“Is something wrong, Benedict?” asked Sara.
“No, not really. I was just thinking about my parents, about the last time I saw them.”
“When was that?” asked Elsie.
“Over thirteen years ago.” He smiled, adding, “In 1745. They were on a ship heading out to sea, to Scotland. My mother wanted to go home to Skye and he’d agreed to take her for a visit. When I saw them last, my father was standing on the aft deck, waving to me. My mother didn’t look back. She hated everything about Venice. Unfortunately, their visit was badly timed. They arrived in Scotland at the start of the rebellion and my father was caught up in it. He was killed at Culloden. She died of a broken heart.”
Sara took hold of one of his hands. “Benedict, I’m so sorry.”
He nodded. “Thank you. It’s been a long time. I was just thinking how ironic it is that I’m coming to Scotland and it’s hot and sunny.”
“Really?” asked Sara. “I think it’s a sign.”
“A sign of what?”
“A sign that you were meant to make this trip and that you weren’t meant to think of Scotland as the cold, gray place where your parents died.”
Benedict squeezed her hand. “Thank you. Honestly, part of me has been dreading this from the moment we first discussed coming to Scotland. Most of my memories of my mother are of how unhappy she was. Always. Even when we still lived in Scotland, she was unhappy. She was angry when my dad first moved us from the Isle of Skye to Port Glasgow. We were still in Scotland, but in a place where he could earn a good living and give us a decent life. Still, it was a world away from Skye. She hated it and it had nothing to do with the food or the weather.”
Sara smiled, her warm brown eyes filled with understanding. “So, my darling, it also had nothing to do with your father, or you either. I think sometimes part of being happy is deciding to be happy and the same thing is true for being sad. For whatever reason, your mother decided she could only be happy on Skye.”
He wasn’t sure how she knew that he had always felt partially responsible for his mother’s discontent, but Sara’s words freed him. His mother was who she was. Nothing he’d done or failed to do could have changed that. “You’re right about my mother and about the sunshine being a sign that I needed. Now I think I can experience Scotland without the pall of her unhappiness hanging over me. Thank you.” He leaned towards her and gave her a kiss.
Elsie’s eyes lit. “Speaking of experiencing Scotland, Mr. Sinclair helped arrange everything.” She pulled a paper containing the details from her purse. “A car and driver will meet us at the airport. First, we’ll go to Cawdor Castle.”
“The Cawdor Castle from MacBeth?” asked Benedict.
Elsie frowned. “I don’t know. What is MacBeth?”
“It’s a play written by William Shakespeare about an eleventh century Scottish general, MacBeth, who killed King Duncan and took the throne for himself,” said Sara. “Shakespeare wrote it in the early seventeenth century and part of it is set at Cawdor Castle. The thing is, Shakespeare took a bit of license with that because Cawdor Castle wasn’t built until the late fourteenth century.”
The other three stared at her.
“What?”
“How do you know all that?” asked Gabe.
“I majored in English and I’ve written some historical romances. A few of my books are set in Scotland, but the castles in them are fictional.”
“So it is the Cawdor Castle Shakespeare wrote about, but the real, historical MacBeth was never there.” Said Benedict.
“That’s right. But it’s still an ancient castle and well worth visiting.”
Elsie grinned. “That ancient castle hadn’t been built yet when I lived in Scotland.”
“So, my very ancient wife, what’s next?” asked Gabe
Elsie furrowed her brow. “Well, we have the option of going to Culloden after that.”
“You don’t look as if you want to do that,” said Sara.
“We can, if everyone wants to. It’s just…well…it seems like a very sad place to me. My Scotland was still independent and part of me doesn’t want to think about what happened there.”
“I can understand that,” said Gabe, before taking one of her hands in his and kissing the back of it. “Sara, Benedict, what do you think?”
“Unless you really want to go there, Sara, I would rather not. It was a horrific battle and where my father was killed. I’m sure there are plenty of ghosts there.”
“Then we won’t go to Culloden,” said Sara.
Elsie smiled. “Well, then there are apparently some awesome antique stores in Inverness. I’d like to go and see if there is anything in them as ancient as I am.”
They all laughed.
The plane landed a few minutes later. As they were deplaning, Elsie stopped for a moment, an odd expression on her face.
“Is something wrong, sweetheart?” Gabe asked.
“No. It’s just odd to be in modern Scotland. I mean, I knew it would be modern, but it’s still a little unsettling, a bit like the first morning I woke in New York.”
Benedict nodded. “I know what you mean. Sara and I watched as the ship sailed into the Venice lagoon this morning and I felt the same way. Although I suspect less had changed there than here.”
“Tomorrow we’ll drive into the Highlands,” said Elsie. “We have a cottage rented near Glenshiel. It’s not far from where my home would have been. Maybe it will feel different there.”
~ * ~
The drive from Inverness the next day did take them into less populated areas, reminding Benedict of the Scotland of his youth.
They stopped on the way to view the ruins of Urquhart Castle. Their driver, Hamish, was an excellent tour guide, but they couldn’t speak freely in front of him. In fairness, they wouldn’t have been able to speak freely there anyway because of the many tourists.
After exploring the ruin, they continued driving southwest on the A82, along the edge of Loch Ness. They stopped at Invermoriston to have a look at the falls and have lunch at a cafe there before turning west on the A887.
They arrived at the rental cottage in the midafternoon to find it was rather more than a cottage. Twice as many people would have been comfortable in it.
Sara was delighted to find a fully equipped kitchen, “Ooh, I’d love to cook us a nice dinner.”
“If ye give me a list, I’d be happy to drive on to Kyle of Lochalsh and get groceries, while the four of ye explore,” said Hamish.
After he’d gone, they spent the afternoon walking near Loch Duich.
Elsie, who had been rather quiet since they left Inverness, seemed pensive.
“Elsie, my love, is everything okay?” asked Gabe.
She nodded. “Yes. It’s just that until I came to the twenty-first century, I’d lived my whole life here in the shadow of these peaks, and other than the mountains, almost nothing is familiar. As we drove along the river Shiel, there were almost no trees. Hamish talked about reforestation projects. The village I lived in, the castle, would have all been in this area but all vestiges of the thirteenth century are gone—as if it never existed. When I think about my life then, about friends and my aunt Dolina, I don’t think of them as having been dead for centuries. It’s more like they are just somewhere else. But as we drove, I began to lose that feeling.”
Gabe reached out and took her hand.
She smiled at him. “Urquhart castle hadn’t been built when I lived here and it is now a ruin just as only a remnant remains of the forest. I feared when we got here and I saw with my own eyes that my village no longer exists, it would break my heart. It would be impossible for me to think of those people I love as being elsewhere. But that isn’t what happened. Now that I’m here, the connection with them is stronger than ever. There is simply a veil of time separating us. I can close my eyes and feel them around me.”
Gabe wrapped his arms around her.
Benedict took Sara’s hand and they walked ahead, giving Gabe
and Elsie some privacy.
~ * ~
That evening Benedict had his first opportunity to see Sara in action in the kitchen. From their time on the ship, he knew she loved good food and she had told him she enjoyed cooking, but he’d had no idea how truly talented she was.
Before she served dinner, she stood at the head of the table, much as the chef on the ship had done during their “Chef’s Secret” dinner. “What I’m about to serve you is considered a ‘classic Scottish dish,’ that I’m sure none of you, except for Hamish, have ever heard of.”
Benedict wondered what she meant by this was as surely if it were a classic dish one of them might know of it. But she explained.
“The reason you haven’t heard of it is that it probably isn’t terribly classic, but you can find it on a lot of menus these days, so I thought I’d try it. Our dinner tonight is Chicken Balmoral. It is a chicken breast stuffed with haggis, which is then cooked, wrapped in Scottish bacon, and topped with a whisky sauce. The traditional accompaniment for it is mashed potatoes and turnips—tatties and neeps that is. However, I have gone a bit rogue. Our potatoes are roasted in butter, garlic, and rosemary and instead of neeps, we have mashed carrots and parsnips which I love.”
Benedict was certainly familiar with haggis and Chicken Balmoral, whether a classic recipe or not, was delicious.
Elsie too dived in and loved the dish.
Gabe was a bit more cautious but once he tasted the haggis, he smiled saying, “It’s a little like scrapple and I love scrapple.”
Hamish declared that it was delicious and rivaled any Chicken Balmoral that he’d ever eaten.
Dessert was supposedly another classic, Eton mess—broken meringues, whipped cream, and fresh berries. As they sat enjoying it over cups of coffee, Gabe asked, “What’s on for tomorrow?”
Hamish said, “Ye mentioned wanting to do some hiking on the five sisters, but maybe waiting until later in the week for it. So my suggestion is that ye visit Eilean Donan Castle in the morning. I’ll take ye to a nearby inn for a full Scottish breakfast and we’ll aim to be at the castle when it opens at ten. Then we’ll go on to Skye. The fairy pools would be an ideal place to go tomorrow. Ye can take a dip there if ye wish. In this dreadfully hot weather we’ve been having the cool water will be refreshing.”
The others looked to Benedict and he understood why. Elsie had encountered her past here. His past was on Skye, but it was a big island. They would go where he wanted to go. “I think going to the fairy pools is an excellent idea.”
“Excellent. I’ll arrange for a picnic lunch for ye to take with ye to the pools.”
When Benedict and Sara went to bed that night, she said, “The fairy pools sound lovely. Have you been there before?”
“Yes. I lived on Skye when I was very young. We left when I was about six, but all my mother ever wanted was to return to Glenbrittle. She kept the memories from that time alive and she loved the fairy pools.”
“So they’re very close to where you lived?”
“Yes. But having learned about the Highland clearances, I suspect there will be nothing left there from my village.”
“Sadly, I don’t think so.”
~ * ~
Sara was right, there was nothing left of his eighteenth-century village, but that didn’t matter. Just as Elsie had, as he walked the path to the different pools, he felt a connection with his past that was alive for him. And while he’d always been close with his father, it was his mother whose spirit was with him. But she wasn’t the sad, drawn, melancholy creature who stood on the deck of the ship never looking back at him. It was the mother he’d nearly forgotten. The one who laughed and smiled and held his hand as they waded in the icy water. And as he stood once again in a place where he had surely stood before with her, he was able to let go of his hurt and move on.
Chapter 11
Thursday, August 3, 2006
Sara’s apartment
Sara and Benedict had arrived at her apartment late the previous evening. Scotland had been wonderful. They had seen and done so much it was hard to believe they’d only spent eight days there. They had staged the accident on Friday afternoon. They had started their climb from right outside their cottage. Because they didn’t need a driver, Hamish stayed behind, but he’d nearly had kittens when they returned with Benedict having suffered a head injury.
The nearest hospital was thirty-five minutes away, in Broadford, on Skye. They kept him in the hospital until Sunday, by which time they had ruled out serious brain damage, although the doctors were puzzled by his memory loss. Gabe assured them he had already made arrangements for Benjamin to see Dr. Gerald Rose, an expert in atypical amnesia at New York University Hospital Center, NYUCH.
They had flown by private jet to New York on Monday. Dr. Rose had insisted on performing the battery of tests that would have been expected before allowing Benjamin Talbot to leave NYUHC. But finally, he released Benedict yesterday and Benjamin’s assistant had sent a car and driver to bring them home from New York.
It had been almost surreal returning to her apartment. She had been gone nearly four weeks but it felt like a lifetime. The fact that she was desperately in love with an eighteenth-century shipbuilder in Benjamin Talbot’s body was still hard to believe.
But when they’d gone to bed in her bedroom and he’d made love to her, she knew everything was right. The universe was unfolding as it should.
And now, standing in her kitchen cooking breakfast for Benedict, she again had that sense that she had found her soulmate and everything was exactly as it was supposed to be.
Benedict entered the kitchen, fresh from the shower.
Sara gave him a quick kiss as she put the plate of scrambled eggs and scrapple in front of him. But Benedict put his hand behind her neck in order to give her a much more satisfying kiss.
When he ended the kiss, she couldn’t suppress a happy giggle. “Eat your breakfast.”
“I’d rather nibble away at your sweetness.”
“Trust me, the eggs will be more satisfying.”
“Ah my precious lass, perhaps they’ll be more filling, but nothing can be more satisfying than kissing you.”
Dear God. No one had ever said anything so romantic to her. She sighed and kissed him again before saying, “I tend to agree.” Then she sat in the chair next to his and took a sip of her coffee. “Are you worried about meeting your father today?” She had stopped referring to anything relating to Benjamin in the third person. Benedict was Benjamin Talbot now and had made the decision to stay. Dr. Rose, Elsie, and Gabe all agreed this was the best course.
Although Sara was still having a little trouble with it, Gabe and Elsie had also encouraged her to start calling him Benjamin all of the time, even in private. “You will be much less likely to make a mistake in public if you start thinking of Benedict as Benjamin,” Gabe had said on their private flight from Scotland.
“But you call Elizabeth Elsie a lot,” Sara observed.
“I do. But ‘Elsie’ is a nickname for Elizabeth, and one Elizabeth’s mother used to call her. People accept that it’s a pet name she likes now and close friends use it. ‘Benedict’ is not a pet name for Benjamin. Although, you could just call him Ben.”
Sara shook her head. “Benjamin hated the nickname ‘Ben’ and wouldn’t let anyone call him that. It would be extremely out of character.
Elsie nodded. “I understand. But think about it before ruling it out.” Apparently, Elizabeth had insisted on being called ‘Elizabeth’ from about the age of six. “But,” she said, turning to Benedict, “if you are going to stay, the reality is Benedict MacIan has long since passed away. You are now Benjamin Talbot. Thinking of Benjamin as a separate person will get you into trouble, believe me.”
So, since they left Scotland, Sara had tried to call him Benjamin all of the time, not just while they were in public, but she constantly made mistakes. She just didn’t like calling him Benjamin—probably because she had disliked Benjamin so.
<
br /> Eventually, after a fair bit of discussion, Benedict decided that Gabe had had the best idea. “I think you just need to call me Ben, at least in private. It is as much a nickname for Benedict as it is for Benjamin and I was even called Ben by many people in my own time.”
“But it will be so out of character for Benjamin to accept that.”
“Sara, my darling, I’ve changed. And I’ve fallen in love. Allowing the woman I adore to call me Ben seems reasonable and it will solve the problem. You can try to call me Benjamin in public, but if you slip, and call me Ben, there’s no harm in it.”
So here she sat, at her own kitchen table with her new boyfriend, Ben Talbot.
Ben finished chewing what was in his mouth and swallowed. “I guess I am a little worried about meeting…uh…my father.” His brow furrowed. “My father. That still feels so odd to say.”
“But, Ben, if you don’t—”
He put his hand up. “I know. I have to. It just feels dishonest somehow. I don’t have trouble being Benjamin Talbot to the rest of the world, but it’s different with his father.”
“I guess I understand that. Still, we don’t really have a choice if you want to stay”
He shook his head slightly. “I guess not.”
“If you aren’t ready, we don’t have to meet him today.”
“Putting it off will only delay the inevitable. Besides, Dr. Rose cleared his schedule and is probably already on the road. No, it’s best just to go through with it as planned.” He took a deep breath, appearing to steel his resolve. “So, my secretary said my father will meet us at ten. What time do we need to leave here? I don’t want to make him wait.”
“I think we should leave a little before nine. I’m really not sure what kind of traffic we’ll have but I think that’ll leave us plenty of time.”
What if I Fall: The Pocket Watch Chronicles Page 12