Fynn sat up. “Of course! I’m strong, didnae ye know?” And with that he flexed his little arms and Mathe couldn’t help but laugh. Over the boy’s head he saw his wife watching them, a smile on her face, and once again asked himself what he’d done to deserve this. Did second chances exist?
28
Lilidh MacBrennan
The sun was rising at their backs as the three of them walked out of the west gate and into the valley. Above them the sky was brightening into blue, promising a fine day ahead, and Lilidh felt she could get used to the unseasonable run of fine weather. The air was still crisp and held a hint of winter chill, but was kept at bay by the warmth on their backs. Mathe had one arm around her, and Fynn walked ahead of them.
The going was slow, as her husband was still becoming used to walking with a cane, and he cursed and muttered as it caught on loose stones or in cracks in the earth. His leg was stiff and his whole body was held at an awkward tilt. The physician had told them both that it would take time to become used to moving with the cane, but after enough practice it should become as natural as walking without it. Which was just as well, since it was becoming clearer that Mathe’s leg wasn’t likely to get back to its full range of movement. He would carry his limp forever, as a reminder of the decisions he had made and the consequences of them.
They were still staying at the castle, and shared a private room for all three of them, allowing Mathe to be seen daily by both the physician and the apothecary, who made him vile concoctions to ease the pain. Her heart went out to him each morning when he woke and drained his cup, gagging and heaving. She’d put her nose to the dregs once, and once only, and it was enough to nearly choke her. But it seemed to work.
“How is it holding up?” she asked.
Mathe shrugged. “It doesnae seem to pain me more than normal, so I suppose that means it’s doing fine. I cannae seem to get used to this bloody stick though.”
“It’s good practice though, surely.”
“Oh, aye. Although I’ve never spent so long looking at the ground right in front of me, and somehow I still get it stuck.”
“Lucky ye have me here to help, if ye find yerself unable to move,” Lilidh said with a cheeky smile.
“Unless ye make it worse,” Mathe pointed out. “After all, sometimes, when the light hits yer face just so, I cannae seem to move, whether I have a limp or no'.”
Lilidh looked down and smiled, sure that Mathe had seen the blush that crept up her neck at his words. Where had this silver-tongued rogue come from?
They continued to pick their way into the valley and Lilidh reflected that today was a special day for them both, for several reasons. It was the first day Mathe had been deemed strong enough for a long walk out of the town and into the open moorland. And because of that, it was also the first day they would get a glimpse of their home.
The new home that was actually their old home.
Blaine had told them a few days ago of his plan to rebuild their home in the crofting valley, and Lilidh couldn’t say how excited she was at the prospect. Losing the house, which had been in her family for generations, had been a terrible blow. And not just for the sentimental factor; the house meant more than just the history in its walls. For herself and Fynn, the house meant safety and security and a place to call home, and looking back, Lilidh could see how much it affected her, to lose these things. To move into that accursed house in the mud and to do her best to pretend that it was everything she wanted.
So strange, then, to walk beside Mathe, the man who was both the reason she lost the house, and the reason she could get it back.
They made their way up a shallow hill and Lilidh knew that when they reached the crest, they could look into the valley and see the house. They walked slowly, Mathe leaning more heavily on her for support, and her heart started to hammer. That was their future, just over that lip.
“Excited?” Mathe asked.
Lilidh didn’t trust herself to answer, so she simply nodded.
And then her first glimpse. The wide and open valley, strewn with rocks and scree, sloping upwards to the craggy peaks at each side. It was still in shadow, as it was likely to remain for another hour, at least until the sun crested the eastern side to fill the valley with warmth and light. And there, in the middle, was their house.
Lilidh gasped. It had walls! Sturdy external walls, covered with wooden scaffolding, and men swarming all over it. A surprising number of men, actually. They clambered over the bones of the house and the sounds of hammers and sawing and the moving of stone came back to them on the air.
“Laird McCaskill really meant it when he said as soon as possible,” Mathe muttered. “There must be twenty men down there.”
“Mama, papa, look!” Fynn cried. “Is that our house?”
“Nay, Fynn,” Mathe replied. “That’s our home.”
The boy cheered and jumped up and down. “Oh, I’m so excited! Can we go down and look?”
“I dinnae see why no', but we need to keep out of their way. Ye know how important it is to get things right when ye’re building something.”
“Measure once, twice, and then three times,” the boy said proudly. “And only then do ye make the cut.”
“Aye, well done.”
Lilidh looked down at the house and felt a warmth spread through her. That was theirs. That was where they would build their future together and make up for the mistakes of the past. “Do ye think they’ll build it back the same as it was?” she asked.
“Likely,” Mathe answered. “The original layout was easy to see from the remains.”
“Hmmm.”
Mathe turned to look at her. “What is it?”
“Oh, naught,” Lilidh replied as casually as she could. “There were just a few things that always bothered me. Naught important, just the layout of the kitchen and the main room.”
“Is that right?”
“Never big enough to say anything,” Lilidh said quickly. “But, ye know, if they are building it again…”
“Well, ye better get down there,” he said.
“Really?”
Mathe shrugged. “It’s yer house. Ye might as well have it rebuilt the way ye want.”
“Oh Mathe, thank ye,” she said, giving his waist a squeeze.
“I mean it,” he said. “Take the lad and get down there. I can see them working on the kitchen as we speak. I’ll catch up. And Lilidh?”
“Aye, Mathe?” she asked, turning to look at him.
“I love ye.”
He’d spoken those words countless times to her in the last few days, and yet she didn’t think she’d ever tire of them. The way he looked at her when he said it, as if he was determined to make it count every single time. Not just a rote statement, but the truth from his very soul.
“And I love ye, Mathe MacBrennan.”
Lilidh turned and held out her hand for Fynn. The boy took it, and for a moment they simply stood together, the three of them looking down into their home. Then Lilidh took a deep breath and turned to her son with a grin.
“Race ye?” she asked.
Fynn laughed and whooped and the two of them ran forward, leaving Mathe to watch them with a smile on his face, and she felt the wind in her hair and the long grass whip her legs. She was free, she was loved, and she was home.
Did life get any better?
Denouement
Mathe MacBrennan
Laird Blaine McCaskill lifted the small bedside table, twisting it this way and that. He looked underneath, then set it down and opened each drawer, pulling them all the way out and looking inside. Finally, he assembled it back together and patted it firmly.
“Good quality,” he said. “Verra good, in fact.”
Mathe nodded. “My thanks.”
“How’s the leg?”
He looked down with a grimace. “Much better, although it looks like I’ll always have the limp. I guess I’d better get used to carrying this,” he said, waving his walking stick in the a
ir. “Perhaps I should look at it as the price that I paid to learn a verra important lesson.”
“And what lesson was that?”
“One could say the lesson was to never get involved with the lairds of the McCaskills,” Mathe said with a faint smile.
“One could,” Blaine said with a shrug. “But I dinnae think that’s the lesson at all.”
“Aye,” Mathe admitted. “I know what the lesson was, and it’s one that I willnae forget. Family comes first.” As he said it, he looked over to the edge of the room, where Lilidh stood, and gave her a smile.
“Good,” Blaine said. “Because, ye know, I could always use a skilled craftsman here in the castle.”
“Is that so?”
“Aye. We have something of a shortage of woodworkers up here, and my list of furniture that needs fixing or replacing is growing alarmingly long.” Blaine looked at Mathe for a long moment. “Why dinnae ye come and work for me?”
Mathe looked down. A job in the castle was certainly something that he should have aspired towards; as Lilidh knew, it meant security and a regular income. But it also meant working for the McCaskills once more, and Mathe feared what that would do over time. He believed Blaine to be a good man, very different from his father, but Mathe was on his own journey of growth.
“I thank ye for the offer,” he said, “but I would prefer to work for myself, for the time being.”
Blaine nodded as if he expected the answer, and glanced at Lilidh. “Ye know it would help with the town accepting ye both once more, Mathe. If it was known ye worked for me, people might be more inclined to believe ye’ve changed.”
“Aye, it could, but I have to hope the town will accept me through hard work, if it’s all the same.”
“They might never accept ye.”
“Ye're right,” Mathe said. “But I need to try. For Lilidh and Fynn, and for the debts I have to this town.”
Blaine looked at him quizzically. “I thought yer debts only extended to yer wife and son?”
“Well, I’ve realised that being a good man means more than just being good to them. It’s time I started being a good man to everyone.”
“A good man in truth, ye mean.”
“I suppose I do.”
“Ye're already halfway there,” Blaine pointed out. “If ye'd asked how I would feel about sitting down and offering Mathe MacBrennan a job, well, let’s just say it wouldnae have received a warm reception. And yet here we are.”
“Here we are.”
“And what about ye, Mrs MacBrennan?” Blaine asked, turning to Lilidh.
“Me?” she asked, and Mathe saw her eyes widen.
“Aye. Margaret is more than happy with ye, and I’m inclined to reward ye for showing faith in me. We seem to have a happy ending, but I know ye made some verra hard decisions to get here.”
“I… I have everything I need,” she said, looking back at her husband with a smile of her own.
“No' even a promotion? I know the kitchens are hard, and the chamberlain tells me ye are at odds with one of the other women there. How does a new role sound? One with a little less strain on the hands.”
Lilidh hesitated, and Mathe knew what thoughts ran through her mind. She’d spoken to him of Cora, and the motivations that drove the woman’s anger. She was almost a symbol of the town itself; a coalescence of the hatred of the myth of MacBrennan, and if she could be swayed, somehow, then so too could Dun Lagaidh itself. And then there was the matter of Torrey, and the friendship that Lilidh was building with her. Mathe knew his wife struggled with friendships, and could see the pleasure she gained from the slow blossoming of one. She would be hesitant to leave that behind, even for the lure of an easier life.
“I feel like I’m about to be rebuffed for the second time,” Blaine observed.
“I thank ye,” Lilidh said, “I truly do. But I’m working hard and being rewarded for it in my own way. I’d love to get out of the kitchens eventually, but I’d rather that it’s done the same way that the others do.”
The laird nodded. “I ken, and I respect ye for it.” Then he turned back to Mathe. “I’m happy for ye and yer wife, but my furniture still needs replacing.”
“Ye seem to be in quite the conundrum,” Mathe answered with a smile.
“Aye. So if ye willnae work for me, Mathe MacBrennan, then will ye consider taking a commission, instead?”
Mathe nodded slowly. “Aye, Laird McCaskill, I think we can work something out.”
Denouement
Lilidh MacBrennan
Lilidh heard Mathe close the door behind him quietly. There was no doubt he was hoping to surprise Fynn; it was their favourite game at the moment, but the boy had learned to listen for the click of the door as it locked.
“Papa!” he cried, running up to greet him with a hug. Mathe leant down and opened his arms and lifted his son up over one shoulder, spinning wildly.
“Who’s there?” he asked, turning this way and that, while Fynn giggled from behind him, hanging upside down.
“I’m here, papa,” he called. “Behind ye.”
“Where?” Mathe asked, twisting back the other way in his mock search. “I cannae see ye.”
Fynn giggled again, and Mathe lowered him to the ground and ruffled his hair. As he straightened, he caught Lilidh’s eye across the room and smiled, lifting one hand in greeting. She smiled back, wondering if the warm feelings she felt when she watched Mathe and Fynn play would ever go away.
She hoped not.
“What’s that?” Fynn asked, looking at a heavy burlap bag Mathe had brought back with him from town.
“Come into the kitchen and I’ll show ye,” he said, then looked up at Lilidh. “Ye too.”
They walked into the kitchen and Lilidh once again felt a surge of pride as she looked at the room. She’d been right; there were things that needed to change. The old kitchen was pokey and poorly laid out, with dead ends and corner cupboards that opened into other cupboards, poorly lit and hard to move around in. Now, the room was transformed, with plenty of bench space and natural light. They had made it larger as well, with the extra space coming from what used to be an unused room in one corner of the house. The difference was staggering.
Mathe stepped up to Lilidh and wrapped his arms round her waist, kissing her passionately. She murmured in weak protest before sinking forward into the kiss, putting her hand on his cheek. The beard was coming along nicely, and felt softer to her fingers. In fact, she thought she even preferred it shorter as it was; enough to transform his face, but not quite the scraggly bird’s nest that he’d worn when he first came back to her.
“The bag, the bag,” Fynn begged. “Stop that, both of ye.”
Mathe laughed and pulled away, giving her a grin that promised they’d continue later and pick up where they left off. She smiled back and raised one eyebrow wickedly, and he shook his head.
“Fynn,” he said, “do ye remember when we spoke about keepsakes, in the oak grove?”
“Aye,” the boy replied. “My fishing rods. And yer sword.”
Mathe nodded. “Aye. Well, I decided it was about time we both got a new keepsake. Something to celebrate the building of our home.”
“What is it?” Fynn asked, his eyes lighting up. “Can I see?”
Mathe nodded and reached into the bag, pulling out a long hammer. It was wrapped with a leather handle, and markings wound their way up each side of the square shaft. Lilidh was no expert in these matters, but she’d seen Mathe’s old tools enough to know that this hammer was something else entirely; a craftsman’s hammer, sturdy and yet exquisitely made. This was something special.
Fynn breathed out slowly. “What do the markings mean?”
“They’re an auld language, Fynn, and they speak words of power.”
“What kind of power?”
“To bind and hold, and to strike true. Powerful things for a hammer.”
“Can I hold it?”
“Nay,” Mathe replied, and the boy’s fa
ce fell. He raised his hand. “Because ye can hold this, instead.” And with that, he reached his hand back in and withdrew another hammer, identical in every way, only half the size.
Lilidh felt herself sob. It was a hammer for Fynn, the same as his papa. A gift from the father to the son.
Mathe held it out to the boy, who received it in awe, cradling it in his arms. “It’s wonderful,” he said. “Is it mine?”
“Aye, Fynn, this is a hammer for ye. Just remember, though; the hammer creates. By taking it, ye assume a great responsibility. Will ye only use it to help people?”
“Aye,” the boy said solemnly. “I promise.”
Mathe nodded. “Then it’s yers. Now why dinnae ye run it out to the workshop. Careful now, just place it on the bench and we can decide where to keep it later.”
Fynn turned and carried the hammer away, still holding it close, and they both watched him leave.
“A wonderful gift,” Lilidh said. “It will mean a lot to Fynn.”
“Aye,” Mathe said, his eyes lost in thought. “I remember what it was like to receive a gift from a father.”
Lilidh thought of the sword and shook her head. “It’s no' the same at all. Ye said it yerself; the sword could only take, and it wasnae given to ye out of love. Ye've given our bhobain the gift of creation.”
Mathe considered her words for a moment. “I suppose ye’re right,” he said. “Although the sword didnae always take. It gave me one good thing.”
She twisted to look at him. “That sword didnae give anything good, Mathe.”
He smiled. “Only one thing. I melted it down and sold the scrap. Then I took the ruby to the jeweller. That’s how I paid for these hammers. I thought it was fitting, to destroy the last remnant of the man I was, to help become the man I want to be. And the father I want to be, as well.”
A Price to Be Paid: A Scottish Highlander Romance (Legacy of the Laird Book 2) Page 24