Gunns & Roses

by Karen Kelly

  “In today’s fog, almost ninety minutes,” Fin answered. “But it’s usually a good twenty minutes less than that on normal days.”

  “I thought unpredictable was Maine’s normal,” Annie quipped. “But I must confess I find the capriciousness rather exciting most of the time. Of course, Texas has its wild side also, but it’s drastically different from here. I’m enjoying those differences.”

  Ansley had not yet put the ferrule away, but instead she toyed with it, turning it over and running a finger over the engraving. “I’ve never lived anywhere but Maine. I still live in the same county where I was born, even.” A soft smile touched her mouth. “Guess I’m just a homebody.”

  Ian set the phone back in the handset. “The food should be here in about fifteen minutes … with Peggy.”

  Annie clasped her hands together. “Oh, good! Peggy is Emily’s mother, and she will be so happy to meet you, Ansley. Were you working at one of the venues at the Games?”

  “No, I wasn’t able to attend,” Ansley answered. “My husband’s mother has been ill and had to be hospitalized the night before the Games. She begged me to stay with her. I couldn’t say no, though I hated to miss Kyla’s dancing.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Annie briefly placed a hand over Ansley’s fidgeting one. “How is she doing now?”

  “Better, thank you,” Ansley said. “She’s gained some strength and has been home for a week. It was touch-and-go for a while.” She paused for a moment. “I had hoped to respond to your note sooner, but this was the first day I felt comfortable leaving her for the day.”

  “Ans was determined too,” Fin inserted. “She was not going to let a bit of fog keep her from coming.” He quirked a smile in her direction. “I wouldn’t have let her come alone today, even if I hadn’t already planned to accompany her on whichever day she was able to come to Stony Point.”

  “Well, we’re very glad you did,” said Ian. “Driving a distance in fog like this is dangerous enough when you’re alone. Hopefully, the fog will lift by the time you head back home.”

  Annie glanced at the clock on the wall. “Alice should be here soon. Perhaps we should move over to the conference room.”

  “Yes, let’s get settled there before the food comes.” Ian stood and escorted his guests out of his office and down the hall to the large room outfitted with a long table surrounded by generously cushioned seats. The mayor had always maintained that town board members could work harder and longer only if they were physically comfortable.

  The guests selected chairs across from each other; Annie sat next to Ansley and Ian beside Fin. They had all adjusted their seats and were sitting back when the door opened.

  “Hi!” Alice shut the door behind her and approached the table. Settling her smiling blue eyes on the visitors, she said to them, “Thank you for allowing me to crash the party.”

  “Alice, this is Ansley Bell,” Ian began the introductions. “Ansley, this is Alice MacFarlane, another lifelong resident of Maine like yourself.”

  Ansley extended her hand to the newcomer. “I’m so happy to meet you, Alice. I apologize for interrupting your lunch plans.”

  “Oh, please don’t worry,” Alice told her. “I’m thrilled you were able to come, whenever you could.”

  Annie briefly informed her friend of the reason for Ansley’s delay in responding to her message.

  “What a blessing for you to be near your mother-in-law during her illness.” Empathy shone in Alice’s eyes.

  Ian gestured to his right, where the other visitor was seated. “And you will remember Finley Rose, Alice.”

  Having been prepared by her phone conversation with Annie, no surprise showed on Alice’s face. She held out her hand to the falconer. “Welcome to Stony Point.” She exaggerated peering around the room. “Did you bring Athena with you?”

  A wry, but thankful, grin spread across Fin’s face. “Fear not, she’s at home today.” His face grew more serious, and he asked Alice’s forgiveness for the event outside the food tent at the Highland Games, as he had with Annie and Ian.

  “It may surprise you, Fin, but I’ve been known to exhibit impetuous behavior every once in a while,” Alice said, her eyes daring Annie and Ian to laugh. “I certainly forgive you, although I hope we are to learn the full reason behind your decision to use Athena on that Saturday.”

  Ansley answered for him. “You will, as soon as lunch arrives so there are no interruptions.”

  “It’s a rather long story,” Fin added.

  “Just the kind I prefer on a foggy day.” Alice rubbed her hands together in anticipation before turning away to take a seat.

  Once she was seated, Ian looked at his long-time friend. “Alice, I ordered you a large coffee with lunch. I hope you don’t mind.”

  She cocked her head at him. “Now Mayor, what I would have minded is if you had forced me to drink the Town Hall coffee. That would simply be cruel and unusual punishment.” Aside to Ansley and Fin, Alice added, “Poor Ian, he’s consumed so much of the bad stuff, his taste buds must be permanently crippled.”

  “If you have any suggestions for a new coffee vendor, Alice, please feel free to pass on the information to Charlotte,” said Ian. “Just keep in mind the town does run on a budget, and our constituents may not appreciate additional taxes for caffeine fixes.”

  “I’ll see what I can find and let Charlotte know. Seeing as she’s a tea woman, it makes sense she wouldn’t know bad coffee from good.” Over the years, Alice had learned how to enjoy the finer things in life on a tight budget. She relished the idea of passing on her hard-won knowledge to the mayor’s secretary.

  Three staccato raps thumped at the door, and Ian rose to open it. “Hi, Peggy. Thanks for delivering for us,” he said, spreading the door wide to make room for the waitress and the large box she carried. She hadn’t bothered to cover her pink uniform or her hair for the dash across the street in the fog, and her dark hair glistened faintly like she was wearing a fog hairnet. “Can I take that from you?”

  “Nah, Mr. Mayor,” Peggy would have waved him off, had her arms been free. She bustled over to the table and set the box at one end. Once relieved of the bulk, her eyes moved around the table as she shared a smile with everyone. When they reached Fin, however, her eyes widened in surprise. “Why, you look familiar!” the words popped out unbidden.

  “Finley, this is Peggy Carson, Emily’s mother,” said Annie, trying to give her friend time to recover. “Peggy, this is Finley Rose. Fin and Ansley Bell, who is Kyla’s mother, have come because of my messages.”

  The waitress’s hands hovered over the box, pausing in their readiness to pull out the food as her smile widened to a grin. “Thanks for coming! I had almost given up hope!” She turned to Ian, “Is that why the boss insisted I make the delivery instead of Breck? Clever, Mr. Mayor, very clever.”

  She reached into the box and pulled out several round cups with secure tops, setting them on the table. “These are the fish chowders. Who wanted them?” Annie, Alice, and Ansley motioned to claim the aromatic soup. Next came a wrapped sandwich. “Tuna salad—which must be yours, Mr. Mayor.” She handed the sandwich to Ian and dove back into the box. “So the club special must be … Finley’s.”

  As the man reached out to take the wrapped meal, he said to Peggy, “Please, call me Fin. Pretty much everyone does, unless I’m giving a demonstration. And please forgive me for my shenanigans with Athena. It was a dimwitted thing to do.”

  “I appreciate your apology, Fin,” Peggy responded plainly, “and of course I forgive you.” She passed out side salads to the three who had ordered the chowder, along with packets of saltines. “Now for the drinks.” She paused for effect and then started removing coffee cups from the box. “Four coffees. Sorry, Alice, only one for you this time, but it is large.” Last came a cold beverage cup. “And one Coke.”

  “The Coke is mine,” Fin said.

  The waitress wagged a finger at him. “You may regret it when you see w
hat’s for dessert.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” Fin gave her a bad-boy smile.

  Ansley laughed and said, “Fin’s one of those disgusting people who can eat anything he wants, and he never gains an ounce. Even with a sweet tooth.”

  Peggy let out a loud sigh. “Fin, I can forgive you for sending your eagle to scare us, but I’m not sure I can forgive that!” She turned back to Ian. “There are plenty of plates and forks in the box for when you’re ready for them. I guess I should get back to the diner, it being lunch rush and all.” She peered at each of her Stony Point friends. “If someone doesn’t call me after work and tell me more, I’ll come banging on your doors—see if I don’t. It’s going to be hard enough concentrating as it is!”

  “We wouldn’t think of it,” Annie reassured her friend. “We wish you could stay but wanted you at least to see for yourself what resulted from our day at the Highland Games.”

  Peggy nodded and turned to the visitors and said, “Don’t you two be strangers around here. Emily would be overjoyed to have a visit with Kyla and see her dance again.”

  “Kyla would love that too,” said Ansley. “If you can wait another minute, I’ll write down our contact information.” She reached into her purse and drew out a small pad with a pen.

  Peggy’s face brightened. “Sure.” She waved a hand at the others. “Dig in, everybody. The food’s not getting any warmer, you know.”

  “Yes, sir!” Alice saluted her friend and popped the lid off her chowder, stirring it with a plastic soup spoon. She leaned forward for a spill-free taste and then declared, “Delicious, as usual.”

  Ansley tore off the sheet of paper, folded it in half, and handed it to Peggy. “We’d love to have Emily come visit us on the farm. My husband, Kyle, built her a platform in one of the barns for dancing. Your daughter might like to see it.”

  Peggy slipped the paper into one of the pockets of her apron. “Just be warned: We might not be able to drag Em away from your barn. She’d dance all day and night if she didn’t have school and need sleep.” “Thanks for braving the fog to come,” she said, glancing at Fin and including him in her farewell. “Enjoy the food!” Peggy left the room much less burdened than when she had arrived, in more ways than one, and she sang under her breath as she hurried back to The Cup & Saucer.

  After the door closed, Ansley removed the lid from her salad bowl. “When my brother, Leathan, came home after the Games and told me about your questions regarding his cantle’s design, and then Fin showed up with the note you had written him, my first response was to let it go—to ignore it. Then after they had both left, Kyla danced in, full of chatter about this little dancer she had met and how nice the whole group from Stony Point was. She had more words for all of you than for her first-place award in dance! Taking first in the Premier group as a twelve-year-old is very unusual, so you should take her exuberance as a compliment. It made me think twice about doing nothing.” She tipped the small container of vinaigrette over the bowl and drizzled it on the greens.

  Fin swallowed a bite of his club sandwich. “Ans really surprised me when she told me she wanted to come and share everything. Now that I’ve met you, I can see she made the right choice.”

  “Fin, you mentioned your mother as the second reason you reacted the way you did at the Games. Why?” asked Ian carefully. “If you’d rather wait until after you’ve finished eating, we understand.”

  Fin shook his head. “No need. You may have noticed when we first mentioned my brother, we said he used to play the bagpipes.” Ian, Annie, and Alice solemnly nodded. “Tor died in January of 1986, while he was participating in extreme sports in Colorado. Our mother has never recovered from it.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that.” Annie’s voice was soft. “I can’t imagine losing my daughter.”

  Fin bowed his head briefly, acknowledging her sympathy. “My father kept thinking her grief would lessen in time, so he kept the bagpipes and other personal items in Tor’s room at home and simply shut the door.”

  “Do you know how the ferrules and sporran ended up in Annie’s attic?” asked Alice. She spooned some chowder to her lips.

  Fin nodded, setting his cup on the table. “I never knew exactly what had happened to them and had to do some quiet detective work myself, making sure my mother didn’t hear about it. We have to go back to 1978 to give you the foundation.”

  “That’s the year the Highland Games started, isn’t it?” asked Ian.

  “Yes,” answered Fin. “My family has always been very close to the Gunn family. Our farms are adjacent to each other, and we always had picnics and played sports together, like one giant family.”

  Ansley spoke up, her fork poised in midair. “So of course our families not only entered as many of the Highland Games competitions as possible, but also made up their own spin on it. My dad donated his sealskin sporran as a trophy of sorts, to the family who collectively brought home the most honors at the Games. The triumphant family would display the sporran prominently until the next Games. It was a crazy, fun time for us each year.”

  “The competition grew to other Scot families in the area, as well,” added Fin. “In the last year, I think we had seven or eight families vying for the prize. We were all so evenly matched, the sporran changed hands often.”

  “Do you know which family had it the final year?” asked Ian.

  “Yes, we Roses won it that year,” answered Fin. “But we don’t have it now. The August after Tor died, my mother was still so distraught, my father returned the sporran to Mr. Gunn.” He glanced over at Ansley.

  Annie had quietly been following the story, melding it with her grandpa’s journal entry. She added, “And Mr. Gunn then gave it to my grandfather, Charles Holden, his veterinarian.”

  Both Ansley and Fin were startled. “How did you know?” Fin blurted.

  Annie gave them a sheepish look. “After I came home from the Games, I doubted I’d ever hear from anyone. So I did the last thing I could think of, which was to read through my grandfather’s vet journals. He kept notes on his practice every year until his retirement. In the 1986 book there was an entry about tending a sheep with an abscess at the Gunn farm.” She paused, a glance darting toward Alice. “He mentioned the sporran.”

  Ansley stared at her coffee cup, nodding slowly. “I can see my dad doing that. He trusted your grandfather completely—trust built through years of bonding over the animals. He attended Dr. Holden’s funeral.” She shook her head at the realization.

  “Grandpa always said you can tell a lot about a person by how they treat animals,” Annie said. “What I still don’t know from his journal is why the ferrules were in the sporran.” She looked at the visitors. “Do you know?”

  Fin brushed sandwich crumbs from his fingers. “My father told me he had the silver hawk-and-rose ferrules removed from Tor’s bagpipe, reassembled it with regular ferrules, and gave the bagpipe to another family friend for safekeeping. He put the ferrules in the sporran.”

  “And the family friend was … ?” Alice asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Ansley answered, “Logan Bell.”

  The three Stony Point friends were silent for a moment, knowing the next logical question most likely would tread on very personal ground for Ansley. Ian gave the slightest of nods to Annie, feeling it should be her who asked it.

  Annie reached over and placed a hand upon one of Ansley’s. “Then why do you have a solitary ferrule with the design?”

  The woman’s eyes grew distant, yet soft, as she returned to the very young woman she once was. She whispered, “I took one ferrule from the sporran. I heard Dad talking to Dr. Holden on the phone, saying he had a special request to make of him. Something told me it had to do with the sporran, and I had to keep something … ” Her voice caught, and she paused before continuing, “… something to remember Tor by. He was, after all, my first love.”

  18

  The room remained quiet in reverence to the memories their visitors were sha
ring.

  “You should have seen Tor when he was playing his music,” said Fin. “He had all the girls swooning … but he could never take his eyes off of Ans.”

  Ansley spread her hands out in front of her on the table, pushing the empty containers away. “Tor and I grew up together. Fin was a bit older and busy with kids his own age, so Tor and I hung out all the time.” The wisp of a smile floated across her face and lips. “He played, and I danced—for hours on end. He could be the most charming boy. When we got older, I fell in love with him. All the girls around envied me, but they didn’t see all of Tor.”

  “Tor had a wild streak,” Fin told the group solemnly. “He was funny and kind, but he also loved the thrill of challenging limits. If there was a locked gate, he would climb it. A speed limit? He would break it. A cliff? He would dive off it. I tried to keep an eye on him, at first. But then I went away to college and couldn’t be there. By the time I graduated, I knew there was no way I could rein him in anymore.” He frowned down at the table, his hands clinched.

  “We dated for two years,” Ansley continued. “At first I was convinced Tor was my soul mate, and we were bonded by the love of music and each other. But in the second year, his recklessness just exploded, and he became erratic. It got to where I never knew what to expect when he picked me up for a date. He didn’t play his pipes as much, and at the end, he only played it for family events and the Highland Games.” Her voice dropped to a whisper once again. “After the ’85 Games, I told him I couldn’t take living in fear for him anymore and broke off the relationship.” She shook her head. “Of course, I didn’t stop worrying about him, and I still loved him. I thought maybe it would wake him up and help him see how he needed to change things.”

  “The problem was, Tor didn’t want to change,” Fin picked up the story. “He threw off what little restraint he had when he was with Ansley and went looking for barriers he could break. Finally, he embraced extreme sports. Instead of diving off cliffs into the ocean, he was diving out of airplanes with skis on and plummeting down mountainsides.” He breathed in a long, slow breath—and then released it. “Deep down, I don’t think anyone was surprised when the call came about Tor’s accident. And I think it’s partly why my mother has had such a hard time recovering from it. She saw it was coming, but she was powerless to do anything about it.”