The Secret of Isobel Key (7 page)

Lou swallowed. “Yeah. Yes, Tammy, yes, okay, he's really good looking.”

Satisfied, Tammy sat back in her seat. “Do you think I'd have a chance with him? We aren't here much longer.”

Trying to hide her own desire, Lou shrugged. “You're pretty darn hot, yourself. And weren't you the one last night singing the virtues of a Highland fling?”

Tammy giggled at the memory. “He would be perfect for that, I'll grant you.” Looking like a toddler that had just discovered the cookie jar, Tammy relaxed in her seat and gazed toward the front of the bus. “Now we just have to find a fling for you!”

“I think my fling has flown,” Lou murmured, but Tammy didn't hear.

Alexander installed Isobel in the cottage after they stole away together in the night, promising to return in three days time with a willing priest to seal their union. He left her there with enough foodstuffs to last a month, including a deer he had killed and she had roasted, and she was quite content to wait there for her love.

Days passed, and he did not come. Weeks passed, and still there was no sign of Alexander. She knew that their love was true, so instead of wasting her days worrying, Isobel worked to transform the cottage into a home. She searched the surrounding woods for herbs which would be useful to her should she conceive a child, and she gathered other plants, as well. Isobel waited there, drying her herbs and dreaming of her love until her food had almost run out. Just when she was beginning to feel an inch of concern, she heard a horse on the path.

It was not Alexander. It was her father, tears streaking his face and anger turning him a wicked shade of purple. He had grievous news, he told her, news he would rather not speak. Alexander had—

Here Isobel prepared herself for the worst: her love had died in a bar fight, her love had fallen from his horse and broken his neck. Nothing could have prepared her for the news her father had for her.

Alexander and Margaret had stolen away from the college, a few days after Isobel herself went missing. Fearing some harm had come to their youngest daughter, her parents and their friends had spent the month searching for the missing people, only to discover that Alexander had wed Margaret in secret, legally signed and authorized by the same priest he had promised to bring to Isobel, and the two were now living as husband and wife. Alexander had hidden his bride in his bachelor student lodgings, the last place anyone thought to look, so that by the time they were found, the marriage was not only witnessed by God but also consummated many times over. As he told her this heavy news, Mr. Key watched his daughter's face for some sign of her emotions. She spoke not a word, and sat still as stone. When he had finished his sad tale, he took her hands in his and squeezed them, looking into her empty eyes.

Isobel squeezed his hands back, kissed his cheek, and handed him his hat. No, she would not return with him to live in the house of her childhood. She quite liked this cottage, and she would rather not see the newlyweds just yet. Her father expressed concern for her welfare, noting that the foodstuffs were all but gone, but she assured him that she could keep herself alive, from her skill with herbs given to her by her mother and her father's years of cooking lessons. She sent him home with love for her mother and congratulations for her sister, but not a word for Alexander. She vowed that she would never speak his name again. Her sister shared her blood, and for that she must find forgiveness in her heart, someday, but for a man such as he, there was no reason to forgive.

And so she made a life for herself in the cottage that was to have been a honeymoon cottage for two souls deeply in love. She resigned, then and there, that she would never again fall under the spell of any man, and she swore that she would live out her days without knowing the pleasure of a man's embrace. It was not bitterness that caused her to make such a vow, but rather wisdom: a man had already altered her life irrevocably, and while she was determined to make the best of a bad situation, she saw no reason to plunge headfirst into any other life altering choices. Alone, she could control her own life, and she would have more freedom in her cottage than if she were to wed some man and become his wife.

Gradually, she began to venture from her solitude, and she came to know her neighbors and offer help to them when they were ailing. Her skills as a midwife brought her food, and she
went
about her business quietly. Her parents journeyed to see her whenever they could spare the time. They never spoke the name of her sister's husband, but they did bring news of Margaret herself: she was happy, she was well, she had not conceived yet, but she was still young and had much time. Unspoken in these words was the knowledge that Isobel would never bear a child in her own body; her age and isolated living situation guaranteed that she would wither without knowing the joys and pains of motherhood.

Still, she offered her care to mothers near to her cottage, and even ventured back to the village of St. Andrews from time to time. She had a marvelous record with very few stillbirths, and only one mother lost in labor. Women spoke of her kind hands and her wise ways, and men beamed with pride when she handed to them yet another healthy babe.

And so she lived, and almost thrived, through the years. She lived in this manner when first her mother, then her father, passed on. While she mourned their passing, she did not seek out Margaret at their funerals; she came late and stood alone each time, eyes cast to the ground, and by the time her father passed away, many of the villagers had quite forgotten her connection to him. She was known for her healing skills and her eccentricities, her strange insistence on absolute solitude being the most notable, but it had almost been forgotten that she bore the name of Key. Isobel did not mind the forgetfulness of the people of St. Andrews, for the sooner they forgot her family name, the sooner they would forget the scandal over her sister's marriage. Isobel relished her silence and peace, and she lived in this way through ten years, until the birth of her sister's first child.

The final day of the tour promised to be a quiet one. The rain had started falling again sometime in the night, and all the tourists seemed infected with the melancholy that had plagued Lou for weeks.

When the bus unloaded at Culloden Moor in the drizzling rain, Lou shivered. The windswept field was dull and lifeless, covered in dead grass. The cold rain suited the place perfectly.

“This, as you know, is the site of the final battle of Scotland.” Brian spoke quietly and the group arrayed themselves around him in a crescent to listen.

“The Jacobite uprising was crushed here at Culloden, and so were the clans. The field out there,” he gestured behind him to the waving grass, “bears stones to mark the fallen dead. But Culloden was such a slaughter that none of the stones bear more than the name of the clan that is buried beneath them.” He paused and looked at his audience solemnly.

A woman raised her hand and he nodded. “But if the clans were destroyed, why is Scotland still its own nation? Why didn't the soldiers try to conquer it for England?”

Brian nodded. “Remember, we are technically part of the UK, but that's a good question. The clans were broken, and the power of the Highlands would never rise again. But there have always been Scots in the lowlands, and to be honest, most of the British didn't want anything to do with Scotland.”

A man piped up. “Then why did they slaughter the clans?”

Brian sighed. “The Jacobite uprising was an attempt to take the throne of England and return it to the descendants of King James. The British fought to protect their king, not to conquer the Scottish people.”

The group glanced around the desolate field. Lou fought the urge to snap a picture; after her experience with the orbs in the shots from Edinburgh castle, she had had enough of ghosts. If any place in Scotland would be haunted, Lou thought it must be Culloden. She shivered.

“Take some time to walk about. We'll meet back on the bus in ten minutes.”

Quietly, the tourists started to walk around. After she had wandered a little ways off, Lou paused, looking at a flat gray stone with the word “MacDonald” on it.

Tammy put her chin on Lou's shoulder. “All these people. It's so sad.”

Lou nodded, glancing around the desolate field. “I think it's worse that they're buried without tombstones.”

“We know they were MacDonalds,” Tammy gestured at the stone. “That's something.”

“But wouldn't it be awful to be buried in a mass grave?” Lou shuddered. “I'd hate that.”

Tammy frowned. “I guess so. But at least the graves here are marked!”

“I don't know if I ever want to be buried.”

Tammy laughed nervously. “There's a fun topic of conversation for a vacation.”

“Something about this place makes me wonder, that's all.”

Nodding, Tammy said, “I know what you mean. It's hard not to, knowing we're standing above so many dead men.”

“Tammy,” Lou asked cautiously, “do you believe in heaven?”

Her friend looked at her oddly. “I went through confirmation, the same as you. I'd guess we believe the same things.”

Lou shrugged. “I don't know. It seems like everyone believes in some kind of life after death, but I've always thought that heaven would be boring.”

Tammy laughed. “I know what you mean. All those angels and harps!”

“
I just don't want this to be it, you know?”

Her friend frowned. “You mean, like reincarnation or something?”

“Maybe.” Lou looked down at the clan stone, resisting the urge to reach for her silver pentacle. “Maybe something like that.”

“The cold is making you crazy.” Tammy shivered. “Let's get back on the bus, I'm freezing!”

Before she followed her friend, Lou knelt down and touched the stone gently. “I'm sorry you've been forgotten here.” She whispered. Suddenly self-conscious, she glanced around. Her eyes met Brian's, and her stomach turned over. Just looking at him was enough to make her woozy. Brian looked away after a moment, but her stomach didn't calm down.

When Lou boarded the bus, he didn't say anything, but he smiled at her gently and she felt her skin warming under his gaze. What would it be like to hold him? Despite Tammy's sudden interest in the tour guide, Lou couldn't quite let go of her fantasy. She settled into her seat with a sigh and shut her eyes.

“Have ye had enough of the Highlands, folks?” Brian's voice echoed through the bus, and the tired tourists nodded and chuckled. “We'll be back in Edinburgh tonight, so just sit back and enjoy the rest of the drive. If ye don't mind, I'll put some music on to help us pass the time. There's nothing I like better,” he added, “than driving on a rainy afternoon.”

Lou smiled. Brian seemed like he loved everything about his homeland, even the rain. His enthusiasm made him even more attractive, but Lou tried to distract herself. There was no use going down that road; she didn't stand a chance with Brian.

Tammy yawned beside her. “The bed and breakfast thing has been quaint and all that, but I can't wait to get back to the hotel in Edinburgh. I think I'll take a long bath.”

“That sounds good. Will you crack open the whiskey, too?” When the group had stopped at a distillery that morning, Tammy and Lou each purchased a bottle of the rich, gold liquid. On a whim, Lou had also bought a small bottle of a liqueur made from heather, the feathery flower that seemed to grow everywhere in Scotland.

Tammy cocked her head to one side, considering. “I'd like to, but I think it'll be easier to get the stuff through customs if we haven't opened it.”

That made sense to Lou, so she nodded, but she was secretly disappointed to have lost her excuse to try something new.

“What do you think we should do tomorrow?”

Lou thought for a moment. “You don't have any more family gatherings for a while, right?”

Tammy nodded. “The next one isn't until the 30th, right before we leave on the 31st.”

Lou grinned at her friend. “I've never been in the air on New Year's. That'll be fun!”

Leaning back against her seat, Lou stared out the window. The scenery that they passed looked washed out, like a painting that has been left out in the sun for too long. Gradually, the view out the window shifted from images of simple pastoral homes to larger stone buildings.

“Well, folks, looks like we're close to Edinburgh. There's a tradition on Hamish tours. We've shared our travels, so we should share a drink, as well.”

Everyone laughed, and Brian continued.

“Once the bus is back and unloaded, we'll gather at the Lion and the Rose, just up the block from our offices. I hope you'll join me for a drink and a laugh before we go our separate ways.”

The
people on the bus cheered and clapped, and Lou applauded as well. At least she'd have an excuse to spend a little more time with Brian. Her stomach flipped when she realized that after tonight, she'd never see him again. Watching as he made his way down the aisle, chatting with each person as he passed, Lou felt her spirits sinking even lower.

“And will the Americans be joining us?” Suddenly, Brian was standing in the aisle beside Tammy, smiling down at the girls.

Tammy dimpled and looked up at him coyly. “Wouldn't miss it for the world. It's not every day we get to hang out with such a handsome Scotsman!”

Lou blushed, and Brian seemed a little disconcerted by Tammy's comment. He glanced at Lou for a moment before she turned away to stare out the window once more.

“It'll be good to have you lasses there tonight. Both of you.”

Tammy sighed as Brian moved away. “I better make a move tonight.”

Staring out the window at the cascading rain, Lou bit her lip and remained silent.