“How’s his pulse?” she asked a few moments later.
“Verra thready and weak, and he’s only taken a few breaths. Doesn’t look guid.”
Neil performed AR on Dougal for what seemed forever. The lifeboat from Barra arrived, was waved off, and departed. The lad’s pulse gradually faded and stopped.
Rob shook his head.
Maggie motioned Neil to stop. “I’m so sorry.” Grief drained colour from her cheeks. “He was in the water too long.”
A woman kneeling beside Rob thrust a baby wrapped in a thin blanket into his arms. She wailed and sobbed.
One of the men who had risked his life in the boiling surf knelt next to her, shivering convulsively as he clasped her to his chest, tears streaming down his wind-burned cheeks.
“Och, my laddie, my poor, poor laddie,” the woman keened, rocking back and forth. “I begged you no’ to go to sea. Och, my poor laddie.”
Rob pulled the blanket over the infant’s head and held it close, sheltering it from the cold wind.
A woman nearby removed her shawl and placed it over the baby. “’Tis Beasag, poor Katag’s last bairnie. Dougal was their only lad.”
The bairnie with the colic. He lifted the infant higher in his arms and laid his cheek against the shawl. What a terrible, heart-breaking waste. Something had to be done to stop this needless loss of precious lives.
Innisbraw would someday have her own rescue boat and, with the Lord’s help, he was going to design it.
Other carts appeared on the path from the north and bounced over the machair toward those gathered on the shore. Alec, Morag, and Hugh, the first to arrive, went from mourner to mourner, offering prayers, words of comfort, blankets, and hot sweetened tea from one of the many thermoses they brought.
***
Hugh was shocked to see Rob, clad only in a thin shirt and a pair of denims, sitting in the sand beside Katag and Gordon MacLeod who were weeping over a blanket-shrouded body. It must be their lad, Dougal. He staggered beneath the pain tearing at his heart.
Rob clutched a bairnie to his chest.
Hugh retrieved a blanket from Alec’s cart and placed it over Rob’s shoulders before kneeling beside him. “You shouldn’t be out here, lad,” he said into Rob’s ear. “You could get sick.”
Anguish filled Rob’s face. While at war, this lad had seen enough death and heartache to last a thousand lifetimes.
Hugh leaned close to hear what Rob whispered.
“He was their only lad. Och, Hugh, I’m so tired of death and dying. When is it all going to end?”
“Only our Faither in Heaven knows.” Hugh got to his feet and looked for Morag. “We’ve got to get Rob into his chair and back to the infirmary,” he said when he found her. “He’s seen too much death already and he’s still weak.”
She followed Hugh back to Rob. “I’ll take that wee lass from you now. Her auntie is in that crowd of women. She’ll see to the bairnie.”
Rob uncovered the infant’s face. Wee Beasag still slept, impervious to the havoc and sorrow going on around her. He brushed his fingertips lightly over her tiny cheek and handed her up to Morag, tears shining in his eyes.
Hugh took Maggie’s arm just as she finished adjusting the drip on Michael’s saline. “I need to get back to Katag and Gordon. Twa of the men carried Rob to Angus’s cairt. You should get him up to the infirmary as soon as possible.”
She leaped to her feet. “What happened? He was sitting there on the sand the last time I looked.”
“He’s going to be all right.” Hugh led her to the cart. “This has been too much for him. You have to remember, these aren’t the first deaths he’s seen, nor will they be the last.”
***
She pulled herself into the cart and rushed to Rob, who sat huddled beneath a blanket, head in hands. “Och, luve, I should never have let you come.” She put her arms around him. “Have you hurt yourself?”
He raised his head. “I’m fine,” he said, voice hoarse. Tremors shook his body.
Tears of relief filled her eyes when Angus climbed up onto the driver’s bench. “We have to get Rob back to bed. This has been too much.”
“I wondered about that when he came,” Angus said, “but he did a fine turn. His idea for using the cairt’s axle was grand.”
Alec leaned over the back of the cart. “We’ll put Michael into our cairt along with several of the others who have cuts and scrapes and take them up to the infirmary. You get this lad back to bed where he belongs.”
***
Maggie asked Morag and Flora to get Michael settled into a room at the infirmary while Angus wheeled Rob into his room and helped him onto the bed.
She stripped off his sandy outer clothing but left him in his pyjamas, then covered him with his regular sheet and blanket and added two more blankets.
He still trembled. “I’m no’ cold, lass,” he said as she tucked in the added blankets. “Just tired.”
She knew better. His eyes looked haunted—the look she’d hoped never to see again.
She brought him some APCs and a large glass of water, waiting until he emptied the glass. “Off to sleep.” She smoothed the forelock back from his forehead.
“Don’t know if I can,” he whispered.
He fell asleep within five minutes. Maggie located Morag and asked her to sit in a chair by his bed and come find her if he awoke.
She spent the next two hours working on the men who had risked their lives, stitching cuts, administering penicillin and tetanus shots, and sprinkling Sulfa powder over every wound.
When all of the patients but Michael were on their way home, she poured a cup of tea, and returned to Rob’s room.
“He’s slept like a bairnie,” Morag whispered. “Hugh was right. He’s seen too much death. He didn’t need what he saw the day.”
“He wanted to help but I shouldn’t have let him.”
“Och, he’s a grown man.” Morag hugged Maggie. “And grown men will do what they must. I’m thinking he’ll be fine once he’s had a guid sleep.”
After she sent Michael home later that evening, Maggie brought her comforter and climbed onto the bed with Rob. Though exhausted, she couldn’t even close her eyes. She prayed for each of those suffering unspeakable grief that night. And for Rob—that he wouldn’t fall ill or have a relapse.
***
Rob awakened just as the sun crept over the horizon. He lay quietly for a long time, praying for those who had lost someone they loved, grieving they had been unable to save even that last lad. He didn’t dwell on what it would be like to lose one’s only lad. The briefest thought was torture enough.
Maggie appeared in the doorway.
He waved her over to the bed. “Guid-mornin.” He kissed her.
“Och, you’re awake. How do you feel? Are you in pain?”
“My stomach feels like my throat’s been cut.”
She hugged him. “Then you’re really no’ hurting?”
“I’m really no’ hurting,” he said. “How about you?”
“Only my heart. I never should have allowed you to go with—”
He covered her mouth with his hand. “I’m no’ your bairnie, lass. I know what I did ultimately meant nowt, but at least I was trying. It made me feel like a whole man again.”
“Hugh was afraid you’d seen too much already to go through what happened.”
He laid his head back on the pillow. “It did bring some bad memories but that was war, Maggie, no’ the senseless loss of life because Innisbraw doesn’t have its own rescue boat. I think that’s what gets to me the most, how unnecessary ....” He reached for the trapeze and pulled himself up. “I’ll tell you, luve, I’m thinking the Lord had a hand in me being there yesterday. It made me all the more resolved to find a way for Innisbraw to have its own rescue boat.”
Maggie threw her arms around him, smiling for the first time since the ringing of the kirk bell the morning before.
CHAPTER 38
When Hugh visited
later that morning he found Rob on the stone-flagged entry, a pot of coffee on the bench and his lap filled with sheets of paper covered with notes. “I was afraid you hurt yourself yesterday, but you look guid.”
“Och, I’m fine, but I appreciate your concern. If only we’d been able to save that last lad.”
“You’ve endeared yourself to the folk for all you did yesterday mornin. Nobody can believe a man who can’t even walk would put himself out so much for folk he doesn’t know, especially after all the trouble Una caused you.”
“Don’t make me out to be somebody special. Nowt I did helped a single victim.”
“They were beyond help when they were pulled to shore, which is the way it always is—though they’re usually lost far out to sea. I’m going inside for another mug so we can share that coffee while we talk.” The minister left a folder on the bench with the name “Dougal Peadar MacLeod” printed on it.
The young lad he and Maggie tried to save—Anna and Beasag’s brother.
Hugh returned with a mug, poured it full, and refreshed Rob’s.
“Is this something you wanted me to see?” Rob held up the folder.
“It is that.” Hugh sat on the bench. “The first time we met, you mentioned starting a boat-building business on Innisbraw. I admit I wasn’t verra encouraging, for such a thought never entered my mind. But the more I think and pray about it, the more it lingers in my thoughts.” He opened the folder and handed Rob a sheaf of primary school reports. “Here, mebbe this will clarify my concerns about our wee island.”
Rob scanned the material.
Hugh took a swig of coffee and smacked his lips. “The Island Council and I tried verra hard to get Katag and Gordon to accept our help in sending Dougal to the academy on Harris, but they were too proud to accept any silver.”
“He certainly was bright. With grades like these, he could have gone far.”
“Dougal wanted to be a teacher, and he’d have made a fine one,” Hugh said, setting his mug down. “This is what brought me to see you this mornin. We must start some sort of industry here on Innisbraw so those lads who don’t want to be fishermen or crofters have another choice. It isn’t only bringing back the lads who have already left, but hope for the future.”
Sheets of paper littered Rob’s lap. “These are some design ideas for a rescue boat I’m planning to work on when Maggie has to go ... go back to duty. I’m no’ certain I’ll be around to build it after the war, so I’ll leave the plans here. That could provide work for a few lads.”
“I see.”
First Maggie, now Hugh. Disappointment followed in his wake like a spent wave collapsing on shore. “I’ll leave a list of all the materials needed. And I’ll make the plans as complete as possible.” Smile grim, he asked, “Who knows? Mebbe by the time we defeat Hitler and the Japs I will come back and do it myself.”
***
Rob didn’t attend the funeral service the following afternoon, though Maggie begged him to. “I don’t want to call attention to myself. No’ at a time like this. You all knew and luved every one of those men and lads. Everyone should be allowed to grieve for them surrounded by their own island folk.”
“You’re certain ’tis no’ because of what Una did?”
“That has nowt to do with it. If it makes you feel better, I promise no’ to leave my room while you’re gone.”
She shook her head, eyes sad. “I still think you’re wrong, but I’ll no’ argue about it.”
***
Early the following morning, Maggie contacted John by radio and left Rob to talk to him while she fixed breakfast.
“I’ve a big favor to ask,” Rob said. “You’re too busy yourself, but I need you to have someone find all the books for sale about boat-building, from the smallest to trawler size, from laying the keel to shakedown cruises. I’ll pay them for their time.”
“You’re really going to do it?” John paused a beat. “I thought ’twas only a foolish dream, but after watching your determination to walk, you’ve convinced me you’re stubborn enough to design that rescue boat.”
Rob laughed. “That’s me, sorted then. And I’m also going to write an auld acquaintance in New Hampshire who owns a lumber mill. He might be able to fill in with a book about the American Coast Guard. I’ll pay you when you tell me how much they cost.”
“Och, don’t worry about it. I’ll bring everything we can find.”
***
Rob threw himself into his work on the parallel bars, adding a lap every few days, refusing to be defeated by the passing of each day bringing Maggie’s departure closer.
Hugh visited Rob often. Maggie took advantage of the time she had to herself, working in her garden before climbing the low dyke at the back of the croft and making her way down the brae to the wide burn spilling through a shaded glen. She swallowed tears when she brushed her fingers over the curly bracken fronds and pointed willow leaves bending low over the rocky burn or gazed up at the sky, so vast and blue. It tore at her heart to think she might never bring her bairns to wade and play in the cool water or smell the acrid, earthy scent of willow and sweetness of the heather on the slopes of Ben Innis.
Help me remember this, Faither, so I can tell my lads and lasses about the pebbles shining beneath the sparkling water and the feel of the wet, peaty soil pushing up between their wee, bare toes.
***
Rob, pressured to make up his mind once and for all, often ate more than he wanted, only to satisfy Maggie. Why couldn’t he take a firm stand one way or the other? Every time he thought about coming back to Innisbraw he broke out in a sweat and his heart raced. He couldn’t allow Maggie to leave for duty without knowing if she would ever come back to her home.
He mustered the courage to bring up the subject when Elspeth was giving him his first lesson in the Gaelic.
“You mean you still think there are those besides Una who don’t want you here?” Her voice registered surprise. “I thought you had put that all behind you.”
“But Maggie’s told me there are over twa hundred folk on Innisbraw. Surely even you don’t know how each one feels about a Yank moving to their island.”
“Och, I’m ninety-eight years auld and I’ve lived on this wee island all of my life. I know every man and woman here and I don’t have to question them to know what they think about you returning. As I’ve told you before, they’re no’ like some of the folk in Scotland who continue to ignore you like an incomer even after you’ve lived in their village for years.” When he didn’t respond, she leaned closer. “Have you prayed about this, lad?”
“So much I’m thinking the Lord is tired of hearing it. You must wonder how such a coward could ever serve in the military.”
“Coward? As if I could ever think that of you.” She sat back. “Where did you get the idea that everybody will like you no matter where you choose to live?”
“What do you mean?”
“’Tis time you faced reality. I know you didn’t feel a part of the village when you were growing up, but that doesn’t mean everybody who lived there was liked and wanted. You’re still living a bairn’s dream of what it means to settle down and make a home for you and yours, and you’ve never let it change as you became a man.”
“I don’t know about that.” He exhaled loudly. “I got so tired of feeling trapped and alone I just crawled inside myself and stayed there most of the time.”
“And shut others out so you couldn’t be hurt.”
He nodded.
“What you may no’ have considered is that folk sensed your discomfort when they were having a conversation so they stopped trying. Perhaps that added to your feelings of loneliness.”
“So you’re thinking I’m having a hard time making up my mind about coming back here because of what happened when I was a lad?”
“Childhood hurts run the deepest, especially when there’s nobody to share them with. Ponder what I’ve said, lad, and continue to pray for the Lord’s perfect will.”
***
Rob prayed. During his postings at various airbases in the States and the two in England, it was clear his fellow pilots considered him a loner. Yet, if the conversations in the officer’s clubs concerned flying, they not only welcomed, but solicited his comments. Did that mean they liked him? How could he know? He’d seen respect in their eyes, but they seldom laughed or told jokes when he was around.
At the orphanage, every time he made a friend, the lad disappeared to become someone’s son—and he was alone again. It took years of pain before he learned not to allow anyone close. Losing them wasn’t worth the silly jokes, games, and shared secrets. Was protecting himself from the pain of loss worth such a lonely life?
But he had changed since coming to Innisbraw. He enjoyed talking to others now. Was it because the friends he made here weren’t involved in the war, weren’t facing death every day, so it was safe to allow them close to his heart? He doubted it. He’d been reluctant to make friends long before the war. Or was it because loving Maggie opened a door he’d slammed shut as a lad?
Och, it would be so much easier if that Hunter woman didn’t dislike him so much.
***
Angus brought them a large box John had sent on the Sea Rouk. “’Tis right heavy, it is, so you’d better tell me where you want it now before I drop it.”
“Put it on the admitting counter,” Maggie said. “And you’d best stay ’til we find what’s in it before you leave. It may have to be moved again.” Maggie read John’s note and squealed with delight. “Och, Rob, Faither has sent us a radiogram.”
“What’s a radiogram?”
She laughed, handing Angus the scissors so he could slit the sides of the box. “It plays records. He’s only sent one record but he’ll post more as soon as he can find them.”
“A phonograph,” Rob said in English.
She wrinkled her nose and lifted out a record sleeve. “I don’t believe it.” She sat in Rob’s lap and showed him. “See? ’Tis a recording of songs from Vera Lynn’s radio program, ‘Sincerely Yours.’ Och, it has ‘Till We Meet Again,’ ‘The White Cliffs of Dover,’ ‘When the Lights Go On Again,’ ‘Shine on Victory Moon,’ and even ‘Wishing.’”
“I remember hearing her music on the wireless at Edenoaks.” He grinned. “She’s a grand singer. See if you can get that radiogram out, Angus. Let’s hear some music.”