Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
After a few days of organizing Arran’s life as Laird of two clans, and Skye getting used to her new role as healer, the couple awoke to the early morning light filtering through the curtains. Skye turned to look at her husband but found him already awake.
“There is something I must do,” he murmured, turning to kiss her on the head, and then he rose, quickly dressed, and left.
Skye frowned in confusion, but she was not worried. As he closed the door behind him, he heard her rise from the bed.
He rushed out of the keep and walked toward the kirk. When he awoke, his heart felt heavy and full, but he could not tell whether it was from love or pain. Either way, he knew he had to come here.
He entered the cemetery and walked over to a small, simple stone. He stood before it, lost in thought, until Skye joined him.
He turned to her and smiled, but he could tell that she saw sadness in his eyes. She took his hand in hers and patiently waited for him to explain.
“This is me maither’s grave, Skye,” he murmured, turning back to the grave.
Skye read the inscription on the headstone, sensing the grief that echoed through the carved words. She squeezed his hand, conveying her support and love.
“Ye may find it odd, but I come here often,” he admitted. “I tell her about changes and events in me life. Today I will tell her about becoming Laird of Clan MacKeith.”
Skye listened respectfully as he spoke.
“I ken it might seem silly, but it helps me to tell her things. I ken she cannae hear me.”
“I dinnae think it odd, Arran. Nary a bit. But I believe yer maither hears ye. I think she watches over ye.”
His heart swelled at her words. Skye was the first woman he’d shared this with. He’d always thought this was too personal for anyone but him to know. But now he felt seen.
She understands me.
The rain had been heavy recently, leaving the earth soft and the air thick with the scent of damp grass and wilted leaves that had fallen from the trees. The air was cold, as the morning sun had not had a chance to warm the earth after a chilly night.
Arran knelt by the gravestone, and his hand reached out and traced the letters carved into the stone. “Maither,” he began softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I wish ye could see everything that has happened. So much has changed.”
“She’d be proud of ye, Arran. Look at everything ye’ve accomplished.”
Arran nodded. “I hope ye are right. I think of her often, and I wonder what she would have said, what advice she would have given me.”
As he spoke, Skye’s eyes wandered over the grave, and she noticed that the earth had sunk slightly around the stone. In a depression, something metallic caught her eye. She frowned and leaned over to get a closer look.
“Arran, look,” she said, pointing to the object. “There’s something there, under the stone.”
Arran looked to where she was pointing. He used his hands to carefully brush away the moss and wet dirt. Indeed, a small metal box was wedged against the gravestone. The heavy rain had washed away its earthy cover. Arran pulled it out. The box was obviously old, the outside weathered and rusted.
“What do ye think it is?” Skye asked, her curiosity piqued.
“I’m nae sure,” Arran replied as he ran his hand over the box. “But it looks like it’s been here for a long time.”
The lid was rusted, and Arran’s several attempts to open it with his fingers failed.
Eventually, he pulled out his dirk and used the blade to pry open the lid, and the hinges creaked in protest. His eyes widened when he revealed a bundle of old papers, neatly tied with a faded ribbon, in the box. The paper was yellowed with age, but the writing was still legible.
Arran picked up the top letter, his eyes scanning the familiar handwriting.
“These were written by me faither,” he croaked. “Letters to me maither. They must be over twenty years old.”
“Come, Arran, it’s damp out here, and we daenae want the ink to run. Let’s read them inside,” Skye urged, helping him to his feet and wrapping the box in her shawl.
She held his hand as they walked back to the castle, occasionally stroking his knuckles with her fingers soothingly.
They returned to their room on the fourth floor of the castle and sat together.
With a deep breath, Arran reopened the box, untied the faded ribbon again, and carefully reopened the first letter.
Me Dearest Elspeth,
Every day without ye feels like an eternity. Yer absence is like a gaping wound that never heals, and I miss ye more than words can express. I try to be strong for our son and for our clan, but there are moments when yer absence feels unbearable.
I yearn to return to Glenn Aonarach and visit yer real grave.
It has been too long since I have been able to sit by yer side, to speak to ye.
The thought of being near ye again brings me a sense of peace, a closeness that I have been missing for so long.
I hope this make-believe resting place is enough to quell Arran’s sadness at not having ye.
But one day, he will know the truth, when we have yer lands back in our possession.
I love ye, Elspeth, with all me heart and soul. Though ye are gone from this world, ye are forever in me heart. I will see ye soon, me love.
Yers always,
James.
Arran’s eyes misted over as he read the words. He knew his father loved his mother, but the letter told him so much more. His grief had consumed him. And that he had been visiting an empty grave all this time had pained him greatly.
But now Arran understood why his father had been so determined to get the burial lands back. His father must have hidden the truth from him out of shame, but Arran now understood that his pain was born from loss. A loss of the body of his wife.
When he finished reading the letter, he fell to his knees, and a solitary tear streamed down his cheek. Skye squeezed his hand gently.
“He never stopped loving her, did he, Skye?” Arran said gruffly.
“Nay, Arran, he didnae. Their love was a rare one, indeed. One that most want but will never have. Yer faither loved ye and yer maither so much,” Skye whispered. “That is clear now.”
“Most, but nae all,” he said.
The look in his eyes touched her heart. It was not one of passion or desire but of something much, much more.
“I see now why me faither fought so hard for the lands. I only wish that he shared this burden with me instead of pushing me away.”
Skye knelt down beside him and held him tightly in her arms. “Yer faither was an incredible man, Arran. He loved yer maither with all his heart, and he loved ye too. His grief and worry over the lands, sadly, got the best of him at the time. But he never gave up on his hope to get the lands back and be able to visit her grave. His connection to her had never faded.”
Arran nodded, and then he lifted his head and looked her in the eye.
“In a way, he brought us together, Skye. If he hadnae insisted that I be ousted unless I got the lands back, I would have never sought ye out. We would have never found each other. Now I am grateful for his unreasonable demand and what I so wrongly called an obsession for so long.”
Skye smiled. “So am I, Arran. So am I.”
“I never tire of looking at this view,” Skye murmured, her voice filled with awe.
They stood on the rooftop together once more. The rain cleared, and the sky was painted in hues of orange and pink. Skye had suggested they come up for some fresh air after they had finished reading Arran’s father’s letters.
Arran nodded and gazed out at the horizon, appreciation in his eyes.
Skye broke the silence, her voice soft but determined. “Arran, there’s something I need to tell ye.”
Arran furrowed his brow slightly. “What is it, Skye?”
She took a deep breath, her hand tightening around his. She didn’t know what he would say—maybe it would be too soon, or too much for one day, but she knew she had to tell him.
“I’m with child, Arran.”
For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Arran’s eyes widened, and then his face broke into a broad, joyful smile. “Ye’re… ye’re with child?”
Skye nodded, a smile spreading across her face. “Aye, we’re going to have a bairn.”
Arran let out a joyful laugh, lifting her off her feet and twirling her around. Skye wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling as safe and joyes as ever in his embrace.
“This is the best news I could have ever hoped for!” he exclaimed.
Skye laughed. “I hoped ye’d be pleased.”
“I am more than pleased, Skye. I cannae believe how blessed I am. Look at all we have! And now a bairn!” Arran set her down gently, his eyes shining with excitement.
They held each other tightly, and when he finally let her go, he stood back, holding her hand and gazing at her body. A wave of protectiveness washed over him.
He placed his hand on her still-flat stomach, and although there was no bump, he smiled at the home of his child.
“Can ye feel anything yet?” he asked.
Skye laughed. “Nay, nae yet, but it is early still.”
“This changes everything. Nay more travel for ye. And ye are to nap every day. I’ll speak with Astrid, and she’ll make ye anything ye want—”
“Arran, stop. I’m pregnant, no ill. I’m fine, really. I’ve only been sick tha one time.”
“And ye didnae tell me?”
“Nay. I didnae know for certain, but I suspected. I am a healer, after all. I thought it likely when me monthlies didnae come, but I felt unsure as to when to tell ye.”
“I still think ye should nap every day. And I’m goin’ to consult with Ava. Ye’ll do as she says, Skye. I willnae accept anythin’ else. We have to keep ye both healthy.”
Skye rolled her eyes at him even though she knew he just wanted to keep her and their child safe.
He saw the gesture and grinned at her, acknowledging her aggravation. Then he sobered. “Me maither would be so happy, Skye. I can almost feel her and me faither now, with us.”
“Me too, Arran. We can ride out to the burial lands in the mornin’, and ye can tell her for real.”
He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers, holding her hands. “We are going to be a family, Skye.”
“Forever and always, me love.”