MacFarlane's Ridge (46 page)

Cam watched Angus retreating into the darkness, and turned to look for Rob. Mollie took her by the arm.

“Cameron? I wish to show ye something,” she said gently. She handed Cam her bundle, and pulled back the swaddling blanket.

Cam peeked down, and stared in amazement at the tiny round face, long blonde lashes, and fringe of soft pale hair. “Oh, Mollie,” she breathed. “Is this--?”

“Sarah Cameron MacFarlane,” Mollie whispered. “And she has a brother too.”

“Little Hugh,” said Cam absently.

“How did ye know his name?”

“Oh… I must have overheard someone say something when we got here,” Cam stammered, realizing her slip. Cam was marveling at the baby’s warmth when suddenly little Sarah opened her eyes, scrunched up her nose, and belched loudly.

“Er, you’d better take her back,” murmured Cam. “I’m scared I might drop her.”

“You won’t,” said Mollie firmly, “but I’ll take her just the same. She needs to go meet her uncle.”

The
ceilidh
continued until late into the night, and finally the crowd began to thin as families drifted off back to their campsites on the hillside. Cam sat against Rob, his arms wrapped around her. They were certainly the center of attention, and all of the Kerr boys stopped by to congratulate Rob on his selection of such a fine young lady, causing Cam to blush steadily.

As the group by the fire grew smaller, Cam noticed yet another familiar face coming toward her.

“Rob, look! It’s Gerthe! Gerthe Wagner,” she whispered, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Herr MacFarlane!” she squealed, flinging her beefy arms around him. “And your ---,” the girl looked at Cam doubtfully, “you said she was your sister?”

Rob laughed. “No, I’m sorry, she’s not. She’s to be my wife, aye?”

“Oh!” Gerthe grinned. “I am so happy for you! I am married now too, you know.”

“Congratulations,” smiled Cam. “Who’s the lucky fellow?”

“Over there,” Gerthe pointed. She began to wave at a well-fed gentleman with glasses, and as he turned toward them Cam suddenly felt her head begin to spin. “Over here,
liebchen
! Herr and Frau MacFarlane, this is my husband, Mr. Troy Adams,” the girl beamed.

“He makes you happy,” Troy said, as Cam watched him shovel manure into a large heap. They were standing in front of the small farmhouse on the south slope of the ridge, where Troy and Gerthe made their home.

“He does,” she smiled. “I couldn’t believe it was you when Gerthe introduced you last night. I practically fell over in shock.”

He laughed, and wiped a sleeve across his brow. “Me too. I didn’t know if you’d ever show up here or not, but I figured it was worth a shot. So I came through.”

“Got over your claustrophobia, I see,” she said dryly.

“You don’t understand. I had to see what it was like here,” he said. “I had to see why you needed to come back to these people. The Wagners found me, and took me in, and…” he flushed slightly.

“Mm. Nothing like German hospitality on a cold winter night,” Cam giggled. “She makes you happy, too, doesn’t she?”

He looked at her for a moment. “Happier than I ever imagined.”

“Good.” She leaned up over the fence rail and kissed him on the cheek. “You deserve her. She’s a nice girl.”

“Everyone here is nice. Gerthe’s mother brought us here and walked up to Ian, sweet as you please, and asked if we could lease a part of his land for farming. I think he was too afraid to say no.”

Remembering Gerthe’s mother well, Cam suspected Troy was absolutely right.

“And you’ve met the Kerrs, of course,” she prompted.

“Yeah. Isn’t it kind of weird for you, though? Having them around, I mean?”

Cam frowned. “Why? They’re good people.”

“Yeah, but they’re your --.” He stopped, staring awkwardly at her. “You don’t know?”

“What?” she asked suspiciously. “What do you know, Troy?”

“Nothing,” he said innocently.

“Oh, come on. Wanda used to pull this shit with me all the time. Tell me,” Cam demanded.

Troy rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if I should or not, but I will. Before I deeded your house over to Hal and Alice –“

“You did what?”

“With the stipulation that if either of us ever came back to Haver Springs, they would sell it back to us for a dollar, okay? Anyway, I took all of Granny Emily’s genealogy stuff and put it in a safe deposit box, but I looked through it before I locked it up.”

“Go on,” said Cam, eyes narrowed. A small suspicion was forming in her mind.

“Well, you had gone through all the stuff with the Duncans and the MacFarlanes, but you never got a chance to see how far back the stuff on the Kerrs went.”

“Tell me, for God’s sake,” she snapped.

“Well,” he shrugged, “I guess it’s no big deal, but Tom and Sally Kerr are your great-great-something grandparents. Their son is your great-ancestor,” he said, proud of his detective work.

Oh
, no, oh no oh no oh no, she thought desperately. Please, no
.

“Which one?” she asked, almost inaudibly.

Troy laughed. “Isn’t it weird? The littlest one. Young Tom.”

Suddenly the soft ground was flying up to meet her, and the last thing Cam heard was Wanda’s voice.

Be nice to the baby.

MacFarlane’s Ridge

One Year Later

Angus Duncan was dressed in his finest broadcloth coat and breeches. He combed his fair hair back and tied it with a blue ribbon, and adjusted his stockings and his shoes with their shiny new buckles. He peered into the looking glass for the tenth or eleventh time, and took a deep breath.

His adopted son, Jamie, came up behind him. “Ye look fine, Da.”

“You’re sure?”

“Aye.” Jamie chuckled. His voice cracked occasionally, the onset of puberty looming near. “You look very respectable.”

“Has the rain stopped?”

“It has. Come, Da. ‘Tis a fine day for a wedding.”

Cam stood in the soft grass in front of Mollie’s house. She absently toyed with the small silver band on her finger. Engraved inside the circle were five words.

Forever, or not at all.

She saw her husband, tall and dark, approaching, and slipped her hands into his.

“Are ye well, Cameron Clark?” he murmured into her ear.

“I am,” she sighed. “I’m happy for Angus.”

“Aye. Wee Morag is a fine lass. She’ll make him a good wife,” he agreed.

“And she’s fond of Jamie,” Cam whispered.

“D’ye suppose they’ll have bairns of their own?”

Three boys and a girl, she thought fleetingly, but she didn’t speak. Morag Kerr, then, had been the Unknown on Granny Emily’s genealogy sheet.

Her mind flitted back to the day a year ago when Troy Adams had innocently blurted out that she was descended from Young Tom Kerr.

The child of Wayne Sinclair’s blood.

She wondered about Young Tom often. If Wanda had killed Wayne the first time she had the chance, preventing him from raping Betsy Kerr and fathering the child, would she, Cam, have simply ceased to exist? Or would she simply have a different set of great-something grandparents? It made her shake every time she thought about it, and sometimes she even woke in the night, gasping for air, dreaming that Wayne had come back for her, or that Wanda had killed him after all.

In her dreams, sometimes, Cam didn’t die. She just no longer was.

September 26, 1778-

It has been near a year since I wrote anything, but so much has been happening that I have simply been unable to find the time. Robert and Cam have returned to us, and were married nearly ten months ago, at Christmas last. I know in my heart that they will be happy – I can see it every time they look at each other that their marriage is meant to be. How terrifying it must have been for her to leave her home and come back here. We have all faced our demons these past few years. Rob once told me that without fear there is no courage. How right he was.

Angus, it would appear, now has a chance for happiness too. Morag is a good girl, and she does not appear to be prone to wandering off into the wilderness, so perhaps he will have better luck this time around.

Sarah and Hugh are into simply everything, and they follow their brother Hamish about like a pair of fat puppies. Thankfully, they have a plethora of aunts and uncles and friends to play with them when they become bothersome.

She glanced thoughtfully out the window. She could just barely make out the shape of Rob’s cabin up the hill in the distance. There was a faint light visible in one window.

It has been four years now I have spent without my sister. I think of her constantly, and hope she knows her son is being loved and cared for. If my Dear Sarah had only known what she was setting in motion when she went into that cave, fleeing from the Shawnee…

Cam lay before the fire, wrapped in the thick MacFarlane plaid, comfortably nestled in Rob’s arms. She could feel his heart beating and snuggled in closer to his bare chest. She felt herself begin to doze off. He mumbled something to her.

“Hm?” she asked, blinking her eyes.

“What made ye decide? To come back here, I mean?” he asked softly.

“Well, I do love you, you know,” she said bluntly.

“Aye, but something must have made ye come back,” Rob whispered into her hair. “What made ye leave behind your flyin’ ships, and your lights that come on with a flick of a button?”

Cam thought for a moment. “I couldn’t imagine life without you. Not there, not anywhere. I had to come,” she said simply. “Do you know what I mean?”

He stared at her, the small scar under his eye catching the firelight. “Aye, I believe that I do. When I was on that prison ship, it didna matter to me that they were going to hang me, because ye were gone. I didna particularly care if I lived or not.” He kissed the inside of her wrist gently, his fingers stroking the silver band on her finger. “Twas a fine wedding today, aye?”

“Mm. I like Morag, although she seems a bit young for Angus.”

“Well, the man’s sore in need of a wife, ye ken. Besides, she’s young and hearty, and with the hips on her, she’ll be a good breeder.”

She swatted him with a pillow playfully. “A good breeder? What is she, a horse?”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Have ye ever taken a look at Morag Kerr?”

“Oh, stop it!” she laughed.

“I only meant that she’ll be havin’ bairns with him before long, that’s all.” He was silent for a while. “D’ye think we will? Someday, perhaps?” he asked softly.

She leaned up on her elbows and stared at him. “Would you like to, then?”

Rob fingered the frayed edges of the MacFarlane plaid. “Aye. I’d like to have a son, maybe.”

“All men want sons,” she giggled. “What’s wrong with daughters?”

“Nothing at all,” he replied, grinning, “but I’d like a son so I can name him for my da. I wouldna think a lass would be fond of being called Alexander, do you?”

“Good point,” she admitted.

“So,” he continued, tracing soft circles along her skin that made it leap out in fiery gooseflesh, “d’ye think we shall, some day?”

Cam smiled and gently took his hand from its intended course, and moved it down to her still-flat stomach. She had suspected for a few weeks or so, but had kept it to herself until she was certain. “I think we will very soon, as a matter of fact.”

His eyes widened. “Oh?”

She nodded. “Aye.”

Rob shifted slightly, his hand resting gently atop her, and kissed her again and again. She responded eagerly and completely, hoping – knowing -- he would never stop.

Forever, or not at all.

“Mam?” piped a small voice.

Mollie blinked. She had fallen asleep at her desk as she wrote in her journal. Little Sarah was standing in the door to the bedroom that she shared with her brothers.

“Oh, wee one, ‘tis late. Get ye back to bed, then,” whispered Mollie with a smile.

Sarah stuck out her bottom lip, and frowned. “Can’t sleep.”

“Oh, well, then, lass, come here and sit wi’ your mam. That’s a good girl, up ye go.” Mollie lifted the toddler easily onto her lap, and wrapped a blanket around the two of them. They rocked slowly, as the remains of the fire died away.

“Tory,” murmured Sarah.

“Oh, a story?” whispered Mollie. “Havena you had enough stories for one night?”

“No.” The lip stuck out a bit further.

“All right, then,” said Mollie, burying her face in the thick pale hair so like her own. “A long, long time ago, there was a beautiful faerie lass, with snow-white hair like yours and mine, who disappeared one day.” Mollie rocked the chair steadily. “Her family searched for her, but they never found a single trace of her. Then one day, a kind-hearted lady came to the family, and she said
I know where your sister is, and I am sorry to say she is in the faerie world, and she will not be coming back to you.
The family was very sad, but they were glad to know the sister was in the faerie world, for ‘tis a happy place,” she sighed.

She glanced up, and saw Ian standing in the doorway. She placed her finger to her lips, and smiled.

“So the good lady stayed with the faerie family, and one day a fine black-haired selkie came home from the sea, and he fell in love with the lady. But a bad king wanted the lady for himself, you see. He tried to kill the selkie, but the selkie escaped back to the ocean. The good lady thought that her selkie had died, and so she went back home.

“A witch came to the lady, then, and told her that her selkie was alive, and in the prison of the evil king. The good lady hunted high and low for her selkie, and when she found him she freed him from his prison, and the brave and strong selkie killed the wicked king. Then they went back, together, to the land of the faeries, who were all very surprised to see them, and at last the lady married her handsome, strong selkie.”

Mollie glanced down. Sarah was fast asleep, her lip still protruding slightly, one finger stuck casually in her ear.

Ian came forward, then, and took his baby daughter gently. “And?” he said softly.

“And what?” Mollie frowned.

“Were they happy for all of their days?”

She glanced out the window, and saw that the window in the cabin on the hill was now dark. “Aye,” she said quietly, a slow smile creeping across her face. “I believe they were, at that. I believe they were.”

The End