Two Kinds Of Truth(45)

“Sure, why not? I’ve seen many wishes come to fruition.”

“You have?”

“Aye; I remember once…”

I can’t help it, I catch Jamie’s eye. I want him to share our enthusiasm, but he’s wearing an expression I can’t quite read.

“Och, it’s all just fun and nonsense,” he eventually interrupts, sounding blasé.

Rhona turns to him, a piece of cake halfway to her lips. “Really, Jamie? Since when did ye become so cynical?”

He stiffens. “Since I lost Claire.”

Rhona has the decency to look away.

Findlay lets out a cough and a splutter, and I sit him up, put down the bottle and pat him gently on his back until he stops. He lets out a huge burp. Gordon and Rhona both applaud, as though I’ve done something amazing.

“Well done, Lassie,” Gordon grins; “ye can come here again.”

“Do ye want me to hold him so ye can enjoy yir tea?” Rhona asks, stuffing the last of her cake in her mouth. I shake my head vigorously. I’d forfeit all the tea in China to have this beautiful child in my arms for just a little bit longer.

“If you’re sure,” she says.

“Oh yes, I’m positive,” I assure her. “If only you knew how much.”





Chapter 10


“Are ye ready yet?” Jamie calls from the front door of the Garden House.

“Yes, just coming,” I shout back, and slip the cloak Jamie gave me over my dress—Claire’s cloak. It’s purple on the outside and black on the inside, and has a hood, the whole garment made from crushed velvet. It’s beautiful and I’m honoured Jamie’s willing to allow me to wear it.

I move over to the mirror, dab my cheekbones with a light rose-coloured blush and then check my hair. I push a stray curl into place and press down my braids, then go over to a vase filled with fresh flowers and pluck several heads of white baby’s breath from the various stems. It’s a variety called Million Stars, my fingers quick to interweave the tiny clusters into my hair. I add a few colourful beads and finish off with a string of pale blue feathers, admiring my handiwork before closing the bedroom door and rushing downstairs.

Jamie’s standing in the doorway, waiting for me. I brush past, and as I do so, catch his stare.

“Wow, look at ye,” he says. “Ye remind me of a true pagan princess.”

I laugh and give him a twirl. “That’s the general idea. Plus, Claire’s cloak is perfect.”

His eyes appear warm and soft. “Ye look grand in it. The colour really suits ye.”

“Thanks,” I grin. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

He’s wearing black jeans and a thick jersey hoodie. It’s green, the colour of moss, and there’s a picture in the centre of his chest: a stag, around whose head are numerous Celtic symbols, which, I believe, depict woodland and the earth. A small branch covered with green leaves sits above the animal’s antlers, and below its neck hangs a pentangle.

I point to the design. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. And it’s way too cool for you.”

Jamie smirks and his fingers trace the outline of the colourful image. “’Twas a gift from Claire,” he says. “I dinnae believe in all the mumbo-jumbo stuff. I just enjoyed being with my wife and associating with those who appreciate the more natural things in life.”

I link my arm with his.

“And who can blame you? It’s good to see you’ve dressed for the occasion. After all, it’s all part of the fun. Come on, let’s go and show Claire that you still know how to enjoy yourself.”

Jamie pats my hand. “Aye, Claire knew how to have a guid time, all right.”

“And you should, too. Let today be all about being truly alive. We should appreciate this wonderful world we live in and give thanks for all it has to offer. Just for once, why not let your hair down, eh?”

Jamie pushes his fingers through his curly locks. “Aye, I suppose I’d better do as ye ask while I still have some left.”

I laugh loudly as I open the gate. I hear an engine roar into life, and there’s granda, sitting on a tractor in the yard.

“Have a guid time, young ‘uns,” he shouts over the din. I wave at him and he waves back.

“We promise to do our best,” I shout, and Jamie closes the gate behind us.

We set off down a muddy track and I take a deep breath to find the air sweet and refreshing. Even though it’s still winter the countryside is ablaze with colour. Dark green leaves from the evergreens are mixed together with luscious reds, yellowish-ambers and the deepest of bronzes. There’s a ghostly mist hanging over the mountains and a flock of wild geese fly towards the horizon.

We head through a colourful patchwork of fields and down winding lanes, over fallen logs and around bare, thorny wild rose bushes.

It isn’t the least bit cold today. Granda reckoned it’s warm because snow is on its way. I have no idea if it’s true or not, but just in case it does turn cold later, underneath my dress, I’m wearing thermals, and on my feet, fur lined boots. I’ve also brought along a small hessian bag, tucked beneath the cloak. There isn’t much inside, just my mobile, purse and lip gloss. I’ve brought a bottle of water, too. Just in case.