Highland Wish

by Colleen MacGregor

  Blood blooms in a crimson patch across the cornflower blue fabric like a rose spreads its petals in the sun. Bleeding quite a bit now, the pain is unbearable. This will surely kill me. It’s not as if I can call 911 or go to the emergency room. There won’t be any antibiotics or pain medication. And as I begin to wonder how I’d get the arrow out, I’m lifted into the air and darkness takes me.

  Chapter 13

  I wake with my sweaty face pressed into the bed and my shoulder burning. Mary brushes a cool cloth across my cheek.

  “Dinna worry love, we’ll get them out.”

  God, please just kill me. The pain is overwhelming and my skin is on fire. “So hot, Mary.” I just want to throw up and let the darkness take over.

  “It’s the fever. We’ve got to get the arrows out so we can clean the wounds. You’ve had quite a shock.”

  I hear women’s voices, but I can’t make them out. I’m nauseated from pain. Someone enters the room and orders everyone to leave.

  Margaret kisses my head and departs.

  There’s a rip and my dress is cut from my body. I’m in too much pain to care who did it. I scream as the arrow in my upper shoulder blade is removed. I give in to the pain and black out. Coming to, I see boots walking across the floor.

  Closing my eyes again, I let the stranger care for my shoulder, crying out when the arrow in my thigh is being removed. I just can’t take anymore. I wish for a quick death just so the pain will end.

  I must have voiced my wish aloud because the bed dips and a strained voice speaks in my ear.

  “You’ll not die.”

  I know that voice. “I’ll do what I want,” I reply through parched lips. Even in this state, I can’t help arguing with him.

  I think I’m going into shock. I’m covered in sweat and blood. How much blood loss is too much? I wish I’d paid better attention in science class.

  Having dressed my wounds, he moves me farther up the bed and covers me with a light sheet.

  “Angus,” I cry softly into the mattress and fall asleep.

  Lost in a sea of pain and alternating heat and chills, I’m vaguely aware of voices. I can never quite discern what they are saying. Is someone crying? Praying? Nothing makes sense. All that exists is pain. My body is completely out of my control. I just want it to end, and I don’t care how. Death is a perfectly viable option at this point.

  “Please help me,” I utter into the darkness.

  A cold cloth wipes my face and neck, down my arms and back and I sob as this process is repeated over and over.

  “Shh, my love. Dinna weep.”

  I can’t open my eyes. It’s as if they’re sealed shut. “Angus,” I croak.

  “Rest.”

  The cold cloth travels over my body once more and I sleep.

  When I finally open my eyes, it’s as if I slept on the beach. My mouth is parched and my eyes feel like they’re filled with sand.

  Angus sits on the stool beside the bed. I watch him in silence in the dark room. Head bowed, he runs his fingers through his hair. He must feel the weight of my stare because he raised his head.

  He looks like he’s been to hell and back. Like he’s been in pain himself. Jaw clenched, his weary eyes are focused on me.

  “Are you hurt?” I ask him. My eyes close now. I just can’t keep them open.

  A woman’s laugh rings out from the other side of the bed, “She’s worried about you, sweet lass.”

  Mary’s here too.

  “Look at me, Katherine. Open your eyes.”

  His voice is firm but strained.

  I turn my head slightly to see his brown curls glowing in the firelight. “Angus.”

  “Thank Christ,” he whispers and squeezes my hand. He leans forward and kisses my forehead.

  “I stink.” I can’t see anything as I’ve closed my eyes again but I can smell myself. That’s never a good sign. He laughs at me and caresses my cheek with the backs of his fingers. Am I tingling because I totally want this man or because of the blood loss? At this point, I have no idea. I hear Mary’s voice. She sounds far away but I suspect that’s just the fever.

  “There ye are. We’ve missed you. Can you take a sip for me?” she asks.

  “I’ve got you. Easy love.” Angus says as cool liquid is brought to my parched lips, and I drink.

  “Only a sip now. Dinna want to be sick. There now, let her rest, Angus,” she clucks, but he stays by my bedside.

  I drift off to what sounds like a Gaelic lullaby. I’ve heard him sing it before. Someday, I’ll have to ask him what it means.

  I try moving, which is a mistake. A gentle hand on my non-injured shoulder pushes me back to the pillow.

  “Dinna move.”

  “So bossy,” I reply.

  “Ah, you’re feeling better.”

  “Leave her be, Angus.” Mary is still here.

  Once she shooed him out of the room, she and the girls feed and bathe me. It’s a long, arduous process since they can’t get my side or shoulder wet. They’re very patient with me. My body is washed with rose scented water and someone washes and combs my hair.

  While I’m being tended to, the other girls change the bed sheets and replace my pillows. The floor is washed and fresh heather and wild flowers are placed by my bedside. With the curtains tied back, the glorious sunshine cascade into the room. I’m happy to be alive, even if my body feels like I fallen down several flights of stairs into the fiery pit of hell.

  Despite my aches, I feel better now that I’m clean. Mary brings me some broth. It’s very hot, but delicious. “Slowly now. Not too much. It will make you sick.”

  I do as I’m told and take small sips. We don’t talk. She just spoon-feeds me broth until it’s gone. She fixes my pillows and arranges my blankets. Standing beside me, with tears in her eyes she speaks. “He didn’t leave your side. For five days and nights he sat with you and cared for you. He wouldn’t allow anyone near you but me, and he barely tolerated that much.” She pauses, choosing her words carefully.

  “When you got so bad that they called Father McClellan, he told the priest to leave. He said you weren’t going to die, but he did grieve for you, for what you endured. I’ve known Angus since he was a wee bairn. I watched him grow into a braw man, and I’ve never seen him like this. He hasna trained or taken meals in the hall. You had the fever something awful. You were so ill. Only Angus never gave up.”

  I am unable to respond. She squeezes my hand and leaves me alone to rest.

  Sometime later, I try to sit up and it takes a great deal of effort since I haven’t really moved on my own in a while. I’m wearing only a thin shift, and the room is getting cold despite the fire in the hearth. My skin is covered in gooseflesh and my nipples pebble against the soft cotton.

  Since most of the blankets had been removed because I had a fever, I need another. There’s one on the chair across the room, but that means I have to get up to get it.

  Pulling the covers back, I slide my legs over the side of the bed. Since my feet don’t touch the floor, I slip off the bed further. This proves to be a mistake since my legs aren’t strong enough to hold me yet, I fall to the floor like a stone. Dizzy and weak and I pray that I don’t vomit.

  I look up at the massive bed and decide to stay on the floor until Mary returns. She has to come back eventually.

  Lying on the floor, shivering, the tears come. I always cry when I’m sick. Even as a child, I hated being ill.

  That’s how he finds me. Huddled in a ball on the floor.

  “Christ!” he swears, and crosses the room to pick me up, “are you hurt?”

  He picks me up to put me back on the bed. “I’m cold,” I whimper. He’s already seen me at my worst and I have no pride left.

  He leaves my side briefly
to grab the blanket that I want, and returns to cover me. As he tucks me in, I bawl like a baby. I cover my face so he can’t see me. I felt his hands on mine.

  “Why are you crying, love? Are you in pain? Tell me.”

  I shake my head, too embarrassed to face him.

  He sits closer and pulls me into his arms. He rocks me gently back and forth while he strokes my hair, my back, my arms. All the while he whispers Gaelic into my hair. I don’t know what he’s saying, but it’s soothing nonetheless. He smells like outdoors. Like he’s been in the woods. I realize as my lips graze his neck that I’m breathing him in. I also realize that Angus has stopped moving. He’s still and quiet.

  Before I know what I am doing, ever so lightly I kiss his neck. My hand rests on his chest, and I kiss him again. I can feel his heartbeat under my hand. “Angus, I’m cold.”

  Very gently, he lays me back in the bed and covers me. As he tucks me in, his lips linger over my forehead. “You’ve a fever, Katherine.”

  I kiss his cheek.

  “You should rest.”

  I kiss his chin.

  “I should go.”

  I kiss his lips.

  He doesn’t speak or move. Sitting up, I pull him down to sit on the bed. Removing my sheet, I climb into his lap, shaking with fever and want. He doesn’t move to touch me, so I touch him. The scratchiness of his stubble, the smoothness of his lips, the silk of his hair are sensations I want to memorize. I feel the slightly rough cotton texture of his shirt, the hard muscle beneath and the softness of his skin.

  The room is quiet except for my breathing. As for Angus, I don’t think he’s taken a breath since I kissed him. His body is as taut as a bowstring. My hands travel down his arms. When I reach his hands, I notice they’re clutching the blankets like his life depends on it. I take them from the safety of the blankets and place them on me. My shift is up around my thighs, and I want his skin touching me, everywhere.

  That’s how we sit for some time. Me in his lap, my head on his shoulder, arms around his neck. His hands don’t move and neither do mine. I’m content to stay here. I just need to feel him in my arms.

  I don’t know how long we sit like that, but without a word, I kiss his cheek, climb off his lap and go back under the covers. He does move then. I feel his fingers on my temple moving the hair out of my face. He whispers something in Gaelic and leaves.

  I don’t know how long I slept, but when I finally open my eyes, the light assaults me. My body feels like it’s been beaten and torn to shreds, which isn’t far from the truth, and all I can think is that I’d kill for some Advil.

  As I gently turn my head, I see a vase of wildflowers and a parcel wrapped in brown paper sitting on top of a tattered book. I want to roll over to get them but I can’t quite make it. The process of moving is cumbersome but not impossible. I can only move the one arm as my other shoulder is throbbing.

  I lean just enough to get the little treasure. Did Duncan leave me another pretty rock? He likes to find shiny rocks, or rather “precious gems,” and present them to me. If they were real, I would be a wealthy woman. As it stands, I am rich in friendship. He is a sweet, gentle boy who will grow into a lovely man. Feeling the rough paper with my fingertips, I carefully unwrap my present. It’s light. Not nearly as heavy as the rest of the rocks. As I’m about to open the final fold, the door creaks open and Mary enters.

  “You’re awake. I see ye found yer gift.” She comes to stand by the bed and puts her hand on my forehead. “You’re cooler. Still pale. How do ye feel?”

  “Like I’ve been beaten and shot with an arrow.” I laugh. I never thought I’d utter those words, but my life in this time has certainly been interesting.

  “Let me check yer wounds, and then we’ll get ye cleaned up and fed. You’ve got to keep yer strength up.” Mary helps me sit up which is no easy task, but we manage. She moves the bandages aside and peeks at my shoulder.

  “Much better. The wound’s not festering. Come, let’s see the other.” And I lay on my stomach. My gift is still clutched in my hand.

  “Aren’t you going to open it?” I hear Mary behind me.

  “I’ll open it later.”

  “Ah well, you’ll look when you’re ready. In the meantime, let’s get you cleaned up, aye?”

  Any modesty I had prior to coming here has long since vanished. I reluctantly relinquish my mysterious package, and Mary places it back on my side table. She covers me as Beth and some maids enter and bathe me. I sit on a stool by the tub and my hair is washed. I can’t help but feel better now that I’m clean and don’t smell like sickness.

  I’m ushered back to bed. Lady MacGregor and Duncan come to visit me.

  “Katherine!” he runs over to me and takes my hand. “Ye look much improved, my lady.”

  “Indeed, you do. We’re so glad to have you back. When you’re ready, we’ll take you out for some fresh air.”

  “Come, Duncan, let’s leave Katherine to rest.” Lady MacGregor leans in to kiss my head.

  I don’t respond, but she doesn’t need me to say anything. We both know it’s true. I’ve never believed in anything as much as that fact.

  Duncan grabs my present off the table and places it on my lap. “You should open your gift. He’ll want an answer.”

  “DUNCAN!” the two women yell in unison.

  “Well, he will.” He sulks as Lady MacGregor grabs him by the ear and escorts him out of the room. I want to laugh, but the enormity of my situation is weighing on me, crushing me to the bed. Before Mary leaves, she stops at the door to address me.

  “He’ll respect your decision. He’ll love you no matter what yer answer.”

  And she departs but not before Claire and Margaret walk in.

  “Katherine, dear, how are you? You gave us such a scare,” Claire says as hugs me gently, mindful of my shoulder.

  Margaret embraces me too, and we’re all on my bed in tears.

  “We’ve missed you. The castle is awfully dull when you’re not there. Such a short time ago ye came to us. I canna remember what life was like before that.”

  I feel the silent question hanging in the air. I wonder if I could tell them? Would they think I was crazy? “I didn’t have much family back home. Those I did have weren’t close. You’re like sisters to me.” The next words are on the tip of my tongue when Claire cuts in.

  “You are our sister, Katherine. We love ye. So anything you have to say to us, we’re here for ye.”

  Wow. How do they know? Well, now’s my chance.

  We all speak at once.

  “I’m from another time.”

  “What’s in that package?”

  “Angus has spoken to Lord MacGregor.”

  “What?” we ask each other in unison.

  “What do you mean you’re from another time?” Claire asks as I ask, “What do you mean Angus spoke to Lord MacGregor?”

  “Let Katherine speak, Claire.” So Margaret and Claire sit and wait.

  “Well, you know I showed up one day out of the blue, yes?”

  “Aye. We did not want to press ye since Duncan was sure you were taken by the Murrays, and since ye saved him, that was all we needed to know,” said Claire.

  “I wasn’t taken by the Murrays. I’m from four hundred years in the future. I made a wish at a magic fountain. The next day I woke in the forest.” There. I said it.

  Silence.

  “So, that’s it? No questions? Don’t you have anything to say to me?” I ask. They look to each other and then to me.

  “Maybe it’s too soon for visitors. You should rest,” Claire says.

  Together they rise but I put my hands out to stop them.

  “Please. I’m not crazy, uh, delirious. But haven’t you noticed that I’m different from you and the others?�
��

  “Katherine, you need to rest.” Claire tries to rise again, but Margaret stops her.

  “Wait Claire, let her speak. She is different from us. There’s been talk.” Margaret gives me a shy smile. “Sorry, dear, but well, you’re peculiar, to be sure. Your manner of speech, your accent, the dress you arrived in. It was pure silk and black.”

  “You do ask odd questions,” Claire says.

  “So you see that I don’t fit in, that I don’t belong.” The words don’t feel as true anymore. I feel more at home now than I ever did at home.

  “So tell us again, how did you get here? A magic fountain you said?” Claire asks.

  “Yes. I threw a coin in a fountain at a castle in Scotland. Crathes, I believe it.”

  “Crathes!” they squealed.

  Obviously they’re familiar.

  “Crathes Castle is built on sacred ground, Katherine. It’s where the Green Lady roams the halls in search of her lost love. Aye, we know that castle. Tis not far from here.”

  We sit still. I don’t think we take a single breath among us. Claire reaches for my hand and breaks the spell.

  “Will you return?” Claire asks.

  “Of course not, her home is here with us, with Angus,” Margaret counters.

  Two sets of eyes landed on me, and I look down at the forgotten parcel in my lap. Picking it up, I open it.

  “His brooch. Ye must have lost it in the fray and he’s returned it to ye,” Margaret says.

  I gently rub my thumb over it. Clutching it in my hand I bring it to my heart as my eyes fill with tears. “I’m such an idiot.”

  “Aye. Of course he loves ye. Has since the minute ye hit him with that stick in the woods,” Claire says.

  “Is nothing sacred? Does everyone know my every move?”

  “Yes.” They laugh at me.