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he MacKinnon lodge was a most inviting place this evening. Oil lamps and candles burned softly, while a small fire kept the damp chill at bay. The hills and moor were coming to life again after a long winter, and even though it was after eight in the evening it was still light outside.
All the bairns were abed and the MacKinnon men were enjoying a wee dram after a trying day. To an outsider peeking in, the scene was one of perfect calm and peace. Were that outsider to enter, however, he would be steeped in the anxiety and tension that sizzled in the room.
The topic of conversation was the same as it had been for several nights now, rumors the British military were rounding up Jacobite supporters who had survived the Battle of Culloden and either putting them in prison, executing them on the spot, or sending them to the islands to be sold as slaves.
These rumors were not new, and many supporters had already been captured. It had been some time since the battle and the MacKinnons had avoided being captured. Their lodge was a difficult place to find, it being well hidden high up in the Highlands.
Alex came in the back door, having needed a word with Boder, the new hand they had hired for the lambing season.
"What did Boder want this time?" Jack asked.
"Another complaint about his living quarters. He's not too keen on sharing the cottage with Hamish and Kenny. Says they talk too much and keep him awake at night. Mostly he's miffed because I told him to put that cheroot out before he goes in the cottage at night as it wouldn't take much for that thatched roof to go up in flames. Don't think he much liked that. Thinks he should have a cottage to himself. He's a good hand, but I'm not of a mind to have the lads clean another cottage and make it ready just for his convenience. Let's see how he works out before we make any other arrangements for him."
From the kitchen, Caitlin was only half listening to the conversation. Her mind was occupied with the events of a few days ago. It wasn't every day she was called upon to use her extraordinary powers to save a loved one, and certainly it was not every day she caused the death of another human being. She was a healer after all, not a killer.
As she entered the room, her long skirt sweeping along the floor, Alex stood and turned his attention from Da and Jack to her, reaching for her hand as she came closer. He thought she was the picture of perfection. Her long, curly, flame-colored hair and sparkling aqua eyes seemed even more brilliant these days. Willie, her wolf companion and protector, trailed along beside her. He seemed to be aware of her condition and kept glued to her every moment. His role as her protector was one he never neglected.
"Lass, here, sit now, rest awhile. I know yer still worried about Charlie, but the ordeal's over and the little lad's safe. He's wounded to be sure, but he's young and he'll recover. Hear me on this now, mo chridhe."
Caitlin's large girth made sitting a bit of a chore these days. She and Alex were expecting their first bairn, and one look at the healer's body indicated the birth would be soon.
"I hope you're right. He's such a special lad, but he’s had enough problems already. His deafness is quite a challenge for him, and since the incident with Drosera, he hasn't even made his usual sounds. Millie and Camille and I have worked diligently with him, and this is a major setback."
"Aye. But he's got this entire family to help him, lass, ye ken?"
Caitlin nodded and, finding the chair uncomfortable, stood again and walked to the window. As she looked out across the moor, Alex came up behind her and put an arm around her shoulders.
"Mo chridhe, ye don't need to worry so. Drosera was an evil woman if ever there was one, and if ye hadn't taken care of her she'd have killed our wee Charlie for sure. Don't forget, ye aren't totally responsible for her death. Yer bolt of lightning definitely started the process, but the shot from my pistol finished the job. So, I'm responsible also.
We both know it had to be done. If we hadn't taken action, she'd have found us again someday. Nae, ye needn't let her death weigh on yer mind. I know that's difficult for a healer, but let it go lass, let it go."
Alex thought he had gotten his message through to her, but Caitlin turned to face him, grabbed his shirt and jerked him closer.
"Alex, I killed a woman! A healer saves people, she doesn't kill them. I had no intention of destroying a life, I simply needed to save Charlie. I acted on an overwhelming instinct and in a matter of seconds I had taken Drosera's life. I don't want these powers. I'll never be able to control them!"
She burst into sobs and held her face in her hands. For a woman who remained calm in most trying situations, the emotional exhibition was out of character.
"Lass, ye saved the lad's life and that's all that matters. If ye hadn't stopped Drosera, Charlie would be dead now instead of that vile woman. Come now. Let's get ye settled here in the chair. We'll put yer feet up and I'll fetch ye a mug of Millie's hot cocoa."
He helped her into a larger chair and she sat quietly, sipping her cocoa and catching a few words of the discussion the men were having. Trying her best to turn her mind from her recent deplorable deed, she listened more closely to the men. She still found it amusing the true Highlanders spoke so differently than folks from other areas of the country. Their brogue was unique, certainly.
She had heard different accents in almost every village she came through on her way to the upper Highlands, where she now lived. She was originally from Skye, the largest island of the Inner Hebrides. And even though Skye was considered part of the Highlands, the accent was still different from the accent she heard up here. She loved the way these brothers said "ye" instead of you and "yer" instead of your. She'd grown used to it now, but still enjoyed hearing the men and their brogue. It was like a language from another era and she found it refreshing.
Da and Jack expressed their thoughts openly, but she knew Alex would keep his thoughts to himself and only express them when he had worked out the details. But this latest issue, the Brits rounding up the Jacobites, this was a real problem and she could see the worry on Alex's face.
Her own thoughts, her worries, were about what would happen if the Brits managed to capture them, Alex and Jack. What would happen to the others? Da was still able-bodied but getting older now, as was Uncle Andrew. And Hector and Ian? Did the Brits know that all the brothers had been at Culloden? Would she and Millie have to fend for themselves and the bairns?
My life has changed so since coming to the Highlands. I was a carefree healer caring for the villagers in Skye and life was so easy. What was I thinking when I married this Highlander? It seems that we've gone from one calamity to another since we met. Of course, I was running from two men who were determined to kill me back then and Alex saved me from certain death. Oh, what a mess. I do love him so, but I wish life weren't so complicated.
These powers are very disturbing. I've used them twice now, and in neither case was I in control of them. Uncle Wabi says they were bestowed on me for a purpose, but I don't want them. I can just hear him now though . . . 'patience, dear girl, patience.' It seems to me if one is given powers, shouldn't they be able to control them?
Looking around the room, she saw all those she cared for gathered. If the Brits did manage to find them, Alex and Jack wouldn't be taken easily, but she also knew the Brits had plenty of soldiers and was aware there were informers, other Scots, who were aiding the soldiers in their quest. Brother had fought against brother in this battle, and in the end there was great heartache for all. There were too many unanswered questions. She had no doubt this problem was not going away, and time was not on their side.
~ ~ ~
For Alex, the leader of this band of brothers, his shoulders felt a heavy load of responsibility, as if they were carrying a heavy ewe, as they often had over the years. Da was still around, but he'd turned the reins over to Alex, the eldest son. Though they made decisions as a family, it was obvious the others looked to Alex to handle difficult situations, which certainly arose in such a large family. His intelligence was a great asset, but some situations were difficult to come to grips with.
Jack, the second oldest brother, and a very large Highlander, paced back and forth, his face flushed with excitement.
"But, Alex. We can't just sit here waiting on the Redcoats to come round us up. We've got to do something I tell ye!"
"I'm just as concerned as ye, Jack, but we have to think this through. We need a plan of action, not just a knee-jerk response that could get all of us killed. It's not just us menfolk now. We've got women and bairns to think about. Let's be rational about this and then take action." Alex had learned long ago to let Jack vent and then try to reason with him.
"Yeah, but if they show up tomorrow we might just be caught without a plan. What do we do if that happens?"
Then, as usual at the end of the day, a small voice called from the top of the stairs.
"Grandda, you promised!" That stopped the serious conversation, which was a good thing. No amount of talking had brought any answers so far anyway. They all laughed as Da stood. Every evening he looked forward to story time with the wee ones. Reading to them brought back old memories for him and created new ones for them. The irony of the situation was that these were not even his own grandchildren. They were three orphans Hector had found hiding in Cameron Castle, an estate Millie inherited upon her grandmother’s recent death. The orphans had been in the lodge for several months now and were an integral part of the MacKinnon family.
Just as Da rose to climb the stairs, there was a sharp rap on the front door. Alex was out of his chair in an instant. "Jack, pistols!" Fearing it might be the Brits, Alex hurried to the kitchen to retrieve the pistol he kept hidden in the pantry. Jack flew down the hall to retrieve his own firearm, moving quickly for such a large man.
Before the brothers could get back, however, Da had gone to the door.
"I'll get it. I'm up already." He opened the door and felt the blood drain from his face. No. This can't be. He's here. And he's not a lad any longer, he's a man. No.
His brain kept telling him it couldn't be, but his heart recognized the truth. There was the same shock of dark hair, and even darker eyes that looked into your soul, and long, gangly legs that had outgrown the rest of his body. And the final touch, the cleft in his chin that couldn't be denied.
Oh, Alice, mo chridhe. Ye should see him.
Da finally found his voice and connected it to his brain. "Good evening, lad. Can I help ye?" He held his breath almost dreading to hear the answer to his question.
The young lad quickly pulled off his tam and crumpled it, shuffling it back and forth from one hand to the other. "Yes ... sir. I'm looking for my father. I was told he lives here." The dark, intelligent eyes never left Da's face.
The old man nodded. "Yes. I believe he does. Come in then, lad."
The boy entered and Da leaned against the door for a moment, trying to regain his equilibrium and feeling his age as never before. Then he called out. "Alex, there's someone here who needs ye!"
Alex heard Da calling and quickly walked that way, his kilt swinging as his long, muscular legs covered the distance quickly. "What? Who is it?" He held his pistol tightly as he reached the door, coming face-to-face with the young lad standing there. Certainly not the Brits. But who?
Alex, too, seemed to have the same problem Da experienced—lack of connection between his tongue and his brain. His mind reeled as he stared at the lad and he had no doubt he was seeing the very image of himself at that age—the thick, dark hair, rather scruffy at the neck, in need of a trim as Alex's always was, and long legs that were out of proportion with the rest of his body. The lad already stood close to six feet tall. But most telling of all were his eyes, so dark and deep Alex could feel them searing into his face. Likewise, his own dark eyes were taking in every inch of the young lad's features, as if to etch them into his mind. Then the cleft chin said it all.
Holy Jesus. What have I done?
What was he to say? How do you address a stranger who is so like you there's no denying it? But it was impossible. He had no children, except, obviously that was not true. But when, where, who? As Alex furiously ran a litany of questions through his mind, the lad looked away from him, then, turning back to face him, held his head at an angle that caused an avalanche of memories to come cascading through Alex's brain.
Yes, of course, Fiona. My English rose at university. Ye always cocked yer head in that manner when ye were about to question me about something I probably wasn't going to agree with. Why didn't ye let me know I had a son?
His held his pistol in his left hand, still pointed directly at the chest of the young lad, who stared at it as if he had never seen one. As his mind slowed down and reason returned, Alex finally spoke and let his pistol hang down by his side.
"Lad, I'm Alex MacKinnon. Please come in, join us." He held out his hand and offered it to the young lad. Much beyond that Alex wasn't sure how to proceed.
To his great relief, Caitlin had her emotions back under control and walked over to join him. The healer had only to take a quick look to understand the situation. The lad was the spiting image of Alex. And he was even more uncomfortable than Alex himself. That was apparent to her as she, too, offered her hand to the stranger.
"Hello, I'm Caitlin MacKinnon. And what is your name?"
"I'm Robbie. Actually, Robert Alexander MacKinnon."
"Please come in, Robbie. Come warm by the fire and I'll make you a cup of cocoa. That'll get your insides warmed up. It's still a mite cold out."
Alex was grateful someone had stepped in and taken the lead. It was apparent to him that both he and Robbie were having difficulty speaking—maybe a familial trait or genetic problem.
Da excused himself. Alex had no doubt that he, too, was relieved his daughter-in-law had sorted the situation quickly and was trying to assist in making things a bit more comfortable for everyone. In her usual fashion, the healer started issuing instructions.
"Alex, introduce Robbie to everyone and then you two come to the kitchen. We should have a few moments together and see if Robbie is hungry as well."
"Yes, of course, come in lad. Come in." Alex stepped back and the lad came through.
Robbie was surprised to find so many people in the lodge. His mother had told him only a few facts about his father. He knew Alex came from a large family with several brothers and that they lived in the Highlands. Other than that, he really didn't know much. He stood in the middle of the room wishing he could drop through a hole in the floor.
What was I thinking? That he'd welcome me with open arms? He didn't even know I existed before today.
Alex, usually very adept at handling social situations, found himself struggling to find the right words. Finally he managed to utter something that at least got the conversation going.
"Uh, Robbie, the beautiful woman making the cocoa is Caitlin, my wife. This other lovely lady is Millie, and she's married to my brother, Jack."
The lad continued to shift his tam back and forth in his hands as he nodded to the ladies and briefly made a quick handshake with Jack, who still held his pistol also. Young Ian stood up from his lying position on the floor. He, too, saw the unbelievable resemblance to Alex. The boy could be another MacKinnon brother from the looks of him.
"Hello, I'm Ian, Alex's youngest brother."
Robbie looked at Ian and felt a warmth he hadn't felt coming from the others. Perhaps it was that they were close in age. Whatever, it was a welcomed feeling.
Alex cleared his throat. "Um, everyone, this is Robert Alexander MacKinnon. Apparently he belongs in this family, so we'll get to know him. Now, Robbie, let's go to the kitchen and see if Caitlin has that cocoa ready."
Alex wasn't sure which was worse, standing with the lad, a son he didn't know he had, or seeing the expressions on the faces of his family. They were astounded.
The lad followed Alex and they took a seat at the old pine kitchen table, the one where all family matters got settled. Robbie liked the looks of the table, as there was something of permanence about it. There were many scars on the surface and someone's initials had been carved on one corner. Around the edges there were what looked like scratches made by an animal. But thanks to Millie's efforts, it was shining and smelled like lemons. In fact, the whole place smelled like a home should smell, not one that reeked like an infirmary with sick folk, like his own home had for the longest time now.
"So, Robbie, would you like a taste of Millie's apple cobbler? She's the main cook around here, and I assure you it's delicious."
"Uh, yes mum. I've not eaten all day, so that would be appreciated."
As for Caitlin, she had an ear that didn't miss the very proper pronunciation of his words. Apparently the lad had been reared with proper British English, and most probably proper manners as well. She observed that he waited for Alex to sit before he did, and he carefully lay his tam on the chair next to him.
She couldn't tell who was the most anxious, Alex or Robbie, and her heart was breaking for these two, a father and a son who had never met. She debated whether to retreat from the room and leave them alone to figure out how to communicate, or whether she should help them for a few minutes then take her leave. The healer in her desperately wished to bring some relief to the situation.
"Here, try this cocoa and have some cobbler. Your stomach will thank you, I'm sure. Alex, here's another cup of cider for you. I'll leave you two to yourselves now. You need to get acquainted, I believe." She left, holding her hands over her abdomen as she walked back toward the great room.
~ ~ ~
Da finished his story time with the bairns and stood at the window of the upstairs hallway, looking out over the moor. Thinking. Remembering. Alice, Mam, had a saying she used at times such as these: "Life is meant to be embraced, Daniel. If we run away from everything unpleasant or uncomfortable that is thrown at us, we'll cease to grow as people and never gain any new understanding. Rejoice in all experiences that ye encounter, even if ye don't completely understand them, and let them become part of yer soul."
Mo chridhe, this may be a great opportunity to embrace that which we don't quite understand.
He knew he must go down and lend Alex a hand, but thought he'd give him a few minutes alone with the lad then step in, as Alice would have done. Yes, she would have taken it all in stride. Eventually, he made his way slowly back down the stairs.
Jack, the largest of the MacKinnon brothers, and also the most hotheaded one who despised changes, accosted Da the minute he got to the bottom of the stairs.
"Da? Do ye think he's Alex's son? I mean, he looks just like him! What are we supposed to do? Alex has a son? Who would have ever thought that? And what are we to do with him? That's just more changes, Da, more changes."
"Oh, well, I feel sure we'll find room for him, don't ye? He's obviously a MacKinnon, so I don't believe we'll be throwing him out the door."
"No, but what will Caitlin think? She's about to have a bairn any day now and here, this evening, she learns Alex already has one."
"And she thinks it a very fine thing, too, Jack," a voice spoke behind him.
Caitlin joined them at the bottom of the stairs.
"The lad apparently is in need or he wouldn't be here. So, we all should make him welcome and try to see what we can do for him. He's fearful and anxious, certainly. I can see that on his face." The healer not only saw the pain in the boy's face, but she felt it at an even deeper level. Uncle Wabi had told her she would learn to shield herself from sensing others' pain, eventually, but as yet she still hadn't mastered that skill.
She was getting close to the end of her pregnancy and her emotions were riding a wave that crested high one day then crashed the next. The bairn wasn't due for several more weeks, and she knew these emotions were common in the last days, but she wished the child would get here, and soon.
"I think the best thing we can do this evening will be to find the lad a place to sleep and let him know we're glad he's with us."
Ian, the youngest of the brothers, stood again, which still took a bit of doing with his prosthetic foot. But he had no complaints, and didn't let his prosthesis stop him from doing most anything he wanted. Caitlin had been responsible for keeping him alive following a wound at the Battle of Culloden in which he lost his foot. The prosthesis was a gift from Da, Uncle Wabi and Uncle Andrew. The three had worked together to create it and now Ian was almost good as new.
"Let him come up to the attic with me. There's a small cot he can sleep on and I'll find some blankets for him. He'll like being up there. It's the best place in the lodge, trust me."
Ian would be returning to the Isle of Skye in a few days anyway, and his room would be vacant. The new lad could have full use of the room then. Being part of a large family had its good points, but Ian always liked that he could climb up to the highest part of the lodge and have his own space where he could light a candle, read to his heart's content, and watch out the window for the old stag that wandered the moor at night. He knew Robbie would like that too.
Millie and Jack made their way to the east wing where Millie's little daughter, Midge, was already asleep and they, too, retired for the evening. Jack and Millie had wed the same day Alex and Caitlin had. Millie, the former Lady Sinclair, had gone from being a lady in a castle in England, and wife to a despicable lord, to being wife to Jack, a Highlander whom she thought hung the moon. He had his strong points, and his weak ones as well. Most of all he disliked changes, but this past year had proved to him he didn't need to fear them. Sometimes they actually made things better.
"But, Millie. Another child, a lad, in the lodge? How many can we take in?"
"As Da said, we won't be throwing him out. I know how the lad feels, Jack. I, too, had no place to go and now I'm here with this family. It'll be alright."
With Caitlin and Millie having come into the family, the lives of everyone in the lodge had changed. Caitlin and Millie had become friends first, then Caitlin saved Ian's life after Culloden and the MacKinnons had come to her rescue in her time of need. Alex had been captivated by her from day one and had let nothing keep him from marrying her, not even family concerns about her.
The fact Caitlin possessed special powers had been a problem for Jack originally, but she had saved him, Alex, and Millie, as well as herself, on two occasions. That had gone a long way toward Jack accepting her and her abilities.
Caitlin slowly climbed the stairs, headed to the rooms she and Alex claimed in the west wing of the lodge. She particularly liked that wing as she had two large windows from which she could view the moor, and if she looked closely she could see the circle of stones at the top. She intuitively knew the circle was a special place and she longed to walk among the spirits that she was sure dwelled there.
This evening she found herself wondering what might happen next. Her handsome Highlander was her life, and his touch still sent chills along her spine. Watching him as he strode across the floor, his kilted body tall and muscular, was as appealing as ever, and the sound of his deep, resonating voice was soothing to her.
Her life was fulfilling and she never regretted leaving the Isle of Skye and Uncle Wabi, although she missed him greatly. He visited often and she could always "call" him if she really needed him. But this night she wished she could talk to another woman, perhaps Mam. That woman had raised this house full of lads who were a credit to her and Da. And now, as Caitlin was about to deliver the next bairn in this clan, a new MacKinnon lad had shown up.
She undressed and began to brush her hair. Tying a ribbon around the mass of curls, she pulled on a high-necked nightgown and crawled into bed. She was tired beyond belief, but her mind wouldn't stop its churning.
Holy Rusephus! Alex has a son. But why did he not know about him? Why would any woman keep such a secret from a father? This will be a tale worth hearing. I sounded so sure of myself downstairs, but I don't know how to handle this situation any better than Alex. A son? Just one more calamity.
Alex would be up eventually, but she knew he would remain quiet about his feelings regarding Robbie until he'd sorted them out in his own mind. Only then would he discuss them with her.
She felt like an elephant as she tried to get comfortable in bed, and fell asleep wishing the bairn would be born this very minute—several more weeks was unthinkable.
~ ~ ~
"So then, Robbie. I think we might better try to get acquainted, ye ken?" Alex shifted uncomfortably in his chair, not sure how to get this conversation going.
"Yes ... sir. I suppose that would be the logical thing to do."
Alex noted the lad all but refused to make eye contact, and an element of anger and resentment inside the boy was palpable.
"Well now, it's fairly obvious the two of us are a lot alike, physically, that is. So we can agree ye must be my son. Is that how ye see it?"
The lad looked to the floor and, in a most sullen voice, replied. "I guess so. Mother told me I was to find you when she was no longer here with me. That's why I came here this evening. She died a fortnight ago and I've been trying to determine what would be the best course of action for me to take."
Alex could feel anger and resentment coming off the lad in waves. Unconsciously crossing his arms across his chest in a defensive manner, he took a deep breath and leaned back, fearing what the next words from the lad might be. The boy sounded like a much older person, and other than observing that the lad was nervous, what with him picking his tam up again and constantly fiddling with it, Alex would have assumed he was an adult.
Suddenly realizing his posture might be sending out a message that wasn't exactly welcoming, Alex released his arms and leaned forward to rest them on the table and gave the lad his undivided attention. Seeing his own dark eyes staring back at him gave him pause, but he began.
"Oh, lad, whatever caused her to die? She was such a lovely young woman when I knew her. It grieves me to hear she has passed away."
Still addressing the floor, Robbie began his tale. "She'd been ill for quite some time ... sir. When she wasn't teaching, she volunteered at the Old Tolbooth, the prison in Edinburgh, where she contracted typhus a while back. The doctors at the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh treated her, but finally there was nothing else to be done so she asked to leave hospital and come home for her final days. Mattie, our housekeeper, arranged to bring her back home and nursed her through the last weeks. She died on April 14th, which is ironic, as that happens to be my birthday.
"Lad, that's a heartache for ye, to be sure."
"Yes ... sir, but actually, it's a meaningful day already so it seems appropriate somehow."
Alex sipped at his cider, trying to decide how to further the conversation along. But then, what did he want to know? Surely he would offer to help the lad, but how were they to get any kind of relationship going?
"To be frank with ye, lad, I don't know any other way of figuring things out except to ask ye questions, ye ken?"
"Alright. I guess that's OK. I'll answer them if I can. But you must know, I don't especially want to be here even though Mother said I should find you. I'm a British citizen, not a Scot."
"Aye. Aye. I see. Then, do ye understand I never knew I had a son?"
"Yes ... sir. And you should know I never knew my father was alive until a couple of months ago. Mother had a birth certificate that has my name as Robert Alexander Edwards ... and another one that says Robert Alexander MacKinnon. She told me my father had been a soldier in service of the Crown and that he was brave and died in a battle with a battalion of French soldiers. There was never a lot of discussion about him, other than she always insisted he was a most intelligent man, very handsome, and a fine soldier. She even showed me a few charcoal drawings she said were of him. Of course, I now realize she invented this man in order for me to believe I had been a wanted child, and that is exactly what she accomplished. I did always feel wanted and cared for. Only now, since she's passed away, I'm aware of new feelings, of being without roots, drifting, not sure what to do next."
"Aye. Of course, lad. Ye naturally would feel that. Then, ye can be sure this family, the MacKinnon family—yer family, I suppose—will welcome ye. And I should also tell ye we're probably quite different from folk down in the Lowlands or Edinburgh and London. Speaking of that, where did ye come from?"
"I've lived in London and Edinburgh. In my early life we lived in London for some years then, for some reason, Mother insisted we move to Edinburgh. She'd been a tutor at university there early on, then went back to London and was headmistress at Her Majesty's Preparatory Academy, a school for young ladies. She taught there for some time, but about five years ago she wanted to return to Edinburgh and the university. She had fond memories of her time there and missed the stimulation of the young students. So, we moved there and that's where I still live."
"So yer early years were pretty much spent in London then. I suppose that's why ye sound more English than Scot. But of course ye would. Fiona was English through and through."
"Yes ... sir."
Alex didn't miss the hesitancy of the lad to call him sir.
"But she always spoke highly of the Scots and their devotion to family and their strong work ethic. She was impressed with those characteristics. But not everyone I know feels that way about Scots."
"Then I thank her for that. She was a fine lady herself, and I never held it against her that she were English."
He smiled at the lad and the smile was returned briefly. But there was certainly a question written on the lad's face.
Ah, he seemed to take no offense and took that remark as it was intended. So, maybe we can get through this.
Robbie took a deep breath, then made his pronouncement. "I've always thought I was thoroughly British. But now, I guess I have to realize and admit I'm half Scot."
Alex thought for a moment before addressing this proclamation from the lad. The flat, non-emotional way in which he made the statement told Alex the lad would rather be a toad than a Scot.
Looks like I have a new problem to deal with. He was proud to be British, of course. Now he knows Scots blood flows in his veins as well, Highland blood at that.
"Well, then I suppose yer right. In my opinion a man, or lad, should be proud of his heritage, his country, and most of all his family. But I can understand ye might have some trouble agreeing with me on this. Ye've thought ye were British for some years now, and actually ye are half British, as it were. But there's goodness to be found in both peoples, I suppose, and areas where there will always be disagreements. Mam would have said 'that's life.'"
"Who's Mam?"
"Mam was my mother, yer grandmother. She's gone on now, but she always had sayings that seemed to fit most occasions.”
And I know she could help me now if she were here.
"Robbie, we have a lot of catching up to do. It's late now so I think we'll call it a night and tomorrow we'll make more headway. Tonight ye need to rest and, again, ye are welcome here in our home. I'm not real sure how a father should act, but I'll do my best. I hope ye can find a way to understand that if I had known about ye, I'd have come looking for ye. This family cares for its own. Ye are my son. That makes ye important to all of us."
"Yes ... sir. Mother and I discussed you at length before she passed on. She held you in the highest regard and indicated I was to do the same ... even if you are a Scot."
"I'm glad to hear that, lad. Then let's see where we're to bed ye down. Come, I'll see what Caitlin has in mind."
As they stood, Da entered and stood for a moment, staring at his son and grandson. Alex was certainly a handsome man, and wore his kilt with pride. The lad was clad in long, dark trousers and a dark matching coat. Obviously their clothing was different, but if they were any more alike Da would eat his tam. The lad was several inches shorter than Alex and certainly not as filled out, but then he still had a few growing years ahead of him.
Stroking his bearded face, Da ran his finger down through the cleft in his chin.
Huh. Well now, guess that's at least one trait the three of us have in common. Wonder what others we may have.
He walked over and put his hand out and the boy took it for a short moment.
"Lad, I'm yer grandfather, Daniel. Ye found yer way here, and now that ye have, we're glad to make yer acquaintance. We MacKinnons take care of each other, and ye'll be treated like one of us, as ye certainly are from what I see."
"Thank you ... sir." The boy hadn't known what to expect, but this was not an anticipated response.
They don't even know me, but are going out of their way to make me feel welcome. But they're Scots, known to be scoundrels and uneducated heathens. I know I can't trust them.
"If it suits ye, Ian would like ye to share his space. It's up in the farthest part of the lodge, the attic actually. He's about yer age, maybe a tad older, I think. So, take the stairs all the way to the top and he'll find ye a bed. We'll talk tomorrow. Night to ye now."
Robbie nodded quickly to Da. "Yes ... sir. That sounds fine to me."
The young lad looked about, not sure where he was to go. He made a quick trip back to the porch and returned carrying a soft, leather valise in which he had brought a few items of clothing, some of his mother's personal documents, and his ever-present writing pad. This pad was much more important to him than any of the other articles, however.
Da made his way to his room at the end of the hall, a book tucked under his arm as always, and Alex waited at the foot of the stairs for the lad.
"Up there, lad—Robbie. All the way to the top. Ian's got a place for ye to rest yer head. He'll be going to the Isle of Skye in a couple of days and then ye'll have the place to yerself. So if you can manage to share a room a couple of nights, it will be helpful."
"Of course ... sir."
Alex hardly knew how to react to such a formal, polished young man. On the one hand, the lad obviously disliked learning he was half Scot and had made that very clear. But on the other, he had the manners of a young gentleman. Alex tried to remember himself at that awkward age. He was quite sure he was not polished, but Mam would have insisted on good manners. And if he was rebellious, then Da would have given him some extra chores to work off his angry feelings. No doubt, though, this lad was as much a MacKinnon as any of them.
Robbie lifted his valise and began the climb up the stairs. And it was a climb, too. Once he got to the top, he saw the faintest light coming from beneath one of the doors. He knocked and waited a second. Just as he was about to knock again, the door opened and Ian nodded to him.
"Aye, this is the right room. Mine. And I think ye'll like it, too. Come in."
Robbie slowly walked through the doorway and felt as if he had entered a room that had been designed with him in mind. There was an old wooden desk in front of one of the tall, many-paned windows. A candle had been lighted and there were several maps and drawings lying on the desk. He came closer and took a quick glance at them. The maps were very old and Robbie thought they were from a much earlier period, perhaps from early Roman times, and there was a scent in the room that was most pleasant—an herb, something green and fresh. Maybe rosemary.
"Put yer bag in the corner. I've put some blankets on the cot and that should keep ye warm enough. Ye'll find it's actually warmer up here than any other place. Da says it's something about the heat rising. But still, it can get cold up here in the Highlands, even in the spring. Probably different from where ye came from. Where was that exactly?"
"I came from Edinburgh, where I lived with my mother. She died recently and I'm not sure what I'm to do now."
Ian found himself searching for the right words, but wasn't sure there were any. "Oh, then, don't worry too much. Alex is a very intelligent man. He'll figure out the best thing for ye to do. I know how it is to lose yer mam, though. Ours passed on a couple of years ago and we all felt like our world had turned upside down. Maybe that's how everybody feels when their mam dies. But I'm learning that because she died doesn't mean she's lost to ye. She's just in a different place now. Ah, listen to me, going on so. Come over here and take a look out there."
Robbie walked closer to the tall window, the two young lads standing side by side. Ian snuffed the candle out and it was pitch-black in the room. Suddenly, the moor was easily seen beneath the light of a glowing moon. The snow that had covered the ground for so long had melted now as the days were warmer, even though the evenings were still chilly. The highest peaks of the mountains were still covered and pockets of snow could be found in the crags, but the green, spring sprouts were beginning to show and the heather on the moor was blossoming quickly.
"Now look just at the edge of that stand of pine trees on the left side, look closely."
"I don't see anything. There's nothing there but trees. No, wait. Oh! Is that a stag?" Robbie stared at Ian, his face registering his excitement.
"Yeah. He's been here as long as I can remember. He shows himself sometimes on an evening such as this. I sometimes wonder if he can see me too."
Robbie continued to look at Ian. The two could have been brothers. But there was something about this young lad Robbie didn't quite understand. He acted as if Robbie was not a stranger but had always been here, in this lodge, as if he had always been a member of this family. There was also an element of mischief, or adventure that emanated from him. But then, there was an element of warmth, also. Robbie had lived in London and Edinburgh, but he had never come across a young person who was as interesting as Ian.
"Do you think he can see us now?"
"I'm learning that the animals know a lot, and we've a lot to learn from them if we only will. Just some of the things Uncle Wabi is teaching me."
"Uncle Wabi? Who's that?"
"He's actually Caitlin's uncle, but he feels like mine too so I call him Uncle Wabi. He's a very unusual man and I'm studying with him. I'll tell ye about him tomorrow. Right now I think we'd better get to bed. If I know Alex, he'll be expecting both of us to be down in the kitchen early, ready to listen to his instructions for the day.”
He smiled when he made this remark and Robbie smiled in return.