“No Selkie, basking on the rocks?”
“That’s only an old tale.”
Her fading smile reined-in his impetuous tongue. “Then get back to the bow and drink it all in. You’ve waited almost five long years for this.”
“I have no need to see it. I’ve come into this harbour every hour of the day in all kinds of weather. I’ve seen it with the sky louring where the island looks dark and most mysterious, all in shadow. And on a misty day where ’tis like seeing a magical place with only bits and pieces revealed at a time because you couldn’t bear to look on its beauty all at once.” Her eyes soft with memories, face so filled with delight.
A tremor ran through his body.
“Most of the folk on Innisbraw are here and I saw Angus McPhee with his cairt and cuddy waiting on the path. Angus is Sim’s faither. Malcolm must have radioed ahead so we’ll have help getting you up to the infirmary.”
He cleared his throat. “What’s a cairt and cuddy?”
“Och, I forgot again you don’t speak Scots. A cairt is a cart and a cuddy is a horse, especially one used to pull a cairt.”
“Wouldn’t an automobile or truck be faster?”
That delightful laugh again. “There are no roads on Innisbraw, only wide paths. There’s never been any kind of car or truck here.”
No roads? No automobiles? He’d not only be stranded for an indefinite time on a tiny piece of real estate surrounded by water and with no telephones, the only way to get around was on foot or in a cart. But he couldn’t complain now and ruin her homecoming. “You mentioned people waiting. Anyone in particular?”
“Aye.” She shielded her eyes from the sun. “Remember when we first met, I told you a friend made soap and sent it to me? ’Tis Elspeth NicAllister. She’s ninety-eight and ’tis hard for her to make it down from the fell on foot. Angus must have brought her.”
The boat bumped the dock.
She fell against him.
He could not stop himself. His arms encircled her, face buried in the hollow of her throat. She smelled so sweet, so warm. He longed to feel her lips against his again. She would taste as sweet as the fragrance of her skin and hair.
It took every ounce of resolve he could summon to transfer his hands to her arms so he could help her up.
Her cheeks flushed bright red.
He forced himself to break the uneasy silence. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “Did I hurt you?”
“Not at all.”
She smoothed wisps of hair from her face and brushed at wrinkles in her skirt.
“You’re sure you’re all right?” he asked again, struggling to stay focused.
“Of course.” Her hands trembled as she fastened the top button on her cape.
He had to do something, say something.
“You’re home, Maggie, lass.” Malcolm’s booming voice saved him. “Move that chair over here, lass, and I’ll lift Rob. Sim’s got us all tied up to the dock.”
“Wait,” Rob said. “I’d better stay on this stretcher. I’m no sailor, but I’m even a worse horseman.”
Maggie rolled her eyes. “You aren’t going to ride—och, you did it to me again.” She smiled, her nose wrinkling in delight as it always did when he teased her. “But he’s right, Malcolm. The cairt ride is rough. ’Tis easier on his back if he’s lying down.”
“Whatever you say, lass.” He dropped a canvas bag stenciled Royal Postal Service to a woman waiting on the dock. “Put down the wide plank, Sim, lad. We don’t want to drop Rob in the water.”
Rob rolled his tense shoulders and neck. “Let’s get it done. My bottom’s killing me.”
“You’re sure it’s no’ your back?” Maggie asked.
“Definitely lower. And to think you prayed I’d really feel something.”
“We all did. And our prayers were answered.”
Her statement of faith sobered him. Another thing that set them apart. He’d been firmly grounded in Christianity as a small child, but her trust in God always to answer prayers went far beyond his experience as an adult. Sure, he prayed when he was in a tight jam, and sometimes he came out okay and sometimes he didn’t.
He also prayed silently beside the bed of every man he visited in the base hospital. Not all of them made it. Had God said no? How could he know He heard?
Exhausted, the confusion overwhelmed him. He forced himself to look around as Sim and Malcolm lifted the stretcher, carried him across the deck, and down the gangplank to the dock.
Innisbraw stunned his senses with vivid colors: the brilliant sapphire sky, sparkling turquoise water in the shallows, glittering white sands. An enormous hill rose in the distance, its sides blanketed with soft green. And all around, the dazzling emerald of new spring growth, broken by patches of brilliant yellow, pink, white, and red wildflowers fighting for footholds among rocky outcroppings. The lack of trees and the profusion of rocks gave it a stark beauty, but this island offered far more than he expected.
Scores of people lined the sides of the pier and spilled over onto the narrow, sandy shore below. Their faces mirrored their delight at welcoming home one of their own.
Most of the women wore high-necked, calf-length, floral cotton dresses and knitted shawls. Some red-haired, a few brown and two or three blonde, but most black-haired and fair-skinned with rosy cheeks and lips and blue, blue eyes.
The men were clad in a variety of tweeds and tightly woven wools with flat, small brimmed caps on their heads. Some wore vests, others sweaters. There were a few white-haired old men wearing plus-fours tucked into fishing boots, or knitted stockings and heavy brogans. Wide, colorful braces held up their pants.
Children darted about. Boys in sweaters and shorts, feet bare, hair slicked back and still damp from water and comb. Girls wearing skirts and sweaters or dresses, hair in braids or flowing loosely down their backs. Apart from their fair skin and ruddy cheeks, they reminded him of kids from his childhood.
The crowd parted to make a path for the stretcher.
The people they passed smiled and nodded and he tried to return their smiles.
A middle-aged woman with her graying hair pulled into a tight bun at the top of her head looked grim, her expression making her stand out from the others. She greeted Maggie with a pat on the arm, but when she stared at him, her thin lips turned down in a sneer. Her look of contempt reminded him of an old-maid English teacher who didn’t believe in giving any male student an A no matter how well he did.
Maggie stopped often and exchanged embraces and kisses, her laughter falling easily on his ears, happiness and delight so evident.
What would it be like to be loved by so many?
She stopped at the end of the pier and asked Sim and Malcolm to lower the stretcher.
A tiny, very old woman leaned on a cane, a smile of welcome lighting her lined face. The white braids wrapped around her head reflected the sun like a shining halo. Her worn, simple, floral dress and faded blue shawl spoke of humility. She held out her arms and Maggie stepped into her embrace.
They hugged one another, tears slipping down their faces.
The woman pressed Maggie away, touching her cheek. “They didn’t feed you enough, lass,” she said in heavily burred English, voice low and pleasant.
“Och, Elspeth, you always say that.”
“The truth is always fitting.” She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. She stepped forward, cane tapping on the boards, and stood over him, her keen gaze reaching into his soul.
This must be how his gunners felt when a German Fw 190 came straight at them, guns belching fire. His face burned.
The crowd quieted. Not a whisper or cough. He could be lying at the feet of royalty by their reaction.
Her smile was so bright it radiated warmth that settled into his bones.
He relaxed.
“So, you’re our Maggie’s Rob. John radioed you were coming.” She knelt and rested her tiny, gnarled hand on his, her touch warm an
d soothing. “Welcome to Innisbraw, Rob Savage. May your stay here fulfill all your expectations and much, much more.”
He hadn’t been this tongue-tied since a teenager. “Thank you.” His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears.
Her faded blue eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled again. She turned to Maggie. “Help me up, and then you’d best get this lad to the infirmary. It’s been a long day at sea for the both of you.”
“You’re right,” Maggie said, “we must get settled in. Will you be coming with us, Elspeth?”
“On you go. I’ll catch you up on the mornin after you’ve both had a guid, long rest.” She kissed Maggie’s cheek. “Och, I almost disremembered to tell you, our Hugh wanted to be here, but he’s meeting with one of our aulder folk with a spiritual problem.”
“I wondered where he was.”
“He did ring the kirk bell to tell everyone the Sea Rouk had been sighted on the Minch. He said you’d understand.”
“Of course.”
***
The ride up to the infirmary was amazingly short and the climb gradual, though the hard, wooden bottom of the cart sent a sharp pain through his back with each jarring bounce. They passed several stone buildings, one with a Scots flag snapping from a tall pole in the breeze.
The only home they passed, a quaint, thatch-roofed, stone cottage, stood high on the north side of the path, overlooking the harbor. Two rocking chairs and a table with a pot of bright pink flowers offered a warm welcome on the covered porch. Lace curtains lined the windows and a riot of colorful flowers filled the front yard behind a low stone wall.
“That’s Elspeth’s home,” Maggie said. “She’s lived there all her life.”
So tired he could barely think, but curious about the old woman Maggie obviously loved, he asked, “She never married?”
“Och, no. She says the folk on Innisbraw are her family. They keep her on her knees so long every day, there’s never been any time for a family of her own.”
“On her knees?”
Her eyes softened. “Elspeth prays for each and every one of us at least once a day. By name.”
“Everyone on Innisbraw?”
“Every man, woman, lass, lad, bairn and bairnie—baby—and of course, those away at war or jobs.”
It was getting harder and harder to speak. “That’s how many people? A hundred? More?”
“A wee bit over twa hundred right now. But the way things are going, with the U-Boats keeping our trawlers from fishing the Atlantic and the young folk either in the military or at war-related jobs—and the aulder men taking their families and moving away to find work—once this dreadful war ends, there’ll only be the auld folk here.”
The cart bounced off the path toward a large, imposing, single-story building, its stone walls pale gray and its many deeply recessed windows reflecting the light. Instead of thatch, dark clay tiles adorned the roof. A broad, flat-stoned porch, surrounded by a low railing, stood in front of the wide plank door. Once again, lace curtains graced each window and here and there pots of pink, white, and lavender flowers offered a bit of color. A stone chimney rose above the rooftop at each end of the building. This looked more like a very large home than any hospital he had ever seen.
“Here we are then.” Maggie leaped from the back of the cart. “I’m sure everything’s ready, but I’ll just have a quick peek before we take you inside.” She ran up the steps.
“I’ll go see if the lass needs any help,” Malcolm said, climbing down from the bench.
Maggie opened the door wide and Rob caught a glimpse of shining wood floors and white walls through the slatted sides of the cart before she disappeared, Malcolm at her heels.
Angus, his ruddy face wreathed in a smile, tied the reins over the brake handle and turned in his seat. “’Tis a fine day, what with the sun. ’Twill be guid to have the summer at last.”
Rob nodded in agreement. Maggie had warned him that few of the islanders knew English, but Angus spoke enough to be understood.
It was obvious where Sim got his red hair and blue eyes. He estimated Angus’s age to be around forty. His calloused hands and wiry frame evidenced toiling long and hard to make a living on his croft.
Angus took a small pipe from his shirt pocket and shook some tobacco into it. He glanced back at Rob. “Should I smoke my pipe, then, you being sick and all?”
“No problem. Like the smell of a pipe.” So much effort for so few words.
Sim poked his father in the ribs and laughed. “You said the right thing, Colonel Rob. Faither does luve his clay pipe, but he canna smoke in the hoose. Mither winna abide it.”
Maggie appeared in the doorway, Malcolm behind her. “Everything’s ready,” she said, as they hurried across the porch and down the steps. “There’s even scotch broth and bannock in the kitchen. Flora picked the best room for you, Rob. It has a grand view of the harbour and fell.”
Hang on, you’re almost there … hang on.
Angus took a hurried draw on his pipe, tapped it clean on the sole of his boot, and returned it to his pocket before he and Malcolm took care unloading the stretcher. Maggie walked beside Rob as they mounted the steps, and stood aside while they maneuvered the stretcher through the wide doorway.
He was so tired his mind couldn’t register another impression. There’d be weeks, months even, to explore the interior of the infirmary. Right now, he wanted to lie in bed where he could close his eyes and lose himself to sleep.
She led the way down a wide hallway and indicated an open door at the end. “This is the largest patient’s room in the infirmary with twa windows overlooking the harbour. Isn’t that grand?”
He could no longer respond to her enthusiasm.
She leaned over him. “Are you hurting? What’s the matter?”
He tried to speak. Couldn’t move his lips. He attempted to shake his head, but his muscles no longer obeyed. Sinking, sinking.
“Hurry,” she said, voice hollow and muted. “Put the stretcher on the side of the bed. Malcolm, you take his legs, Angus, support his back and I’ll take his head and shoulders.”
She could hurt herself.
The sun hid behind a cloud.
Her face blurred.
No pain. Floating, floating free into the welcoming darkness.
CHAPTER 12
A dream startled Rob from sleep. He looked at the wall beside his bed. White, not gray. Where was he?
A flutter of movement caught his attention. A window just beyond the foot of his bed was open a few inches. Lace curtains billowed inward on an ocean-scented breeze.
Innisbraw.
Curious, he looked around.
His breath caught.
Maggie slept on a chair pulled up beside his bed, head resting on the sheet beside him. Her hair spread over the blanket and spilled down the side of the bed in lustrous ribbons of black.
Had to be another Selkie dream.
She stirred and looked up.
He knew it was no dream when she leaped up and leaned over him. “You’re awake. How do you feel? Are you in pain?”
“Just thirsty.” Mouth’s so dry, I sound like a bull-frog.
A blue robe, belted loosely over a long white gown, matched the color of her eyes, but her hair left him speechless. It fell in black waves over her shoulders and down to below her waist. He picked up a lock, running its silky length through his fingers.
Her cheeks flushed. “Och, you’ve caught me. I’ll give you some water, and get dressed. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“Don’t go.”
Her throat convulsed, but he couldn’t make his fingers release that curl.
“Last night, you had a bad dream and cried out. I’m across the hall, and with the doors open, I heard you.”
He cleared his throat, stalling for enough time to paint a permanent picture of her in his mind. “I ... I didn’t mean to go away from you again. I just couldn’t stop myself.”
“You didn’t go away, Rob. You fain
ted.” She squeezed his hand. “If you’ll let go of my hair, I’ll pour you some water before you dry up and blow out the window.”
Still reluctant, he let her hair slip through his fingers.
She poured water from a pitcher on the bedside table. She didn’t crank up the head of the bed, but sat next to him and lifted his shoulders, placing a large glass to his lips.
The scent of heather intoxicated him and he choked while draining the glass in hasty gulps.
She smoothed the wrinkles from his pillow before laying him down. “Better?”
“Best water I’ve ever tasted.”
“’Tis the peat in it. But I’m thinking you could drink another.”
One glass had quenched his thirst but the thought of her arms around him and the sweet scent of her hair brought an eager nod.
“I’ll put the head of the bed up first so you can reach the water whenever you like.”
Caught. This was no naïve girl, but a canny Scots nurse. She must have noticed how the proximity of his face to that tangle of black hair affected him. She’d never let him see her hair loose again.
She cranked up the head of the bed and poured him another glass before replacing a square of linen over the top of the pitcher. “Now, you can drink as much as you want. I’ll get dressed and make you something to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
His words caught her halfway across the room and she whirled around. “No’ hungry?” She hurried to his side. “Where are you hurting? And don’t give me any of your blether this time. If you’re no’ hungry after so long without food, you’re in pain.”
He massaged his temples. “Only a headache. Slept too long.”
“I’ll get you some APCs. There’s no reason to suffer in silence. Haven’t you learned that by now?”
When she returned with the aspirin, she looked so beautiful, he fought the urge to bury his face in her fragrant hair.
“You lie there and rest while I get dressed. Mebbe by then you’ll have your appetite back.” She left.
He’d fainted. How embarrassing. Grown men didn’t faint. Passed out, maybe.
The crisp, saltiness of the sea filled the room as the curtains moved rhythmically in the breeze. He took a deep breath, stretched his arms over his head, and inched his legs apart. He drew his legs together before moving them even farther apart. A little progress there.