Return To Rhanna

by Christine Marion Fraser

  ‘I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it tonight,’ he said gruffly. ‘I promised Tam a game of cards.’

  ‘I think you’d better see Ruth,’ Shona said imperatively. ‘It’s what you wanted, surely. You haven’t been moping around all these weeks with a bellyache, that I know for a fact.’

  He looked at her strangely, his fine mouth curling ruefully. ‘Ay, it’s what I wanted right enough – but not this way – secret meetings arranged behind my back. Ruthie should have come to me if she was so anxious to see me – unless of course she’s in some kind of trouble.’

  ‘Ach, you’re worse than Father,’ Shona said evasively. ‘I’m not going to say another word on the subject, so stop looking at me as if you could read my mind. I’m away back to the house to help Kirsteen with the dishes – you had better get a message over to Tam’s to let him know you won’t be able to make it tonight.’

  The door creaked shut behind her and Lorn stared at it broodingly, his fingers working nervously on the oily rag he had been using to clean the tractor. For a long time he remained immobile, then with a muffled oath he went out and made his way to the stable. It was warm, filled with the sweet smell of crushed hay and leather. Myrtle, the big patient Clydesdale, was in her stall, contentedly munching hay from the manger. At his entry her ears flicked back and her velvet-brown eyes regarded his with calm enquiry. He ran his hands over her broad, soft nose. ‘It’s all right, lass,’ he murmured, ‘I haveny come to bother you, I only want to talk to you.’

  She snickered with pleasure and touched his neck with her gentle mouth as he laid his brow against her mane and whispered into her ears, the way he had whispered so many of his troubles in the past.

  A few lights were beginning to twinkle from the harbour cottages as Lorn made his way over the slopes of Ben Machrie. There was a crispness in the blonde grasses waving in the wind blowing up from the sea, a sign that summer had crept back into the earth, in its departure leaving behind the dry, hollow stems of bracken and wildflowers to embellish the earth with their own particular beauty before they too curled up and disappeared against the onslaught of winter.

  Lorn wasn’t looking forward to the long dark evenings ahead – evenings that would be full of a stark emptiness without the presence of Lewis. He had made the days of winter bright, had filled them with his noisy, cheerful, often overwhelming personality. Sometimes Lorn had felt crushed by him, forced to retreat into a shell from which there had seemed no escape, but now that Lewis was dead, now that he was an entity unto himself, he began to see that it wasn’t his brother who had made him the way he was. It was in his nature to be withdrawn, he was simply his father’s son, the things that were in Fergus were surely in him, and no matter how much he might long to be as Lewis had been the very structure of his being made such a thing an impossibility.

  Yet there remained the many quirks of nature he and Lewis had shared, and more and more lately he had felt himself to be the keeper of his brother’s spirit – that as long as he lived so also did Lewis and when he too departed the earth they would both go on to meet eternity together. He hadn’t divulged his fancies to anyone because he was afraid of being laughed at, but more than anything it was because these things were sacred to him and not to be shared lightly with others, no matter how close.

  He dug his hands into the pockets of his jacket and tried not to let his thoughts wander ahead to Ruth and the reasons behind the somewhat furtive meeting, but despite himself she filled his mind and when he topped a rise and saw the unmistakable gleam of her flaxen head his heart leapt into his throat. She was sitting against the Seanachaidh’s Stone, the Stone of the Storyteller, her back was to him but he knew from the tense pose of her body that she awaited him with trepidation.

  ‘Hallo, Ruthie.’ He spoke her name softly but even so she jumped and scrambled hastily to her feet. He noticed that she was pale and that her hands were clenched at her sides as if to keep them steady.

  ‘Lorn, I – I wasn’t sure if you would come. I told Mam I was going to see Grannie and Granda so I can’t stay long.’ Her great violet eyes regarded him searchingly. He felt his breath trembling in his throat, making it difficult for him to speak. He wanted to rush forward and take her in his arms; to stroke the strands of hair from her brow; to kiss the sweet inviting fullness of her lips, but he did none of these, instead he sat down a few feet from her and pulling at a piece of wind-bleached grass snapped it off and inserted the end between his strong white teeth.

  In the silence the rushing of the burn was like thunder in his ears though he could hear plainly the scrunching of her feet as she shifted slightly. She didn’t sit down. He was very aware of her standing so close beside him and though he didn’t look directly at her he knew that she was gazing longingly into the blue-grey mists of the gloaming as if mapping out the quickest route of escape. It was the way she had looked in days gone by when their mutual shyness had seemed an insurmountable barrier between them. He had suspected that this was to be no ordinary meeting, and now he knew it for a fact. He wanted to go to her, to reassure her, yet he couldn’t do it simply because he felt so helpless himself. Lewis would have handled the situation with ease, made some laughing remark that would immediately have lessened the tension. Lewis would have – I’m not Lewis! an inner voice protested passionately. I’m me, Lorn Lachlan McKenzie! I am separate, I am whole, I am different!

  ‘Shona said you had something to tell me, Ruthie.’ His slow calm voice did not betray his inner conflict. ‘Come and sit by me and coorie in – it’s cold up here in the wind.’

  ‘No!’ Her protest was sharp and more gently she whispered, ‘I’d rather not be near you, Lorn, if you don’t mind. When you’ve heard what I have to say you might never want to look at me or touch me again.’

  Lorn drew his knees up to his chest and lowered his head to gaze contemplatively into the peaty, umber water tumbling over the stones. ‘I know what you’re going to tell me, Ruthie.’ He pronounced each word carefully, forcing them to come out in a cool semblance of order and he was glad that his voice held no tremor. At least he had the satisfaction of having sounded perfectly in control of his emotions.

  ‘You – you know?’ Ruth was staring at him wildly. He saw her hands unclenching, saw the trembling of the long sensitive fingers before they curled back up once more into small fists. ‘Did Shona tell you?’

  He knew then that his solitary wonderings of the afternoon had not been the product of an over-imaginative mind. ‘No, Shona didn’t tell me – I guessed. God Almighty, Ruthie!’ He exploded at last, all the pent-up grief, hope and love of many weeks boiling outwards in a torrential outpouring. ‘What the hell do you take me for? Do you think I’m stupid? Oh ay, I’ll admit I must have been pretty thick not to have guessed sooner, but this afternoon I worked it all out. All this time you’ve been avoiding me I wondered if you had changed your mind about me. I went through hell, damn you! I tried to convince myself you weren’t worth it all. Sometimes I hated you, at other times I hated myself for wanting you so much. Right now I hate myself for being so bloody stupid about the whole thing but I couldn’t think straight and couldn’t see what was happening under my nose. If you’re having Lewis’s baby it doesn’t change the way I feel about you. I love you, Ruthie, I always have – oh hell,’ he punched his knuckles together, ‘why do I feel so angry? I want to hit somebody – I could – I could—’ His voice tailed off and he shook his head from side to side, unable to go on. His deep, dark eyes were blazing in his white face, the big strong knuckles he pressed suddenly to his temples, shaking. There was silence. The wind whined through the heather, moulding the hill grasses into tawny waves, sending shivers of light over the crystal stream spilling its way over the hill slopes.

  Ruth stared at his crown of earth-brown curls and a sob broke in her throat. ‘Lorn,’ she murmured, ‘how can you love me – how can you? Knowing what you do about me?’

  ‘Because I’m not your God Almighty mother, that’s why!’ he
yelled in torment. ‘I don’t need a Bible in my hand to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do. I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t hate the thought of you and my brother together but what’s done is done and there’s nothing can take that away – it was meant to be.’

  A slow haze of tears drowned her eyes and she spun blindly away from him. ‘Ay, that may be so, Lorn, what’s done is done, there’s no turning back now – but no one in the world – not even God – can stop me doing what I want to do. I’m always having to please somebody and it’s time I pleased myself – I don’t need to have this baby.’

  He glared at her, fury sparking out of his eyes. ‘God might not be able to stop you but I can – by Christ I can! Oh, your mother would say He was just using me, but this is me speaking, Ruthie – not God. I want to marry you, to rear my brother’s child as my own. I want to take care of you and give you some happiness – and – dammit – I want to hear you telling me that you want me too!’

  His voice ended on a note of exhaustion and Ruth felt an unbearable pain searing into her heart. ‘Lorn – please – I want to believe you, more than anything in this world I want to believe you – but I don’t want you to say such things – because you feel you have to.’

  Wordlessly he rose to his feet and strode over to stand above her, big, looming, his muscular body outlined against the sky. Her heart hammered in her breast, tearing the air from her lungs. She felt strange and weak and ready to faint – something stirred in her belly, something that might have been a heartbeat – a tiny vibration surging within – but it was too soon for her to feel such a subtle quiver of life and she realized the feeling belonged to herself, a pulsing nerve that throbbed rhythmically to the beating of her heart.

  ‘Ruthie.’ Her name was a mere breath on his lips. He was staring at her, as if he couldn’t get enough of her, his eyes so dark and intense they were like the blue shadowed pools of the forest. ‘Oh, Ruthie – I’ve waited so long.’ He put out a tentative finger to touch a lock of her hair then with a little half sob he gathered her into his arms. The sheep bleated from the corries of the shadowed hill and far in the glen below a dog barked, the sound filtering peacefully through the gathering night, but the two young people heard only the surging of their own swift heartbeats and the exciting echoes of quickening breath.

  ‘I don’t have to do anything,’ he said softly into her ear, ‘except – this.’ His lips came down to claim hers and with a helpless moan of resignation she melted against him. It had been so long, an eternity since she had felt the cool pressure of his mouth on hers, but now there was something else, something that transcended those early inexpert seekings, now there was power, a sure possessive urgency born of need and want and love. The awkward boy had grown into a man and Ruth revelled in the glory of those moments. The earth reeled and turned upside down and there was no one else but them, lost in the wonder of their love. Ruth knew that this was how it should always have been and there were tears in her eyes for time lost, for things past that she would regret forever. But it was also a time for looking forward, for rejoicing in the fact that Lorn wanted her, despite everything he still loved her and she vowed then that she would never make the same mistakes as her mother, never never would she cast the burden of her guilt on those she loved, instead she would do everything in her power to make Lorn happy and she knew that by doing so she would find happiness herself. A flame of desire seared into her, awakening her to a passion that was outside the bounds of her experience. His hands on her breasts were like thistledown yet they aroused in her a raw craving which beat and pulsed into the very core of her being. She was aware of his quickening breath and from what seemed a great distance she heard him groaning deep in his throat.

  ‘Lorn, Lorn,’ she breathed, reaching up to entwine her arms about his neck and entangle her fingers in the thick hair at his nape.

  Over and over they kissed while night crept in to drape itself in velvet folds over the stark hill peaks and over the vast reaches of the wind-tossed sea. The cool of the autumn air seeped into the earth but didn’t touch Ruth and Lorn and when he finally released her his brow was damp with perspiration and his body burning with heat. ‘Ruthie, Ruthie.’ He cupped her face in his hands and covered it with kisses. ‘You’re so lovely. I can’t get enough of holding you and touching you, I can’t trust myself to behave when I’m with you and that is why we must be married right away.’

  ‘As – soon as that?’ The words were tinged with a mild panic, yet there was a note of happiness in her tone, something that had been missing for a long time.

  He nodded, running his hands over the soft contours of her belly. ‘Ay, as soon as that and as far as those outside our families are concerned, the baby’s mine and if that bugger Lewis is watching us right now I haveny a doubt he’ll be as pleased about it as I am, though if I know him he’ll be too busy chasing the lady angels to have much time to spare for the likes of us.’

  ‘Oh, Lorn, I love you so,’ she burst out, lowering her head so that he wouldn’t see the tears spilling.

  He crooked his thumb and placed it under her chin, forcing her to lift her head and meet his eyes. ‘That’s all I wanted to hear you say, Ruthie, all I ever wanted.’

  She shivered and he put his arm protectively round her shoulders. ‘C’mon, we’ll go and break the news to our folks. If you like I’ll come and give you a bit of support, knowing your mother I can’t see her doing a dance of joy round the kitchen table at the idea of having me for a son-in-law. We haven’t exactly been on the best of terms since I got drunk at Burnbreddie’s dance.’

  But she shook her head vehemently. ‘No, Lorn, I’d rather tell her myself. Mam can be gey queer at times and I know best how to handle her. You go along home, there’s so much to think about and I want to be by myself for a whily – I can’t take it all in, there’s an awful lot to arrange and we haven’t even discussed where we’re going to live.’

  He laughed and pulled her closer. ‘Stop havering. Just take one thing at a time. Even if we have to live in a shepherd’s bothy in the hills we’ll be all right as long as we’re together.’

  An unnatural quietness prevailed over the village. Hardly a soul was to be seen, only the old men making desultory conversation with the fishermen down by the harbour. There was little to disturb the peace of the October evening. Although more and more of the mainland ways were reaching the island, the Sabbath was still a pious day and Saturday nights were set aside in preparation. Within the walls of croft and cottage children queued to be bathed, old men steeped their feet in steaming basins set by cosy peat fires while the womenfolk shut themselves into their sculleries and fastidiously attended to matters of personal hygiene. Many of the houses now had the luxury of a bathroom, but, although many wouldn’t admit to the fact, these were abandoned in the winter nights in favour of the comforts of washing by the fire and old-fashioned zinc tubs were furtively resurrected from the wash-houses for this purpose.

  Many of the crofthouse windows were curtainless and those that took the trouble to hang drapes might as well not have bothered as the business of the household could easily be seen through various chinks and folds. Passing Murdy’s house situated close to the Fallan, Lorn smothered his laughter into Ruth’s hair as they caught sight of him stripped to the waist at the window, diligently shaving with one hand while the other beat time to the Scottish dance music pouring from the wireless. At the foot of the path leading to Ruth’s house Lorn took her in his arms once more and nuzzled the lobe of her ear. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you? I don’t like the idea of you facing your mother on your own.’

  ‘I won’t be alone, Father will be there,’ she said steadily enough, though all her instincts made her want to run from the place.

  ‘Goodnight then – mo cridhe,’ he added the endearment rather shyly. ‘Will I see you tomorrow?’

  ‘Ay, you can be sure of that. I’ll be at kirk in the morning but after dinner I’ll be down at Mara Oran Bay.’r />
  His cool firm mouth touched hers briefly and his hands slid intimately over her waist before he reluctantly let her go. She waited till the sound of his footsteps had died away before she went slowly up the path. For a long time she stared at the dark oblong of the door before she straightened her shoulders and turned the handle.

  Lorn started as a car drew up beside him and Lachlan’s head popped out. ‘I see I’m going your way. Can I give you a lift?’

  Lorn settled himself into the passenger seat, smiling to himself at the collection of odds and ends which littered the interior of the Austin A45. Something jabbed into his spine and raising himself up he removed the doctor’s stethoscope and stuffed it under the dash. The little car wheezed and groaned on its tortured springs as they made their way into Glen Fallan and for a minute or two neither of them said anything, Lorn knowing only too well that it took a lot of concentration to steer any vehicle over the bumpy road surface.

  ‘I was just going to pay McKenzie a visit tonight,’ said Lachlan in his deep pleasant voice. ‘I met Shona this afternoon and she was on about getting her house painted so I thought I had better look in and get my orders.’

  Lorn merely grunted, his dazed mind so full of half-formed plans he couldn’t make sense of his jumbled thoughts.

  Lachlan sensed his mood. ‘It’s far in the distant past but I seem to remember a preoccupation with my thoughts when I was your age. Girl trouble?’

  ‘No – yes. Och – dammit, yes!’ On impulse he told Lachlan about Ruth. He had always been able to confide in the man who was as much a friend to him as he was a doctor. Both Lachlan and his wife, Phebie, seemed more like family to him. During the years of his illness, Lachlan had always been at hand with his advice and sympathy. He had become like a second father without the complications that a father-son relationship sometimes brought and Lorn didn’t feel it so odd to be confiding the things closest to his heart.

  ‘So,’ said Lachlan at length, ‘Ruth is expecting a bairn which she isn’t officially expecting till the pair of you are wed – is that right?’