Two Kinds Of Truth(16)

“What was she like…Claire, your wife?”

Jamie turns to look at me, mid-stride, and I notice his brows knit together.

“Och, she was the most remarkable woman I ever met.”

“I bet you miss her terribly,” I say, treading carefully. “I mean…she must have been a big part of your life?”

He slows so he can walk beside me.

“Aye, I cannae deny that, and leaving me the way she did left a gaping hole in my chest where my heart should be. She was my everything,” he whispers. “My sun and moon and stars all rolled into one. She had this crazy energy about her, so full of life, and when she died, a part of me died along with her.”

I gulp and take a breath. I hadn’t expected him to be quite so honest and open.

“How long were you married, before she became ill?”

“Just short of four wonderful years. I met her at the county fair, ye ken? She was visiting an old schoolfriend and they’d travelled down for the day. She was eating candy floss when I first clapped eyes on her, and I thought her the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. Jet black hair right down to her waist, and those eyes…Wow. They were green, like ocean pools. She stared at me and her dazzling smile simply blew my breath away. It was love at first sight, for the both of us.” He lowers his head and lets out a loud sigh. “A lifetime wouldnae have been long enough for that kind of love.”

He drops to his knees.

“This’ll do here,” he says, and spreads the blanket over the ground. I hear water lapping over the tiny stones along the shore as the waves wash over them, and I sit down beside him, take off my gloves and help him unpack the lunch basket. I put two empty melamine plates onto the blanket and Jamie peels back tin foil to reveal ham and pickle sandwiches. He places them onto the plates and then fills two plastic cups with sweet white wine.

We eat and drink, side by side, in blissful silence.

I’m halfway through my second sandwich when Jamie jumps to his feet, startling me. I try not to choke, but my mouth’s full of food and I swallow quickly. I want to ask him whatever’s the matter, but before I get the chance, he picks up the binoculars. I’m busy brushing the crumbs from my fingers when he looks down at me, his eyes sparkling, a huge grin across his face.

“They’re here,” he cries, and offers me his hand.

“Who, the goosanders?” I ask, and strong fingers curl around mine.

“Aye, lassie; come see.”

I jump to my feet and he offers me the binoculars, then points to the other side of the loch. My eyes and fingers take a few seconds to get the image in focus, and sure enough, he’s right. The birds are there, right in front of me. I take a sharp intake of breath. There must be at least a hundred, maybe even two, floating on the top of the water. They’re bobbing about, preening and washing themselves, oblivious to my prying eyes. I watch a few stragglers land, their wings beating against the water passing beneath them, creating a vortex of strong ripples across the surface of the loch.

“Wow, this is truly amazing,” I say, turning my attention back to Jamie. I look down to find him lying on the blanket.

“See, I told ye,” he says, cutting a scone in half and spreading lashings of strawberry jam on both sides. “And I wager ye dinnae ken that these birds nest in trees, either.”

He’s right, I didn’t, and I raise my eyebrows in surprise.

“Honestly? Is that true, or did you just make it up?”

He laughs, and bites into the scone.

“Aye, they do,” and he swallows. “They build their nests in holes in trees, or even tree stumps.”

“But what if there aren’t any trees? What then?”

“Och, if there’s a problem, they’ll nest on the ground, find a place where there’s enough cover of vegetation.”

I purse my lips together and nod. “So, the bottom line is that they’re really not fussed where they build their nests?” I laugh, and Jamie laughs with me, and I feel there’s a connection between us. I can’t deny there’s something about him that brings out the best in me. I’m sure it’s because he’s so laidback. Then again, perhaps it’s because he’s so approachable. Whatever it is, I like it.

I turn back to the goosanders to watch their escapades until my fingers grow numb with cold.

When I can’t bear it any longer, I drag myself away to sit beside him. He’s had the sense to bring a flask of piping hot coffee, and I’m grateful when he pours me a cup. I sip the sweet liquid and enjoy the sensation as it slides down my throat, but then I notice the sun’s disappearing, that it’s getting much colder.

“So, Sassenach, how long are ye planning on staying with us?”

I shrug. “Oh, I’m not sure, perhaps just a few more days. Why?”

“Och, it’s just that the local pub’s organising a quiz night on Wednesday if ye and Callum wannae come. It’s nothing special, but it beats listening to Alasdair reminisce about his time serving in Sharjah.”

I laugh. “Don’t be so horrible,” I protest, and throw a screwed-up piece of tin foil at him, accidently, hitting him right in the eye.

“Argh,” he cries, covering part of his face and rolling around on the blanket. “That hurt.” I giggle at his schoolboy antics. He’s such an idiot.