grace, my sweet, come sit with me. I wish to speak with ye for a moment.”

“Mama, I won’t have the light long and it is much easier to work while Kristen is napping.”

“I know, sweetling, but this is important.”

Grace sighed but stopped what she was doing and went to sit by her mother. Once so strong and beautiful, her mother had wasted away to practically nothing. Her dark auburn hair, which had been so much like Grace’s own, was dull and streaked with gray. Her green eyes no longer sparkled. Grace took her mother’s frail hand in her own. “What do ye wish to tell me?”

“My beautiful lass, I love ye so very much. I am so sorry.”

“Wheesht, there is nothing for ye to be sorry for.”

“There is more than ye know and I need to tell ye, my sweet.” Her mother closed her eyes.

“Ye are tired, Mama. It will wait until ye are stronger.”

“Grace,” her mother said, her voice surprisingly firm, “ye know full well, I am never going to be stronger. This will not wait.”

Grace blinked back tears. Her mother had just given voice to the fear in Grace’s heart. After having lost her father and her husband, in spite of all her efforts, her mother was indeed slipping away too. “Aye, Mama. I’m listening.”

“Ye know yer father and I came here from the mainland right after we were married.” Grace nodded and her mother continued. “We told ye we had no families but that wasn’t true.”

Her mother’s words shocked Grace but she tried not to let it show. “It wasn’t?”

“Nay. Yer da and I fell in love but my father wouldn’t let us marry. He vowed to kill yer da if he ever saw him again. We ran away together and came here.” Her mother panted; the effort required to talk had nearly been too much for her.

Grace kissed the back of her mother’s hand. “None of that matters now, Mama.”

“Aye, Grace, it does. I don’t ever want ye to seek my family out. I won’t even tell ye who they are. Yer grandfather, if he still lives, will see ye and Kristen as commodities or worse, kill ye out of anger and revenge. Promise me ye will never seek them out.”

Grace wasn’t sure what her mother meant by
commodities
but she had never seen such abject fear in her mother’s eyes. “I promise, Mama.”

Her mother closed her eyes for a moment, trying to catch her breath. When she was calmer, she said, “But yer father may have family left. He was from Clan Sutherland. His mother, Innes, worked at the castle there, in the kitchens. We never told anyone where we went.” She paused again, struggling to breathe. “My father was ruthless. If he ever found out what clan yer da was from, they would be in danger and so would we. Yer da and I are beyond my family’s reach now. I think he would want his mother to know…what happened…why we couldn’t tell her…how much we loved each other. I wrote a letter…for yer da…years ago.” Her mother gasped for air between words. “He feared sending it. My father…” A tear slipped down her mother’s cheeks. “It’s in the box. I’m sorry we caused so much pain…but God help me…I would do it again. I loved him so.”

“Mother, please, rest. We can talk again later.”

Her mother shook her head, tears flowing freely. “Be happy, Grace.” With that her mother had closed her eyes. The effort to tell Grace all of this had exhausted her and she drifted off to sleep. She never awoke again, dying a few days later.

The memory now caused Grace’s heart to ache. She missed her mother so very much.

If her grandmother, Innes, still lived, she had heard nothing from Grace’s father in twenty-three years. If Innes had passed away, it was possible the Sutherlands would not remember Tristan from so many years ago. Grace prayed that they would let her stay in any case. Maybe they would welcome her skills as a weaver.

When they reached the castle gates, Grace told the guard she was looking for Innes Murray.

“She’ll be in the kitchens. I’ll find someone to show ye there.”

Relief washed over Grace. At least her grandmother was alive.

“Well, lass, it seems we have reached the right place,” Dugald said.

“Aye it does. Thank ye for everything.” Grace gave him a quick hug.

The older man blushed crimson. “It was nothing. I wish ye God’s blessings, lass.”

“Dugald,” his wife called from the wagon seat where she held a sleeping Kristen on her lap, “we can’t just leave her here until we know she’ll be welcomed.”

“Mary, that’s kind of ye, but I have delayed ye enough. I’m sure Kristen and I will be fine.” Grace climbed up on the wagon to lift her daughter down as one of their sons handed down the bundle of her belongings. Kristen woke, but not fully. She popped her thumb in her mouth and rested her head on Grace’s shoulder.

Mary smiled at her. “Well, just in case, we will stop back by here on our way home. If things aren’t working well, ye’ll always have a welcome with us.

Tears welled in Grace’s eyes. She prayed that her grandmother would accept her, but fear of the unknown prevented her from refusing the offer. “Thank ye, Mary. I truly appreciate that.”

After saying her goodbyes, Grace followed one of the guards through the gates, across the outer bailey, into the inner bailey, then around to the kitchens. Before returning to his post, the guard opened the door for her, calling in, “Innes, there’s someone here to see ye.”

The kitchen he showed her to was empty save for a white haired woman who stirred a pot hanging over the fire. The midday meal had been served and cleared. This was the quiet pause in the afternoon, before work began again for the evening meal.

The older woman smiled. “Do I know ye lass?”

Grace hesitated a moment, trying to figure out what to say. The forthright approach seemed best. “Nay, ye don’t. My name is Grace Breive and this sleepy lass is my daughter, Kristen. I am Tristan Murray’s daughter.”

The news stunned Innes. She dropped the long spoon she held. “Ye can’t be. Nay. Tristan—Tristan disappeared years ago. I never heard a word. I thought him dead.”

Disappeared?
Her mother hadn’t made that detail clear. “I’m so very sorry for yer pain but I am his daughter.” Grace slipped a hand in her pocket and pulled out her da’s brooch. “This was his. Do ye recognize it?”

The old woman burst into tears. “Aye, I do. That was my husband’s and then Tristan’s.” She rushed across the room and wrapped her arms around both Grace and Kristen. “By all the saints, lass, I can’t believe it—after all these years. He left. He was young and so angry. I thought he would forgive me eventually and come home. That was the last I saw him.”

Grace returned her hug. She didn’t know what to say. “Please, sit down,” she said, gently guiding her weeping grandmother into a chair. “I know this has been a shock. I don’t understand it all myself, but perhaps we can sort it out together.”

When her grandmother had regained some control, she asked, “Where is Tristan now?”

The anticipation in her grandmother’s voice caused a lump to form in Grace’s throat and tears prickled the back of her eyes. She took a deep breath. She hated having to break the old woman’s heart again. “I’m so very sorry to have to tell ye this, my father died last October.”

As Grace expected, this brought on a fresh wave of tears but the old woman recovered a bit quicker this time. “Tell me, child. Tell me everything.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t know everything. We lived on the Isle of Lewis. I knew my parents hadn’t been raised there, but I thought neither of them had any living family. My father and husband were fishermen. They both died when a gale struck and their boat went down.”

“Oh, my poor sweet lass, ye are a widow. I was widowed young too. I’m so sorry for ye. I thought it would kill me at the time, but I had Tristan, I had to go on.”

“Aye, that is just how it was. I had to for Mama and Kristen. Mama had been very ill, ye see. I needed to take care of her. Finally, a few months ago she told me why she and Da had come to the isles in the first place. Apparently her father didn’t want her to marry my father so they ran away together.”

“But why didn’t he tell me? I would have understood why he couldn’t come home. Why didn’t he just send me a message telling me he lived?”

Her plaintive tone tore at Grace. She understood her parents’ reasons; still, her heart ached for her grandmother. “My mother said her father vowed to kill Da so they ran away. She feared her father. She wouldn’t even tell me her family name. She didn’t want me to ever seek them out. She made me promise I wouldn’t. Do ye know anything about her?”

Her grandmother shook her head sadly. “Nay, I don’t. Ye see, as I said, Tristan left as a very young man. He had trained here as a soldier but I didn’t want that for him. I told ye I was widowed, Tristan’s father died at the battle of Falkirk when Tristan wasn’t much bigger than yer wee lass. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him in the same way. I asked Laird Sutherland to release him, to have him work in the stables or on a croft, anything but wield a sword. He was my only child.” She bowed her head for a moment. Clearly these were painful memories.

“Did the laird refuse?” asked Grace gently.

Innes shook her head. “Not outright. Laird Sutherland said he wouldn’t force Tristan out, because he was a skilled warrior, but he would talk to Tristan, giving him the option to work elsewhere if he so desired.”

“I don’t understand. Why would he leave if the choice was his?”

“It was my fault. I shouldn’t have interfered. When Tristan found out what I had done, he was furious. He said if I couldn’t stay out of his life, he would stay out of mine. He left the next day. He was only twenty. He never contacted me to tell me where he went. Laird Sutherland might have tried to find out for me, but as it had been my interference that caused Tristan to leave in the first place, I didn’t want to risk pushing him farther away.

“For the first few months I was certain he would return home. Then after a couple years, I simply prayed to hear from him. I just wanted to know that he lived and was happy. Finally, after so many years had passed, I believed he must have died. And, now I learn that he has and I was never able to tell him how sorry I was. How I regretted interfering.” Her grandmother began weeping again.

Grace was stunned by her father’s thoughtlessness. She offered the only explanation she could think of. “It sounds as if he married my mother just months after leaving home. If my mother’s father was as ruthless as she believed, I can only think my da’s silence was meant to protect ye. Still, I am so very sorry.” They sat in silence for a few moments before Grace said, “I have a letter to ye from my da that my mother wrote for him. Maybe it will explain things.”

“I can’t read. We’ll go to Father Francis. He’ll read it to us. I could ask the laird but he is away.”

“I can read it to ye if ye wish. Apparently Da composed it years ago but feared sending it.”

A look of excitement crossed her grandmother’s face. “Ye can read? Aye, please read it to me. But if ye have had it for months why haven’t ye read it before now?”

“The letter was written to ye, not me. I didn’t want to read it without yer leave. Would ye hold this sprite for me while I fetch it from my bag?”

Her grandmother gave Kristen a warm smile that reminded Grace poignantly of Da. “Hold my great-granddaughter? Aye, I’d love to.”

Kristen was beginning to wake more fully now but she happily snuggled into the old woman’s lap.

Grace found the small, carved wooden box, producing the letter from it. “Here it is.” She broke the wax seal and the sight of her mother’s beautiful handwriting caused her heart to ache, but she took a deep breath and started reading.

Dear Mother,

I have tried to compose this letter so many times. Each time, I have started by explaining why I left so suddenly without ever revealing where I went. I have finally realized the “whys” are of the least importance. So first I want ye to know I love ye. No mother deserves to be treated as I did ye. From the depths of my heart, I am sorry. I said terrible things. I shouldn’t have left angry. But even having left, I should have at least told ye where I went. There are no excuses.

Why then am I not coming to ye in person, falling on my knees, and begging yer forgiveness? Sadly, I cannot without endangering everyone I love, including ye, my dear mother. I can only tell ye the story and hope ye understand.

When I left, I worked as a soldier with another clan. There, I fell in love with the laird’s daughter and she with me.