The Highlander's Secret(5)

Jain hummed to herself, making her way over to the stables on the other side of the house. Their cow, Fiona, was already awake and chewing cud when Jain stepped through the wooden gate. “Good morrow, girl,” she crooned.

The cow snorted lazily and continued chewing while Jain set up her stool and began milking. It didn’t take long before the pail was full. Jain patted Fiona on the neck and took the bucket with her as she closed the wooden gate. The warm milk sloshed inside the pail with every step she took, walking back around the side of the house. Her stomach was still in knots over the distressing images from her dream, but she pushed them to the back of her mind. She didn’t like thinking about it, and no good ever came from dwelling on the past.

Golden rays of dawn started to creep over the hills as she made it to the door and opened the latch to let herself inside.

Eamon and Moira were already awake, bustling about the kitchen with Aileen. Jain had grown to love Eamon and Moira for welcoming her into their home. She couldn’t have asked for more loving parents. The first few weeks had been rough for everyone. Many nights she woke up crying for her father who was slaughtered before her very eyes, but now Eamon was every bit as much a father to her as the real one had been – Eamon was there for her when she needed him.

“Good morrow, love,” Moira greeted her with a smile. A curl of Moira’s light brown hair poked out from beneath her head wrapping and fell gracefully to the side of her face.

“Good morrow, Mam.” Jain put the bucket of milk on the table, then washed her hands in the water bowl on the washstand.

Eamon patted Jain on the shoulder, grabbing a cloak from a hook by the door. He tied the bindings beneath his chin and lifted the hood above his head. Jain smiled at him. “Good morrow, Da.”

“Good morrow, Jain,” he responded. “Ye’re a good lass tending to Fiona fer me.”

She kissed him on the cheek and said, “’Twas nothing. She’s always gentle with me.”

Eamon chuckled at her affection. “That’s probably because ye’re gentle with her. I’ll be right back after I’ve finished with the coop. Ye lasses go on and start without me.”

He disappeared beyond the threshold and the door fell shut behind him. Aileen finished stoking the fire and was seated, humming a cheerful tune as she tended to the sewing. Jain turned her attention towards her mother. Moira flinched, reaching up to grab the spices and stumbled backwards with her hand against her hip. Jain rushed over and put an arm around her for support. “Mam, let me help ye with that.”

Moira opened her mouth to protest, then sank down into one of the chairs and nodded in agreement. “That could be fer the best. My hip is bothering me today.”

Aileen was on her feet as well. “Can I get ye a compress? Or a drink of water?”

“Some water would be lovely, dear.”

Aileen rushed to the pitcher to fetch some water while Jain knelt beside Moira, saying, “Mam, ye need to rest.”

Moira shook her head. “Nae, child. There’s much still needing to be done before the cold. The farm needs tending and yer da cannae do it by himself.”

“I can help with the chores,” Jain insisted. “Ye’ll make it worse if ye keep pushing yerself like this. I dinnae want to see ye getting hurt.”

Her mother patted her gently on the cheek and then kissed her on the forehead. “That’s why I love ye.”

Aileen returned with the cup of water in her hand. “Here ye are, Aunt Moira.”

Moira took the cup and drank it swiftly before setting it down on the table. “Thank ye, lass. Now I need to go and help yer da gather some eggs.”

“Mam…”

“It’s nae trouble,” Moira assured her. “Why dinnae ye get started on some bread and I’ll help when I get back?”

“Yes, Mam.”

Moira nodded with encouragement as Jain gathered supplies to get started on a loaf of bread. The skin crinkled around Moira’s eyes, offering a pensive smile. Aileen slowly made her way back to her seat and returned to her sewing project. While Jain and her cousin became occupied with their tasks, her mother excused herself to step outside into the cold.

Jain rolled her sleeves up to her elbows and poured flour through the sifting tool, collecting the chaff in a metal grate so a fine powder would fall into her mixing bowl. Jain loved to bake. A whole series of dried herbs hung from the rafter by the window. She liked trying different combinations of flavors, making each loaf a bit unique. “What are ye working on?” she asked her cousin.

Aileen held up the tunic she was repairing, showing her the tear along its hem. “Mending a bit,” she responded. “I keep ripping out the hem somehow. I wanted to have this one finished in time to wear to the festival.”

“I’m sure ye’ll look beautiful in it nae matter what,” Jain told her. “Yer stitches are so neat and even, I barely see them. Ye’re much better at it than I am.”

Aileen laughed, going back to her needlework. “All it takes is practice.”

Jain and Aileen had been nearly inseparable ever since Eamon brought Jain back from the wreckage of battle. She glanced over at her cousin quietly focused on her task and grinned, thinking about the first time they met.

Jain remembered shifting nervously from foot to foot while standing in Eamon and Moira’s home. Even as a little girl, the cottage tucked away in the highland hills along the province of Moray had seemed small to her. Like many of the other homes, the building was divided into two, separated by a wall in between. The other half of the house was where they kept their livestock because it kept them warm at night.