The Lost Soul Read online

  “The laird’s conditions. I knew I could probably convince my da to try and change Amos’s mind. But I was equally confident that Amos wouldn’t budge.”

  “Ye’re absolutely right. This was the only way.”

  “But Grandda, what if the laird takes the farm from us.”

  “He won’t.”

  “But he said—” started Noah.

  Her grandfather interrupted. “He said he believed it takes more than two people to run this farm. That’s all. Then Margaret made that beautiful, impassioned plea. I’ll warrant there isn’t a man alive who could have said nay to her. Watch yerself, young man, she’s yer wife now.”

  Noah laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Her grandfather bent to pick up a cask of heather ale. “Well, now all we have to do is tell yer parents.”

  “We?” asked Margaret, more than a little surprised.

  “Aye, we. I want to stand with ye to show my support. Then, when they come ’round I want to be there for the celebration. That’s why I’m taking the ale.”

  “Ye had it ready to go?” she asked. “Ye were that sure we’d handfasted?”

  “I only hoped. If ye hadn’t, I’d have drowned my sorrows in it.”

  Noah laughed. “Well then, let’s go. I’ll carry the cask for ye.”

  “But we haven’t had breakfast,” said Margaret.

  “Ah well, that’s yer punishment for defying the laird,” said her grandfather with mock severity.

  “Fair enough,” she said with a grin.

  When they reached Noah’s home, David saw them coming and met them halfway across the yard. “Noah, where have ye been, or need I ask?”

  “I met Margaret in the night and we handfasted. Da, I love and respect ye, but I couldn’t risk—”

  “—Amos’s stubborn self. I know.”

  “Now, David,” said her grandfather, “ye know this was the best outcome.”

  At that moment Noah’s mother rushed from their cottage. The words that spilled from her lips surprised everyone. “Oh Noah, ye’re home. Please tell me ye married her.”

  “We handfasted,” he answered.

  “Good enough,” she said opening her arms to Margaret. “I couldn’t be happier.”

  Margaret returned the embrace but Noah’s father continued to scowl.

  “Mary, he defied the laird.”

  “He did not,” she said indignantly. “Ye gave yer permission, and now Amos is bound to give his.”

  “Because he married before ever even talking to Amos.”

  She waved her hand as if brushing away an annoying insect. “Details.”

  “Ye can’t stay angry, David. What’s done is done,” said her grandfather.

  “But Amos’s farm, who wouldn’t want his son to gain that?”

  “Yer son will have it. Just not Noah. It’ll be Paul or William,” said Mary.

  “Not if Amos backs out entirely,” he countered.

  “He won’t,” said her grandfather. “Yer sons are some of the finest young men in the clan. He knows that.”

  “Besides,” added Mary, “Nell is still a child. And she’s mooned over William since she was a wee thing.”

  Finally David gave in. “Very well. As John said, what’s done is done.” He smiled and opened his arms to Margaret as well.

  Then, just as her grandfather predicted, a celebration followed. It wasn’t fancy, but it was festive.

  There was a tense moment when Amos arrived, his wife and three daughters in tow.

  “Amos,” said David, “we need to talk.”

  Amos looked a bit confused by the fete that seemed to be underway, but he nodded. “Aye, we do. Yesterday I sought the laird’s permission to formalize a betrothal between Noah and Nell.”

  David nodded. “I had heard that. The laird mentioned it to John last eve.”

  “I see,” said Amos. “That does make things awkward.”

  David frowned “Why?”

  Amos looked uncomfortable. “Well, today he came back to see me. He said he’d given the matter a lot of thought and he believed William would be a better choice.”

  Mary gasped, “Did he?”

  “Aye, and after discussing it, I think so too. It’s nothing against Noah, mind ye.”

  “Of course not,” said John, “And I absolutely agree that William is the best choice.”

  “Then we have a betrothal?” Amos asked.

  “Aye we do. Now we’re having a celebration. Please join us.”

  “What are we celebrating?” asked Amos.

  “A betrothal for one,” said David.

  “But ye didn’t know about it until just now.”

  “Sir,” said Noah, “We are celebrating my marriage to Margaret. Nell is a lovely wee lassie, but that’s just it, she is a wee lassie. Please forgive me, but I have loved Margaret for years, and couldn’t stand the thought of not taking her as my wife.”

  Amos blustered for a while but then agreed that it was all for the best and he and his family joined the celebration which lasted well into the evening.

  Margaret was happier than she deserved to be. Being here married to Noah, at his side, her hand in his, felt like Heaven. She smiled remembering what Gertrude had said, “No one deserves Heaven. That’s rather the point isn’t it? Heaven is a gift.”

  “Thank ye,” she whispered to the night.

  Epilogue

  It was harvest time again only this year Margaret wasn’t able to help as much. She had given birth to their son in late June. She had experienced love in many ways over the last year, but once she held that wee life in her arms, she believed she finally understood the full nature of unconditional love.

  It was a cool, breezy but sunny day and she was doing the wash instead of tying sheaves, the baby asleep in a basket nearby. To her surprise she heard the jingle of a horse’s tack from the front of the house. She frowned. Noah hadn’t ridden to the field. The horse was in the paddock.

  The baby began to fret so she lifted him out of the basket and walked to the front of the cottage to see who was there.

  A woman wearing a voluminous black cloak, was clambering off of a pony’s back.

  Margaret called, “Good day, goodwife. Tis a brisk afternoon, can I offer ye a warm tisane?”

  The woman turned to face Margaret, the hood of her cloak slipping off her head. “While that sounds perfectly lovely, I won’t tarry today. I’ll just give my pony a wee rest if ye don’t mind.”

  “Gertrude?” Dear God, what was she doing here? Margaret clutched her son tighter.

  The old woman laughed. “Margaret, my sweet lass, I’m only here for a wee visit. I wasn’t sure ye’d even remember me.”

  Margaret gave a shaky laugh. “Remember ye? I’m fairly certain I’ll never forget ye. I believe the last time we met ye said I deserved Heaven even less than most people, and someone must have taken pity on me.”

  “Aye, I did.” Gertrude reached out and touched Margaret’s shoulder. Instantly the fear that had risen, unbidden was gone, replaced by loving warmth and a sense that all was right with the world. “I know that seemed overly harsh.”

  Margaret smiled and shrugged. “It was true.”

  “But the knowledge stung. And yet, it was vital that ye understand and take the whole situation seriously.”

  “I know that now. When I think back to the person I was, to the years I spent mired in my own selfish ways, I can’t help but wonder why I deserved the second chance.”

  “Oh sweetling, ye were a lost soul in so many ways, but this,” Gertrude waved her hand in a circle as if to encompass all of Margaret and her surroundings, “was inside ye all along. No one had awakened it yet.”

  Margaret laughed. “Well, losing my body was certainly a rather sudden awakening.”

  “Sometimes that’s what it takes. But it seems that ye’ve made absolutely wonderful use of yer second chance. Ye look positively radiant.”

  “Thank ye, Gertrude. As hard as this was in the beginn
ing, I’m so much happier than I’ve ever been before.” Margaret frowned. “In fact, I’m not sure I’d ever really been happy.”

  “Ye see? It’s just as Nyada told ye, love, kindness and compassion can only really be felt when ye give them away.”

  “Truer words were never spoken,” said Margaret, hugging her wee son a little tighter.

  “I’m glad ye’ve learned that. And, speaking of love, who is this strapping lad?”

  Margaret arched an eyebrow, “Don’t tell me, ye don’t know.”

  Gertrude laughed. “Of course I know, but introductions are always appreciated.”

  “Well then, Gertrude, this is my son, Orrick.”

  “Orrick is a wonderful name.”

  “Would ye like to hold him?”

  “I’d like nothing more,” she said as she held out her arms.” After Margaret placed Orrick in them, Gertrude cuddled him close. “There is nothing on Earth more wonderful than holding a peacefully sleeping bairn.”

  Margaret smiled and nodded. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  Gertrude kissed his forehead. “Orrick, may God bless ye, and keep ye always. May He make ye as strong and steadfast as the mighty oak whose name ye bear. And may ye live a long, healthy and happy life, always knowing ye’re loved.”

  “Thank ye, Gertrude,” said Margaret. “Thank ye for everything.”

  “Ye’re very welcome lass. Now, I’ll give this sweet bundle back to ye. I must be leaving.”

  Margaret took Orrick from her, saying, “Are ye sure I can’t give ye a warm drink?”

  “Nay, thank ye. I have places to go and people to see. And in a moment, that wee rogue is going to demand a warm drink of his own. So give me a hug and I’ll be on my way.”

  When Gertrude hugged her, Margaret was once again filled with abiding peace. “Will I see ye again?”

  Gertrude laughed and mounted her pony. “Only time will tell, lass. Only time will tell.” Gertrude clicked to the pony, who started to amble out of the yard.

  Margaret called, “Farewell, then. I’ll keep ye in my heart.”

  “And I’ll keep ye in mine,” answered Gertrude. Then, she simply disappeared, pony and all.

  Margaret smiled down at her son. “I can think of worse places to be than in the heart of an angel.” Then, just as Gertrude had said he would, Orrick awoke and began rooting fretfully. She cuddled him close as she headed toward the cottage. “Aye, lad, ye’ll have yer warm drink in just a moment.”

  ~ The End ~

  If you enjoyed Margaret’s story and are curious about Laird Carr and Maggie Mitchell, please look for The Pocket Watch: The Pocket Watch Chronicles.

  You can learn more about other titles by Ceci Giltenan at www.duncurra.com.

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