Song of Rhanna (The Rhanna series)

by Christine Marion Fraser

  Niall looked at his father, an expression of love and sadness showing in the depth of eyes so like those of the man he sat beside. ‘It seems – strange – after all these years to think of you – retired.’

  Phebie held her husband’s hand tightly as she thought of his long years of devotion and self-denial that at times had almost amounted to self-neglect. These years had taken their toll, had drained him to such a degree of physical exhaustion that often he couldn’t find rest in sleep. These had been the nights he had tossed and turned in bed beside her, sometimes rising in the early hours to walk among the sleeping bens. Just recently he had been quite ill and unable to hold her counsel any longer she broached the subject of his retirement. At first he had resisted the suggestion fiercely but gradually he had listened more and more to her arguments until finally he had admitted to his own doubts of being able to carry on for another two years. In triumph she had hugged him and they had sat well into the night talking about all the things they would do when work was no longer his master.

  At his son’s words he nodded thoughtfully, ‘Ay, Niall, it will be strange. I haveny a doubt there will be times when I will sorely miss my work – but a doctor never really retires – more than likely I’ll be called upon to do my locum and I’ll come in handy whenever I’m needed – but—’ he squeezed Phebie’s shoulder, ‘this bonny mother of yours has worked as hard as me all these years and it’s time she put her feet up. We’ll not fade out of things, you can be sure, just be a wee bit more conspicuous by our absence.’

  Till that moment there had been a fairly lengthy lull in the proceedings, but now Old Bob took up his fiddle and began softly to play the Song of Rhanna. Erchy also took up the tune and one by one the other fiddlers followed suit. A silence descended on the gathering and all eyes turned to Rachel sitting quietly by her mother. As Rachel heard the music swelling and growing, her eyes grew big and luminous and she sat still and very erect, then all at once her composure broke and a flush spread over her lovely face. Todd began softly to play the tune on his pipes and as the notes rose, evocative, haunting, oddly and poignantly beautiful, the hush in the hall deepened to a rapture that was almost tangible.

  Annie’s eyes grew misty. Furtively she hunted for her hanky and surreptitiously wiped her eyes. ‘Rachel, Rachel,’ she said huskily, ‘if your thoughts are as clean and bonny as your music you are indeed a child blessed by God. I never really listened to your song until tonight – and by God, it’s beautiful just!’

  Rachel barely heard her mother’s words. She didn’t know where to look and wanted to get up and run. Yet even so a pride swelled in her heart as the notes of her song rose higher and higher. The crowd in the hall faded before her vision. It was as if she was all alone in a drifting world of music and only a small part of her could focus on reality – and suddenly, in that small narrow part of her vision she saw only one face – the face of Lorn McKenzie. It was as if she was looking down a long narrow tunnel which excluded everything but the image at the end and although he was just across the hall from her he seemed very far away and out of reach. He wasn’t looking at her, yet she knew every part of him, every nerve in his body was so painfully aware of her he was afraid to meet her eyes, though the space that divided them ensured safety for them both. Only one reason could make him keep his eyes averted like that. She knew and he knew what that reason was. Her senses reeled with the awareness of him in her heart. All her life she had known that she possessed a strange power that endowed her with the ability to know what people were feeling – thinking. Often she had cursed that power, had rebelled against the claims it made on her mind, but never had she wanted it less than she wanted it tonight. She didn’t want to see inside Lorn McKenzie’s mind – to know what he was thinking – wanting.

  People were taking the floor, looking as if they were mesmerized by the music. Dugald drifted by with Totie, Niall with Shona, Babbie with Anton. A feeling of such loneliness engulfed Rachel she felt afraid. Often she felt like this even whilst in company, sometimes even in the arms of Jon. She felt herself to be divided from the crowd and often wondered if perhaps she would have been happier, more content, if she hadn’t had such driving ambitions in her life. Yet, she couldn’t help herself, her music drove her to such a degree she felt herself to be possessed by it and occasionally resented the hold it had on her. But it had been born into her, just as surely as the colour of her eyes, her hair.

  She thought of little Lorna and Douglas and a sigh escaped her. At one time she had had no desire for children but just lately a longing had seized her though she hadn’t recognized what it was, until coming back to Rhanna and getting to know Ruth’s children.

  Ruth watched the dancers gliding over the floor though in the case of Tam and a few others tripping would be a more accurate description.

  He and his cronies had hidden a few bottles of malt whisky in the bushes and after frequent trips outside to fortify themselves they were in various stages of inebriation and it was quite hilarious to observe them and to hear the comments from their thoroughly disgusted spouses. Ruth had to laugh too, even though the pain in her stomach had worsened and she was feeling sick. She didn’t say anything to Lorn. She wasn’t going to spoil her father’s wedding day if she could help it, so she made a pretence of lightheartedness and forced herself to smile as Lorn reminisced about the night of the Burnbreddie dance.

  ‘Ay, that was the night I knew I really loved you, Lorn,’ she told him seriously. ‘But when you got drunk I thought it was because you were too ashamed to dance with me and I flew away home to cry my eyes out in my room.’

  His dark eyes were full of tenderness as he looked at her. ‘Let me dance with you again, Ruthie. I’m not very good I know, I never could get the hang of it the way Lewis did but I’m willing to learn – if you don’t mind me treading on your toes occasionally.’

  But she shook her head, her eyes going to Rachel on the other side of the room. ‘Ach no, I don’t feel like it, Lorn. Why don’t you ask Rachel instead? She hasn’t got Jon and looks a wee bit out of things tonight.’

  In reply he drew down his brows and was silent for a time before he said peevishly, ‘You never feel like anything these days, Ruthie. I want to dance with you – not Rachel.’

  Ruth flushed. ‘Oh, go on, Lorn, it’s been a long day and – I – I didn’t sleep too well last night. It would do no harm to ask Rachel, you’ve kept out of her way all evening.’

  Lorn’s jaw tightened. Ruth’s words rang mockingly in his head. Do no harm to dance with Rachel! Oh, God, Ruthie, he thought, if only you knew the harm it might do to all of us!

  He was conscious that Rachel had looked up and was watching him – almost as if she had heard what Ruth had said. But she couldn’t – she was too far away – there was too much noise. She hadn’t heard, she had sensed, that uncanny insight she had into other people’s minds was directing its full force on him. An imperceptible shiver went through him. Against his will he heard himself say, ‘All right, Ruthie, if it will please you.’ He seemed to glide towards Rachel, she towards him. Before he could speak she was in his arms and they were floating away in a world of their own.

  Sights and sounds faded from his awareness. Rachel was the only living creature in his world. Her slender young body was thistledown in his arms, her dark eyes seared his soul, her lips, slightly parted, provoked in him a yearning that was almost beyond bearing. Through the flimsy material of her dress her flesh burned into him. His heart was beating so swiftly he felt as if he was suffocating. Her perfume wafted to him, rocked his reason. It was a light yet heady fragrance that mingled with a feminine scent which was wholly hers. He had the sensation of drowning in it.

  Rachel tried to focus her attention on the music but failed. Her thoughts carried her back, back to the night of the Burnbreddie dance. She had danced, in the arms of Lewis McKenzie, a dance that was simply a prelude to undreamed-of pleasures yet to come. Now she was dancing again, not with Lewis but with Lorn – but this
time there was something more – something much more. This time she was a fully grown woman, this time she danced with a man not a boy, and all the feelings she ever had for Lewis were magnified a thousandfold for Lorn. He was looking at her, directly into her eyes, as if trying to see inside her to her very soul. He hadn’t uttered a single word but he didn’t have to – it was all there, in the burning depths of his eyes, in the big strong hands that held her so lightly yet with a possessiveness that suggested complete mastery over her. She drew in a little shuddering breath and forced herself not to move any closer to him – after all, this man wasn’t hers, he was Ruth’s, and she had to do everything in her power never to jeopardize the friendship that had always meant so much to her . . .

  ‘Doug and Totie are going away!’ The cry went up and in minutes the hall was empty. The men had decorated Dugald’s old van with all the usual paraphernalia but the ingenious Ranald had added something extra, a huge cardboard cutout of a bride and groom floating together on a big fluffy cloud, fixed to the back bumper in all its ridiculous splendour.

  ‘Here, they are no’ going to heaven,’ Tam had objected when first he saw Ranald’s handiwork.

  ‘Ach, you have no imagination, Tam McKinnon,’ Ranald had said with dignity. ‘It is to signify what they’ll be feelin’ like on their honeymoon, makin’ love and floating on a cloud o’ happiness.’

  ‘Well it never happened that way wi’ me and Kate,’ Tam had grinned. ‘We had hardly left the kirk as man and wife when we were back again wi’ Angus having him christened. It was a case of getting the ring on fast before the bairnie beat us all to it.’

  At the bottom of the steps Dugald turned to his daughter and took her hands. ‘Well, Ruthie, it’s all over bar the shouting. It’s been a grand day, one I will no’ forget in a hurry.’ He studied her face anxiously. ‘You’re looking pale, mo ghaoil. Are you sure you’re all right? I’ve noticed this whily back that you have lost all that bonny colour you had in your cheeks.’

  Ruth shrugged. ‘Och, I’m right enough, Father. It’s been a busy time but now it’s over and I can put my feet up for a whily. You go away and enjoy yourself – and don’t worry about a thing. Behag will see to the Post Office and Merry Mary has the shop well in hand. I’ll look in from time to time and make sure the pair o’ them are behaving – especially old Behag – she is positively gloating at the idea of getting back behind the counter and will no doubt get a few backs up before she’s through.’

  Totie came up and without ado took Ruth in her strong arms to embrace her thoroughly. Ruth wondered if her new stepmother had been imbibing too freely. She certainly didn’t smell of drink yet it wasn’t in her nature to be demonstrative. Totie laughed at the look on her stepdaughter’s face.

  ‘Don’t worry, Ruth, I’m no’ drunk, no’ yet anyway. I’ll keep all that for the honeymoon and might even get your father to let his hair down a bitty. I’m just pleased to be part of the family now, I will do everything in my power to make your father a happy man. I know you wondered if I was the right woman for him but I have known him long enough to believe I am.’

  Ruth blushed with embarrassment and eyed Totie’s strong, lively face hesitantly. ‘I was just being careful. He never did have much happiness with Mam and I want him to have as much as he can get in the years that are left to him.’

  ‘He will, Ruth, he will.’ Totie straightened her hat and slid Ruth a sidelong glance. ‘As for you and me, lassie, we will be honest with each other from the start. I will make no pretence of being a mother to you. I wouldny know where to begin for a start and for another I know fine no other woman can ever take a mother’s place. Ach, Morag Ruadh wasny all a mother might have been but she was the only one you had and the only one you’re ever likely to get for I’m no’ cast in the mother mould, never was. It will be better if we try just to be good friends. I’ll be here if you ever feel you need someone to talk to – just remember that, Ruth.’

  Relief washed over Ruth. Totie had voiced everything that she herself felt and she took the older woman’s hand to squeeze it tightly before turning away, her heart too full suddenly for words.

  Everyone was clamouring, waiting to give the newlyweds a right rousing send-off. The steamer was in the harbour, ready to cast off in a few minutes. Dugald and Totie could easily have walked to the pier but that didn’t seem right somehow and anyway, Dugald knew that everyone would be disappointed if they couldn’t watch the decorated van driving away so into it he climbed after first seeing Totie settled in her seat. A cheer went up, the pennies rained from the windows, sending the children scattering in all directions. The van hurtled away, the tin cans rattling, Ranald’s cardboard cutout flapping so much in the breeze it broke loose and went sailing along on a gust of wind, over the sea wall to land face upwards in the waves.

  Tam smirked. ‘Maybe it will sail away to the mainland to be found by a body thinking it was an epitaph for some newlywed couple who died in their honeymoon bed.’

  Ranald glowered and stomped away back into the deserted hall to help himself to a generous whisky from the bar. Ruth too wandered inside. The place was deserted, even the band having left their post to see the newlyweds on their way. Ruth paused in the doorway, utterly dumbfounded at the sight which met her eyes. There, in the middle of the floor, Lorn and Rachel were still dancing in each other’s arms, seemingly entirely unaware that the music had long ago stopped and they were the only couple left on the floor.

  Lorn’s face was flushed, Rachel’s eyes were closed, both appeared to be oblivious to all but each other.

  Ruth was about to make some laughing remark but some instinct stayed her. The hall was filling once more. Pipes, accordions and fiddles were soon in full swing. It was the start of a night of ceilidhing which would go on to the small hours. Lorn and Rachel drew apart, dazed looking, both of them glancing round as if they had travelled back from a long distance.

  ‘I’d watch that Rachel wi’ your man,’ Behag’s voice grated in Ruth’s ear but she barely heard. For the first time she wondered if something more than mere antagonism existed between her husband and her best friend. All week they had avoided one another but Ruth had expected that, Lorn had warned her of his feelings, yet even so she hadn’t been prepared for the resentment he had displayed towards Rachel, it had built up to a point where Ruth felt they truly hated the sight of each other. But there had been no sign of that in the scene she had just witnessed. They had looked – rapturous, as if the opportunity to be so close was something for which they had both waited for a long time.

  Ruth tried to push the thoughts away but they needled persistently into her consciousness and wouldn’t be ignored. The laughter, the music, the banter, faded into insignificance as terrifying suspicions filled her head. Lorn was coming towards her, excited looking, his hair mussed, his eyes showing some inner emotion which she could only just guess at. He was smiling at her, his lips forming a greeting as he came nearer, but there was an unnatural flush on his face and she looked away, not wanting to see what lay in the deep blue fathoms of his eyes.

  ‘You dance well for somebody who claims to be useless at it,’ she greeted him sarcastically.

  He had been about to take her hand but drew away quickly to search her face. ‘I wasn’t dancing, I was just hanging about till you came back.’

  ‘You could have come too, it’s no’ every day my father goes away on a honeymoon – he was looking for you – to wish him luck, I suppose.’

  ‘Are they – he’s away then,’ he faltered, surprise in his tones.

  ‘I should have thought everyone knew that,’ she said bitterly. ‘There was enough noise outside to waken the dead.’

  A frown creased his brow and she saw that he was obviously trying to recall anything that might have pierced his consciousness while he had Rachel in his arms.

  ‘I – I think I’d like to go home, Lorn.’ She sounded breathless and quickly she added, ‘I’m a wee bitty tired, it’s been a long day.’

&nbs
p; He seemed about to voice a protest but instead said quietly, ‘All right, Ruthie, though I had thought you would have stayed to enjoy the ceilidh.’

  ‘No, I can’t. You go and tell Rachel to stay as long as she likes. She can lie as long as she wants in the morning – I have to be up to see to Lorna and Douglas.’

  Without another word she turned away, not looking back once at the merry gathering in the hall – or at Rachel.

  Chapter Nine

  It had been a day of warm spring sunshine, of sights and sounds and a fleeting, intangible happiness. Her father’s wedding was three days in the past, and during those days an almost unbelievable peace had descended on the little cottage by Sliach. Ruth couldn’t quite put her finger on it but she knew it mostly owed itself to Lorn’s vastly changed attitude to Rachel. He had stopped avoiding her, his attitude was no longer one of dour forbearance but one of cheerful acceptance of the situation. At first this had only served to make Ruth feel that her suspicions about him and Rachel had been right but as the atmosphere inside Fàilte lightened she felt she had been wrong about everything, that she had imagined it all, that it had been the culmination of nights without sleep and the days of continued weariness, coupled with all the extra little tasks she’d had to undertake in the time leading up to the wedding. The dull, throbbing pain in her stomach was worsening, keeping her off her sleep so ‘that she had to force herself to rise in the morning. Each day she promised herself that she would go and see Lachlan, but always the children demanded her attention together with the hundred and one tasks which claimed her time.

  Rising that morning she had vowed she would pay Lachlan a call but Lorn, enthusiastic and shining-eyed, had announced his intention of taking them all out for the day. She had been swept along by his keenness and had pushed the thought of Lachlan away. And she was glad that she had for it had been a wonderful day. They had packed a picnic and had gone to Mara Oran Bay. It had started off dull but by mid-morning the sun had broken through the clouds; the sea had been a smoky, lazy blue stretching away to a pearly horizon. It had become so warm the children had splashed in delight at the edge of the ocean, led there by Rachel who in bare feet looked like the tanned gypsy of bygone days with her black curls shining in the sun and her long limbs flashing as she ran with the wee ones. Lorn had sat on the sands beside Ruth, hugging his knees, chuckling as he watched his sturdy son crawling among the rock pools, his bonny face filled with the joy of sun-kissed seas, of warm golden sand on which he could emboss his tiny footprints and watch in wonder as the laughing waves sneaked up behind him to snatch the marks away in their frothy clutches.