Rhanna

by Christine Marion Fraser

  Yet though the island droned with the lazy sounds of summer the people themselves bustled about with great purpose. Summer was a time of preparation. Peats were lifted and turned, fields planted and the damage wrought by winter gales put to rights. But Rhanna folk never hurried. A simple job like repairing a lobster pot could take a long time amidst agreeable companionship. Tar and salt titillated the sense of smell. The screaming of gulls, the wavelets slapping green barnacled stilts, made time a thing to hold on to rather than pass.

  On such a day Fergus strode out to the fields to meet Bob and young Mathew. He braced his strong shoulders and took a deep breath of air heavy with fragrant scents. It was one of his good days. Everything had gone well and the sight of his corn fields already knee-high added to his sense of well-being. Memories of Helen still tormented him but time was gradually taking away the bitterness he had felt on losing her. At first he felt he hated God, hated the circumstances that had taken her young life. Utter loneliness engulfed him and his very soul pined for her. His dreams were filled with visions of her and he would reach out to take her in his arms only to wake up and find the reality of the empty room. He knew he called her name in his sleep because several times Shona appeared at his door, her eyes round and frightened.

  ‘Father you were calling her again!’ she said once, a sob catching her throat. The small white figure looked so forlorn and afraid he wanted to take her in his arms and snuggle her down in bed beside him but something held him back. He no longer thought of his little girl as the usurper who lived in place of his wife because when he looked at her he knew that Helen had been reborn in every glance, every dimpled grin. But he was afraid to love again. He knew his attitude was cowardly but the black shadow of death had already robbed him of his two loves and he couldn’t risk giving of a heart that was already badly scarred by grief.

  He looked at the field of corn and remembered the day he had coaxed Helen into the field on some pretext and then made love to her on the bed of sweet grasses. Passion had engulfed him and his senses reeled. Green corn and blue sky had merged into one. But she had escaped him and ran laughing, tantalizing him, her auburn hair glinting like fire in the sun and her breath coming fast when he had caught her and tussled with her, the struggle making the final conquering of her lithe body all the more satisfying. Perhaps that day of hot sun and warm bodies joining, had been the day their child was conceived.

  Bob’s harsh shout broke in on his thoughts. ‘Have you seen Kerrie?’

  ‘No, he’s usually with you, man!’

  Bob’s walnut brown face showed impatience. ‘Ach, the damt bugger has likely got wind of McDonald’s bitch. I was needin’ him to help old Peg to bring down the lambs and yowes from the top field.’

  ‘I saw him at Loch Wee,’ volunteered Mathew, now a strapping youth of nineteen. ‘A lot of the dogs were in the water wi’ the bairns and that new teacher.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘She’s a bonny woman so she is, nice shaped without bein’ skinny. I could see her bosoms peepin’ out from the top o’ her suit. It brought me out in a sweat just to look at her.’

  ‘Damned woman and her swimming!’ Fergus exploded. He had heard all about Miss Fraser – Shona was full of her, the men made eager remarks about her looks and the women also made remarks but none of them favourable. He turned on his heel. ‘I’ll go down to the loch! There’s too much nonsense in that young teacher’s mind. If Kerrie’s there I’ll get him back but not before I’ve given Miss Fraser a piece of my mind. Distracting everything from what I hear!’ He strode away and Bob spat in disgust.

  ‘See what you’ve done, you young upstart!’ he told a shamefaced Mathew. ‘From all I hear the lass is a real lady but a wee firework for a’ that. If she and McKenzie has words the woods will be afire wi’ a’ the sparks fleein’ abouts!’

  Fergus reached the road and crossed over to take a short cut through the woods. Shafts of sun dappled the covering of pine needles at his feet and a squirrel scolded him angrily from a high, hidden place. The woods were cool and peaceful and his burst of temper was evaporating as quickly as it had come. A little burn tumbled nearby, the water sliding smoothly over green stones. He stopped to splash his face in the bracing mountain water and lifted his head to see a rabbit washing its whiskers in a patch of sunlight. He held his breath, keeping still till the little creature completed its toilet and ambled slowly away. The sight of the wild rabbit brought a strange thought to him. He was always so purposefully busy he seldom had time for any of the things that had once been so precious to him and he walked on slowly, thinking deeply. Shouts of laughter came to him from Loch Tenee and he pictured Shona, bronzed by the sun, splashing and screeching with joy. He knew her companion would be Niall McLachlan and he wondered if it would be through the innocence of the children that he could make his peace with Lachlan. The thought of a reconciliation had occupied a good deal of his mind of late for he knew the black cloud of guilt and shame would remain in him till he had made his peace. But he didn’t know how to go about it. Mirabelle always took Shona to be treated for childhood complaints. When she’d had measles and Lachlan had had to come to the house to treat her he had been at a cattle sale in Oban and by the time he got home Shona was up and about. He himself had never had the need of a doctor since his boyhood so there was no excuse for their paths to cross. He had often passed Phebie or Lachlan but they were either accompanied by friends or Lachlan was trotting by in his trap and he had never been able to pluck up enough courage to shout a greeting, not after so many years of silence. He knew Shona was often at Slochmhor and he had pondered about going on some pretext to fetch her but somehow he was either too busy or she was home before he’d made up his mind.

  He approached the thickly wooded slopes above the loch and paused to relight his pipe. It was a very quiet except for the scurrying of small creatures among the ferns and he heard the audible gasp of dismay as clearly as if the sound was at his elbow. Less than four yards away stood Miss Fraser. He had seen her quite often at a distance, her tall slim figure not to be mistaken for any other. He couldn’t mistake it now although she stood before him quite naked, her blue eyes round with shock and a red flush spreading over her neck and face. She had come into the woods to dry herself and dress, never suspecting that she would encounter anyone in the quiet sleeping glade among the trees. The swim had been good and her body glowed with the exhilaration of the freezing water. The children were getting dressed behind various bushes skirting the loch and she had come to her usual place, well away from prying eyes. Her costume lay at her feet where she had just dropped it and she was reaching for a towel when the twig had snapped nearby.

  For a brief moment man and woman regarded each other, neither of them having the will to move. It was a fleeting tableau when all time seemed to stand still. The forest rustled with small sounds but the warm wind that had caressed the treetops seconds before now held its breath. A gull screeched overhead and a tiny vole scampered for cover in the moss but all else waited.

  Fergus stared at the utter beauty of her slim body fresh from the water. He was unable to stop his eyes from travelling over every part of her. Her lithesome brown legs were long and shapely. Belly and hips curved to a narrow waist and her breasts were small but perfect, standing up young and firm, heaving because she was breathing rapidly. Her neck was slender and the bones of her face fine and sensitive. Her hair glinted like corn in the sun with crisp small tendrils drying round ears that were pink with embarrassment. His heart pounded into his throat and a sound like the sea on a stormy day rushed through his ears. Passions that he hadn’t felt for years gripped his body and his loins churned. Every fibre in him cried out and he felt the blood pulsing till every cell seemed to rush downwards and he felt a hardness rising up against his belly. He knew that she could see what was happening but he was powerless to stop it. He wanted to rush forward and crush her lovely body in his arms. He wanted to feel her naked breasts in his hands, to throw her down on the moss and take her there in the mid
dle of the silent wood, and he wanted to hear her cry out in pain and ecstasy because he knew he would be brutal and rough in his overwhelming desire. Sweat broke from him and his legs felt weak so that he had to lean against the bole of a tree to steady himself. His heart raced while he fought to gain control over the pulsing heat at the pit of his stomach and his mouth felt dry.

  She stared at his tall lean figure and her first impulse was to run. She had heard all about Fergus McKenzie. The Rhanna folk were wily with newcomers. They dropped hints and innuendoes and pretended that they didn’t want to gossip but all the time the gossip went on and she had gradually learned that Fergus had lost his beloved wife in childbirth and had blamed Dr McLachlan for what had happened. It was the story of a bitter lonely man and Kirsteen Fraser had watched him from a distance and felt sorry for him. She also felt sorry for little Shona McKenzie, who was spirited and brave, clever and quick yet somehow forlorn and lost.

  But the man that she had heard about was not the same one she was facing now, his deep dark eyes looking at her with an intensity that shook her. She looked at his bronzed arms and strong hands, clenched till the veins had knotted and she thought he would break the bowl of his pipe. His tightly muscled body strained against his thin shirt. The collar lay open and she saw quite plainly the pulse beating swiftly in his neck. His face was handsome with rugged strong features and his hair was so black it glinted blue in the light. She saw with a sudden catch of tenderness the damp tendrils clinging to the sweat on his brow. She no longer wanted to run but felt she could stay in that wood forever just looking at him. She let her eyes traverse every bit of his body and saw that her nakedness had roused desires in the strong rugged creature who was supposed to be without feeling and who was said to be ill-tempered and unapproachable.

  She forgot her embarrassment and became aware of a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. A pulse beat rapidly in her groin and her body became warm with an excitement she hadn’t known since Donald. Donald! How sweet the name was to her. He had died of a cerebral haemorrhage only a month after they were engaged to be married. She hadn’t wanted to live without him and after a time knew she had to make a complete break away from her home and her family, especially her mother who wouldn’t let her try to forget Donald for a moment. She had mourned and cried over the loss, not letting go of the past, and constantly grieving about the future that her daughter would never have with a young man who had met with her approval in almost every respect.

  In Rhanna Kirsteen was slowly picking up the pieces of her life and already she loved the green island. She had discovered that Rhanna people were furtive and secretive about many aspects of life yet the intricacies of human relationships were so intriguing to them they were always ready with a hinted account of unsavoury gossip, some of them so outlandish she had found them hard to believe.

  People like Behag Beag and Morag the spinner were certainly too good to be true both in manner and prim speech, others like the McKinnons open and frank to the point of embarrassment, yet so likeable it was easy to feel natural in their company. She would always remember her first visit to the McKinnon home. She had wanted to have a word with Mrs McKinnon about Wullie’s continual sniffing and had been ushered in by Nancy who immediately made her a Strupak and settled down eagerly for a talk. Nancy’s wedding was imminent and she regaled Kirsteen for a full hour with tales of Archie whose strong desires for her body had made ‘the buttons o’ his fly fairly go poppin’ every time they were alone together’.

  ‘Ach, but I’m lookin’ forward to my wedding so I am,’ she had continued. ‘It’s taken me all my time to wait, so it has, for all my family are that way inclined. My two big brothers are wed now but they had poor old Roddy near off his head in school for they used to be puttin’ their hands up the lassies’ skirts in the classroom and Wullie’s only going on ten and already he lets the girls see his rooster!’

  Kirsteen cleared her throat. ‘It’s your little brother I came about, Nancy. When will your mother be back? I can’t wait too long.’

  ‘Ach, she’ll be awhily. She’s taken my dress up to Laigmhor and will crack wi’ Mirabelle for ages. Mirabelle’s doing wee flowers all over the top of my dress. Och, I’ll be just lovely in it so I will and because I’ve kept myself a virgin, though God knows how, I’ll not be like some o’ they hypocrites who go to the altar in white and are droppin’ bairns like elephants seven months later and sayin’ they’ve come afore time.’

  ‘Nancy, I’ll have to go but I wonder – I know you’ll be leaving home soon but meantime, could you try and teach your little brother not to swear quite so much and could you ask your mother to take him to Dr McLachlan. He’s got a continual runny nose and, as well as being annoying, there must be a reason for it.’

  Nancy had stared at the earnest face of the pretty young teacher and burst out laughing.

  ‘Ach Miss Fraser, it’s funny you are. We could all swear before we could talk properly! You mustny mind it for we canna help it. I’ll have a word wi’ Mither about taking Wullie to the doctor but I’m sure that it won’t do a bit of good. Wullie was born wi’ a dreep at his nose! I should know that for I delivered him and he snottered from the start. But it’s kind you are to think of him and I’ll tell the wee bugger to watch his tongue in future!’

  Kirsteen escaped the warm dim kitchen and hurried round a corner where she burst out laughing, then, composing herself, she went up a grassy lane to the Morrisons’ cottage because she had wanted Elspeth to take a message to Phebie with whom she was very friendly.

  Hector came home and Kirsteen heard the raised voices even before she reached the open door. Elspeth was baking and in her floury hand she held a rolling pin which she was brandishing at Hector who was steeping his feet in a basin by the fire into which he stared with glazed eyes. Neither of them noticed Kirsteen and she tiptoed hastily away from the scene, not knowing that Elspeth would not have been offended because her argument with Hector had been overheard. Hers was an open hostility and she didn’t care who knew it and Hector, conditioned to years of nagging, was hardly aware that any other way of life existed.

  But swearing or nagging, gossiping and laughing, the islanders were refreshingly different from any other people Kirsteen had met and she was growing to love their way of life. The gentry at Burnbreddie were a different story. Kirsteen had been invited to Burnbreddie for tea. It was Madam Balfour’s habit to invite all newcomers to her home so that she could look them over. Kirsteen had hated every minute of it and had sat on the edge of a huge chintz sofa and been cross-examined to the point of rudeness, all the while aware that Madam Balfour’s beady little eyes were taking in every detail of her. Afterwards the laird had taken her to his study to show her his collection of butterflies. He had pressed himself hard against her on various pretences and leered into her face with watery lustful eyes. When one big hairy paw came out and openly fondled her breasts she had slapped him hard on the face and asked to be taken home immediately. ‘Pretty young woman,’ Madam Balfour commented, watching the carriage drive away. ‘Nicely mannered but nothing much of interest in the way of family. I wonder why she left so quickly. It was very rude, yet she seemed to have been well brought up.’

  ‘Spirited little lass,’ mumbled the laird, his bloodshot eyes gleaming at the memory of Miss Fraser’s firm young breasts in his hands.

  Kirsteen had settled well to her new way of life. The schoolhouse was cosy with its big fireplaces and exciting little neuks and crannies. Slowly her heart was healing and she felt a peace stealing into her. Now here she was, in the heart of a pine wood, her whole being tingling with the feelings Fergus McKenzie roused in her. Somehow she knew that even after the moment was over she would never again know peace of mind, not so long as the strong vital force of the man was in her thoughts.

  He was breathing easier now though he still surged with a passion he thought had died with Helen. But anger slowly took the place of longing and he was unable to find a reason for it. Perhaps it w
as guilt, or shame that he could experience such a tide of excitement for a woman who wasn’t Helen, he didn’t know, but he was in control of himself again and with a slight nod of his head dismissed the incident as if it had been of no import whatsoever.

  ‘Miss Fraser.’ His voice was clipped and cold. ‘Begging your pardon I will bid you good day!’

  She watched him disappear into the greenery and her face flushed with shame and embarrassment. In a few words he had humiliated her, made her feel cheap and degraded. The power of the man, his virility, had touched cords she had never felt before, not even with Donald. She knew he had desired her but the tone of his voice, the elusive quality of his departing figure, made her wonder if she had only imagined his attraction to her. The fact that she was naked had played a big part she knew but there was something else, something that had burst out from each of them to meet in burning streaks of electric magnetism, a silent force that each of them had been aware of. She couldn’t have mistaken it and it would be a long time before she forgot the dark passion glazing his eyes and his almost tangible depth of longing. She dressed slowly allowing her hot cheeks to cool and her hands to stop trembling.

  The children were growing impatient but knew better than to wander. Shona plopped stones into the water and Niall sat on a mossy boulder, his hands clasping his knees and his brown eyes contemplative.

  ‘Shona!’

  She turned to look at him. His brown skin was glowing and his tumbled corn curls ruffling in a faint breeze. She was only five and he seven yet already she thought him the finest boy in the class. He was protective towards her and though they often had rough games and angry words he always knew when she had had enough.

  ‘Yes, Niall?’

  ‘Why does your father hate mine?’

  She stared. ‘He doesn’t, does he?’