Highland Portrait (31 page)

“Good morning, dear child, I hope I did not upset you last night.  Your gift was such a shock to me, something I have always wanted to see.  I was overcome.  Please sit down.”  Stella breathed a sigh of relief and sat in a grand, but uncomfortable chair next to Elinor, while the MacDougall stood at her side and made a small half-bow to Stella.  He addressed her solemnly.

“Stella, you have gifted us with a miracle and although we both understand that it is just a picture of what might ha’e been it is still precious to us.  We would like to give ye a token of our thanks.  It is nay as beautiful as our picture, but we think ye may like it.”  The MacDougall took a small velvet covered box from his desk and handed it to Elinor who handed it to Stella.

Stella looked at the box and then at her hosts, surprised that her small gesture could be so highly prized by them.  She said quietly as she opened the box, “I’m so pleased that you are happy with it.  It is so thoughtful of you to…” Stella’s breath caught in her throat as she looked at the sapphire and diamond bracelet in the box and completely lost her thought.  She wanted to jump up and do her little happy dance, or exclaim in the loudest voice words that would rock the MacDougall and Elinor back on their behinds.  She had never owned such an amazing piece of jewelry and to say it was stunning was to say the Burj Kalifa was sorta tall. She looked at Elinor, unable to form words and Elinor, understanding her justifiable surprise, just smiled.

“I take it ye are pleased, Stella.  I am so glad but remember this – its value is nothing compared to what you have given us.  I am overjoyed at our small portrait.”

Stella looked up at the MacDougall, but he was looking at the floor, unable to speak.  He drew his lips into a straight line, took a deep breath and took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

“Thank ye, lass.” He could speak no more but Stella felt his heart and she was relieved and filled with a great deal of satisfaction that her gift could be that meaningful.  She explained to them how to preserve it with glass and Elinor, who loved glass, said she would attend to the framing and preservation of the portrait immediately.

“Stella, Robbie is busy with charges this morn but will be seeking ye out soon.  Albert has left a note for Robbie that ye are riding with him.  I will make sure Robbie gets it when he comes back.” Said the MacDougall.

“Thank you so much, for that.  I suppose I should run and catch my father, he’s waiting for me in the stables.  Laird?”

“Aye, Stella?” he looked at her as he would a dearly loved daughter.

“Will you fasten this on me, please?” she was giggly and excited about her bracelet and her response to their gift pleased both the Laird and his lady.  She kissed them both and ran out the door to meet her father.

They had been riding for about an hour, headed north of Oban, speaking of Albert’s time travel in hushed tones, lest there be those in the woods that might hear and accuse them of witchcraft.

“How do you make it work?”  Stella’s question was more than just curiosity, it was research.

“Actually you’ve been a big part of that, Stella.  Your paintings have become portals for me.” Albert turned to look at her smiling. “Remember all those manuscript plates you painted for me for the Mid Renaissance book?  All the buildings?  Well, the paintings were portals.”  Stella thought about her own experience and how she had received so many small gifts from her paintings.  How her painting of Robbie had somehow brought her here.

“So…does that mean I can travel, too?” asked Stella. “I mean, I did, didn’t I?”

“You traveled because I enabled that.  Your ‘gift’ is the creation of portals.  I suppose you could become a Traveler with enough instruction.” Albert smiled at his talented daughter.

“Why didn’t you take me with you when I was younger, Daddy?” Stella asked petulantly.

“I can’t always control it, princess, particularly if someone is with me.  I might land exactly where I want, but the other person could land two or more years ahead or behind me in a different area.  Very precarious and dangerous for a child. I never took you because I was afraid of losing you in the transition.  I had not learned to control it as well as others that travel more frequently.”

“Others?” Stella was shocked, “how many others are there, Daddy?”

Albert pursed his lips and thought about the question.  “I have no idea, but I know personally of several others and that is just in Texas.  I imagine there are Travelers all over the world.  Probably always have been.”

“Can anybody ‘travel’ or is it just special people?” she asked.

“I believe that anybody can travel when propelled or enabled by a Traveler, but not everybody can propel themselves.  You need portals, or know where they are, how to make them work.”

“Like the stones?” she asked.

“Yes, there are a lot of stones in this area that are portals.”

“You’ve been here in this area a lot, haven’t you?” asked Stella, “Have you gone to other places?”  Stella thought that she would paint the Egyptian pyramids and see if she could propel herself to visit the pharaohs because if she was going to time travel that would be the place she wanted to visit. Albert was silent for a moment.  “Yes, I have been other places, but I keep coming back here for personal reasons.  I like these people, I like…everything about this area.  It’s made me a good living with my research and books.”  Albert was silent, tight lipped and thoughtful.

“Personal reasons?” she cocked her head at her father. “What kind of ‘personal reasons’? Do you have a girl friend here?”  She watched her father’s look of embarrassment.

“Just personal reasons, Stella, personal reasons.”  Stella had seen her father get frustrated before and he had that look now.

“You’re being very evasive, Daddy.” Stella loved her father, but sometimes he could test her patience with his half-answers.

Albert took a deep breath, closed his eyes and shook his head, as if this were a ‘now or never’ moment.  He braced himself.

“Yes, I know.  I have been evasive, deceitful and at times have lied outright to you.  But it was all in a good cause.  We’re almost at our destination and I’m hoping all will be forgiven and you will understand why I did it.”  Albert did not look at his daughter as he spoke, but instead kept averted from her stare.  He was not immune to her eyes, the hellish look of anger that could make even him, her father, cower.  He hadn’t seen it often, but he’d seen it enough to know that it was an arresting sight that did not bode well for whomever it was directed to.

Stella pulled back on Arwen’s reins, shocked that her father would admit to lying to her. “You lied to me?  About what?!”  She wasn’t going any further until she knew what he was about.  “This is as far as I go, Albert.  You need to get real clean with me right now or I’m turning this horse back to Oban.”

Now he’d done it.  Whenever she called him Albert he knew that she had reached her limit and the dam was about to burst forth in vituperative that was matched only by drunken sailors and wet cats.  He didn’t have much of a choice so he stopped his horse and turned to her.

“OK, Stella.”  Albert sat on his horse, again avoiding her eyes, looking at the ground wondering if the decisions made so long ago had been the right ones.  Perhaps he should have considered her own needs as part of that decision, but he had only thought of her future, her education, her opportunities.  He had not thought of her heart.  He dreaded what was to come because he knew that it would be like expunging a boil, incredibly painful, but delivering in its wake an aching relief.  At least he hoped that’s how it would come about.

“Albert.  I’m waiting.”  There was a raw danger to her voice, soft and low, but threatening.  His daughter was too smart to be kept from what he had done.  He raised his eyes to hers and saw there the woman that she had become because of his decision.  She was brilliant, talented, independent and able to carve a path for herself.  She didn’t need anybody to take care of her or hold her hand.  Stella, no matter how difficult things might be for her at the moment, would always be successful.  Always.  It was time she knew the truth.  Albert felt the crushing weight of twenty three years of secrets slide off him like a waterfall.

“We’re going to see your mother, Stella.”  Albert sighed and waited for her reaction.

Stella’s fierceness was frozen as she took a moment to process his words.  She was not sure she heard or understood correctly.

“What did you say?” His words, if she heard them correctly, were so outside of her comprehension that she did not yet register shock.

Albert bowed his head, preparing for the onslaught of tears and retribution that he knew were to come.

“I’m taking you to see your mother, Stella.  Merry.  Your mother Merry.  We are not far, it’s just over that knoll.”  Stella’s silence was more frightening to him than her anger or tears.  She continued to stare at him, her face blank of any expression other than puzzlement and shock. He knew that this spot in the path was not the place he would have chosen to deliver the news to her, but circumstances being what they were he decided it would have to do.  He slid from his saddle and moved closer to Arwen, grabbing her halter.

“Perhaps you should get down,” he said, looking at her now, seeing tears welling up in her eyes, her face unmoved from its blank expression. She did not get off her horse, but continued to stare at her father.  “Please Stella.  I will explain everything to you.  I will not lie, I will not deceive or misdirect.  I will tell you everything.  It’s time you knew.”

Stella, stiff with shock and fear slid off Arwen and stood looking at her father, unable to say anything, unsure of what to say.  She held her breath waiting, for what, she didn’t know.

Albert took a deep breath and looked at the trees, watching the breeze gently blowing through the branches, wondering how he was going to do this without losing his daughter’s love and trust.  But maybe that was the price he had to pay.

“Stella, you were born in 1578 just a few hundred yards from this spot and your name if Ailean McKenzie.  Your mother and I were very much in love and we hand fasted.  She knew that I was not from here, this place, this time, but it didn’t make any difference to either of us.  Love was all that we knew and all that we cared about, it never occurred to us that we would have to make difficult decisions about any child that we had.  We never thought about having children, we were just happy to have one another.

“I was not known to your mother’s people, with no lineage that would make me a good prospect.  No alliance to any clan.  A stranger.  They did not know of our hand fasting and while I was away she was forced to marry another.  A Stewart.  When I returned and found out I was enraged, I drew him out and…sent him away…to another time.  When you were three I took you to be with me in the future where you could have an education and have opportunities you wouldn’t find here.”

Stella, overcome with nausea, bent at the waist and vomited twenty three years of lies, trying to relieve herself of the shock of what she was hearing.  She was trembling, her legs and arms weak with anger.  She felt as if she were floating, cast into space, with no ground to walk on, no elements to hold onto, floating like space dust, with nothing to anchor her to reality.  She was lost in nothingness.  She was no longer herself, the one she believed herself to be.  her name wasn’t even her own.  She was frightened.

“Daddy, goddam you, Daddy,” Stella could barely talk, gagging on vile and tears and the wretchedness of knowing that she didn’t know who or what she was.  She sank to the ground, unable to stand.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Albert, consumed with guilt, let flow the tears that should have been shed many, many years ago.  Unleashed, they trailed down his face, his chest heaving in quiet sobs, his heart breaking because he had broken the heart of his daughter.  He sank to the ground beside her wanting to console her, but more so, wanting her to forgive him.  He touched her shoulder.

“Stella…”

Whirling up like a virago, Stella slapped her father’s hand away. “Don’t touch me!  How dare you touch me, you lying bastard!  You stole my mother from me!” A lifetime of aching for a mother exploded in her heart and Stella was in an uncontrollable rage. “Where is she?  I want to see my mother!”

“I am here, daughter.” Stella turned quickly to the voice and saw a woman, an older version of herself standing in the path.  She was dressed very similarly to Elinor, but had an apron on and carried a basket filled with leaves and flowers.

Stella was immobilized, terrified of what or who she was looking at.  She was confused, not sure who was dead, who was alive, who had left, who had returned.  She could only look at the women and wonder if she was real.

“Merry,” said Albert. “I told her, but she’s…” his heartache and pain was evident in his face.

“Hush, Albert,” said Merry, “We will get through this.  Hold yer peace and let see my daughter.”  Merry set her basket down and held out her arms, beckoning Stella.

“Come, my sweet girl, I’ve missed you so.” Merry’s tears washed pain from her heart, longing from her soul.  Her daughter had returned.  Stella, her mouth hanging open, frozen in time and space, could not move, she could barely talk.

“Mama?”  Barely audible the words were trumpeted in her heart and Stella willed herself up from the dirt path to face this woman.  Taking a deep breath she let go of twenty years of a motherless existence, she let go of all the wanting and sorrow of not having that feminine influence in her life, the anger of abandonment, and in that second of releasing she spent her anger.  Her body that had stood so rigid with anger was now humbled, fluid and tender.