Gunns & Roses (18 page)

“Yes, we Roses won it that year,” answered Fin. “But we don’t have it now. The August after Tor died, my mother was still so distraught, my father returned the sporran to Mr. Gunn.” He glanced over at Ansley.

Annie had quietly been following the story, melding it with her grandpa’s journal entry. She added, “And Mr. Gunn then gave it to my grandfather, Charles Holden, his veterinarian.”

Both Ansley and Fin were startled. “How did you know?” Fin blurted.

Annie gave them a sheepish look. “After I came home from the Games, I doubted I’d ever hear from anyone. So I did the last thing I could think of, which was to read through my grandfather’s vet journals. He kept notes on his practice every year until his retirement. In the 1986 book there was an entry about tending a sheep with an abscess at the Gunn farm.” She paused, a glance darting toward Alice. “He mentioned the sporran.”

Ansley stared at her coffee cup, nodding slowly. “I can see my dad doing that. He trusted your grandfather completely—trust built through years of bonding over the animals. He attended Dr. Holden’s funeral.” She shook her head at the realization.

“Grandpa always said you can tell a lot about a person by how they treat animals,” Annie said. “What I still don’t know from his journal is why the ferrules were in the sporran.” She looked at the visitors. “Do you know?”

Fin brushed sandwich crumbs from his fingers. “My father told me he had the silver hawk-and-rose ferrules removed from Tor’s bagpipe, reassembled it with regular ferrules, and gave the bagpipe to another family friend for safekeeping. He put the ferrules in the sporran.”

“And the family friend was … ?” Alice asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ansley answered, “Logan Bell.”

The three Stony Point friends were silent for a moment, knowing the next logical question most likely would tread on very personal ground for Ansley. Ian gave the slightest of nods to Annie, feeling it should be her who asked it.

Annie reached over and placed a hand upon one of Ansley’s. “Then why do you have a solitary ferrule with the design?”

The woman’s eyes grew distant, yet soft, as she returned to the very young woman she once was. She whispered, “I took one ferrule from the sporran. I heard Dad talking to Dr. Holden on the phone, saying he had a special request to make of him. Something told me it had to do with the sporran, and I had to keep something … ” Her voice caught, and she paused before continuing, “… something to remember Tor by. He was, after all, my first love.”

18

The room remained quiet in reverence to the memories their visitors were sharing.

“You should have seen Tor when he was playing his music,” said Fin. “He had all the girls swooning … but he could never take his eyes off of Ans.”

Ansley spread her hands out in front of her on the table, pushing the empty containers away. “Tor and I grew up together. Fin was a bit older and busy with kids his own age, so Tor and I hung out all the time.” The wisp of a smile floated across her face and lips. “He played, and I danced—for hours on end. He could be the most charming boy. When we got older, I fell in love with him. All the girls around envied me, but they didn’t see all of Tor.”

“Tor had a wild streak,” Fin told the group solemnly. “He was funny and kind, but he also loved the thrill of challenging limits. If there was a locked gate, he would climb it. A speed limit? He would break it. A cliff? He would dive off it. I tried to keep an eye on him, at first. But then I went away to college and couldn’t be there. By the time I graduated, I knew there was no way I could rein him in anymore.” He frowned down at the table, his hands clinched.

“We dated for two years,” Ansley continued. “At first I was convinced Tor was my soul mate, and we were bonded by the love of music and each other. But in the second year, his recklessness just exploded, and he became erratic. It got to where I never knew what to expect when he picked me up for a date. He didn’t play his pipes as much, and at the end, he only played it for family events and the Highland Games.” Her voice dropped to a whisper once again. “After the ’85 Games, I told him I couldn’t take living in fear for him anymore and broke off the relationship.” She shook her head. “Of course, I didn’t stop worrying about him, and I still loved him. I thought maybe it would wake him up and help him see how he needed to change things.”

“The problem was, Tor didn’t want to change,” Fin picked up the story. “He threw off what little restraint he had when he was with Ansley and went looking for barriers he could break. Finally, he embraced extreme sports. Instead of diving off cliffs into the ocean, he was diving out of airplanes with skis on and plummeting down mountainsides.” He breathed in a long, slow breath—and then released it. “Deep down, I don’t think anyone was surprised when the call came about Tor’s accident. And I think it’s partly why my mother has had such a hard time recovering from it. She saw it was coming, but she was powerless to do anything about it.”

After sitting motionless for a couple of minutes as the weightiness of past events washed over them all, Annie reached for her bag. Taking the sporran from it, she handed it to Ansley. “My grandfather wrote in the his journal, ‘The sealskin goes to the one who bears the falcon and the rose.’ Following his direction, I’m happy for you to have it.”

The woman ran her hand along the sleek fur. “Thank you. Perhaps my family is ready to have it back in our care. I can’t thank your grandfather, but I can sincerely thank all of you for your help and care …” she said, managing a weak smile toward Fin, “no matter how some of us treated you.”

Fin reached across the table to grasp her hand, squeezing it gently. “You Gunns have always been a good balance to us—uh—more dramatic Roses.”

Alice’s head jerked up at his comment. “That’s right! You must be related to McKenna Rose.”

“Guilty as charged,” Finn confessed, “although I had little say in the matter. She’s my sister.”

“She certainly did inherit a flair for the dramatic,” Ian said diplomatically.

Alice leaned forward, looked Fin in the eyes. “I’ve been trying to figure out if McKenna was trying to spur us on in our search or scare the tarnation out of us. Do you know?”

“McKenna was being her typical enigmatic self,” he answered. “She told me she thought the truth needed to come out. After all, you had definitely found the sporran and ferrules, and there was nothing we could do about that, short of theft.”

Annie’s friends turned to look at her. “Been there, done that,” muttered Alice. “Thank you for not trying it. It’s beginning to be a bit cliché.”

Ansley gasped. “Have you been robbed before, Annie?”

“There have been attempts,” Annie admitted. “Let’s just say I’m thankful we have a dedicated police force here.” She grinned. “I’m also thankful I didn’t have to call on them this time. They could use a vacation like the rest of us.”

Alice’s gaze moved over to Ian and back to Fin. “Did McKenna happen to mention flirting as one of her tactics to get our attention?”

While a light flush crept across the mayor’s face, Fin casually shrugged. “Noooo, she didn’t, but it sounds like her. She’s not above playing a part or using her charms, if she thinks it will enhance the value of her performance. Or in this case, grab the attention of people she wants to make sure are listening.”

Alice guffawed. “Well, I must admit that it was effective for that. But why didn’t she let us talk to her, after working so hard to get our attention? Did she tell you how she ran out on us?”

Fin nodded. “She did. She felt the story wasn’t hers to tell, so she was just trying to keep your curiosity peaked so you would keep looking and asking.”

“Too bad McKenna didn’t know Annie,” Ian said, recovering enough to laugh. “It would have saved her all the dramatic efforts. Annie never stops looking until her mysteries are solved.”

Annie raised her right hand. “What can I say? Blame it on all those Trixie Belden and Nancy Drew books I read as a kid. I hope McKenna will be pleased to hear the truth has, indeed, come out, and that the sporran has been returned to its rightful place.”

Ansley opened the cantle of the sporran, reaching inside to remove the ferrules. She stretched her hand, ferrules nestled in the palm, across the table toward Fin. “These belong to your family, Fin.” Pausing for a moment, a mental battle plain on her face, she then added the ferrule she had kept with her all those years. “All of them. Maybe someday you’ll be able to put them back on Tor’s pipes and pass them on to the younger generation of Clan Rose.”

Fin’s dark eyes stared into hers, decades of sorrow and guilt etched in their depths, yet leaving room for something else now: hope. He picked up one of the ferrules in his long fingers and placed it back in Ansley’s hand. “Mother is still in our home, and I don’t know that she’ll ever be ready to hear Tor’s pipes play.”

The slow dawning of an idea cast light onto the contours of Fin’s thin face. He added the rest of the ferrules to the single one in Ansley’s hand. “Dad entrusted the pipes to your father-in-law. Perhaps it’s time to return the ferrules to their original place, to be ready for the day when the pipes will be freely played again. Will you make sure they are restored?”

“I will,” Ansley answered, her voice quiet, yet strong. As she closed her fingers over the bands, Annie and Alice both dipped their heads to swipe at the moisture threatening to spill over from their eyes.

The jumble of miscellany Annie had inherited from her grandparents had brought much adventure of kinds she could never have imagined when she first arrived from Texas. She had to admit sometimes the finds brought danger. But other times, like this day, they brought healing or at least began the healing process. The three from Stony Point deeply felt the privilege of sharing the moment.

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Ian said, after an appropriate amount of time, “but I think this occasion calls for fresh raspberry pie, straight from Marie’s oven.”

“Excellent idea,” Fin agreed. Ansley smiled her concurrence. Alice joined Ian at the end of the table to help serve the pie Peggy had brought from The Cup & Saucer.

When a slice sat before each person, Ian nipped a piece onto his fork and raised it like a glass of champagne. “Here’s to sweeter times ahead!”

“Here, here!” the others chimed before slipping the treat into their mouths. For a time, silence again overtook the group as they enjoyed the treat. Then Annie broached a subject she had been considering since hearing the whole story of the Gunns and Roses. “I have one more question for you, Ansley and Fin.”

Alice quipped, “Only one? Are you sure?”

“Only one.” Annie nodded decisively.

Fin was gathering the last delicious crumbs of his pie with his plastic fork. “Lay it on us, Annie.”

“I’ve been thinking … ,” Annie began. Her eyes dared her friends to add commentary. “It’s obvious to me from the way your families acted when I came around with my photos and the ferrule at the Games that you are all still very much connected and close.” She paused. “Ansley, your father canceled the seven-year tradition in order to help Fin’s mother in her grieving process, right?”

Ansley nodded. “But I’m sure Dad had no idea how long Mrs. Rose’s process was going to last.”

“It has stunned all of us,” added Fin.

Annie continued. “Would you and your families consider restoring the annual sporran competition in the spirit of healing, remembrance, and friendship? I realize that for some people, like Mrs. Rose, remembrance is torture, but it can also bring joy from sorrow as we celebrate the unique gift of every life, whether a long or short one.”

Annie told them about the days she had spent rocking on her porch in Texas after her husband, Wayne, died. Doubts and despondency had nagged at her, and it had not been until she allowed herself the freedom to embrace life again—taking an unexpected path to a little seaside village in Maine—that she had been able to truly honor her husband’s memory rather than wearing it like a suicide vest around her heart. Ansley and Fin listened intently, nodding in recognition.

When Annie concluded her story, Ansley and Fin sat quiet for a while as the three friends relaxed against the backs of their comfortable chairs, marveling at how everything at the Highland Games had come together to bring them all to this moment in the Stony Point Town Hall. No matter what the Gunn, Rose, and Bell families decided, the friends were thankful.

Fin was the first to speak. “Your idea of restoring the competition has never entered my mind, to be honest.” He glanced over at his longtime friend. “Ans, I think we should seriously consider it, and then discuss it with the rest of the families.” He returned his gaze to Annie. “What you told us about your grief for your husband hits home, Annie. Sadly, I don’t know if anyone has ever approached my mother in that way about Tor’s death. It might not help, but maybe it would. Thank you for sharing it.”

“Yes—thank you, Annie,” said Ansley. “You’ve given us lots to think about today. I appreciate it more than I can express.” She cradled the ferrules in her hand. “I’ll start by taking these and the pipes to Mr. MacTavish to have them refitted.”

Alice smiled. “Very fitting—no pun intended.”

Fin glanced at his watch. “Ans, we should get going. Afternoon chores are waiting. Thank you for lunch, Ian, and opening up your office to us on the spur of the moment. If there’s anything I can ever do for you, please let me know.”

“That goes for me too,” Ansley added.

“Now that you mention it,” Ian began with a grin, “just last night the town board voted to plan a Robert Burns Dinner for next January. We could use some fine Highland dancing for the event.” Annie and Alice perked up their heads.

“Wonderful! I’m so glad it went through,” exclaimed Annie.

“It’s going to be so much fun!” Alice added on the heels of Annie’s reaction.

Ansley turned her smile to each of her new friends. “I know Kyla will be overjoyed to perform for the dinner. Let me check to make sure her dance teacher hasn’t already scheduled her troupe before confirming with you.”

“Excellent,” said Ian. He reached over to shake Fin’s hand. “I hope we’ll see you again soon in our fair town.”

“Maybe even with Athena,” Alice added, with a mischievous wink, “as long as you don’t set her off on anyone.”

“Deal.” Fin laughed and stood up.

The trio escorted Ansley and Fin to the front door of the Town Hall, relieved to see the fog had thinned out some in the early afternoon. As the two visitors disappeared down the front steps, Ian turned to Annie and Alice. “Now, that’s what I call a good day at work.”

“Amen!” exclaimed Annie. “You know, Ian, since the town board approved the Robert Burns Dinner, I’m going to need your measurements soon. Brianna Kincaid is coming to A Stitch in Time in a few weeks, and now we can ask her to help us make the kilts for January.”

Alice informed Ian, “Brianna told us the measurements need to be taken by someone other than the person being measured. So you’d better let Annie take them.”

Annie suddenly needed to examine the contents of her bag, keeping her eyes away from both her impish best friend and Ian.

“Since I have no wish to show up at the dinner wearing a lopsided kilt, I will bow to Brianna’s expert advice,” Ian responded casually. He addressed Annie. “Why don’t you stop by the morning of the meeting? I’m always at work before nine.”

Annie drew her gaze out from her bag and let it brush by Ian’s ruggedly handsome face. “Sure. I’ll text you when I’m on my way as a reminder.” She dug into her bag again, this time in earnest, pulling out her car keys. “Thank you for being our contact for Fin and Ansley—and for lunch.”

“It was my pleasure,” Ian said. “You two drive safely.” He opened the outer door for them.

“See you soon, Ian.” Alice called as she followed Annie outside. Before she turned to the right to head for her car, she asked her friend, “May I ride with you on the morning of Brianna’s demonstration?”

Annie nodded, somewhat surprised as she usually did just that. “Of course. Why the need to ask now?”

“Just wanted to make sure,” Alice answered. “You have such a pretty blush going now; I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to see it again.”

“Maybe I’ll just let you take the mayor’s measurements,” Annie called after her friend, giving her a look similar to the one she turned on Boots after discovering the cat’s hijinks. “And don’t forget: measure twice; cut once.” Chuckling, she looked both ways and dashed across the street toward her Malibu, waving goodbye to her friend behind her.

****

In early October, Annie once again dashed across the street from Town Hall toward A Stitch in Time, Ian’s measurements written in her notebook. This time Alice was beside her, having thoroughly enjoyed watching the interplay between her best friend and the mayor. Alice had behaved, if she did say so herself. Over the weeks, she had come to the realization she had become too heavy-handed in teasing her two friends and decided to stop. She was confident Annie and Ian would finally see what everyone else could and do something about it—when they were ready. Until then, there were plenty of other outlets for her sense of humor.