Song of Rhanna (The Rhanna series)

by Christine Marion Fraser

  ‘Lorn, sit down,’ she said and her voice was soft with shame.

  He kept his back to her and remained where he was, in the middle of the room with his son’s hand held in a firm grip. ‘I haven’t come to socialize.’ He could hardly get the words out. ‘I have brought your son to you and I want you to give me your answer right now as to what you intend to do . . .’ His eye fell on two cases lying on the bed, packed neatly ready to be shut.

  ‘I was coming home anyway,’ Ruth’s voice came softly at his back. ‘But – I’m so very very glad that you – thought enough of me and the children – to come and fetch us.’

  Slowly he turned, a look of disbelief smouldering in the depths of his eyes. ‘Ruthie,’ her name was a mere breath on his lips. ‘Do you really mean that?’

  She nodded. ‘Ay, Lorn, what’s the use of pretending, I canny live my life without you, I tried and I failed. That’s what made it so difficult for me – to know that I needed you, that I couldn’t go on without you . . .’

  He was staring at her, his eyes so luminously blue she was mesmerized by the intensity in them. ‘Then you felt as I did, Ruthie, I’ve been – nothing without you – we’ll have to face the truth – we were meant to be together. I at any rate – am useless without my Ruthie at my side—’ His voice broke.

  She held her breath. ‘Oh, Lorn, I’ve missed you so. I was coming back because I knew I had to have the courage to face the McKenzies again, to give myself a chance to prove that I’m as good as any of them – any day. Shona said something to me. I thought and thought about it – I am going to be the broken tree that grows taller and stronger—’

  She laughed at the expression of bemusement on his face and fingered a letter in her pocket, one that she had carried about with her for two days.

  It was from the Rev. Mark James and in it he had written, ‘Ruth, I have talked to Shona and she has told me that you haven’t yet found it in you to forgive Lorn. Don’t you think it’s time you swallowed your pride? You’ve proved your point, that’s obvious to everyone. I know about Lorna, what happened with you and Lewis. Lorn loved you enough to forgive you that affair with his brother. He was but a mere boy at the time but he was man enough to marry you and give your child a name. Have you ever thought that he was perhaps plunged into marriage before he was ready for it? I am not trying to excuse what he did, I am only looking at the reasons why. Lorn must have loved you very much to do what he did. He entered into marriage with forgiveness in his heart and he was mature enough spiritually to be able to do it successfully – up to a point. It’s time now for you both to grow up, to give as well as take. You will be thinking that I have a cheek to lecture you on the rights and wrongs. And you would be right. Shona told you certain things about me. In my mind I have sinned as Lorn has sinned. I am human, I am as weak as the next man. Only from God do I get my strength and only from Him do I receive forgiveness. Always remember, Ruth, let he who is without sin cast the first stone. By the same token, she who agrees with this will take this letter to the fire and burn it; if not, then you are at liberty to show it to whoever you like: Mark James, your minister.’

  Ruth had read and re-read the letter till she knew it off by heart and in absorbing the wisdom of the words the last layers of her pride and bitterness had peeled away leaving her feeling new and good and full of an eagerness to be reunited with her husband. With a smile she went over to the fire and taking the letter from her pocket threw it into the flames and watched it burning. Shona had planted the seeds of resolve in her heart, Mark James had nurtured them and allowed them to grow strong and upright. The children were watching each other, shyly smiling from lowered brows. Lorna’s hand went out to her little brother. With a gurgle of laughter he left his father’s side and allowed his sister to lead him over to the hearthrug where an assortment of toys were scattered. Soon both children were immersed in their own little world. Lorn looked at Ruth. ‘I wish it could be that simple for us.’

  Ruth had felt a weakness invading her ever since the moment she saw Lorn standing on her doorstep. Now a new kind of trembling weakness pervaded her limbs and in a strangely calm acceptance she realized it was a feeling brought about by an emotion of pure love for her husband, a stronger love than ever before, a love that she knew would allow her to reach out to him, take him in her arms, hold him to her breast.

  ‘It can be that simple, Lorn, we’ll make it so.’ She held out her arms and he went into them to bury his dark head against her breasts. ‘I want to hold you forever,’ he whispered into her hair, hair that was like fine threads of spun gold and which never failed to touch him with its beauty. ‘It’s been so long, Ruthie, I can’t believe I’m here – at last, in your arms.’

  Love sprang between them like a living thing. Both were aware of the strength of it, the power of its healing, taking away all the misery and uncertainty they had both endured. Tears were flowing unchecked down Ruth’s face, cleansing her, washing away all the hatred and bitterness that had lain like poison in her heart since her departure from Rhanna. The arms that held her were gentle but there was a strength in them that reminded her of how it had been in the beginning.

  ‘I never stopped loving you, Ruthie,’ he said fiercely. ‘I don’t know what possessed me to do what I did with—’ He straightened and looked away from her, a terrible shadow of shame lying starkly over his face.

  Gently she put a finger on his lips. ‘Weesht, Lorn, I am just as guilty as you. There’s a lot we have to talk about, but it will keep for a whily. I just want you to know that what we had was something so beautiful I couldn’t bear to know another had shared it. But you must have felt like that when you found out about me and Lewis, and yet you cared enough for me to forgive me. It’s all over now and I want you to promise me that never again will you look as ashamed as you did a moment ago. It doesn’t sit well on McKenzie shoulders – pride, yes – shame, no.’

  Lorn kissed her then, a kiss born of sheer exuberance and joy. ‘We’re going home,’ he almost sang the words. ‘C’mon bairnies, put your toys away, we’re going home – to Rhanna.’

  Home! The word sang in Ruth’s heart. Quite unbidden the Song of Rhanna came to her, the words, composed by the minister, beat inside her head: ‘Take me back where I belong, where the skylark sings his song . . .’ Ruth shook her hair and laughed. Soon, soon she would hear again the sea’s tumultuous roar, see the mist upon the corries on the bens. She reached out her hand to her little son – and he took it, shyly, his head lowered coyly on to his chest. ‘Muvver.’ He spoke the word hesitantly.

  Lorna gazed at him thoughtfully. ‘Mother,’ she corrected. ‘She is Mother.’

  Lorn grabbed Ruth’s hand and chuckled. ‘Come on, Muvver, I canny wait to get you back. I crept out of the house like a thief at the crack of dawn this morning and my muvver and favver will be anxiously waiting to know what’s been happening.’

  Ruth wandered through all the rooms of Fàilte, touching things, hearing the echo of laughter that had once rung through the house. It was her first time in the house since her return to the island a week ago. In spite of all her apprehensions at coming back it had been a wonderful week, filled with the excitement of seeing again dear familiar faces and places. The pointing fingers that she had so dreaded had been conspicuous by their absence. Everyone was genuinely glad to have her back, her father overjoyed. She would never forget the look on his face at sight of her, he had been incredulous, laughing; tears had shone in his eyes then he had folded her into his arms to stroke her hair and murmur words of thankfulness that smote her heart with their tenderness. There had been a large bundle of mail waiting for her at Laigmhor, among them a fairly recent letter telling her that the BBC wished to adapt one of her short stories into a play for radio. It was then she confessed to Lorn that she had written a book during her exile, one so full of self-pity and loathing that she destroyed it without ever showing it to anyone.

  ‘But do you remember the one I was writing before any of this happen
ed? I’m going to finish it now that I’m back – and when it’s done I want you to read it and let me know what you think.’

  One day Old Bob had spoken seriously to both her and Lorn, telling them that he had just bought a house on the outskirts of the village. ‘I will no’ be needing it for a whily yet,’ the old man had said with an odd little smile. ‘It is yours to live in for as long as you need.’ They both knew what he meant. He was telling them that he understood that they might not want to go back to living at Fàilte, and Ruth loved the old shepherd for his thoughtfulness and tact. She had harboured serious doubts about living in a house that might invoke jealous thoughts of Lorn and Rachel together there. After hearing Old Bob’s offer Lorn, in a confusion of embarrassment, had told Ruth that he would never have dreamed of doing anything with another woman in a house that was so intimately connected with her. But she had to know for herself, had to go back and absorb the atmosphere of the dear little cottage sitting so serenely beneath the knoll.

  Now as she stood in the bedroom she knew Lorn was telling the truth, there was no sense of shame in any of the rooms, the walls had nothing to hide. Only peace, serenity and love lay still in the house, as if waiting for its owners to come back and breathe life into it once more. A tear made her catch her breath as she stood with her hand on the back of the old tapestry couch upon which she and Lorn had made so many plans, shared so much love. ‘I love you, dear little house,’ she whispered then laughed aloud at the absurdity of talking in such a way to four empty walls. ‘But you’re not just walls and a roof to me,’ she said, gazing round with affection. ‘You’re everything I ever wanted in my life and I canny leave you for a place that has nothing of Lorn in it or the bairns. I’m coming back to you, never you fear.’

  ‘Can I come too?’ Lorn’s voice from the doorway made her jump.

  ‘Lorn, Lorn,’ she gasped. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

  ‘No wonder, talking to empty rooms as if they could hear.’

  ‘But they’re not empty and they can hear,’ she protested vehemently.

  ‘Ruthie,’ he laughed tenderly. ‘You’re profound for such a wee lass. Maybe we’re both daft – but I feel the same way about the old house.’

  He had come nearer, she could see the laughing depths in his blue blue eyes, saw his gaze sweeping over her face to come to rest on her mouth.

  ‘They can not only hear,’ she said firmly, ‘they can speak too – and they have told me everything I wanted to know.’

  ‘It’s all right then to tell Bob that we’re staying here?’

  ‘Ay, Grant and Fiona are looking for a place, maybe Bob will let them have . . .’

  The rest of her words were smothered as his lips came down to claim hers in a kiss that robbed them both of all resistance. It was the first time he had kissed her since coming back to the island. All week she had stayed with her father and Totie, feeling that she needed time to readjust after months of upheaval. After all, almost a year had passed since she had left and everything that had once been familiar to her now seemed strange. But the moment Lorn kissed her, everything fell back into place.

  ‘Ruthie,’ he whispered, ‘I love you and I’ll never give you cause to leave me again.’ His face was wet with tears. She took his head between her hands and gently kissed his face. He took her hand and touched it with his lips and then in a growing tide of passion they kissed over and over before breaking away to gaze at one another in a daze of longing.

  ‘Sweet Ruth, and will you go with me, my helpmate in the woods to be?’

  Her heart stood still. It was an echo of Lewis’ voice, speaking to her from the past. He had quoted these selfsame verses when he had turned to her for the comfort he had so desperately needed. An unbearable sense of sadness washed over her, for time wasted, for a love she had thought was lost to her but which was here before her now, tender, real. She glanced up at the tall young man who was her husband. He had forgiven her so readily for her weaknesses and she was now able to cast away any last doubts she had harboured in her heart about him. She put her hand in his.

  ‘Ay, Lorn, I will go with you – to the end of life itself, never never will I leave your side again.’

  ‘Ruthie – if I tell you something will you promise not to think me – daft?’

  She smiled a little. ‘I promise I won’t think you daft.’

  ‘Ever since Lewis died I’ve had the feeling that he was by my side. Only recently did I realize he only came to me in times of danger – to warn me when something bad was about to happen. Since the accident he’s been back to sort of guide me. He came to me in a dream the night before I came to you – and it was Lewis who helped me make that decision.’ He looked at her anxiously. ‘Do you think I’m daft – or do you believe me?’

  ‘I believe you, Lorn,’ she said softly. ‘You were so close in life – death canny break a bond like that.’

  He stumbled against her and looked ruefully down at his sticks. ‘I won’t feel I am truly fit till I can throw these away, I hope soon it will be possible.’

  She laughed; a happy, carefree sound that was music to his ears. ‘We will make a vow, Lorn – when the bluebells are on the hill we will walk together up to Brodie’s Burn and paddle our feet in the trout pool – you won’t need your sticks by then and I’ll be there to help you.’

  Gently he stroked the silken strands of hair from her brow. ‘Ay, Ruthie,’ he said, ‘we’ll do that together you and I – when the bluebells are on the hill.’

  Part Six

  Summer 1965

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘Fancy the ungrateful bodach gettin’ married at his age!’ Kate’s yell of outrage burst upon Tam’s ears as he came through the door of his house.

  ‘Ay, so you’ve heard the news, Kate?’ Tam spoke placatingly, his eye roving over the table to see if by any chance it was set for the midday meal. But only the bare tablecloth met his gaze and he sighed resignedly, knowing it would be one of those days when he would be sent over to his daughter-in-law’s house for a bite to eat.

  ‘Ay, I’ve heard the news,’ Kate glared at her husband accusingly. ‘And second hand too! Here I am, his very own kin, and the bodach too much o’ a coward to tell me himself!’ Kate’s nostrils flared. ‘And what right have you to come in here smilin’ all over your damt face? The old bugger will have made us the laughing stock o’ the place. After all I’ve done for him too! There were times when I could have seen him far enough. He was never out from under my feets. Lookin’ for privacy wi’ Joe about was like lookin’ for a fart on the moon! I couldny even wash my breeks but he was peerin’ over my shoulder to see what I was doing.’

  Tam strove to look thoughtfully nonchalant. He had often felt sorry for Joe having to be at home all day on the receiving end of Kate’s none too tender tongue and he had had a quiet chortle to himself at the idea of the old man’s daring, latest venture.

  ‘Ach well,’ he said indulgently. ‘He has had more than enough years o’ freedom and if you feel that way about him then he has done you a favour. There’s no’ many gets an innings like that. It is high time he settled down wi’ a good woman to look to him in his auld age.’

  ‘And was I just twiddlin’ my thumbs and lettin’ the old rogue fall into ruin?’ demanded Kate indignantly. ‘At his age it’s no’ as if it’s Grace’s charms he’ll be after. Miracles is miracles but even the auldest fiddles go out o’ tune wi’ age. Just what can she give him that I couldny?’

  Tam’s eyes twinkled. ‘Her bum to warm his hands against on a cold winter’s night and a hoosie wi’ a view o’ the harbour.’

  And Tam sprachled away before Kate could raise further argument. In the days preceding the wedding Kate continued to be outraged over the whole affair but when, three weeks later, Joe and Grace were married in the kirk on the Hillock, the ceremony presided over by a delighted Mark James, she could not help but be moved by the beauty and dignity of the ceremony. Old Joe was dressed in his Sunday best, a tweedy charcoal-gr
ey suit with an enormous pink carnation decorating the old-fashioned lapels. His boots had been polished till they shone like mirrors, his whiskers brushed and smoothed, his snowy hair sparkling and neat after an enforced session at Mairi’s hairdressing salon, even the little bald patch on his crown looked as if it had been newly polished.

  Beside him Grace looked diminutive, her sweet face composed into serious lines but a very definite hint of a triumphant smile hovering at the corners of her mouth. The kirk was packed to capacity on a day which was very special in more ways than one to the islanders, for Lachlan had chosen the day of Grace and Joe’s wedding to hold his official retirement party. It had been a deliberate move on his part. Wishing to make the day as memorable as possible for the old couple, and knowing how proud they were as regards taking gifts of money, he had arranged for all the trimmings of a true Highland wedding to be paid for by himself with the excuse that most of it was entirely for his own benefit. Only his immediate family knew of the lengths he had gone to ensure that Grace and Joe would never lose face over the matter and during the prayers Phebie looked tenderly at his bowed head, her breath catching a little with her undying love for him.

  It was a blue sunlit day with tiny puffball clouds floating serenely above. The bright light of the summer’s day filtered in through the stained glass window, splashing rubies on to the silvery heads of the couple at the altar. Rachel and Jon had arrived unexpectedly on last evening’s boat and they were now in kirk, sitting looking very composed in one of the back pews, pointedly ignoring the craning necks and the curious glances thrown at them from all quarters. Everyone was agog to see the reaction of Lorn and Ruth to such an interesting situation but like Rachel and Jon they kept their eyes firmly to the front, seemingly engrossed in the proceedings. A kilted and extremely dignified Bob the Shepherd was acting as best man, supported by a combed and polished Captain Mac, his kilt swinging proudly round his hairy knees.