Part 7 (2/2)
6.
Helen spent the afternoon near the lochan searching her heart, trying to sort out her own feelings. She knew she felt completely safe with him. He had never put the slightest demand on her. She sensed she could trust him more than anybody. It just felt right with him. There never seemed to be any hidden undercurrents. There was no need to look for overt meanings. He was naively honest and open, at least toward her.
She also knew that she looked forward to meeting him. Sure, there was always the delicious food, but it was more than that. She felt attracted to him. She enjoyed his company. He was more serious than anybody she had ever met. But it wasn't a morose seriousness. They often joked and laughed. It was more a depth of character. He never made light of anything she said, often picking up her thoughts, arguments, and ideas, and developing them further. She felt affirmed by him and respected. But it always came back to the same dilemma. He was a Campbell. Even if she loved him, was there any hope for them? Her mother had voiced her opposition to any men from the gentry quite openly, and her father had promised to strangle him with his own hands. A sick feeling crept into her guts. Maybe she should stop seeing him right away. It would hurt him for a while. But better a short, sharp hurt than a long, drawn-out agony. Yes, that's the only right thing to do, she convinced herself.
And with that, a sense of emptiness, of regret and heartache took hold. She saw his green eyes locking onto hers, felt losing herself in their depth, not wanting to ever let go again. No, no, no! You cannot do that, cried every cell in her, why don't you admit that you love him too? ... Do I? ... Or is it just a conceit of being loved by a gentleman from the castle? She searched her heart. His background, if anything at all, would work against him. No, it wasn't vanity. She loved him in spite of it. She loved him in spite of his clan, in spite of his birth. She lay back in the gra.s.s, watching the gray cover of clouds relentlessly march by. Its billowing texture mirrored her own inner turmoil. She whispered to herself: ”I do love him.” Yes, you do! Yes, you do! she heard the echoes from her heart.
Having acknowledged and accepted her love for Andrew, she felt suddenly light, elated, happy. She would have liked to run to him and tell him. When will he be back? she asked herself anxiously... He might never come back. She had told him she didn't know if she loved him. Calling up his face in her mind, she sensed that what he had heard was that she didn't love him. What had she done? A tightness gripped her. He must come back. He must. If he doesn't, I'll have to go to him.
That evening the MacGregor men returned to the s.h.i.+elings later than usual. Dougal's face left little doubt that he was in a bad mood. It soon became apparent why.
At dinner, he began questioning Helen: ”Did anybody come to the Lochan today?”
Caught off-guard, she asked: ”Why?” hoping that he would not notice her cheeks getting red.
”Never mind! Did you see anybody?”
”No.”
”You better tell me the truth, la.s.s. If I find out that you lied, you will regret it sorely.”
”I didn't see anybody, but then I was at the back of the glen most of the time.”
”What happened?” asked Mary.
”We trapped that Campbell son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h near Loch Tay. But the b.a.s.t.a.r.d got away.”
Mary gave Helen a penetrating glance. With a great effort, she hid the sudden rush of fear and feigned to be busy trying to remove rye gra.s.s spikes from her petticoat, convinced that her ears were bright crimson. Why didn't he take another way down to the valley? He must not have believed her warning. He thought she was just making it up so he wouldn't come anymore. Please, Lord, make him come again! For a few seconds, she did not listen to what her father said and just heard his last few words.
”... frightened the h.e.l.l out of him. He won't be back that quickly.”
”The b.a.s.t.a.r.d aimed his horse straight for us,” said Robin, ”If we hadn't jumped aside, he would have knocked us down.”
”There were two of you. You could have at least tried to grab the leads of his horse,” complained Dougal.
”I would like to see you stand still when a horse comes running at you!” retorted Robin and Alasdair added: ”When his horse reared, you jumped back too. That gave him the opening to get away!”
In an all too obvious ploy to avert a fight, her mother asked: ”When do you think that we'll be able to return to our clachan?”
Dougal looked angrily at his two sons, muttered something unintelligible, and then answered: ”I guess by the end of August. We should be finished by then, at least enough to move back in. Cutting these roof beams is hard work. But before we return, we'll have to check out if the English soldiers have left. I don't want to get caught a second time.”
In her mind, Helen already formed the words to volunteer what Andrew had told her, but stopped herself in time.
”And when will you get us some cattle?” continued Mary.
”That will have to wait till September or October. I told you I will join up with our cousins of Balquhidder. That's usually the time when they do their cattle lifting, when the beasts are healthy and fat. We'll have to go into the lowlands, or at least as far South as the Forth. It would cause too much of a stink if we lifted it in Breadalbane.”
”Wouldn't it be better to drive the cattle south and sell it to the English and then buy some here? It would raise less suspicion.”
”Woman, don't meddle in things you don't understand. I know what's best! Haven't I always looked well after you?”
Mary shrugged her shoulders and got goats' milk for her youngest.
Andrew wanted to return to the lochan the next day already. It was only the fear of rejection that held him back. But he was there two days later. When he saw her leaning against the wall where the path reached their secret meeting place, a bashful smile on her face, her arms crossed protectively under her bosom, he knew immediately that she had found the answer. She walked slowly up to him until their faces almost touched, her eyes cast down. Timidly, he placed his hands on her upper arms. He experienced an awkward self-consciousness. She raised her head and their eyes met, uncertainly at first, slowly filling with trusting wonder. He folded his arms around her. Their lips touched shyly, and then she buried her head under his chin.
”I love you,” he whispered. He would have wanted to shout it to the world, to hear the mountains shout it back. Unbearable waves of happiness coursed through him.
”I love you too,” she answered almost inaudibly. He felt the warm softness of her body against his, complete peace inside, the awkwardness of a few seconds earlier gone.
She lifted her head and their lips touched again.
”Helen, I've never kissed a woman. I don't know how ...”
”Andrew, I never kissed a man. We'll have to learn together.”
They chuckled, not embarra.s.sed at all, their foreheads touching, lost in each other's eyes. After a while, they broke apart with a soft laugh, holding hands.
”I brought smoked salmon and a bit of salted roe... You like it?”
”I don't know, but I'll try anything today,” she smiled.
He emptied his pouch, broke off bread and heaped salted roe on it with his knife. He offered her a bite, and then ate the remainder himself.
”Mm. This is delicious. I want some more. I'll never eat anything else but this in my whole life.”
”Then I better get back to work to earn enough money to pay for it.”
Somehow, this pun brought them both back to earth.
”Is it very expensive?”
”Yes, but let's enjoy it now. I love it when you let me spoil you.”
”I love to be spoiled by you.”
They relished the rest of the roe.
”Father said that they almost caught you two days ago.” Her voice was a mixture of alarm and reproach.
”Yes, they did. But it's difficult to catch somebody on a horse when you're on foot,” he tried to downplay the incident.
<script>