“Thank ye, lass, but Malcolm shared his tea and butteries with me and I’m verra tired.” He kissed her cheek and turned to Rob. “Get a guid night’s sleep, lad. On the morra’s mornin, the real work begins.”
“Guid-night, John. I’ll be up bright and early.”
Rob watched the doctor walk slowly toward his cottage. When the door closed, he reached for Maggie’s hand. “On you come,” he said, pulling her into his lap. I’ve something to show and tell you.”
“Show and tell again?” Her eyes revealed her apprehension.
His heart raced when he took her face between his palms.
What if Maggie didn’t luve him? He had often either hurt her or made her angry, which she had every right to be.
Perhaps she decided long ago she preferred a man without so many emotional hang-ups.
He took a deep breath and moved her face closer. “I want to kiss you, Maggie.” He tipped her chin.
Their lips met.
She tasted every bit as sweet as he remembered—even sweeter—and her lips were soft and pliant as they moved beneath his.
He pulled her closer and kissed her lips for a long time, then the sides of her mouth, her cheeks, her forehead, her pulsing throat. He groaned. Och, he was drowning in the warm-honey fragrance of heather. He tasted the salt from her tears and he held her away. “Guid tears, or bad?”
“Guid, definitely guid.”
He kissed her again—couldn’t get enough of her—wanted to lose himself in her sweetness, her softness.
But she had to hear how much he loved her.
He held her away again. “That was the show. Now the tell.” He took her hand, kissing each finger. “I luve you, Maggie McGrath. I luve you with all my heart and soul, and I always will.”
Her face glowed. “And I luve you, Rob Savage, with all my heart and soul, and I always will.”
Her tears wet his face as their lips met again.
Their kisses were gentle and sweet and so filled with mutual luve, he could barely contain his joy. After weeks of longing, of a yearning so bittersweet he could scarcely bear it, Maggie was in his arms where she belonged. He chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, smiling.
“There’s something I’ve been dying to do since that first night we met.” He rested a hand on her hair. “May I?”
She nodded.
His fingers sought the pins holding her hair. They fell to the stones, one by one. She shook her head and a mantle of soft, black, heather-scented glory surrounded him. He ran his hands through it, raised it up and let it slip through his fingers. He could scarcely contain his joy. He knew how the Selkie’s crofter felt when she sang of her undying love. She was his. Maggie loved him.
Much later, she helped him into his pyjamas, two bright spots of colour staining her cheeks. “I’ll help you with the transfer, and then I’ll—”
“Come here, luve.”
She stood before him, her chest rapidly rising and falling.
He took her hands and looked into her eyes. “I need to tell you something,” he said, fighting for control. “As you already know … Och, I want to show you how much I luve you—but no’ now. We’ll wait. Someday, I’m going to pick you up and carry you to our marriage bed. Do you understand?”
She nodded hesitantly. “I understand,” she said, her voice soft in his ears. “’Twill be hard to wait, but ’tis the right thing and a small price to pay for knowing you luve me.”
“You doubted that?”
“Aye, though I wasn’t even certain I luved you until I had that terrible dream. And even after, I feared to trust my feelings. I ... I’ve never been in love before. It was only when you were so upset about having my orders changed that I began to hope you wanted to be more than my friend.” She lowered her eyes.
He pulled her into his lap again and tilted her head up so he could kiss her soft lips. “Och, my Maggie,” he breathed when their lips parted. “I’ve never been in love either. And you getting those new orders made me realize I couldn’t live without you.” He picked up a lock and brushed the side of his cheek. “I’ve thought of kissing you a thousand times, but I wanted to be certain I could walk again. And I had to talk to your faither, assure him I would never take you away from Innisbraw.”
“The talk appears to have gone well.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “As for being your friend, I want us always to be best friends, for that’s the foundation for a lasting luve.”
“It is that.”
He grinned. “Then help me with the transfer before I lose control and ruin a guid friendship.”
She leapt up and wheeled him into position. “Are you certain you can make it? ’Tis much later than usual and I know you’re verra tired.”
“I’ll make it.” He grabbed the bars and pulled himself up as she guided his legs. Not a single bead of sweat. He could have flown into bed.
She pulled the sheet and blanket over him, and sat on the side of the bed. She leaned over, soft breath caressing his cheek, and kissed his forehead and cheeks, lowered her lips to his, their kiss gentle, and filled with mutual longing.
“Guid-night, my Maggie, my luve.”
“Guid-night, my dearest Rob.”
CHAPTER 25
Rob couldn’t sleep.
Overcome with joy and gratitude, he couldn’t even close his eyes. At last, he knew how it felt to love and be loved. Thank Ye, Faither, thank Ye for my Maggie.
A strange, new sensation tingled on his face. He touched his cheek with a fingertip.
Wetness?
Tears?
He brought his arm over his eyes and sobbed for the parents he couldn’t remember, for all the days and nights he spent surrounded by others and yet so alone, for the countless young airmen who made the ultimate sacrifice. He wept until his breath came in broken gasps.
Maggie crawled onto the bed beside him. “’Tis all right.” She nestled close, cheek on his chest. “Tears are guid for the soul,” she whispered. “They water the seeds of joy.”
It was time to tell her everything.
His fingers sought her hair. “I know I’ve hurt you by holding things from you, but I want to tell you now.”
“What things?”
“My parents.” He took a ragged breath. “My mither and faither.”
“Only if you’re certain you’re ready.”
“As ready as I’ll ever be. I’ve never told this to anyone, no’ even Den.”
“You’ve never shared your grief?”
“I’ve wanted to so many times, but I couldn’t. Not since I was a bairn. I couldn’t cry when I watched my crewmen, bright young lads I considered family, being carried off on stretchers with blankets pulled over their heads, or saw planes go down piloted by men I’ve known for years.” He fingered a lock of her hair. “I couldn’t even cry when I thought I might be losing you. I’ve spent hours with my eyes burning and the tears so ready I felt like I was being torn in twa, but they wouldn’t come.”
“Och, luve, no wonder you’ve always had a sadness deep within your eyes. Everyone needs to cry. ’Tis a release our Lord built inside to help us bear our grief.”
“You can’t imagine what your luve means to me. I’ve never truly belonged to anyone until now.”
She sat up, eyes swimming with tears. “Then tell me now and we’ll cry together.”
He almost lost himself again. His chest heaved with the effort to breathe. “My … my mither and faither were killed in an automobile accident when I was a wee bairnie. I survived the crash somehow. Neither of my parents had family. I grew up in an ... an orphanage.” He reached for her.
She closed her eyes and returned her cheek to his chest.
He could remember the orphanage so vividly, could still smell the pungent odor of caustic cleansers, the fishy odor of tinned tuna—one of the staples in a monotonous diet, prepared in oily casseroles or spread sparingly on thin slices of dark bread—and the scent of urine lingering
in the hall outside the nursery.
And the noise. Thundering feet on old wooden floors and stairs, the constant babble of voices, babies crying, the squeak of un-oiled hinges every time someone opened or closed a door.
The constant confusion became harder and harder to bear as he grew older. The feeling of not belonging there, of not belonging anywhere, grew worse, especially after he spent almost a year in a real home with a man and woman who called him Son.
He cleared his clogged throat. “When I was five, a couple took me home with them. Said they wanted to adopt me.” He took several deep breaths. “It was wonderful. They had a bedroom fixed up, filled with toys and books. Even a shiny new bicycle on the back porch they wanted to teach me to ride. They showed me how to play games I’d never heard of, took me for walks and to Sunday School, and taught me a special bedtime prayer. Gave me a red wagon and even a pup. I named him Shep. He slept with me.”
“But something happened,” Maggie said, voice soft.
His chest heaved again. “Aye,” he gasped. “I don’t know what. The day before I was to start first grade they called me in from the front yard. I’ll never forget their faces. They were so serious and I could tell they’d both been crying. They told me they couldn’t keep me, that they were taking me back to the orphanage.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And they did take me back. All the way there in the car, I felt numb, like something inside me died. I couldn’t even find the words to tell them guid-bye. I wish I’d been aulder, braver. I never did ask them why. But I didn’t need to. I wasn’t the lad they wanted after all. They were always trying to make me laugh, but it was hard and I knew I hadn’t laughed enough.”
“That couldn’t have been the reason.”
“Mebbe no’. But to a lad almost six it seemed logical.”
“They never came back? Even to explain?”
“No’ even once. After that, I don’t think I laughed, really laughed, for years. And I never could cry.”
“Did anyone else choose you?”
“No, I ...” Memories shuffled through his mind like the pages of a photograph album turned too quickly: blurred images of disappointed faces and heads shaken as couples looked sadly at one another before turning their backs and leaving him alone again.
When he was young, he took each rejection hard, but as he matured, if he felt anything, it was relief. Never again would he love and lose. By the time he became a teenager, the interviews stopped and he found that secret, safe spot within himself where he felt nothing.
“Rob, please don’t go away from me.”
Maggie’s tearful plea broke into his thoughts.
“Quite a few were interested but after spending time with me, they all decided I was too serious, too quiet. The aulder I got, the fewer times I was called to meet with visitors. By the time I was eleven or twelve, the interviews stopped.”
“Och, how could you survive such rejection?” She buried her face against his chest, tears wetting his pyjama top.
“Please don’t cry, lass. The staff didn’t mistreat me. They tried their best, but there were just too many bairns and never enough silver. One young lass, Beth was her name, made certain I said my prayers at bedtime and even brought me books from the local lending-library.” The memory softened his sorrow. “I devoured them. Couldn’t read enough, for those books took me to places I never imagined existed—places far, far away.”
An image of Beth’s plump, dimpled face swam before his eyes. Always smiling, always happy. And it was Beth who arranged the outing that changed his life.
“And one day when I was seven, twa flying barnstormers came to a nearby farm. All us aulder lads were crowded into cars to see them perform.” He paused, caught up in the wonder and joy of that special day. “I watched those twa auld Jennies take off and land with their paying passengers, the tall grass shivering from the spinning propellers, the smell of castor oil they burned making my nose tickle. I had no silver in my pockets, but in my imagination I made every flight they took.”
She raised her head, smile filled with understanding. “And you wanted to fly from that day on.”
“Och, and I did! I flew my bed, my desk. I even flew an old Sycamore tree out in the yard until I broke my arm in an unexpectedly rough landing. But that didn’t stop me. I had it bad.” He scrubbed his face on his sleeve.
“When did you actually get to fly?”
“No’ till years later. But the most amazing thing happened when I was twelve. A United States senator stopped at the orphanage on one of his campaign tours. I’m sure he only stopped for the pictures and publicity, but his visit changed my life forever.”
“How could that be?”
“For some reason, he took an interest in me. I was the tallest lad there by far, so mebbe I was hard to miss. He was easy to talk to, didn’t ask personal questions, only wanted to know my favorite subjects in school. I had a hard time answering because I luved them all—Languages, Science, Math, English, History, Wood Shop. Before I could stop myself I even blurted out my secret desire to become a pilot. I must have piqued his curiosity, because he started writing me several times a year. By the time I was seventeen and graduated from high school, I had a stack of letters from him. I still have them, plus others. We corresponded for years.”
“Then what happened?”
“Something I still find hard to believe. Senator Keyes sponsored me for admittance to West Point Military Academy.”
“You were finally chosen.”
He kissed her forehead. “I was finally chosen. And had the grades to make it.”
“And your chance to fly.”
“That’s right. Four years later I was a commissioned second lieutenant in the Army Air Corps with a train ticket to Flight Training School at Randolph Field in Texas. And the rest is history.”
***
Maggie lay silent for a long time, heart aching with mind pictures of that lonely, love-starved lad. She understood now why he couldn’t talk about his past. He had hidden from the pain so long a deep scar covered the still-raw wound.
She sat up, looking down at him. “No wonder you’ve always felt socially awkward. You never had the normal experience of verbal give and take, of expressing yourself with confidence to your family, to those who would love you no matter what you did or said.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
She gazed into his eyes. “Someday Rob Savage, you’ll have that family of your own. I want a whole croft-full of bairns. I want eight.”
“Eight?”
“Aye, eight.”
“But Maggie, you’ll be pregnant for years.”
“With your bairns. You have your dreams. That’s my dream.”
He pulled her into his arms, head buried in the hollow of her throat. His husky whisper tickled. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
***
Maggie stayed until Rob’s breathing deepened. She slid from the bed and groped her way through the half-light to her room. She knew she wouldn’t sleep.
She knelt beside her bed, remembering her grief when her mother died. But she had her faither and Calum. How could Rob bear losing both faither and mither?
And unlike her, he had been so wee, he had no memories to sustain him. She buried her face in the quilt, allowing the tears to fall, beseeching the Lord to ensure Rob never felt alone again.
***
John gave Rob a thorough physical and watched him do his leg lifts. “I’d say you’re almost ready for the last steps before I put you on the parallel bars,” he said when they sat on the entry that evening. “Your incisions have healed verra nicely and you feel the pin prick all the way from your hips to your toes. You’ve made an astonishing recovery.”
“I had a lot of encouragement.” Rob squeezed Maggie’s hand. “I wonder if you could do me a wee favor.”
“A favor, is it?” John snapped his fingers. “Och, I forgot to tell you about the wireless radio I promised to bring. There isn’t a single one to be had in Ed
inburgh. Several of those working at the Royal Infirmary live across the Firth of Forth in Dunfermline or Kircaldy, so I have them asking about. I’ll let you know when I have any news.” He studied Rob, his gaze penetrating. “Now, what’s this favor?”
Rob couldn’t fault him for being suspicious. “I want you to talk this lass into going to kirk with you on the mornin. She’s only been twice and, besides hearing Hugh’s teaching, she needs to get outside more.”
John grinned. “That sounds like an excellent idea. Maggie, we’re going to kirk on the morra.”
***
John assured Maggie it was perfectly safe to leave Rob alone and he could see no reason why he had to stay on the entry. “Let him either wait in his room or outside, whatever he wishes.”
Though still concerned, Maggie acquiesced and at 0930 she and her father left Rob on the entry while they walked down the path. A few wispy clouds parted for the brisk wind. Invigorated by the salty breeze, she listened as her father spoke about some of his work at the Royal Infirmary and the rumor they were thinking about adding on yet again to the frequently altered establishment.
“For a place of healing that was begun in the seventeen hundreds, that institution has outgrown its surroundings and moved more than most tinkers,” he lamented. “I just hope they’re no’ thinking about another move before I’m ready to retire.”
Maggie knew better than to ask when that might be.
When they reached the kirk, men and women greeted John, relating how sorely he had been missed.
Susan Ferguson ran to Maggie’s side. “’Tis so guid to see you at kirk again.” She kissed her cheek. “With Janet, Siobhan, and many others off to war jobs, ’tis so different from when we were young lasses. I was just telling Mark this mornin how much I miss blethering with you.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to come up to the infirmary for that blether.” Maggie returned her childhood friend’s hug.
“That’s what Mark told me, but you must be run ragged with a patient to look after and I never know when would be a guid time.”
“I hang the wash every Monday mornin around 1100 hours while Rob’s having a rest in bed. Come around to the back of the infirmary and keep me company.”
“I will. Och, Mark’s waiting. See you later.”