by L. L. Muir
“How did ye die?” William asked again, though this time his voice was soft, almost awed.
“I died when a piece of an exploded mortar hit an artery in my neck,” I told him.
“Did it hurt?” He tilted his head, staring to find the wound, his curiosity sincere, not morbid.
Did it? I am certain that it did. I touched my neck in reflection, but the gaping wound was gone, thanks to Soni. The memory of it had faded, though. Mostly I remembered the regret as I knew my life was over. Would William understand?
“Aye. But then I dinnae think on it. I focused on Mairi and the bairn, and the fact I wouldnae see him grow up.” I gave William a ghost of a smile. “`Twas over verra quickly. Dinnae fash.”
He flashed me a mixed look of guilt and horror, so I ruffled his hair again. He ducked his head and grinned.
I stood. “Come, lad. Let’s see what else we can do for Mairi.”
CHAPTER 10
We spent a couple of hours drawing water and repairing the gate to the little garden. Once the ground warmed, if she stayed here near Strathbogie, she would need a way to keep rabbits and the like from nibbling her plants. For all my admonishments, the fact was it would be some time before she and the bairn could travel, and they would need food.
We waded through the sheep, checking for foot rot and winter sores. But the fleeces were clean, and we dinnae find a lame one in the bunch, thanks to William for keeping their pen clean and well-stocked with dry straw. Pol nipped in and out, keeping the sheep neatly separated as we worked our way through. No matter what she now felt toward me, Pol was a dedicated herder.
The ewes, due to start lambing any day, milled about, bleating their agitation as we sorted through the flock. One particularly grumpy old ewe butted William hard with her bony head and he slipped in the loose straw. I saw him go down, heard his shout of alarm. The noise and sudden movement startled the already anxious sheep, and they jammed together for safety—right on top of William.
I waded through the sea of wooly bodies as Pol darted past me. She faced off with the auld besom, holding her away from William. Catching sight of William’s shirt, I plunged my arms downward and caught him by his collar. Dragging him up, I set him on his feet. His clothing was rumpled and stained with the muck of the stable floor, and his hat hung askew over his forehead. But his eyes glinted fiercely from beneath the brim with displeasure, his jaw clenched.
“Awd biddies,” he muttered darkly as he dusted himself off and shoved his hat back in place.
I laughed. “Ye can say damn this once, William. I’ll not tell yer auntie.”
“When will I be tall like ye and my da?” he complained. “The auld besom wouldnae have taken ye down.”
I eyed him thoughtfully. “Ye grew fast as a wee lad, so I’d say `tis time for ye to take off and grow again. I predict ye will be a strappin’ lad in a few years’ time.”
William squared his shoulders as though his growth spurt was imminent. I motioned to the sheep. “We’ll let the lot out for a bit of sunshine for the afternoon and put them away before dark.”
The sheep bounded through the open doorway, not needing Pol’s encouragement, and settled in to finding what bits of vegetation the melting snow uncovered. The sun warmed as the day progressed and beat down on the back of my neck as William and I did a few more odd jobs. Just after the sun crested above us, Mairi called to us from the doorway.
The lad and I stomped into the house, careful to remove our boots at the door. A noon meal was laid out on the table, fresh bread and some cheese next to the bacon I hadn’t eaten earlier. And only two platters. I eyed Mairi. Her face averted, she sat in one of the chairs and motioned for William to take the other. She dinnae want to believe, but she dinnae wish to discuss it again, either.
I understood. To consider me a ghost meant she had to believe I was dead. And she wasnae ready for that. I wished with all my heart it wasnae true, but it was and Soni had been quite clear a day was all I had with her. I watched her eat—small, delicate bites that seemed to have difficulty going down, betraying her thoughts as much as if she’d spoke them aloud.
William wolfed his food down with all the grace of a young, ravenous beast. I smiled, thinking for a moment that this could be the scene nine years from now as our son and Mairi shared a meal. Or daughter, though she’d likely have more charm and grace.
Mairi finished quickly and rose, collecting the platters. She cast an anguished glance at me, and I saw the indecision tug in the glistening depths of her eyes. I clapped my hands on my thighs and stood.
“William, ye have done well today. `Tis time for ye to head home. I will walk with ye part of the way.” I gave Mairi a meaningful look. “I will be back in a bit.”
She nodded silently, then wrapped her arms about my waist and hugged me tight. Before I could react, she moved away, her back rigid as she began washing the dishes. I opened my mouth to speak, but decided what I wanted to say could best wait until William was gone. I guided the lad outside and we shoved our feet into our boots.
We first herded the small flock back to the barn with Pol’s help, and closed the door. I motioned the dog back to the house. “Stay with Mairi, Pol. Stay with Mairi.”
She ducked her slender head and slipped back toward the house like a black and white shadow. William and I headed down the trail to his home, the air cooling noticeably as the sun slid into early afternoon.
* * *
Silence settled on the small glen as Adam shut the door behind the bleating ewes. Mairi waited until Adam and William were both lost to sight before she left her vigil at the door. Her hand dropped to Pol’s head, giving the silky ears a brief rub.
Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, firing her blood with anticipation—and fear. If Adam comes back before nightfall, will he stay? If he doesnae, does it mean he spoke the truth, that he is a ghost?
Rattled, she closed the door and set about making a stew from the leftover food. Not that there was much left with William at the table, but the lad had done a fine day’s work and needed feeding.
She kept busy, ignoring the dull ache in her back, refusing to glance outside and watch the path for Adam’s return. Sunlight traced the hours across the wood floor, and she faltered as the golden light faded.
A sharp pain radiated through her back, and she rubbed it away impatiently with the heel of her hand. Bending over the hearth, she pulled the pot toward her on its hook, giving the contents a stir. She tasted the stew and, approving the flavor, lifted the pot, intending to set it aside to begin cooling.
Another pain stabbed her belly, doubling her over. The pot slipped from her grasp as she braced herself against the hearth to keep from falling. Broth spread across the floor; bits of meat and vegetables tumbled from the lip of the pot.
`Tis much too early! Another pain struck. Is my counting off? She shook her head and struggled to stand. Nae. The bairn is early.
Outside, the sun dipped behind the trees, plunging the house into semi-darkness, doubling her fears. Oh, Adam! I need ye so badly. She sucked a breath in on a desolate cry, unable to deny the truth any longer. Adam was gone and could not help her now.
Fighting against another pain, she clenched her teeth and turned her attention to the bairn as she hobbled slowly to the bedroom. Without the strength to unlace her dress, she collapsed onto the bed.
* * *
“I want ye to remember not to tell anyone ye saw me today,” I reminded William as we approached his house. He nodded solemnly.
“Ye seem too solid for a ghost, but I know ye wouldnae have missed Auntie Mairi’s cooking if ye could help it,” he said, giving me a thorough look from the corner of his eyes. “Ye should be thin and white. I should be able to reach through ye.”
“`Tis a special magic that makes me like this. I cannae explain it.”
“Are ye cold?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I know `tis winter and I feel the cold air, but it doesnae make me cold.” I had experienced a different co
ld for nearly three hundred years. A cold spring afternoon dinnae faze me much. We reached the edge of the woods and I halted. A thin trail of smoke rose through the bare limbs of the trees. William’s ma would be readying the evening meal soon. I breathed deep, but could only smell peat smoke on the air.
“I will leave ye here, William. I thank ye for helping Mairi. I will rest easy knowing she is being cared for so well.”
William flung himself at me, burying his head against my stomach, his wiry arms wrapped about me. “I dinnae want ye to go, Uncle! I dinnae want ye to be a ghost.”
My eyes filled with tears but I did not answer. What was there to say? Platitudes fell short of the real grief he was experiencing. At nine years old, he would have to accept his Uncle Adam wasnae coming home. War is hell, even for those who dinnae fight it.
I finally pried him away and stooped to look him in the eye. “Ye are a man now, William. Ye will not forget me, but ye will remember ye did me a great service by helping Mairi.”
He nodded, his eyes swimming. He gulped. “Have ye seen my da?”
“Nae.” I shook my head. “We werenae in the same regiment, so I dinnae know what happened to him. He isnae one of the restless ghosts.” I dinnae mention there were only 79 of us out of over a thousand either killed in battle that day or wounded and given no mercy, simply slaughtered where they lay. William seemed to accept my words for what they were—neither a promise his da would come home one day, nor an attempt to hide the truth. I simply dinnae know and would give him no reason to mourn prematurely.
“Now, off with ye, lad. Kiss yer ma, be nice to yer sister, and see to it ye dinnae speak of me to anyone.”
He nodded and hurried down the path without a backward glance.
I turned toward home, following the trail that wound by the river. The sun reflected off the waters, swollen with the melting snow. Here and there, muddy spots peeked through the crusty snow, great dark blotches against the pristine white. Tiny flowers poked their heads through the moist ground, littering the area with the promise of spring. The sun was warm on my shoulders, but the air was crisp and cold in my lungs. Much of what had begun melting today would refreeze tonight.
I stared into the river a moment more, recalling my childhood. Trees arched over our favorite swimming hole just around that bend. Trout were plentiful and I’d crafted many a trap made of sticks and bits of yarn I’d snitched from my ma’s basket. Shrieks of delight as we leapt into the water—cold even in the summer—seemed as real as my memory.
But it wasnae a shriek of delight that filled my ears. `Twas a cry for help.
CHAPTER 11
My feet raced across the thawing ground, slipping and sliding in the mud and slush. Small rocks, hidden by the snow, twisted beneath my boots and I stumbled, catching myself against larger rocks as I hurried to the water’s edge. Slapping my hands against a snow-crusted boulder, I came to a stop. I scanned the area, but saw no one. Taking a slow breath, I listened for the cry again, but only the roar of the peat-foamed water rose to my ears.
Was I wrong? I looked up and down the river again, watching the rushing water for signs of anything human. The cry came again, weaker. My head swiveled toward the sound. I saw the wave of a hand as it grabbed at a rock on the far side of the river. The crossing was nearby. Had he or she been swept downstream from there?
The whys dinnae matter. Whoever it was had only minutes in the cold water before they would succumb to the frigid temperature. My time with Mairi was rapidly drawing to an end, but I could not leave this person to the mercy of the river. I stripped off my coat and laid it across the boulder, setting my boots quickly beside it. I ran a short distance upstream, then waded into the water and struck off for the far shore. The current pulled me quickly back downstream. The cold water soaked into my clothes, sucking me low, hindering my movements. Though it had been many years since I’d swam, the memory was there, and my arms stroked strongly across the river.
Water surged over partially hidden rocks and rolled back in my face. I sucked a goodly amount up my nose and down my throat. I kept swimming. Being a ghost already, I dinnae suppose I could be killed again. But the cold water did something to my morale. The bitterness of it seeped inside me, chiding me for going head-first into such danger. I could no longer hear the cries for help and had lost sight of where I was headed. Had I been swept past the lad? I would certainly be swept ashore somewhere downstream, little worse for wear, but the poor lad or lass wouldnae be so lucky to make it alive.
A partially submerged tree branch as big around as my thigh bobbed in and out of the water. I grasped it, trying to push myself around it, and my hand met cold flesh. Small fingers gripped the wet bark. I braced against the limb and worked my way along the person’s arm. I found the heavy wool collar of a coat and hauled it upward. The child’s head cleared the water, but hung limply on his neck. A heavy braid clung to her shoulder, and my mind noted the bairn was a lass.
I heaved upward again, trying to shift the water out of her wee lungs. She sputtered and moaned. Her eyes opened a crack but all I saw were the whites. “Cough it up, lassie!” I shouted at her. “Cough it up.”
She retched and twitched in my hands, but her skin was grey and I knew she had only a few minutes left. The sun began its descent behind the mountains and the already frosty air became colder. I tugged on the lass’s collar. Her eyes flew open and her shriek raised the hairs on the back of my neck. I wiped a splash of water from my face. “What is wrong, lass?”
“My leg,” she whimpered. `Tis stuck.”
My heart sank. Somewhere beneath this rushing water, her leg—or more likely her boot—was trapped by this bobbing branch. Her lips were blue and her hand did not respond when I gripped the tiny fingers. She looked to be five or six years old, but her eyes were tired, the skin wrinkled around them. Somewhere, her ma waited anxiously for her. And even if her da was searching, I dinnae think he would arrive in time.
I forced my way through the water closer to her and hugged her close, careful not to pull on her leg again. She burrowed her face in the side of my neck away from the slap of the water. I was cold. She was colder. If I let her go and tried to free her leg, she would slip beneath the water. If I continued to hold her head up, hoping for help that might not come, she would quickly die of the cold. Sometimes problems have no good solutions.
She trembled violently against me and I swore beneath my breath. Not that she would have heard me, but I wouldnae say such things in her presence.
Why could I not be super strong? The children at the Visitors’ Centre seemed to believe such things existed. I’d seen their shirts, their backpacks and blankets emblazoned with fanciful characters with bulging arms and strange clothing. Over the years we’d learned these were super heroes with names like Super Man, Batman, and Iron Man. There was even a Flash Gordon, and I’d gotten teased quite a bit for a few days after we discovered that one.
But I was a ghost, not a super hero, and the best I could do was not freeze to death with her. The limb shifted in the swift river and my toes scrambled for purchase against the rocks on the bottom. A large one shifted beneath my feet, and the limb crabbed sideways. The lass jerked.
“Stay with me, lass!” I shouted above the roar of the river. I shook her gently. “What is yer name?” She dinnae move, and her body sagged a bit in my arms. The first rays of the lowering sun slid behind the mountain, evening drawing near. It was becoming difficult to see the far shore, though the mounds of snow caught the sunset in brilliant hues of orange and gold. The lass and I were running out of time.
I shifted my weight, trying to move the rock again. The bairn slipped in my arms and I jostled her head out of the water as much as I could. It lapped at her chin. “What is yer name, lass?”
Her eyelids flickered and she stared dully at me. “Brigit,” she whispered thickly. “I’m Brigit.”
“Brigit, ye need to keep looking at my face.”
Her blank stare wavered, threatened to close
. “Why?” Her voice was faint, a mere wisp of sound.
“`Tis a well-known fact I cannae tread water if ye dinnae look at me.”
Her eyelids wobbled. I pushed harder with my foot and felt the rock wiggle.
“Do ye know what happens once I move this rock?” A wave slapped me in the face and I slewed my head to one side, spitting water to clear my mouth. Her eyes followed my movement. “I know of a lass who is going home to her ma and a roaring fire.”
“I’m too cold,” she murmured, her eyes drooping again.
“But it’s better than that,” I insisted as I edged forward and felt the rock with my knee. I squatted just a bit, thankful my height allowed me to reach the bottom of the river at this point. My lower leg lined up with the rock and I leaned forward, putting what pressure I could on the rock. It dinnae budge.
My attention came back to the lass. Her head drifted listlessly to one side. I shook her. “Brigit! There will be warm blankets and hot bannocks.” I used my toes to dig in the pebbles beneath the rock. “What is yer favorite food?” She dinnae answer, and I shouted in her ear. “Food, Brigit. What is yer favorite food?”
I slipped and went under, thrusting her away from me to keep her head above water. I came up sputtering, but the movement of the pebbles caused the rock to shift. Brigit felt lighter in my arms and I pulled her upward. There was no resistance!
With a whoop, I tucked her beneath one arm and stroked hard for the shore. The current was strong and we drifted further downstream. I dragged her ashore some distance away and staggered to my feet. I laid her on the bank and stared at her motionless body.
Why, Soni? Why did ye bring me here and not give me the ability to be a hero?
I glanced about for my coat and boots and spied them several yards away. I raced to the rock and snatched them up, scrambling as I made the turn to dash back to Brigit’s side. I stripped her sodden cloak from her and shoved her boneless arms into my coat, wrapping it about her. Pulling her into my arms, I sheltered her with my body, crooning to her as I rocked back and forth.