Fair Is the Rose

by Liz Curtis Higgs

  News? Rose looked up at Jamie. ’Twas obvious that he, too, was mystified. However, it was her father’s expression that gave her pause. He was flushed, almost smiling, clearly pleased about something. As if he’d been awarded a great fortune or made some significant discovery. Or perhaps … Her hands grew cool. Perhaps Leana has come home. “What is it, Father?”

  Lachlan’s grin, seldom seen, was unmistakable. “I have decided to take a wife.”

  “A … wife?” Rose could not hide her surprise. “Whoever might that be?”

  Jamie spoke first, his tone even. “I believe I ken.”

  “Aye, and well you might, lad.” Lachlan nodded at them both. “Mistress Morna Douglas of Edingham.”

  “The widow from Dalbeaty?” Rose blinked, trying to imagine her father married to a stranger, to someone other than her mother. For that matter, married at all. “News indeed, Father.” Jamie had met the woman and her sons, but the rest of them had not. “Will she come to live at Auchengray?”

  “And where else would my wife live?”

  Rose watched the questions that moved across Jamie’s features and wondered if they matched hers. Was it a marriage of convenience, or did he truly care for the woman? And what of the woman’s three sons? Would they move here as well? Rose dared not ask for such details; instead, she said what was expected of her. “Father, that is … wonderful news. I am happy for you.”

  “So you should be, for she will bring considerable … ah, skills to Auchengray.”

  And silver. She saw it in his eyes now. And land. And cattle.

  “When will you marry?”

  “Soon, soon,” was all he said, brushing lint off his sleeve. “She is a woman of property. ’twill take some time to sort out the arrangements.”

  Though Lachlan had made room for the widow in his thrifite, Rose was less convinced he’d prepared a space for her in his heart. Did the Widow Douglas know the man she was marrying? His pernickitie habits, his devious ways? “I wish you the best, Father.” Rose reached for Jamie’s hand, suddenly needing the warmth of her husband’s touch. He might have married her out of duty but never out of greed. “Do keep us informed as your plans unfold.”

  “Aye, you can be verra sure I will.” Lachlan departed as swiftly as he’d appeared, leaving the two of them adrift in the backwash.

  Rose studied the wedding band on her hand for a moment, then met Jamie’s steady gaze. If he was troubled, it did not show. “What’s to be done, Jamie? Surely her sons will join her. I’m afraid we haven’t enough room at Auchengray for four more people.”

  “Indeed we do not,” he agreed, his gaze lifting to the vacant second-floor bedroom. “Though we certainly have room for one.”

  Sixty-Nine

  Experience is guid,

  but aften dear bought.

  SCOTTISH PROVERB

  That April evening another woman departed from Auchengray.

  “Jenny, you’ve done a fine job with our Ian this month.” Stepmother and wet nurse stood on Auchengray’s lawn in the gloaming and eyed their mutual charge. “Hasn’t she taken guid care of you, lad?” Rose cuddled the babe in her arms, bouncing him a little to see if he might smile for her. “Look how round your cheeks are and your little belly!” She lifted his chubby knee and kissed it. “Aye, and your legs, too.”

  “Ian will lose a’ that whan he starts tae crawlin’,” Jenny assured her. “My Davie is sleek as a trout, swimmin’ round the house.”

  Rose smiled, though another thread of worry wound itself around her heart. Ian could sit and play without tumbling over now, content to stay at her feet while she mended stockings or carded wool. But how would she keep up with him, let alone finish her tasks, once he started crawling? Leana had warned her: ’Tis a great deal of work, mothering. Rose had been too busy entertaining Ian at the time to mark her sister’s meaning.

  Rose walked a few steps farther before she finally confessed, “I’ll miss you, Jenny. You ken so much about looking after bairns. I’m not … always sure … that is …” Her voice trailed off. What could she say? That the responsibility of mothering Ian was overwhelming? That she lived in fear of making a mistake? Leana had sacrificed everything for Ian’s sake. Could she do the same? Could she be the mother Ian deserved?

  Jenny’s brown eyes studied her. “Mistress McKie, would ye care tae walk me hame tae Glensone? I’m thinkin’ I might have a wird or twa tae help ye wi’ Ian.”

  “Och, that would be grand. Wouldn’t it, lad?” Rose positioned Ian more firmly round her hip as the two women started down the lane together, matching their gaits. Ian liked nothing better than an outing. “He has two more teeth now. Is that why he drools so?”

  Jenny nodded, answered questions, and offered sound advice as they made their way toward Glensone, the sun taking its time sinking toward the horizon in front of them. Though only two years older than Rose, Jenny Cullen had grown up with younger brothers and sisters underfoot and knew all about rashes and fevers, about keeping bairns safe from harm, and about when Ian might start walking. “It may be a twelvemonth ’til he toddles off on his own.” Jenny laughed, tweaking Ian’s stockinged toes. “If he’s like his faither, by his seventh summer Ian will be oot on the braes from sunrise tae the gloamin’.”

  “Aye.” Rose gazed up toward Troston Hill, wondering if Jamie was anywhere close by. After supper he’d slipped back out of doors, lured by the lengthening days and his growing lambs. But what about this lamb? Rose bussed Ian’s cheek, sticky with porridge. He needs tending too, Jamie.

  The evening birdsong was at a fair pitch by the time the threesome reached Glensone. Night would not be long coming. Jenny pushed open the garden gate, then turned with a winsome smile. “I thank ye for the chance tae nurse Ian. He’s a dear lad.” She tugged Ian’s blanket round his legs. “And, if I may say, ye’re a better mither than ye think, Mistress McKie. Dinna be sae quick tae name yer faults. For I dinna see them, and neither does Ian.”

  Embarrassed by her praise, Rose planted a kiss on Ian’s head. “If you say so.”

  The young woman waved them off. “Awa to Auchengray ye go, for the light is fadin’ fast.”

  Rose moved Ian to her other hip and started toward home, her thoughts traveling north to the hills. If Jamie were there, just over the rise, would he welcome a visit from mother and son? Stepmother, she reminded herself, for whenever Ian said, “Ma-ma-ma-ma,” surely ’Twas Leana he had in mind.

  She left the dirt lane behind and took off across the rough field, bouncing Ian as she went, making him squeal. “Come, young man, let’s see if we can’t find your father and bring him home with us.” By the time she’d scaled Auchengray Hill, she was out of breath from carrying Ian and felt a bit foolish for making the climb with nighttime so near. Though Jamie was nowhere to be seen, she spied a familiar sight and could not resist. “Look, Ian!” Pointing to the bothy nestled in the glen, she started downhill toward it. “My sister and I played in that stone hut when we were just a few years older than you. Perhaps you and Rabbie Newall will do the same someday, aye?”

  Moving down the steep hill with care, Rose swept aside her skirts to avoid a patch of gorse when Ian suddenly pitched forward, grasping for the yellow blooms. “Nae!” she screamed, bending to catch him. Thrown off balance, she tipped sideways. The uneven ground rose to meet her. “Ian!” She clutched him tight. The two hit hard and tumbled downward, rocks and sharp sticks tearing at their clothes and skin.

  Her skirts finally caught on a bramble bush and yanked them to a stop. Ian was shrieking.

  “Oh, Ian! Oh, my child!” Rose struggled to sit up, holding him close. “Are you all right, lad? Are you hurt?” His crying came in sharp gasps, and his face was scarlet.

  Ignoring the searing pain in her leg, she examined the boy with trembling hands. “Ian, sweet Ian,” she said between ragged breaths. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She plucked twigs from his cotton blanket and brushed dirt from his cheeks. She coul
d not feel any cuts or scratches. But that did not mean he was not bruised. And frightened out of his wits.

  “My poor Ian!” Rose wrapped her arms around him, covering him with kisses and showering him with tears. “Can you ever forgive me? If I’ve hurt you in the slightest, I will never forgive myself.” And neither will your father. Oh, Jamie, I’m so sorry!

  Dazed, she stared at the lonely, darkening glen. What mother would bring her bairn to such a place at such an hour? Not a guid mother. Not a true mother. She must get him home at once. But when she tried to stand, she could not. She’d broken their fall with her knees, one of which hurt too much to move.

  “Ian, whatever are we going to do?” She gathered him closer still, trying to calm him, to ease his crying, though her own tears flowed unabated. If Leana were here, she would sing to him. Could she sing? “Baloo … baloo.” She could not. Her breathing was too shallow and her throat too tight. “Ian, Ian,” she sobbed, rocking him back and forth. What have I done? What have I done?

  Within minutes it was truly night. No stars dotted the skies, and no moonlight fell on the hillside. The herds and farm workers were settled in the steading by now. Jamie would be dressing for supper, wondering whatever had become of his wife and son.

  Unless he was still on the braes.

  “Jamie!” she cried out in a thin voice. Ian’s wailing was louder. Surely his father would hear his son’s cries above the bleating of the lambs. “Jamie!” She called his name repeatedly, begging the heavens between each one. Let him hear me! Let him save us!

  Naught but the sounds of the night. Owls screeching. Nothing human.

  “Come, Ian.” Rose wiped her tears on her sleeve. “I must get you home somehow.” She tried again to bend her legs underneath her, but her left leg would not be moved. Freeing one hand long enough to touch her knee, she was horrified to find it swollen to twice its usual size.

  But she had to stand, she had to walk on it. She had to do something.

  “Help!” she cried again, unashamed of the desperation in her voice. “Help us! Please, someone!” Her tears would not stop. “Please help!”

  From a place deep inside her came words of comfort, learned long ago. I have heard thy prayer. I have seen thy tears. “Help me, Lord,” she whispered. “I must get up. I must.” I will strengthen thee. Yea, I will help thee.

  Rose clutched her skirts in her hands and managed to shift her weight onto her one good knee, stiff and sore as it was. She pulled one foot underneath her, then the other, straightening as she did, clutching Ian to her breast. Though her left knee burned with a pain almost beyond bearing, she was standing at last. And shaking from head to foot.

  Still, her efforts were for naught. She could never manage Auchengray Hill.

  “Jamie! Jamie!” Rose shouted his name until she was hoarse, covering Ian’s ear so she would not frighten him further. Oh, Jamie, I’m so sorry. Your only son. Your dear Ian. Perhaps she might continue a little farther downhill to the bothy. It contained naught but a slab for a bed, but at least they would have shelter. Until they were found. Until someone came. Please come. Please. Wincing with each step, she hobbled toward the whinstone bothy, little more than a shadow against the gray black night.

  Jamie might rescue her, but he would never forgive her. Never.

  Seventy

  Who will not mercie unto others show,

  How can he mercie ever hope to have?

  EDMUND SPENSER

  Forgive the lass, Jamie.

  Jamie lengthened his stride toward Auchengray, as if he might escape Duncan’s admonition. Instead it haunted him like a bogle, trailing after him in the pastures, invisible but palpable. Forgive her. ’Twould be easier if Rose admitted she was to blame for all that had happened. Easier still if she asked for his forgiveness.

  Have you asked for hers? Jamie set his chin in a firm line, as if sparring with the notion. Rose knew nothing of his brief tryst with Leana. It was hardly worth bringing up, was it?

  When Jamie passed Glensone, aglow with hearth light, he thought of Jenny Cullen. She might pass by on her way home, for wasn’t this evening her last visit to Auchengray? With Ian properly weaned, all was in readiness for their journey. Naught remained but a letter he was expecting, and they would be on their way. He’d not told Rose yet and wouldn’t until he was verra sure.

  As he neared the steading, he heard the cows lowing and a horse neighing for his oats. Then another sound caught his ear. A baby crying. And a woman’s voice, calling from some distance. He quickened his steps past the gardens and followed the cries coming from the direction of Auchengray Hill. He could hear the lass more plainly now, calling one word over and over. ’Twas his name.

  “Jamie!”

  Rose.

  He flew across the steading grounds, his heart pounding. Whatever was she doing out of doors at this hour? She sounded in pain. Was she injured? Why was Ian crying so?

  “Rose!” he hollered, letting her know he’d heard her.

  “Jamie!” A little louder and more urgent.

  He reached Auchengray Hill at a dead run, then scrambled up the brae on all fours, grabbing foliage to keep his balance. “Rose!”

  “Jamie, we’re down here. We … we fell.”

  We? She had fallen with Ian?

  “Rose!” From the top of the hill, he heard her but could not see her, for the glen was shrouded in darkness.

  “We’re here,” she called from below, her voice hoarse. “In the bothy.”

  The bothy. Guilt sang through his veins as he descended the hill, knowing the terrain all too well. “I’m coming, Rose.”

  He made his way toward her voice, wiping the sweat from his brow with his forearm as guilt gave way to anger. Of all the places for her to be. And with Ian. What was the woman thinking?

  “You found us,” she called faintly as he approached.

  “Found you? I didn’t know I’d lost you.” When he stepped inside the primitive shelter, she was sitting on the stone bed, holding Ian tightly against her.

  “Oh, Jamie. I’m so sorry. We fell …”

  “Fell? What in heaven’s name were you doing on Auchengray Hill at night? And with my son?”

  “Jamie, I … please forgive me.” Rose was sniffling now, and so was Ian, both their faces stained with tears. “I walked Jenny Cullen home, and then … then I was looking for you.”

  “Och!” Biting back his frustration, he sat down beside her and reached out for his son. “Come, lad, let’s have a look at you.” Ian fussed as Jamie ran his hands over the boy’s limbs, then peered into his eyes as best he could in the bothy’s dark interior. “We’ll give you a thorough looking over when we bathe you, aye?”

  He settled the boy in the crook of his arm, then turned his attention to Rose. “What of you, lass? Are you hurt at all?”

  “Aye.” Her voice was as bruised as her cheek. “I cannot walk. ’Tis my knee, I think.”

  “Oh, Rose. I should have asked you first.” Fine husband you are, Jamie.

  “Nae, nae.” She waved a weak hand. “Ian matters more.”

  Holding the boy to one side, Jamie gingerly examined her knees, applying pressure to the joints with his thumb. One squeeze produced a slight wince from Rose. A touch to the other knee, swollen and misshapen, nearly made her swoon. He shook his head. She’d sprained it or worse. “You’re in a bad way, lass. I’ll not deny it.”

  “Jamie, please take Ian to the house. See that he’s cared for at once. I’ll wait here. You can send Willie along with a handcart if need be.”

  “Send Willie?” The lass must have hit her head when she fell. “What husband would abandon his wife in a bothy?” The same husband who would kiss her sister. In a bothy.

  “Jamie, please.” She gripped his sleeve. “Before another word is said, I must know if I’m forgiven.”

  “Forgiven?” Och, lass. “ ’Twas an accident, Rose. A foolish one but not intentional. ’Tis clear you protec
ted Ian at your own peril. His bones are supple and well padded. The boy will recover.”

  “Then you … forgive me?”

  “Aye, Rose.” For this. “Come, let’s get you home.” He placed Ian in her arms, then stood and slid one arm behind her knees, the other behind her shoulders. “Put one arm round my neck,” he said firmly, “and hang on to my son with the other.”

  “Jamie!” She did as she was told, eyes wide with fright. “You can’t possibly carry both of us.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Cradling Rose as if she were a wounded ewe with her lamb, he made his way across the rugged pasture. An owl hooted from an unseen perch as Jamie started up the hill, praying for strength. “Hang on, lass.” Climbing was a slow process. Each step required solid footing before he could lift his boot and take them another foot higher.

  Rose held on to his shoulder for dear life, cradling Ian between them, whispering soft words in the child’s ear as Jamie struggled up Auchengray Hill. She was trying hard to be a good mother. Even he could see that. The damp night air grew cooler by the minute and seeped into his bones. At the summit he lowered Rose onto her good leg just long enough to catch his breath, then gathered her in his arms once more and started down the other side, aiming for the lighted windows of the mains, their glow diffused by the mist.

  “You have quite a father, Ian,” Rose told him as they neared the bottom.

  Her trust shamed him. A passable father but a poor excuse for a husband.

  When they reached level ground, Jamie got his second wind, striding past the gardens and toward the back door, where the aroma of the hearth and a simmering kale pot met them halfway. “Almost home, Rose.” She did not speak, only pressed a kiss to his damp neck. When had his heidie wife become so tender?

  Neda was the first to spy them coming in the back door. “Rose? Ian!” She hurried to help them through the kitchen, her supper dishes forgotten. “Jamie, whatever happened?” Neda plucked Ian from Rose’s arms. “I thocht the twa o’ them went tae Glensone.”

  “They fell,” he said, deflecting Neda’s questions for Rose’s sake. On the long climb he’d had enough time to think through what must be done. “Neda, if you’ll bring the necessary items from the stillroom—whatsomever Leana used for flesh wounds. Annabel, see that hot water, soap, and linen rags are taken to our bedroom at once and a fresh nightgown laid out for your mistress. Bring Ian along as well, for he needs a good bath and a careful going over. And something warm to drink for both of them. They’ve had quite an ordeal.”