“God forgive me,” Margaret said as she wrapped her arms around her son’s waist. “I be mad enough to spit, but I am so glad to have ye home.”
Leelah felt an overwhelming urge to weep. Especially when she saw Graham melt into his mother’s warm embrace. To keep from weeping, she lifted John into her arms while pulling her other children in a bit more closely.
“He brought his wife and children with him,” Graham’s father stated simply.
At that, Graham’s mother pushed him away to get a better look at the small group huddled behind her son. “Och! Grandbabes!” she exclaimed happily.
Without waiting for a formal explanation, she was on the children at once, squeezing cheeks and talking about how beautiful the girls were and what strapping lads the boys were. “I be yer grandminny, Margaret. That scary lookin’ auld man standin’ next to yer da? That be yer grandsire, Waldron. But dunnae fash over his scowl, aye? He be a kind man, when he is nae glowerin’ and bellerin’ loud enough to wake the dead.”
“Just like Graham,” Vonda said with a smile.
“Graham?” Margaret was taken aback. “Why on earth do ye call yer da Graham?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She spun around to look at her son. “What is this? Why does yer daughter call ye Graham?”
Leelah stepped forward to answer. “My name is Leelah,” she said. “Graham and I have only been married a few short weeks. The children are mine, from my first marriage. Their da died a year ago.”
Clarity dawned in Margaret’s eyes. “I be so sorry for your loss,” she said in a soft voice. “But I still want ye wee beasties to call me Grandminny, aye?” She patted Vonda’s head and pinched Marra’s cheeks again. “Now, we have stood here long enough. Let us away to our keep, where we will feast and celebrate my son’s verra long overdue return.”
Graham had to bring this idea of a happy homecoming to an abrupt closure. “Nay,” he told his mother.
“What do ye mean nay?” she asked with a piercing glare.
“We cannae stay. I have to get Leelah and her children to her family.”
“Be someone dyin’?” his mother asked.
“Nay, ’tis nothin’ like that,” Graham replied.
“Then why can ye nae stay?”
The woman was like a dog with a bone when she had her mind set. “There is nae enough time to explain it,” he told her.
Margaret’s eyebrows sprang upward. “Nae enough time, ye say?”
Silently, he girded his loins for another tongue-lashing. “Ye have been gone for more than a decade. Now ye are here with a wife and bairns, no one is dyin’, yet ye have no time to spare us? Is that what ye be sayin’, Graham Keith?”
When riled, Margaret Keith was like a rabid badger going in for the kill.
“Mum—”
She wasn’t going to allow him to explain himself. “Pray tell, what be so important at the Hay holding that will keep ye from stayin’ here with the family ye have nae seen in more than a decade?”
Leelah stepped forward, offering Graham a glower of her own. “’Tis all right, Graham. Stay with yer family. I be certain the Gordon warriors will be more than happy to see us the rest of the way.”
Graham could tell by her tone that she was as angry as she was hurt.
“Do nae fash yerself over it much,” she continued. “I am certain we will be fine.”
“Leelah.” He was at a loss as to what he should say next.
“I shall send yer horses and donkey back to ye, once we have made it safely to my family,” Leelah said. She was doing her best not to cry.
He had told her why he didn’t feel he could ever go home. But he’d been wrong, as was plain to see by the warm—albeit odd—reception from his mother and father. Even Leelah could see they had forgiven him and were thrilled to have him home.
If he loved her at all, he would have accepted their gracious offer. Instead, all he wanted was to get Leelah to the Hay keep, obtain the annulment he so desperately wanted, then leave her and her children.
His silence was quite telling. If he wanted to keep her, he would say so.
Tears pooled in her eyes, and she fought valiantly to keep from shedding them.
“I am at a loss,” Margaret said. “What goes on here?”
Leelah took one last look at Graham before turning to walk away. Over her shoulder she said, “And do nae worry, Graham. I shall give ye the annulment ye apparently want so desperately.”
Graham felt as low as a crushed snail on a man’s boot. Lower even.
There was no doubt he had broken Leelah’s heart. And from the looks the children were giving him, he’d broken theirs as well.
“Graham, would ye mind explainin’ what is goin’ on?” Waldron asked as he too, watched Leelah and the children walking away.
“’Tis complicated,” he replied. God’s teeth, was it ever complicated.
For once in her life, Margaret was at a loss for words. Graham sent a silent prayer of thanks up to God for that blessing.
“Do ye love her, son?” Waldron asked.
Graham would rather have his eyes gouged out with a rusty, hot iron than to admit it.
Waldron grunted. “I see ye have nae changed much.”
“What does that mean?” Graham growled.
“It means ye still be runnin’ from yer problems.”
“Ye do nae understand,” Graham said with a shake of his head.
Waldron slapped a large hand on his son’s back. “Then come home and explain it to me.”
Home.
For years that word evoked a fissure of terror that would trace up and down his spine. That one little word would leave him feeling ashamed, lonely, and bitter, to the point he tried to drink it away.
This was definitely not the welcome he had imagined. Nay, ’twas far from it.
Leelah was talking to the Gordon warriors, undoubtedly begging for an escort.
Aye, he was a cur, a louse, worse than the devil himself for breaking her heart.
“Son, walk with me.”
How many years had it been since he’d walked alongside his father? Waldron’s glower was gone, replaced by a look of pity as well as concern. There was too much happening all at once. His parents had evidently forgiven him—forgiveness he knew he hadn’t earned and did not deserve.
Graham’s heart continued to crack as he watched Leelah and the children mount their horses and leave with the Gordon warriors.
She didn’t look back.
Not once.
Mayhap, the truth he had shared with her earlier was too much for her. Mayhap she realized what he’d been trying to tell her all along; he was a louse who didn’t deserve anyone to hold him in any kind of esteem.
“Son, come,” Waldron said, urging him to turn around.
Margaret placed a warm hand on Graham’s cheek. “Go, talk with yer father. I will return to the keep.”
Graham swallowed hard, awash in confusion and uncertainty. “How? How can ye both stand here like I have only been gone a few months? How can ye accept me back after all the pain and sufferin’ I caused ye?”
“Is that why ye have stayed away?” Margaret asked. “Because ye thought we held ye responsible for what happened to Daniel? To Deirdre?”
Graham raked a hand through his hair. “Of course that be why I stayed away.”
A tear trailed down Margaret’s cheek. “Ye are no more responsible for Phillip MacFarland’s actions that I am.”
“But—”
“If I had a flake of gold for all the time I said ‘but’ or ‘if’, I could fashion a dress out of gold and be the queen of Scotia,” Margaret told him. “Go talk with yer father.”
She smiled warmly before walking away.
10
Leelah prayed that Graham would come for her. Those prayers went unanswered.
For two days, she rode with the Gordon warriors. Two long, lonely, depressing days.
It didn’t help that they rarely spoke to her or to her children. It also di
d not help that John and Marra cried themselves to sleep both nights. Marra actually cried for Graham. Mum, I want Graham, she wept. I want Graham.
How on earth did one explain the mysterious thing that is unrequited love to a four-year-old little girl? Leelah would have had better luck explaining how to bake bread to an angry bear.
It hurt in more ways than one.
It hurt to see her children missing Graham almost as much as they missed their real father.
It hurt to know he simply didn’t want them. They weren’t worth the trouble. They weren’t worth coming after.
On the long journey north and east, she prayed that Graham would come to his senses. Once he realized his family had forgiven him, that would change everything, wouldn’t it?
But alas, he hadn’t come after them.
The Gordon warriors politely deposited Leelah and her brood at the gate of the wall that surrounded the Hay keep. Without so much as a by your leave, they abandoned them, much the same way Graham had.
Never in her life had she felt so unworthy. But that is how they, as well as Graham, had left her, reeling with a sense of not being deserving of anyone’s affections.
The Hay men who manned the gates made her and her children wait for what seemed like hours. “We have to get the laird’s permission before allowin’ ye in,” the young man explained.
Her children were tired, exhausted, hungry, and confused. Add to that the insult of being forced to wait, and it was all she could do not to collapse into a heap of sobs.
After a very long interval, the gate opened, and she was given entry. A young man with ginger hair and soft blue eyes came to escort them inside. “The laird will be seein’ ye in the gatherin’ room,” he told her. “We’ll see to yer horses.”
In very little time, they were helped down from their mounts and ushered inside. The keep was smaller than she remembered. And if the goings on out of doors were any indication, the clan had decreased in size.
Growing up, the courtyard had always been a busy, bustling place, filled with many of her clanspeople. People would gather to gossip, trade, or sell their wares.
Today, however, it was empty, save for a hungry looking dog, a cat with a missing ear, and two aulder women who stood near the entrance to the keep.
Up the stairs and inside, they were led by the ginger-haired young man who hadn’t introduced himself. Through the large, heavy wooden doors, down a few steps, and into the gathering room. The young man left them without saying a word.
Moments later, another young man entered from the opposite side. He was tall, lanky, and very much resembled the young man who’d deposited them within. With a smile, the young man approached. “Leelah Hay?” he said.
“Aye, or I was. I married John MacDonald more than ten years ago.”
“I fear I do nae remember ye,” he said. “I be Willem Hay, chief and laird.”
He was chief and laird? He couldn’t be more than eight and ten by her estimation. Apparently, she wasn’t very good at hiding her shock.
With a chuckle, he guided her and the children to the long trestle table. “I ken I be mighty young for such a responsibility,” he said before taking a seat.
“If my memory serves me, ye were only five or six when I left,” she said.
“Seven,” he told her. “Aye, that was a verra long time ago. But tell me, how can I help ye this day?”
“Me husband, John, died a little over a year ago. I would like to come home, here to clan Hay.”
He furrowed his brow in confusion.
“With your permission, I would like to return and live with my family again.”
Willem leaned back in his chair and studied her closely for a short time. “But lass, none of your family remains.”
Dumbstruck, Leelah sat in silence as Willem explained how a sickness had wiped out nearly half the clan more than two years ago. A sickness that took every single member of her family, including her nieces and nephews.
They are all gone. Her parents, her brothers, sister, all of them.
She had no one left in this world now, save for her own children.
“Ye are more than welcome to stay,” he told her. “Unfortunately, we do nae have a cottage,” Willem explained. “We burned down most of them, to help stop the sickness.”
Leelah didn’t hear much after that. Burned. They burned cottages to help ward off the sickness.
Jamie, sensing his mother’s distress, put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Mum, are ye well?”
Swallowing back tears, she nodded as she patted his hand.
“I be sorry to have to be the one to tell ye,” Willem said. “I lost both of my parents, me older brother, and two sisters.”
He did look truly sorrowful and although he was quite young, he could understand her sadness.
“We can put ye in one of the servant’s quarters,” he told her as he pushed himself to his feet. “Ye can work in the keep and stay as long as ye would like.”
What other choice do I have?
Part of Graham was truly glad to be home.
His parents, brothers, and sisters had all welcomed him with open, loving arms. Even his nieces and nephews seemed glad to have him here.
His mother had given him his old room on the second floor. It had not changed at all in his ten-plus year absence. It still held the same bed, tucked in a corner. His trunk, table and chairs were all right where he left them.
More than once his mother proclaimed just how happy she was to have him back. Even his father said it, much to Graham’s surprise.
Very little had changed.
The thing that had changed the most was himself.
There was a gaping hole in his heart, left by a beautiful woman and her four children.
Not a moment passed that he did not think about them.
Whenever he saw one of his siblings with their spouses, he thought of Leelah. Whenever his nieces and nephews were around, he thought of Jamie, Vonda, Marra, and John. He missed all of them with such an intense ache, he didn’t believe it would ever pass.
Home for less than three days, and he was ready to leave again. Not because of anything his family was doing. They were just as loving as he remembered.
Nay, it had more to do with the loneliness that was slowly killing him inside.
At night, he dreamt of Leelah—sweet, peaceful dreams filled with warmth and love. In those dreams, they were a family, he, Leelah and the children.
Thus far he hadn’t partaken of any drink stronger than cider. His desire to consume vast amounts of ale or whisky was gone. Sobriety had its advantages, in that he wasn’t behaving like a miscreant or mean-tempered arse. He wasn’t frightening the children, and he wasn’t upsetting his mother.
The disadvantage to sobriety was that it afforded him a clear mind.
“Son, ye and I still need to talk,” Waldron said as they sat at the long trestle table breaking their fast. His deep voice broke through Graham’s quiet reverie.
“We will, Da,” Graham said as he pushed a slice of ham around his plate. He was in no mood to have the discussion with his father about family loyalty, honor, or duty.
Waldron scooted his chair from the table and stood. “Graham, I have asked ye nicely on several occasions, just to keep yer mum happy. But now, I am tellin’ ye. We are goin’ to talk and we are goin’ to do it now.” His glower was hot enough to cut steel.
Graham knew there was no way around it, no possible way of avoiding that which must be done. With a sigh of resignation, he stood and followed his father out the door.
The Keith keep was an impregnable fortress that sat on a rocky outcropping overlooking the ocean. Surrounded by sheer cliffs on all sides, entry could only be gained via a set of more than two-hundred steep steps.
Growing up, whenever Graham looked out from one of the towers or wall tops, he felt like he was sitting on top of the world. Because of his travels, he now knew better. There were taller, bigger, grander places in the world.
<
br /> But none of those could compare to here. Home.
He walked side by side with his father, strolling around the grassy courtyard. As a boy, whenever he was in trouble, he would be required to take a walk with his father to discuss his transgressions. Not once had his father ever taken a strop to his hide or smacked his backside. Still, as a little boy, his was terrified of incurring his father’s ire. That hadn’t changed even now.
“Tell me why ye let yer wife leave ye?” Waldron asked.
Graham truly didn’t wish to talk about Leelah. “She is nae really my wife.”
Waldron stopped and turned to face him. “Would ye care to explain?”
“I won her in a game of bones,” Graham said, hanging his head in shame.
Waldron was stunned. “Ye won her?” His incredulity was unmistakable. “She is a woman, nae chattel.”
Graham chuckled, for he had said that very thing three weeks ago. For the next half hour, he and his father walked the courtyard while Graham explained all the events that led up to his actually being here. He intentionally left out the part of how he had inadvertently fallen in love with her.
Waldron let out a low whistle. “So ye have had quite the adventure, aye?”
“Aye,” Graham replied. A beautiful adventure that ended in sorrow. With his hands clasped behind his back, he asked his father the one question that had been burning in his mind for days. “How could ye have forgiven me so easily, Da? How could ye let me back into yer home so readily, after all I have done?”
Waldron looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “After all ye have done?”
“Ye ken what I mean. After Daniel …” He couldn’t finish the sentence, so intense was the ache in his chest whenever he thought of his brother.
“Are ye tellin’ me ye were the one who hanged him and left him in MacFarland’s courtyard for days before sendin’ him back?”
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