When Fate Dictates (24 page)

“What has brought all this talk about babies
on?” he said as he poured molten lead into the rectangular
mold.

“It’s just that I was thinking the other day
about my grandmother, and how I would love to have a daughter to
share things with, like she did with me.”

“Aye, well perhaps in time, Corran, we will
have a baby and perhaps it will be a daughter,” he replied
absently, filling another shot mold with lead.

“Do you remember when we found Duncan and I
told you about that story of my grandmother’s?”

He shook his head. “No, sorry, Corran, that
was a long time ago now.”

“You must remember. Without that story we
wouldn’t have known how to feed him.”

“Oh aye, I do recall it now.”

“Well I was thinking that my grandmother knew
that one day we would find Duncan. Perhaps she told me that story
so that I would know what to do when we found him.”

“Oh Corran, don’t be so silly,” he said,
laughing out loud. “How on earth could your grandmother have known
such a thing?”

“But she did know things, Simon, things that
other folk didn’t know.”

“Corran you are talking rubbish woman. I
didn’t know the lady when she was alive, but you may recall I
buried her. She was a woman, Corran, just like any other,” he said,
popping the cooled shot out of the molds and onto the table.

“Aye, perhaps you are right,” I conceded,
knowing he could not understand, even if he wanted to.

“Come on lass, I am done here for the night.
I don’t mind the idea of practicing the making of a baby,” he said
holding his hand out to me.

We awoke to the chirping of birdsong outside
our window and the glorious heady smell of fresh life and spring. I
moved across the room to the jug of water on the dresser. I washed
and dressed quickly, eager to get downstairs and outside. Spring
had come early this year and, after several hard winters and meager
summers, I did not intend to waste this promising day.

As I reached the front door, I stopped,
double taking at the figure, bent double, his back toward me,
pulling his boots on. It was Duncan, I assured myself, but for just
one moment I had thought it was Simon. Duncan with his long, red
hair stood up and smiled down at me. “Good morning, ma. Did you
sleep well?”

I nodded, a little taken by his deepening
voice. “Err... yes, thank you darling. Did you?”

“Oh aye,” he boomed, in the tone of his
father.

“What are you doing today?”

“Pa is outside with the men, I am going to
help with the planting. He said it would rain later so to get an
early start.”

“Well I do hope your pa is wrong, Duncan. I
have had enough rain to last me a lifetime. Go on, lad. Have a good
day and I will send one of the girls out with some lunch for you
all.”

The house fell quiet and I wondered what time
Shannon would arrive for the milking. She had got progressively
later and later over the past few weeks. I had spoken to the girl
on countless occasions about her timekeeping but unfortunately most
of my words seemed to be falling on deaf ears. I was fast reaching
the point where it was going to become necessary to speak to her
parents. Not bothering to wait for the girl to show up I fetched
the milking pail and set off to the shed, resigned to the idea of
doing the job myself.

Just as I had finished, a breathless Shannon
flew up to me.

“Oh Mrs. Lamont I am so sorry. I over laid
this morning and... It won’t happen again, I promise,” she
stammered, pausing mid-sentence to catch her breath.

“Shannon you have over laid every morning
this week and every morning this week we have had the same
discussion.”

“Oh I know... and I am sorry, but... I –”

“Listen, Shannon,” I said, talking over the
girl and losing patience. “If you can’t do the job then I will give
it to someone who can. I only keep you on as a favor to your ma and
pa. Do you want me to have a word with them?”

She shook her head fervently. “No, please, it
won’t happen again. I promise.”

“Well it better not Shannon, because if it
does I will definitely be going to see your pa. Here, take the pail
to the house and get the dough for the bread made.”

Eilidh came up beside me. “Good morning Mrs.
Lamont. I have the pheasants ready for the pot,” she said, holding
up a tray of cleaned birds.

“Thank you Eilidh. Would you like to come and
help me pick some vegetables to go in the stew?”

The girl smiled sweetly. “Shall I put the
pheasants in the kitchen and meet you in the garden then?”

“Aye, you do that, and would you mind
fetching the basket for me as well please?”

I enjoyed Eilidh’s company. She had a sweet,
naive way with her, much the same as her mother. Sadly, Shannon
had, over the years, used the naivety of her friend to shift blame
for her own misdoings.

“Mrs. Lamont, I have the basket.”

“Ah, thank you Eilidh.”

The first pickings of the spring crop lay
casually in the wicker basket. I looked across at Eilidh. She was a
pretty girl and showed promise of great beauty but I wondered how
much of that promise would ever flourish. It was a hard life,
farming, and not one best suited to the preservation of good looks.
“You are a pretty child, Eilidh,” I said eventually.

The girl put the vegetables in the basket and
turned to face me, her deep blue eyes catching the light of the
early morning sun. She lowered her lashes to the ground in
embarrassment and it was obvious she was not used to
compliments.

“I mean it, Eilidh. You will be a very
beautiful woman one day. Take care of that pretty face and pay no
heed to the likes of Shannon. She is just jealous.”

The girl stared up at me, wide-eyed with
shock. “Oh no, Mrs. Lamont, Shannon could not possibly be jealous
of me. She has the looks of an angel.”

I shook my head forcibly. “No, Eilidh, you
are much prettier than Shannon will ever be and you have a nature
to match your looks, which Shannon most certainly doesn’t.”

“Shannon says one day she will be as
beautiful as you, Mrs. Lamont.”

I cast my eyes to her face, wondering if she
was joking. But I had never known the girl to jest or flatter.

“I imagine Shannon would have far higher
ambitions than to look like me.”

“Oh no, Mrs. Lamont, everyone talks of your
looks,” I shook my head in disbelief.

“Well then they are silly,” I said, thinking
she had obviously misunderstood some conversation.

“Honestly, Mrs. Lamont. My ma and pa often
say how you don’t look a day older now than when you and Mr. Simon
came to the farm, and you both still have all your teeth as well.
My pa has lost two in the past six months alone.”

“Well Eilidh, that is very sweet but I am
sure I have aged just as much as your ma and pa,” I said, casting a
curious glance over the back of my hands as I reached for the
handle of the basket. “Come child, let’s get these vegetables
inside and see how Shannon is getting on.”

I was expecting to smell the heady aroma of
fresh yeast when I returned to the kitchen and I was not
disappointed. However, something didn’t feel right as I sniffed the
air of the room. There was indeed the smell of yeast but I could
see no bowl with the frothy head of the brew, no flour, set aside
for the making of the dough. Shannon swayed unsteadily against a
cupboard, her hands shooting behind her back, clearly attempting to
hide something.

“Shannon what have you been doing? Where is
the dough I sent you to make?”

“Err... I... aamm... doooing... it,” she
slurred incoherently.

“I can see you are up to something young
lady, but it’s certainly not the making of bread.” Immediately
alerted by her bizarre behavior, I moved toward her.

“What have you got behind your back Shannon?”
I demanded, reaching to grab her arm. She moved away from me,
stumbling clumsily. There was a loud crash as a clay mug fell to
the ground and the unmistakable smell of ale filled the air.

“Shannon you are drunk!” I shouted. “Is that
Mr. Simon’s ale you have been drinking?”

The girl laughed and fell forward against me.
I grabbed hold of the back of her dress and started to drag her
toward the door.

“Eilidh, can you please clear up that broken
jug on the floor and get the yeast on for the bread,” I said,
trying to stop Shannon from falling over. “And you Shannon are
coming with me; I have had just about enough now. We are going to
see your mother and father and just wait until Mr. Simon finds out
that you have had all his ale.”

The girl turned unsteadily to face me,
smiled, and promptly threw up all over the front of my skirt.
“Right,” I said, pulling forcibly on her arm, “Now we are going to
see your mother.”

With one hand I knocked on the door of my
friend’s cottage and with the other I attempted to hold the swaying
thirteen year old upright. A slight, drawn woman with a child at
her breast answered the door.

“Miriam, I am so sorry but your Shannon is
drunk,” I said, pulling on the back of the girl’s dress to keep her
upright. Her mother sighed heavily, shaking her head.

“I am sorry, Corran, I just don’t know what
to do with the girl. She is a handful and with the new baby I just
can’t cope with Shannon.”

I smiled kindly into the tired eyes of my
friend. “Don’t worry about it Miriam, but I suggest she goes to bed
and sleeps the drink off before Simon gets hold of her.” The woman
moved aside as her daughter vomited once more.

“Miriam, why don’t you go back to bed
yourself? I can take the baby for a few hours.” I looked at my
friend as her shoulders dropped. “I am so very tired Corran,” she
whispered.

“I know my friend,” I whispered, “Let me help
you, please?”

“You have enough on up at the farmhouse, you
don’t need the burden of a small baby.”

“It would be no burden, Miriam, really.”

“Oh... I just don’t know...” she started to
object again.

“Right, well that is sorted then,” I said,
ignoring my friend’s objections and pushing the drunken girl into
the cottage. Frogmarching her toward a mattress in a corner, I
pushed her firmly onto it. “Shannon,” I said sternly, placing a pan
on the floor next to the mattress. “If you are planning on throwing
up again, make sure you do it in this pan. Your mother has enough
to worry about without having to clean up after you as well.”

Then I turned to my friend, who cradled her
newborn baby weakly in her arms. “Give me the baby, Miriam? Let me
take her? I miss the comfort of a small child in my arms and it
will be my joy to have her with me for a few hours. You lie down
and get some sleep.”

“Mrs. Lamont, is that Shannon’s baby sister?”
Eilidh asked her eyes wide with concern, as I walked through the
kitchen door with the baby in my arms.

“Aye, Eilidh, it is.”

“Is Shannon’s ma alright?”

“Aye, she is fine, just weary with lack of
sleep. I am just minding the baby a while to give her a break.”

“Will Shannon be ok?”

“She is a naughty child, Eilidh, and I don’t
care to think what her pa and Mr. Simon will do when they find out
that she has been at the ale but for now she is alright.”

I raised my eyes to the kitchen window as a
loud clap of thunder shook the house. “Looks like Mr. Simon were
right,” I said, rubbing gently on the baby’s back to shift her
wind.

Eilidh had just finished packing the wicker
basket with bread, ham and cheese, ready to take out for the men
for their lunch.

“Shall I set the table instead?” she asked as
another crash of thunder emanated from the sky.

“Aye, that would be a good idea. I can’t see
the men staying out for their lunch.”

As expected, the heavens opened and the men,
black with soil from planting, made their way hastily to the house
for their lunch. The table stood prepared, set with the food and
ale. As they burst through the door, I turned to smile at my
husband. Casting a suspicious glance in the direction of my
shoulder, where the baby now lay sleeping, he headed straight for
the bucket of water. “Where did the baby come from?” he asked,
scrubbing his hands.

“It’s Miriam’s child. The woman is worn down
with the worry of Shannon and lack of sleep with the baby.”

Wiping his hands on a clean square of linen
he turned to face me. “Just remember she is not your baby,
Corran.”

I stared across the room at him, stung by his
words. “What do you take me for?”

His brow furrowed and his eyes deepened. “I
have told you before Corran, you love too easily.”

“I am just helping a friend out that is all,”
I defended.

“Aye, and I am sure she will be grateful for
your help, but if I know you, Corran, it will break your heart when
you have to give the child back.”

He was right but I was not of a mind to admit
it. “It won’t,” I said curtly. “I am just doing a friend a
favor.”

“And what has Shannon been up to now?” he
asked, ignoring my last comment. “Let’s wait for her father to come
in, shall we,” I said, not wanting to cover the details more often
than was necessary. “I think you may want to take Thomas into your
office to discuss it though,” I finished, offering a gentle hint as
to the severity of the problem.

He nodded passing the square of linen to
Hamish. “Right, well I have some work to do anyway and I’d like to
have a word with Thomas about another matter as well. Send him
through when he gets in,” he said, helping himself to a plate of
cold meat and bread.

******

August 1715

We were woken before sunrise by frantic
banging on the front door. Simon sat up, hurriedly pulling on his
trousers. “Simon, what is it?” I asked, sleepily.

“I don’t know, but they are banging loud
enough to wake the dead.”