Grace in Thine Eyes (52 page)

Sandy was the first to finish his breakfast. “Once we arrive in Glasgow, there’ll be an eastbound coach to Edinburgh.” He stole a quick glance at his father. “That means we’ll be in attendance for Professor Gregory’s lecture on Monday, having missed but one week of our studies.”

“Had you remained in Edinburgh,” Jamie said evenly, “you’d not have missed one day. And the MacDonalds would still be alive.”

“Jamie!” Leana stared at him, aghast. Their daughter looked nigh to fainting.

“He is right, Mother.” Will brushed the crumbs from his waistcoat. “Father thought it necessary for us to become better acquainted with the MacDonalds—”

“Och!” Jamie cut him off. “Climbing with the Highlanders was your idea, not mine.”

Leana sighed. Her prayers for reconciliation had hardly been answered.

“Nothing can be gained by this discussion,” Ian said, the gentle voice of reason. “The duke’s steward made his ruling and blames no one for the accident. Davina’s grief should be our foremost concern.”

“Well said,” Leana agreed, “though I’ll not send my younger sons to far-off Edinburgh without the assurance of our concern for them as well.” She looked at Will and Sandy in turn, meaning to encourage them, and instead was troubled by what she found. Dark eyes clouded with distrust. Jaws hardened by conflict and scarred from brawling. Mouths turned down, their expressions sullen, resentful.

A foolish son is the heaviness of his mother
. How the weight of that truth grieved her.

She had given birth to her twin sons but did not recognize them. She’d raised them, yet they’d not matured. Had her own father’s ill temper come back to haunt her? Had Evan McKie, Jamie’s birsie twin brother, somehow influenced them from afar? Or had she failed her sons as their mother?

Leana clasped her hands in her lap and pressed her mouth closed, lest a cry escape her lips.
Please, may it not be so, Lord!
She had loved them, cared for them. And yet they were not loving, like Davina, nor caring, like Ian. Tempted though she might be, Leana would not blame Jamie, as the twins did, or she would sin as they sinned.
Honour thy father
. But when she had her husband to herself, she would ask him where things stood with their headstrong sons.

Jamie rose, eying his watch. “Coaches do not wait for their passengers. ’Tis time, lads.”

The twins strode toward the inn door as if glad to be on their way
and eager to put their family behind them. Once they reached the crowded stables where the Glasgow-bound coach was loading its passengers, Sandy tossed their portmanteau up to the driver to be strapped in place for their journey. The lads began greeting the other passengers, barely acknowledging the family members who tarried behind them on the street.

Davina looked stricken. Her face mirrored Leana’s own concerns.
What is to become of them?

When Will finally turned round and took his sister’s hands, he was dry eyed, but she was not. “We’ll not forget you, lass.”

Though Davina’s mouth was trembling, Leana could read the words she formed.
Come home
.

But Will shook his head. “Father has asked us to remain in Edinburgh.” His voice softened a little. “Do not fret, my bonny wee fairy. We shall see you again.”

Davina wriggled free of Will’s grasp, then threw herself against her father’s chest, pressing on it with her small fists, as if to punish him.

Remain in Edinburgh?
Leana could not guess what that meant. For a month? For a year? For good?
Oh, Jamie, I trust your judgment, but I pray for your wisdom
.

Holding their daughter, Jamie addressed the lads over her knot of red hair. “I believe you have what you need for the upcoming term.” When Will did not respond, his father continued, his emotions well in check. “A safe journey to you both.”

Ian’s parting sentiments were brief. Though her sons did not embrace, their words to one another bore no ill will, and for that Leana was grateful.

At last her turn came to bid the twins farewell. She had done so in May, certain of seeing them in a few months. Now she had no such hope.

Though they stood in a crowded street, theirs were the only faces she saw. “My dear sons …” Her voice faltered as she cupped their rough chins, her hands shaking. “I will always love you.” For a moment their dark eyes cleared, and she caught a glimpse of the lads she’d cherished
from their first breath. “Remember that your father’s discipline is meant for your good. ‘For what son is he whom the father chasteneth not?’ ”

“Aye, Mother.” Will’s voice was low, rough. “We will remember.”

“I shall … write to you.” Words came harder now. She felt her sons drawing away from her. “And I shall pray for you both. Always.”

“Mem, they’ll be needin’ tae tak their seats,” the driver cautioned, reins in hand, his team of horses restless. “We’ve fine wather and a fu’ day
aheid
. Dinna keep us waitin’, lads.”

Leana watched her sons climb on top of the coach, their eyes already scanning the road ahead. “Godspeed,” she called up to them, brushing away her tears so she might see their faces. “Mercy and truth be with thee …” The rest of her benediction caught in her throat.

The horses took off with a noisy jolt before the twins had a chance to answer her. Gripping the iron rails beside them, Will and Sandy could only nod over their shoulders as she trailed after their departing coach, waving good-bye.

Seventy-Three

Trouble rides behind and gallops with him.
N
ICHOLAS
B
OILEAU
-D
ESPREAUX

J
amie shifted in his saddle, the new leather uncomfortably stiff and his new mount even more so. Ayrshire folk usually purchased their steeds at Quarter Days fairs; convincing Watson’s livery stable to part with two horses had tried his purse and his patience mightily. In the end, Jamie had paid too much silver for too little horseflesh.

“Father, suppose you take Magnus tomorrow.” Ian trotted up beside him on his favorite black gelding. “That mare may be docile, but she has an uneven gait.”

Jamie grunted in agreement. “Better suited to a plow, I’d say.”

The evening sky was the color of his daughter’s eyes washed with tears: dark, watery blue. She followed a few lengths behind them on a dappled gray of dubious conformation. Lithe as she was, Davina managed her unfamiliar mount with ease, yet her countenance was lined with sorrow. Had he ever seen her so despondent?

Leana rode beside her on dun-colored Biddy, her wide-brimmed hat askew after a long day on horseback. She’d hardly spoken since bidding the twins farewell, though her troubled expression said enough. How much of their sons’ treachery could his wife bear to hear? More, perhaps, than he could bear to tell.

“Where might we spend the night?” Ian wondered aloud. “We’ve yet to see many farmhouses tucked among these hills. The weather is mild enough, but a valise makes a poor pillow and the ground a hard bed.”

Jamie scanned the countryside, marked by steep fells and moss-edged burns. They’d traveled but fourteen miles, and already the gloaming was upon them. Michael Kelly had not been at home when they’d knocked on his cottage door an hour earlier, leaving them no choice but
to press on. “Ian, do you recall passing Drumyork on your journey north?” When his son nodded, Jamie continued, “ ’Tis a small steading, hard against Drumyork Hill. Pray they can accommodate us.”

The southbound road dipped and curved half a dozen times before the signpost for Drumyork appeared at the end of a rutted track. Greeted by the lowing of cows in the byre, Jamie led his family toward the clay farmhouse and nodded to a laborer making the most of the Sabbath eve’s waning light.

“Jamie?” Leana touched his arm before he dismounted, her voice thin with exhaustion. “Might Davina have a bed to herself? She did not sleep well yestreen.”

“Nor did you,” he reminded her gently. “I’ll see what can be done.”

His knock was soon answered by a man his own age, though taller and whip thin, as if he’d never sampled the rich cream his dairy cows produced. “Guid evenin’, sir.” The farmer dipped his chin in greeting. “Ebenezer Morton’s me name.”

Jamie responded in kind, introducing himself. “Might my family and I find shelter here for the night?”

“Och, o’ course.” The farmer opened the door wider still. “Oor parlor is yers, Mr. McKie. I’ll tell me
guidwife
ye’ll be needin’ supper.”

“Much obliged.” Jamie motioned the others to join him, then followed the farmer inside. The floor was made of rough pine, the painted walls had no adornment, and meager rushlights served as candles. But as in most Scottish homes, every room had its bed, and this parlor had two, more than he’d expected. Mother and daughter would each sleep soundly, with father and son not far below them, stretched out on the thick plaids now stacked in the corner. “The Lord bless you for your hospitality, Mr. Morton.”

“Aye, weel.” He shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Be not forgetful tae entertain strangers.”

Davina sank onto the heather mattress so quickly that Jamie feared they might not rouse her for a plate of broth. Indeed, by the time the farmer’s wife hastened from the kitchen to welcome her unexpected guests, Davina’s head lay on the pillow, and her eyes were drifting shut, though she still held her fiddle bag.

“Yer puir dochter.” Mrs. Morton clucked her tongue. “I’ve niver seen sic a
wabbit
lass in a’ me days.”

“We’re all weary,” Leana admitted, “and exceedingly grateful for a warm supper and dry beds.”

The older woman bobbed her graying head. “Yer plates are waitin’ on the table, mem.”

An hour later, their stomachs full of broth and the Scriptures duly read aloud, the McKies joined slumbering Davina in the parlor. Leana perched on the edge of her daughter’s borrowed bed and lightly stroked her cheek. “Sleep is more necessary than food,” she said softly. “The sun will rise before we will, and we’ve a full day of riding ahead.”

“Twenty miles.” Jamie stood aside as their hostess gathered the woolen plaids and unrolled Ian’s makeshift bed close to the hearth, then discreetly placed Jamie’s blankets on the floor next to his wife’s low bed.

“We’re up the stair if ye need oniething,” Mrs. Morton said before leaving them in peace.

Rushlights were extinguished and good-nights spoken. Tired as he was, Jamie lay for some time holding his wife’s hand against his heart and praying for the courage to say what he must.

“Leana,” he whispered when he was sure their offspring were both fast asleep.

She slowly lifted her hand, beckoning him upward. “Come.”

He climbed onto the narrow bed never meant to hold two. Side by side, fully clothed, the couple touched from head to toe. He kissed her and was gratified by her immediate response. Enfolding her in his arms, he held her close, lest she draw back in dismay when he told her the truth.

“We must speak of Will and Sandy,” he began, his words more air than sound.

“Aye, we must,” she said, softer still. “What angered you so on Arran?”

He closed his eyes, summoning a last ounce of strength, then touched his mouth to the curve of her ear. “I am not sure that what happened on Goatfell was unintentional.”

When she gasped, he tightened his embrace. “I am sorry, Leana.”

“That cannot be true!” Her fingers clutched the loose fabric of his shirt. “Mr. Hunter said the twins were innocent.”

“He ruled the deaths accidental. But our sons are far from innocent.”

“Did they make some … confession?” The strain in her voice was unmistakable.

Jamie knew he could put it off no longer. “I asked them if they wanted the Highlanders dead. Will admitted that they did. From the day they arrived on Arran—”

“Nae!” She buried her face in his neck and bathed his skin with her tears.

He held her for a long time, finding it hard to swallow, harder to breathe. It was unfathomable that such ill-kindit sons could come from so gentle a woman.

“Please …” She pressed in harder. “Please tell me … our sons … are not murderers.”

“They insisted the men fell and were not pushed.” That much he could offer her. “You heard their testimony: They tried to save the Highlanders at their own peril.”

She lifted her head. “Do you believe them, Jamie?”

God, help me
. He could not lie to his wife. Nor could he break her heart. “I am not sure what to believe.”

Leana’s sigh was laden with a mother’s sorrow. “Whatever they’ve done, Jamie, they are still our sons.”

“Aye.” Her mercy humbled him, nae, amazed him. Had any woman ever loved her children more than Leana McKie?

She fell silent for a bit, then finally asked, “How long must the twins remain in Edinburgh?”

“ ’Til Yuletide.” He’d decided that much. “Sufficient time to repent of their sins, while my anger runs its course.”

“And while Davina grieves her loss.” Leana turned to look across the room at their sleeping daughter. “She must never know of your doubts, Jamie.”

“Aye,” he agreed, “for they are only that. Not certainties.” If Davina
thought for a moment that her brothers were to blame for Somerled’s death, her grief would be compounded beyond any hope of recovery. Nothing would be gained by telling her; the lass had suffered enough.

He kissed Leana’s brow and then her lips once more. “I’m afraid your bed is too small for us both, and you need your rest.” Reluctantly he eased away from her, then lowered himself onto his bed of blankets. “Sleep well, my love.”

After a lengthy silence Leana reached down and touched his cheek. “I am glad you are my husband.”

“And I am grateful you are my wife.” Of that he had no doubt.

Seventy-Four

And silence, like a poultice, comes
To heal the blows of sound.
O
LIVER
W
ENDELL
H
OLMES

D
avina ran her fingertips down the strings of her fiddle, from the rosewood pegs to the thin maple bridge and then back up again. No music came forth, only the faint whisper of skin against string.