She started to her feet. ‘Lorn.’ The name was a mere breath on her lips – but then she saw it wasn’t Lorn, it was Lewis – a vastly changed Lewis from the boy she remembered. His blue eyes were pain-racked; the hollows in his cheeks belonged to someone who was ill . . . Could love do that to a boy like Lewis? Break a heart that once had brimmed over with the love of life? . . . Yes! Yes! Love could do that to anyone – anyone. Her father had only come back from Coll because she had been so unhappy there; she had wanted to come back to Rhanna to be near Lorn.
Lewis came over and stood looking down at her for a long time before he said quietly, ‘It’s nice to see you back, Ruth. You look thin though, your holiday over on Coll doesn’t seem to have done you much good.’
‘No – I – I wanted to come back.’
‘Lorn isn’t here. He went away to Kintyre a few days back.’
‘Oh!’ she stammered out. So it hadn’t been Lorn she had seen last night; it had been Lewis. She felt relief even as sadness drowned her. She had come back to see Lorn and he wasn’t here. She couldn’t bring herself to ask how long he would be gone, and there was silence. The sea bubbled to the shore, lapping the sands, swaying the fronds of seaweed back and forth.
Lewis sat down on a rock and picked up a shell, turning it over in his fingers. ‘You shouldn’t spend so much time alone, Ruth.’
‘You were coming down here to be alone,’ she pointed out.
‘Ay, ay, you’re right, I was.’
‘Did you hear my father has bought a boat? He’s giving up the shop and going to start lobster fishing. I’ll be able to spend a lot of time with him in the evenings.’
‘He did it for you, mo ghaoil.’
‘And for health reasons too –’ Her voice faltered and her eyes grew dark. ‘Ach, you’re right, he did it for me, but I think he’ll be glad to get away from the shop. When the summer is over I might take over the shop myself – I like to keep busy.’
‘To stop yourself thinking about Lorn?’
She flushed and bit her lip. ‘Ay, that’s right, Lewis.’ She gazed at him steadily. ‘You’ve changed, Lewis; you never used to take the time to analyse people – Lorn was the one who did that.’
He stared at the shell, a terrible dejection stooping his shoulders. ‘Things change, Ruth,’ he said at last, wearily. ‘Folk change – circumstances, I suppose.’ He got up and held out his hand, ‘Will you walk with me, Ruth?’
She hesitated but only fractionally. She placed her hand in his. The strong brown fingers curled over hers. It felt rather strange to be walking over the beach with Lewis McKenzie, but it was oddly comforting to be with someone who understood how she was feeling.
After that day they met regularly. Often they walked to the wide sweeping sands of Aosdana Bay, the setting for so many of her father’s tales. She recounted the days of her childhood to Lewis, telling him of the magical hours spent with her father. Quietly he listened to her musical voice talking about the legends of the Hebrides, and peace stole into his heart. Once he was at the bay before her. He was standing by the water’s edge gazing far out to sea. He looked very lonely, and her heart went out to him. She went further up the shore to sit on the creels that lay piled against a sturdy stone boatshed. It belonged to an eccentric old man known as Hector the Boat. Every waking day of his life was spent either pottering with boats in the shed or fishing for lobsters out on the Sound. He was mending his pots and he peered at Ruth from lowered brows, smiling his one-toothed beguiling smile, his eyes crinkling in his rosy face. ‘Will you be havin’ a clappy doo wi’ me, lassie?’ he asked, indicating a driftwood fire on which sat a can filled to the brim with large mussels. Hector liked his mussels fresh from the shore, edging the shells apart with his tobacco knife and scooping out the contents, which he slithered down his throat with great enjoyment.
‘No, thank you, Hector,’ Ruth said and smiled. ‘But – would you let Lewis and me have one of your boats for a whily? We’ll collect some nice big clappy doos for you when the tide goes out.’
Hector acceded readily and Ruth ran to Lewis. Without a word she led him over to a small rowing boat tied up in a sheltered part of the bay. Together they pushed off and very soon they were bobbing peacefully in the translucent green water of Aosdana Bay. It was very calm and Lewis stopped rowing and let the boat drift gently on the wavelets.
‘Talk to me.’ Ruth’s voice was low. ‘Get it all out of your heart – it might help.’
She was surprised to see the glint of tears in the blue eyes of Lewis McKenzie. ‘Could I, Ruth?’ he asked huskily. ‘Could I tell you everything? I have to tell someone or I think I might go mad.’
‘I’ll listen, Lewis, I’m a very good listener.’
Once he had opened up his heart it seemed as if he would never stop. There, out on the calm clear waters of Aosdana Bay he unburdened his mind and heart of things that had troubled it for a very long time. Ruth felt some of his pain washing into her. As the sea sighs over the sands and leaves behind that which it doesn’t want, so Lewis left with her the unfettered debris of his mind. The lilting voice that was so like Lorn’s flowed through her soul, and something of the terrible despair that was in him was left behind in her, and she knew it would never entirely leave her. When finally he stopped talking and there was only the sigh of the sea and the hush of the breeze, she buried her head in her arms and cried as if her heart would break. He stared at her bowed head. Her hair was like the sun, so bright it dazzled his eyes. Putting out a finger he gently stroked the silken strands and murmured, ‘Sweet Ruth! And could you go with me? My helpmate in the woods to be . . .’
She raised her head to gaze at him wonderingly. ‘But that’s . . .’
He nodded. ‘Wordsworth, the very mannie. It’s Lorn’s book but lately I’ve taken to reading a lot of things I never looked at before. That verse was meant for you, but the whole poem is more like Rachel – and myself really.’
‘A slighted child, at her own will, went wandering over dale and hill, In thoughtless freedom bold,’ Ruth quoted.
‘Ay, that is very like Rachel. She always needed freedom, she would die without it.’
The boat rocked as he came closer. She gazed into his eyes – so blue, like Lorn’s. Lorn and Lewis, they were so alike, they were of the same mould. She closed her eyes and felt the warm lips of Lewis McKenzie on hers. It was a fleeting kiss, very tender and gentle. ‘You’re a very sweet girl, Ruth, so very sweet.’ The next kiss was longer, more demanding. She allowed herself to melt into his arms. A dew of tears lay on her lashes; she felt weak with love – for Lorn – weak with sadness – for Lewis. The two emotions mixed and merged and in the end she didn’t know if she was crying for two boys who looked the same, who laughed and talked the same – or if she was crying for herself, for her own heartache.
The days of June slipped past. Every morning and evening Ruth went with her father to the lobster pots and almost every afternoon she met Lewis by Aosdana Bay. Morag Ruadh saw little of her daughter that summer of her nineteenth year, but she didn’t worry unduly Very often Dugald went out in the morning and stayed away all day, and Morag imagined that Ruth was with him. She didn’t question him on the matter, and for the first time in her life Ruth knew unbounded freedom.
Fergus and Kirsteen didn’t mind Lewis going off in the afternoons because he made up for it working hard around the farm morning and evening. He seemed to be happier; he had stopped snapping and going off in the huff, and Fergus said with a fervent sigh, ‘Thank the Lord! We might get a bit of peace about the place now.’
‘Ay, we might,’ agreed Kirsteen, though inwardly she sighed. Rumours were beginning to circulate about Ruth and Lewis, and she dreaded to think what would happen when Lorn came home and found the gossip to be true.
On a hot day in midsummer Lewis met Ruth at Aosdana Bay. It was deserted. Hector the Boat was off fishing, and Ruth was very conscious of the solitude. With Hector around her meetings with Lewis seemed innocent and safe. He was
wearing a blue shirt that day, a blue that matched his eyes, his earth-brown curls glinted chestnut in the sun – so like Lorn’s. He was standing very close and she could see the pulse beating in his neck – the pulse of his life. Something tugged at her throat. He caught her and kissed her hair. It was warm and smelled of sunshine.
‘Ruth, you’re so sweet,’ he whispered. ‘I want to say so much to you. These last weeks I don’t know how I would have lived without you – oh Ruth – mo ghaoil –’ His lips came down on hers. He buried his face in her neck and nuzzled her ears. She felt the world turning upside down – if only this was Lorn . . . if only she didn’t feel such sadness . . .
‘Ruth,’ his voice came again, slightly breathless in her ear. ‘Let me love you, please please my darling little girl, I love you –.’ He put a finger over her lips. ‘It’s true, Ruth, I’ve never said that to any girl before – not even Rachel. I thought what I felt for her was love – now I know it was infatuation. I love you, Ruth, I really love you.’
‘No!’ She broke away from him and put her hands over her eyes to shut out the sight of his handsome young face – so young . . . She couldn’t let pity for him engulf her . . . Even as she tortured herself, even as conflicting emotions whirled in her mind, she felt Lewis’s arm around her waist leading her to Hector’s boathouse. She stumbled, but Lewis held her tighter.
The shed was cool after the heat. It smelled of peat smoke and tar; cobwebs patterned the window panes; the sound of the sea ebbed and grew; ebbed and grew. Abruptly Lewis pulled her to him and kissed her throat, her eyes, her hot cheeks. She couldn’t respond to him – she wouldn’t! It wasn’t right! It wasn’t, it wasn’t . . . His lips were warm, firm yet gentle, but she sensed his mounting passion. She didn’t know how to kiss back – she didn’t want to . . . His tongue met hers and something rose up inside her, commanding her tongue to meet and merge, meet and merge with his . . .
In a panic she pulled herself out of his arms. ‘Please, I’ll have to go,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t – you mustn’t make me feel I have to do this! It isn’t fair, Lewis! You know it isn’t fair!’
He was removing his shirt, pressing his naked body to hers. ‘Weesht, weesht,’ he soothed. ‘Relax my dear little Ruth, relax . . .’
Her breasts tingled suddenly. He was touching her, doing things to her body that made her draw in her breath . . . Why, why was she caught up like this – caught between Lorn and Lewis? ‘Lorn.’ She murmured the name but Lewis was beyond hearing anything. He was fumbling with the buttons of her white dress, moving it down over her shoulders, pulling the sleeves down over her arms. Her throat grew tight. She tried to pull away from him but he was all at once strong yet gentle. With one hand he kept a tight grip of her arm; with the other he held up the dress to look at it almost reverently. It dazzled white in the sun streaming through the grubby windows.
‘Pure, so pure,’ he murmured beneath his breath before he tossed the garment onto a chair where it lay in crumpled folds. He turned his blue gaze on her; it was dazed, faraway. She was afraid now, her fear clawing inside her belly like a living thing, and with a sob she struggled in his embrace but his hands were grasping her shoulders, forcing her back – back . . .
‘Ruth.’ Her name on his lips was beautiful. ‘You must give me this. I have no one now but you – only you.’
Her mind went numb. She had no recollection of him pushing her down onto the narrow bunk . . . She thought of her calliper – how ugly – how ugly – he mustn’t be allowed to see . . .
Her breasts were in his hands, the skin of them milky white, the nipples like small pink rosebuds – so pure – so young. He bent his head to kiss them; a dew of sweat gleamed on his brow . . .
Briefly she saw sun, slanting, spilling its rays over his bronzed naked shoulders – and then there was no light, only his lips on hers, his body moving, his shoulders rippling beneath her fingers, his long lean legs pushing hers apart . . .
Pain ripped through her. She cried out once, then forgot the pain. He was murmuring her name over and over, stroking her hair, gently, so gently carrying her into oblivion. As the song of the sea swells and surges so she was swept along on waves of wanting – needing . . .
She forgot where she was, who she was with. This was Lorn loving her, wanting her – taking her . . . The sea rang in her ears, her heart pounded; once more she said the name: ‘Lorn.’
She opened her eyes and saw not Lorn but Lewis, awash with passion, taking her – taking away her virginity . . . She clenched her fist against her mouth to stop from screaming out – his body was so tense the muscles were standing out. He quivered and cried out, then he fell against her, still saying her name, stroking her hair, kissing her lips . . . and she felt nothing – nothing except shame, and guilt so deep and raw it was like a knife turning inside her. Her hands fell away from his shoulders, her eyes were the colour of night, black with hatred of herself and what she had done. Crimson flooded her cheeks, her fingers clutched the blankets. Turning her golden head away from him she felt the tears falling slowly over her cheeks.
‘I don’t love you,’ she sobbed. ‘I hate myself. How can I ever face Lorn again? Everything is finished – finished . . . Now there is nothing . . .’
‘No, don’t say that, Ruth!’ he cried then in a voice so low she barely heard it. ‘Please, please don’t say that. I couldn’t bear it if you left me now.’
But she wasn’t listening, all she could say over and over was, ‘I hate myself, I hate myself, and Lorn will hate me too.’
He lay down beside her and took her in his arms. She didn’t resist but lay passively against him while he soothed her as if she was a little girl. Eventually, when she had stopped crying and just lay staring unseeingly towards the window he said urgently, ‘Promise you’ll see me again, Ruth. You’re the only one in the whole wide world who can help me. Don’t let me face my future alone. Promise me; promise, Ruth.’
‘I promise,’ she said dully. Suddenly he was angry and he shook her slightly, as if trying to force her out of the torpor into which she had sunk. ‘Ruth, look at me! Don’t hate me! I couldn’t bear it if I thought you hated me!’
She brought her eyes from the window and gazed into his tormented face. Her hand came up and she stroked the damp brown hair from his brow. ‘I don’t hate you, Lewis, I’ve never hated you. I like you – very, very much – and – I won’t leave you.’
Lorn returned with Shona, Niall and Ellie at the end of July. Shona was so highly excited about something she could hardly wait till she got inside the doors of Laigmhor before she burst out, ‘We’re coming home, Father. Next spring! We’ve got enough capital saved to take a gamble. We’ll buy a motor launch, and Niall can go hopping about the islands. Ellie will be at school in Oban by then, so I’ll have plenty of spare time on my hands. I thought maybe I could help Babbie out. She could be doing with it, so she could. While we’re here this summer we’ll start looking for a house . . .’
‘You don’t have to look very far!’ Fergus’s deep voice was full of joy. ‘Biddy’s cottage is still free. It will do you till you find something more suitable. Shona, mo ghaoil –’ His voice had grown husky. ‘To think it’s nineteen years since you left Rhanna! And now you’re coming back. I canny believe it – you’ll have to give me some time to take it in. My mind is a bit fuddled these days – old age creeping in.’
Everyone laughed and began talking at once. Lorn grabbed Lewis’s arm, and together they walked across the cobbled yard to the big barn. Lorn was tall and broad, his face had filled out considerably, and there was hardly any need for them to go to the growing posts to find out that the difference between them was barely half an inch.
‘Hell!’ Lorn was delighted. ‘I’m six feet one and a half inches! Me! Skinny wee Lorn McKenzie!’ He threw himself down on a bundle of hay and looked up at the cobwebby roof. ‘It’s grand to be back! I didn’t want to stay away so long, but Niall was so busy I began going with him on his rounds and was able to help
him quite a bit – especially with the cows and horses. When he and Shona come back here to stay I might get to go with Niall now and again. Father won’t miss me, he’ll have you; he always trusted you more than me to do all the heavy stuff . . .’ He sat up, his blue eyes brilliant. ‘I did a lot of thinking when I was away, and I’ve decided – no more of this moping around to see if things are going to work out between Ruthie and me! I’m going to make them work! I’m going to see her – tonight! I heard tell she was down at Mara Òran Bay . . .’ He stopped suddenly and peered into his brother’s face. ‘What the hell’s ailing you? You’ve hardly said a word since we got back. You’re not still mooning around after Rachel, are you? I should have thought you would have got somebody else by now.’
Lewis was very pale. He was unable to meet his brother’s eyes as he said, ‘Ach, I’m fine! I just thought you and me could have spent this evening together. Ruth won’t be back from the lobsters till late.’
‘To hell with time!’ laughed Lorn carelessly. ‘I’ve let enough of it pass in misery. I’m going to see Ruthie, and I’m going tonight.’
Lewis turned away. He couldn’t bear to see the eager shining hope in his brother’s eyes, and he couldn’t bring himself to take away that hope by voicing the things that had happened between him and Ruth.
The Sound of Rhanna was a sheet of purpled silver when Lorn finally came whistling down through Glen Fallan and walked along the cliffs above Mara Òran Bay. One or two fishermen were hauling their boats up onto the sand and Lorn went to give a helping hand.
‘Is Ruthie back yet at all?’ he asked of Fingal McLeod, who had sat down on a rock to unscrew his peg leg and swig at the hip flask contained therein. Fingal shook his head, ‘Na, na, lad, but she’ll no’ be long. Look there she and her father are now,’ he said, holding out the flask. ‘Will you have a swallock? Warms the blood after the sun goes down.’
Lorn was about to refuse, remembering that it was the devil’s brew that had caused the misunderstanding between him and Ruth in the first place, but his earlier confidence was seeping away a little and he thanked Fingal and took a swallow from the flask. Fingal then got up and went away over the sands, his wooden leg leaving a thin winding trail behind him. The beach was deserted now and Lorn waited, his heart in his mouth as he watched the black little blob that was Dugald’s boat coming closer. The sound of it scrunching on the shingle was like thunder in Lorn’s ears. Ruth’s back was to him as she helped her father drag the boat up above the tide line. Some distance away Lorn remained immobile, savouring yet dreading the confrontation. Ruth turned suddenly and saw him. Her heartbeat rushed in her ears and she almost fainted. Although Lorn was several yards away she could see his eyes quite clearly; they were a keen blue in his bronzed face. She felt he could see into her very soul, read her very mind. She felt soiled in his sight, degraded beyond all measure. She had waited for this moment, longed for it; now it was here and it was too late . . . too late . . .
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