Ruby
On a bright, breezy morning, Hanna and I walk up the track to the scattald to check for the arrival of the first lambs.
The burn is full to the brim with the recent rains that have kept us penned up indoors for the past few weeks, but today there are glimpses of blue overhead, the color of a robin’s egg.
Pip runs on ahead of us, the wind ruffling his coat, full of what Hanna would call “springfulness.”
We reach the top of the hill, and Hanna shades her eyes against the dazzle of sunlight as she scans the fence line, looking for her flock.
All around, we hear the singing of the skylarks hiding in the winter-bleached heather, telling each other that spring is here at last. She nudges me and points across the hill to where a ewe hunkers in the lee of a hummock of peat.
Beside her, just visible among the moss, is a tiny dot of pure white, like a little puff of bog cotton, and we exchange a smile.
We continue onward, spotting several more newborn lambs sheltering among the tussocks of crowberry and deergrass. “More to come still,” says Hanna, “but it’s a good start.”
We walk back to the farmhouse in companionable silence, although my head is full of the scudding thoughts that chase across my mind like clouds.
Despite her age, Hanna’s pace is brisk, and I’m struck, yet again, by her indomitability.
After all she’s been through, all that loss, enduring at first hand the very worst of humanity, how on earth has it been possible to find the determination to go on?
And yet she’s done so. She made Liv a promise, and every day of her life since then, she’s held herself to it.
She’s lived for both of them. Some days must be so very hard for her, those days when the trauma washes through her, knocking her off her feet.
But she endures, as resilient as the bedrock, knowing she must get up and go on.
Certain that, eventually, the light will return.
In my mind’s eye, I see Lucy as she was before the sickness overwhelmed her. I haven’t been able to picture her like that until now, but her smile is as clear as the sunshine, her hair blowing in the wind. I make a silent promise to her that I will live life for her, just as Hanna has done for Liv.
And then, in that moment, my decision becomes clear to me.
*
The post van is just pulling up when we reach Igdrasil, and the postie hands Hanna a bundle of mail. We exchange pleasantries about what a fine day it is, then go indoors. Hanna sits down at the kitchen table and opens the letters while I busy myself making our morning coffee.
When I turn to set her cup down on the table, her good mood has evaporated into thin air.
Pip senses it, too. He pushes his nose against her leg, trying to get her attention.
She’s frowning at the piece of paper she holds, her hand trembling with barely suppressed anger. She passes it to me, without a word.
It’s another letter from Donald Kilgour’s lawyers, a copy of one sent to the Crofting Commission, reiterating his intention to submit a claim for her land.
I’ve come to realize how these threats must trigger so much in Hanna, which is probably exactly the desired effect.
In a way, she must feel history is repeating itself—an invader intent on taking away her land, with no respect for either this place or the people to whom it has given shelter and nourishment for centuries.
Her voice sounds weak with despair when she says, “I don’t know what to do, Ruby. Perhaps I can hold out for one more summer, but it’s only a matter of time. He knows he’ll win in the end.”
The sound of the paper tearing as I rip the letter into pieces makes her jump.
“No,” I say. “Today we’re going to write to the Commission ourselves.
I’ve done the research, and I know your rights.
You’re going to tell them that you have someone to pass the croft on to, ensuring the succession.
I want to stay here, Hanna. I want to become the custodian of Igdrasil after you’re gone. ”
She raises her head, fixing me with her unflinching gaze, and I see a tiny flicker of hope dance in the blue of her eyes.
“I appreciate I have a lot to learn,” I go on, “but you still have plenty of time ahead to teach me everything I need to know.”
“This life is hard, Ruby,” she says. “You’ve only made it through one winter—and you’ve done well, I grant you—but are you sure you want to make that commitment, to move here for good? You’ll be tied to the land. And you know how lonely it can be.”
I laugh. “The land is what makes it worth doing. And loneliness is just a state of mind. I know it can be a lot lonelier living in a city than in a community like this one. Of course it isn’t for everyone, but you know I’m almost as self-sufficient as you are, Hanna.
I want to help keep the tree of life alive here.
To make sure the corncrake and the storm petrels still have their home.
To see the wildflowers bloom each summer. ”
She’s smiling now, looking at me with an expression of newfound respect. “Honestly, Ruby, I wasn’t sure you had it in you when I first clapped eyes on you, but now I do believe you’re almost as stubborn as I am.”
I reach across and give her hand a squeeze. She holds on tight, not letting go, as if I’ve thrown her a lifeline. Her fingers are gnarled, her skin rough and weathered from her life outdoors. I smile at the sight. Because I know that one day, my hand will look the same as hers.
Hanna may think I’ve thrown her a lifeline but, really, it’s the other way round. She’s shown me I have a new reason to live.
Now that I’ve made my decision, I feel I can breathe again. I have newfound hope that I have the chance of living a long life, free from the constant anxiety of those tests and the threat of the cancer that took my sister. I’ve decided I’m going to have the surgery.
I know there’ll still be hurdles ahead. The operations will be tough, and it will take more time to heal from them, both mentally and physically.
And while it’s hard giving up the possibility of having children of my own, Jamie’s words ring in my head.
Before I came to Igdrasil, family wasn’t something I’d ever really had.
But I’ve sort of been able to make one for myself here…
the community has a way of weaving itself around you if you’re strong enough to stay on these islands.
There are many ways to make a family. And there are many ways to live your life, too.
At least the surgeries will give me an opportunity to discover what those might be.
Lucy’s death has given me this chance. Now it’s up to me to keep the promise and live for us both.