Molly in the Middle

by Stobie Piel

  Brent clasped Grainger's arm, his eyes filled with tears. "There must have been times you thought that would never happen."

  Grainger met his son's eyes, and his expression changed from shame to pride. "No, Brent. I've been proud to know you were my boy every day of your life."

  Miren stroked Nathan's hair from his brow. His breath came slow and shallow, but his eyes remained open.

  The duke knelt beside Nathan. "I've sent for a doctor." He stopped and shuddered. "A real doctor. Hold on." He rose and faced Irene. "Lady MacCallum, I am forced to accuse you in collusion with Dr. Patterson of the murders of your husband and Nathan's brother. Yet the crime may be hard to prove, and I would spare Brent the embarrassment of a trial."

  Simon stepped forward. "I've got a better idea for old Irene."

  Brent and the duke listened, and Irene braced herself. Brent glanced at his mother and shrugged. "Let's have it, Simon."

  "Farmer MacBain, fellow we got Earnest from, is headed off to Australia soon. He's looking for a housemaid. His wife,

  Prudence, she's got a bad back. And no wonder, hefting that bulk of a body around."

  Irene blanched. "No!"

  Simon smacked his lips thoughtfully. "She'd be a hard taskmaster and no mistake, but the MacBains are good, solid folk. Might do old Irene a world of good."

  Irene whirled to face Brent. "I will not!"

  "Mother, the matter is settled. I know Farmer MacBain and his wife. Sensible, down-to-earth couple. Simon is right. Australia will do you good. Maybe get your head out of your illusions about wealth and power and back to reality."

  "Never! I will not become a servant."

  Brent folded his arms over his chest. "It's that or prison. You choose."

  Irene hissed, but she offered no further argument.

  Miren wrapped her arms around Nathan's waist. "We have to get him back to the house."

  The duke eyed Patterson's body. "Brent, if you'd take your mother in hand, I'll have Patterson's remains removed. Simon and I will carry Nathan to the estate."

  A rider appeared on the road. He stopped, then directed his horse toward the gathering. Miren looked to see if it was a doctor, but as the man drew near, her breath caught in amazement. Long black hair fell below his shoulders. He wore leather rather than cloth breeches, and a beaded earring hung from one ear.

  He dismounted, and Glenna cried out in shock. She left Nat with Miren and ran to him, weeping.

  "Who is that man?" Miren asked.

  Nathan didn't answer. His eyes closed, and Miren's heart held its beat. "Simon! Help!"

  Simon checked Nathan's pulse. "He's all right, lass. Just passed out." He glanced toward the man with Glenna. "As for that young rapscallion yonder . . ." Simon stopped and sighed. "That's Taregan Wolf."

  "Wolf? Is that Nathan's real surname?"

  "That's the English rendition, lass. I ain't attempting the Iroquois version. It's the name of his clanhad to take on a surname to appease the Americans."

  Miren brushed away her tears. "His father came?"

  "More's the pity." Simon eyed Taregan as he strode toward Nathan. "But the young fellow, despite his lack of decent clothes, has a way with herbs."

  "You mean he can help Nathan?"

  Taregan approached and knelt at Nathan's side. He touched his son's pale forehead, then bent to kiss his brow.

  "Can you help him?" Miren's voice quavered, but her heart filled with hope.

  Taregan took Nathan from Miren's arms. "That remains to be seen."

  Simon helped Taregan carry Nathan to the manor. Molly followed close behind. Miren stood a moment, frozen between fear and hope. Glenna laid her hand gently on Miren's shoulder. "Come, my dear. Nathaniel won't die. His real battle is over."

  Nathan rose from layers and layers of heavy sleep. He'd drifted in and out for days. Endless days in which he couldn't tell dream from reality. Sometimes he saw Miren beside him, speaking softly, telling him she loved him more than anything. Sometimes her words disturbed him, because she said she understood his need for freedom and wouldn't stand in his way.

  He'd tried to answer her, but his lips wouldn't move. He'd felt her gentle kisses, and he knew she cried. He'd listened to her conversations with him, with herself, and he realized she feared their ending. She feared he wouldn't have the heart to ask her to leave. How could anyone be so wrong? He hadn't the courage to ask her to stay, until it was almost too late.

  And now he was frozen in a poisoned slumber, and listened while she told herself it would be better for him if she left Scotland . . .

  Nathan hoped it had been dream. Miren wouldn't leave. He'd woken in the night, and she'd fed him soup. He'd thanked her, and she'd wept, overjoyed that he was well again. He'd almost mustered strength to talk to her, but she'd left him, and sleep stole over his mind again.

  He felt sure that it truly happened, but so much else had been dream. Perhaps Miren's doubts were only dream, too. He'd dreamt that his father sat beside him, speaking in Iroquois, telling him how he'd been wrong, that Nathan was right. That surely was dream. He'd dreamt that his mother entered the room and reminded Taregan they'd conceived him beside a river, beneath the stars.

  Yes. Dream. This was more of his parents' relationship than he required knowing.

  Molly hopped on his bed, twice at least, and Miren had scolded her. That seemed plausible. But Muffin jumped up, too, and that didn't.

  Someone's hand pressed to his forehead. A cool hand. Miren. Nathan opened his eyes, but the dark man looking down wasn't Miren. Nathan closed his eyes, opened them, and looked again. Taregan still bent over him. Nathan turned his head from side to side. He checked again. Taregan was smiling now.

  Nathan tried to speak. His mouth felt thick, his lips numb. He moved his tongue. It worked, though it carried little moisture. "What . . . are you doing . . . here?"

  Taregan's smile faded, his dark eyes filled with tears. "Tending my son."

  Nathan stared up at him. "Your son."

  "You are far more than that, Nathaniel."

  Nathan stared to shake his head. "No."

  "You are Iroquois. You are Scotsman." Taregan's smile returned. "You are pirate . . . And I'm sorry I missed it . . . A monk. But your woman told the story well. And often."

  "Miren . . ." Nathan looked around. His limbs lightened. He needed to see her. If his father's presence wasn't a dream,

  then her doubts weren't imagined, either. "Where is she?"

  Taregan hesitated. Nathan sat up. His senses reeled, but he refused to lie back down. "Where is she?"

  "Scottish women . . . make no sense."

  Nathan's heart stilled. "She's gone. She left." He tried to rise, but his head swam. Taregan caught his shoulder and steadied him.

  "She left this morning, after we were certain you recovered."

  "Where did she go?"

  "With Simon." Taregan's brow tilted upward. "For some reason, he was eager to leave. He and I never did get along."

  "Where?"

  Taregan's brow angled still more. "Anywhere."

  Nathan contained his impatience. "Not you and Simon . . . Where did he take Miren?"

  "To Simon's new ship. He's naming it The Monk."

  "He's renaming my ship?"

  "Said you gave it to him 'fair and square.'"

  "Perfect. And he's taking my woman with him."

  "He was reluctant at first, but she convinced him. Your woman thought your life would be 'easier' if she didn't make you choose."

  Nathan bowed his head. "Scottish women . . . make no sense."

  Taregan nodded slowly. "But they settle many things with kissing."

  It didn't seem possible. He was riding, at night, through a storm . . . on the shortest route he knew between Inveraray and Oban. It was harder the second time. He reached the shores of Loch Awe at dawn. Exhausted, weak . . . But the poison was gone from his system. He carried a flask of herbal water Taregan had prepared, and he drank it for the purpose of "cleansing."


  It tasted like something used to cleanse the floor.

  Nathan stared out over Loch Awe. His horse was tired, but he had no choice. It wasn't lame. "You're tired. I'm tired, too. But if we don't go onward, I'll lose her. If I have to swim the Atlantic Ocean, I'll do it."

  The horse sighed. Nathan dismounted, pulled off the saddle, and led the horse to the loch's edge. "Iroquois ride bareback anyway." He walked into the water. The days of rain and gray skies had cooled the water since his last swim. Nathan sighed and glanced heavenward.

  "You're not making it easy, are you?"

  The Great Spirit answers those who act before asking. Nathan pulled the horse deeper. It hesitated, then complied. Fortunately, the animal liked swimming. They reached a small island, where Nathan allowed the horse to rest. They continued on and reached the far bank. The horse plunged forward and scrambled up the bank as if it spotted a friend. It whinnied. Something whinnied back.

  Tionontoguen appeared through the trees. Nathan's jaw dropped as he climbed up the bank. "Haven't you moved?"

  The two horses sniffed each other, then resumed grazing. Nathan's eyes narrowed. "If you're still here . . ." He checked around and found his old saddle. "Iroquois ride bareback . . . but monks do not." He caught Tionontoguen and saddled him, leaving the other horse free.

  "You're not meant to be a wild creature anyway. Only a domesticated bit of prey stays in one spot."

  Miren paced back and forth along The Monk's deck. She already felt seasick, and they hadn't left the dock. When she arrived, the ship had been hooked to a mooring in the harbor. But Simon had directed the ship to the wharf, not for repairs but to have the new name painted on the hull.

  Every hour in Scotland hurt. Maybe she should have stayed, in case Nathan changed his mind. No, she'd argued this with herself a thousand times. If he'd changed his mind, he would have told her. He'd had plenty of chances.

  The last night, when he woke and she fed him soup, he could have asked her to stay then. He didn't. He'd thanked her for the soup, mumbled something about Blossom needing to lose weight, then fallen asleep.

  So he was coherent. More or less. Miren's eyes filled with tears. Her eyes hadn't been dry since she left Inveraray. Simon wasn't making matters easy. He'd proceeded slowly, stopping at inns for breakfasts, lunches, late lunches, and then early dinners. Now, on board the ship, she expected to set sail. But no. After his ship's new name was painted on, he decided the hull needed patching. His cabin needed a new sink.

  Molly paced beside Miren. She wasn't happy, either. She'd vomited twice, so Miren guessed they were both seasick. Simon had given her the captain's cabin, which was surprisingly luxurious, but it only lowered Miren's spirits more.

  Nathan's cabin. Here he had been a sea captain, free and happy. She walked the decks and imagined him at the helm, the salty air blowing his long hair. She lay in his bed and imagined him beside her. Perhaps a pirate ravishing his captive lady.

  Or the captive lady ravishing her pirate.

  Miren turned her back to Oban and gazed off the starboard bow. The sun set slowly, casting rims of orange and purple over the horizon. She was leaving Scotland, her home. She was leaving Nathan, her heart. She'd been too afraid to face him, terrified he'd hesitate, tell her how much he cared . . . But perhaps it would be better for them both if she followed her old dream and emigrated to America. Alone.

  Miren's breath caught in her throat. "I've been reacting to fear! After everything I've been through, I ran because I'm afraid!"

  "Is that it?"

  Miren screamed. Molly yipped. They whirled at once. Nathan stood behind her, his white shirt open at the throat, his dark hair rippling in the wind. He wore his snug pirate trousers and high boots. He looked healthy and strong, the color back in his dark skin, his eyes bright and shining in the sunset.

  Her breath came as small, tense gasps. Her hands shook, her knees went weak. "Nathan. You're here."

  "I'm here." He took a step closer to her, but they didn't touch. "I feared to be too late." A slight smile curved his lips. "It seems that fear has driven us both of late."

  Miren's eyes puddled with tears. "I didn't want to force you to keep me . . . to choose."

  "So you chose for me?"

  Miren hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."

  "Is it what you want?"

  "What I want? Nathan . . ."

  He took another step toward her, but still he didn't touch her. "What do you want?"

  She trembled. Her chin quivered. She squeezed her eyes shut, then looked at him. "I want . . . I want to go home!"

  Nathan's dark eyes burned. "What else, Miren?"

  She drew a quick gulp of air. "I want to be with you, Nathan. I want to marry you, and live in the same house, in the same room, in the same bed. I want to be Nat's mother, and the mother of those seven babies you promised me. I want my sheep!"

  Tears glittered on his high cheekbones. "What else?"

  Miren looked down at Molly. "I want Molly to have Flip's puppies where he can help raise them to be good sheepdogs. Only maybe we'll keep one with us, with Molly, because not every sheepdog likes herding, you know."

  "I've noticed that." Nathan held out his hand. Miren placed hers in his, and he knelt before her.

  "Then I'll tell you what I want, Miren. I've kept it from you because of fear. Fear I'd fail you, that I couldn't keep you safe. But fear doesn't change the heart. I love you. I've said it before, but I didn't tell you how much, forever. I didn't tell you I belong to you, and whether I fail you or lose you, or the world ends, I still belong to you."

  "Nathan"

  "I'm not finished. I have many wants, my love. I want you with me, every day and every night. I want you as my wife. I want a home, with you, with children. With dogs, and with sheep. And I swear to you, every one will have a name." Nathan paused. "I've given my new horse a name."

  He looked both proud and shy. "What did you name him?"

  "I named him Tionontoguen."

  Miren's eyes widened. She nodded. "What?"

  "'De-yo-non-DO-gen.' It's Iroquois for 'between two mountains.'"

  Miren hesitated. "Meaning 'glen'?"

  Nathan considered this. "Valley, glen. Yes."

  Miren fought to restrain laughter. "You named a horse Deyo-something when you could have named him Glen?"

  Nathan shrugged. "Glen for short."

  Miren ran her fingers through his hair. "I love you so."

  "Then marry me. Here, on board a pirate ship. Which is, in reality, a fairly respectable merchant transport, but don't let that dampen your lust for pirates."

  Miren nodded. "We'll keep it between ourselves."

  "Simon is captain now. He didn't have much authority marrying you off to Patterson, but he's got the power now. Marry me."

  "Tonight."

  "Tonight."

  Miren bit her lip. "Does that mean we could spend our wedding night in your old cabin?"

  "If you wish." Nathan grinned. "And we'll send Simon and his crew into town for the night. I'll pay for a night at the pubs. That should keep them occupied."

  Daniel overheard his offer. "Simon, the captain's got the girl on the ropes! You were right, he's chased after her like a puppy, begged for her hand. Good thing you got yourself a license to do marriages."

  Simon stomped across the deck, holding a Bible aloft.

  ''The lads and I are ready. Gathered we are"

  Nathan held up his hand. "My lady has not agreed."

  Miren shoved away tears. "Haven't I?"

  "No."

  Miren sank to her knees before Nathan. "Then, yes, my Indian laird, my pirate monk, I will marry you." She rose and kissed his face on both sides, then his mouth. "I love you, I love you . . ."

  Simon issued a series of "tsks." "After the sermon, lass."

  Nathan kissed Miren's cheek. Simon stood at the rail, his back to the setting sun. "It's a solemn occasion to behold, the joining of lad to lass."

  Nathan sighed and took Miren's hand. "I'v
e got a feeling this is going to take a while."

  Miren kissed his shoulder. "We can wait, my love."

  Simon cast them a firm, reproachful glance. "Take your positions, please."

  Nathan's old crew assembled behind them. From the hills of Oban a bagpipe rose in solemn praise of the night. The music wafted from the hills, out over the harbor, and surrounded them with the soul of Scotland.

  "If we are ready to proceed"

  "Wait!" Miren looked around, then slapped her thigh. Molly scurried across the deck and took her place between Nathan and Miren. She sat proud, her new red ribbon fixed neatly around her neck, the bow to one side. She looked up, first to Nathan, then Miren. Her expression was clear. "At last."

  Miren turned to Simon. "You may proceed."

  Epilogue

  Argyll, Scotland

  Autumn, 1872

  Good things come to those who wait. Assuming they take action to reach the desired end.

  I am living a life of leisure. When my Miren and Nathan take a drive in their coach, I accompany them. At times I wear my red bow. Other times it is left by my cushion. Miren has made me a cushion of my own, with gold tassels, and soft fleece to pad it fully. It was on this cushion that seven small versions of Flip came forth from my rear end.

  I was surprised at the first. The little creature was messy, so I cleaned it. It was a male, and he attached himself to my body. I found this strangely comforting, and decided he could stay. The second pup was also a surprise. That one was a female, and she likewise attached herself to my underside.

  The next four weren't surprises. Nor was their subsequent beeline for my underside. I settled down then, allowing Mirento wipe a damp cloth over my face. She cried and laughed, and squeezed every puppy as it appeared.

  Nathan sat beside her saying, "Just how many more are there?"

  There was one more. It came well after the others. At first it didn't move, and an odd, cold sensation filled me. I cleaned it, but it didn't move. Miren cried, but she gave the pup to Nathan's father, who shook it, spoke to it, then swung it back and forth.