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Now, however, she knew better. She wore the scar Logan etched onto her heart. But try as she might to throw away that green moss agate stone, she never could. She’d convinced herself she didn’t hold on to it as a reminder of him, rather for the protection people believed the stone brought to the carrier.
Sheena looked to Jean, knowing she needed to clear her thoughts, and she couldn’t endure another lecture from her mother right now. The shock of seeing Logan had exhausted her.
She couldn’t love Logan now. And not just because she didn’t trust him anymore. Her future didn’t include him. He’d left and hadn’t even returned as he promised after three years. For all she knew he’d married another woman during his time away. He’d forfeited all rights to be included in her future plans and that is exactly what happened.
“Aunt Jean.” Sheena got her attention. “Walking in the countryside is very good exercise. You should try it, at least once.” Jean’s facial expression gave every indication Sheena wouldn’t persuade her.
“Nothing good ever comes from the countryside, child. Oh, just thinking about some of the people who live out there makes me want to call for my smelling salts.” Tavia laughed at her sister’s theatrics before turning her eyes back down to admire her handiwork. But Sheena only half listened. She succeeded in getting Jean on another tangent, but the fight within her own mind raged.
“Just take that terrible MacDonald boy who is always spitting. Why didn’t his parents teach him any manners? And just yesterday, I ventured as far as the village and had the misfortune of running into that Murray woman and she just about talked my ear off. Don’t people know when they’ve said enough?” Jean looked to her sister for confirmation, and began again when she met with her sister’s acceptance. “Then there was that McAllister fellow. Remember him? Terrible lad. Good for nothing.” Sheena flinched, her insides tense. Why did her aunt have to bring up his name? All she wanted to do right now was forget about him.
“Now, Jean.” Tavia laughed. “Even I would say that’s not very charitable.”
“Maybe not, but true nonetheless.” She held her embroidery tight in her hands, but from what Sheena could see, her work didn’t possess many new stitches since this morning. “I said good riddance to him and I will say the same to all the rest of the poor Highlanders who get cleared out of Scotland.”
“Then, Aunt Jean, you may have to add a welcome home when they return, as well.” Sheena couldn’t bring herself to say Logan’s name, but she would defend her fellow clansmen. Poor or not, they were her brethren.
“Really? That lad made it home?” Jean scoffed, raising her eyebrows.
“He is well past the age of being referred to as a lad. But aye, he returned.”
Sheena held her temper in check as her aunt spewed forth her distaste of Highlanders. “Why on earth would he come back? There is nothing for his kind here. Just goes to prove my point about those people. No sense. Do you know how much it costs to travel by sea? No wonder his people are so poor. They have no idea how to make or save money. Dreadful waste. It is like a different world up here in the Highlands. I so miss Glasgow. And civilization.”
The sound of a servant entering the room diverted their attention. “Supper will be served now,” the parlor maid said as she curtsied awkwardly, fleeing the room the second her words escaped her lips. Sheena didn’t blame Cait for rushing away—she only wished she could, as well.
“See what I mean.” Jean pinned her needle into the cloth. “You must be thankful your fate is tied to a notable house Sheena. You will only have to suffer these people as your servants. You shall be forever grateful to me for that, child.” Jean laid her embroidery aside and rose with an air of dignity to lead the way to supper. Sheena didn’t argue. Her aunt wouldn’t understand why Sheena considered Cait her best friend.
“Aye, Jean, we are very thankful to you and Kyle for finding such a suitable match for Sheena.” Tavia took her sister’s arm, creating a wall in front of Sheena that made her unable to sidestep them. “Arranging your betrothal to Ian Mackenzie was the best thing your uncle and aunt could have done for you Sheena. Ian is the son of one of the richest tobacco lords in Glasgow—you will be set up in the nicest house …”
“Estate,” Jean corrected her.
“Aye, estate.” Tavia grinned. “And Sheena, you will have all the finest things. You will want for nothing.”
Maybe one day Sheena would feel gratitude for Jean and Tavia’s interference into her life, but not today. Not after seeing Logan at their waterfall. And surely not after he stirred all those old emotions she’d painstakingly buried inside the locked chambers of her heart.
Yet with her dowry bestowed upon Ian, to whom did that heart belong?
Chapter Two
Weary from his long journey home and his ensuing argument with Sheena, Logan finally smiled as the thatched roofs from huts came into view ahead of him. His family didn’t even know he walked these moors. Logan almost laughed aloud; his surprise appearance would surely bring rejoicing. And he could use some of that.
“Uncle Logan?” A lad with the same brown eyes and hair as Logan jumped down from a rock after a moment’s hesitation.
“Aye.” Logan waved, his heart swelling.
“Uncle Logan.” Ewan’s shriek sailed across the moor. Logan dropped his bag and scooped up his ten-year-old nephew. “Uncle Logan, you’re home.”
“Aye.” Logan laughed, noticing how much his nephew had changed in five years.
“As I live and breathe.” Nessia stood before them wearing the same married-woman’s kertch upon her head and looking nearly the same at twenty-seven as she had at twenty-two when Logan had last seen her. “You’ve come home.” She embraced Logan. “Angus is out back. Come, you have to see your brother.” Nessia grabbed Logan’s hand and rushed him around their one-room dwelling.
Ewan ran ahead of them. “Da, Uncle Logan has come home.”
“Logan?” Angus rose slowly from the mucky soil he farmed, even though at age twenty-eight he could no doubt easily jump to his feet. Angus’s apparent shock as Logan approached changed into a facial expression that mirrored Logan’s thoughts. It had been too long; coming home felt right. “I don’t believe it. This is a great day.” Angus hugged him. “Praise the Lord Almighty.”
“You must be famished, Logan. Come inside. I’ll get you something to eat.” Nessia ushered them around to the sole entrance at the front of the hut.
The walls, nearly three feet deep, held an open wooden door swinging in welcome. Logan stepped through, seeing only black as his eyes adjusted to the dimness. Even though the spring sun shone at seven at night and wouldn’t go down for a couple more hours, the one small window in the dwelling didn’t seem keen to let in the sunshine.
“Duncan, this is your uncle Logan.” Angus knelt down on the earthen floor to his youngest son’s eye level. “You were just a wee lad when he left.”
“This is the brother you always talk about?” Barefoot, Duncan eyed Logan and Angus nodded.
Logan didn’t like that his nephew didn’t remember him. Wee Duncan wouldn’t even recognize him if they walked right past one another. But what did he expect? A lot had happened in five years. Only a fool would think it a short time. Look at all he’d missed.
He definitely missed taking care of Sheena. And he understood her anger toward him. But he didn’t share it. Not given what her father had forced him to do. He had needed to go to the Americas to secure their future.
He’d obeyed her father and taken the only step he could that would allow Sheena to one day become his wife. And he would never regret that. He returned worthy to wed her. But he also accomplished a lot more than what he’d set out to do—he’d amassed the means to offer her a decent life, something he couldn’t have done five years ago.
But what if she wouldn’t accept him now? Even after he explained. Without her … Nay. God saw him home safe and for that he should celebrate. He’d win Sheena’s love back. With God’s help. Somehow.
Logan held out his hand and Duncan took it. “You look like my da when he’s ill and doesn’t trim his beard and moustache for a very, very long time.” Duncan’s innocence made the room erupt in laughter. Despite the age gap of two years, eight-year-old Duncan could be mistaken for Ewan’s twin. McAllister men evidently shared a striking resemblance.
“Come, sit.” Nessia ladled broth into a wooden bowl from a black cauldron over an open flame. “Eat.” She put a wooden spoon in the bowl and handed it to Logan.
He didn’t need to be told twice. “Thanks. It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten a good meal.” His compliment produced a grin from Nessia before she turned to dish out the lads’ meals. “Is there cow’s meat in this?” Logan knew his clansmen hardly ever ate meat.
“We lost another cow a couple days ago.” Angus downed his drink from a large pewter tankard before refilling it and handing it to Logan. Logan smiled. One drinking vessel for the whole household. Could his family cope with a richer life outside Scotland?
“So tell us everything.” Angus leaned toward Logan.
“Let him eat first, Angus,” Nessia chaffed. “He’s starving.”
“All right, but I’m excited. I want to hear all about the Americas.”
“You’d like it, Angus,” Logan said. But he didn’t elaborate after receiving a stark look of warning from Nessia.
He wanted to tell Angus everything though. His travels had opened his eyes to the larger world. Scotland lagged behind in many ways. He could benefit his brethren by sharing all he learned. Like telling them to end this nonsense of fearing trees and stop digging them up as soon as wealthier men planted them.
The farmers here would never produce good crops until they learned to block the wind and let trees and other plants with deep roots dry up the soil. He wished he could show them. The Americas grew acres of trees and yet the land also yielded bountiful crops. Food that people here didn’t even know existed. Food that could fatten up their chronically skinny cows and sheep. Food that would stop the starvation.
“Would you like more?” Nessia offered after Logan finished his last spoonful of broth.
Sitting back, Logan patted his stomach with both hands. “As delicious as that was, I’m full.” And yet, even if his stomach still growled from hunger, he would never take more than his share. Nessia and the lads came first.
“Great, then. Now that he’s finished, it’s high time for talking.” Angus winked at Nessia, who shrugged off his playfulness.
“Just make sure Logan gets to bed soon. He’s had a long journey and needs his rest. His eyes look like he can barely keep them open.” Only three years his senior, Nessia never could help acting like his mother.
“Aye,” Angus agreed and Logan couldn’t argue as he put his hand over his mouth to cover a yawn. “Let’s sit nearer the fire, Logan.” Angus stood and kissed each of his lads on the head, wishing them a good night. Logan grinned. His brother didn’t care about the criticism he received for acting affectionate, even when told by his clansmen that his behavior would ruin his children.
And Logan didn’t, either. His nephews didn’t seem the least bit spoiled. He watched as Nessia ushered the lads toward the end of the room with one on each side of her full brown skirt. The lads crawled through the opening of a high-sided wooden box that housed a straw mattress and lay down beside each other as Nessia placed one blanket after another on top of them.
Logan didn’t wait to watch Nessia pull the curtain closed. Instead, he picked up his stool and followed his brother a couple feet nearer the fire that burned up from the floor where Nessia had just stood cooking. “It’s nice to be home again.” Logan watched the sparks dance to their own crackling sound as the peat moss burned.
“You should’ve never made the journey back.” Angus lowered himself onto his wooden stool with a slow exactness. “It was far too dangerous.”
“You knew before I left I had every intention of returning.” Logan unbuttoned his brown vest.
“Aye. You did say that. But there was always a chance that you would change your mind.”
Logan paused in his undressing. “Nay Angus, there wasn’t.”
“Then it is true. You really love her.”
“Aye. I’ll always love her. I just saw her now. She’s upset at me, but with God’s help that will change.” Logan finished taking off his vest and laid it across his lap before stretching out his arms to feel the warmth on his overworked, calloused hands. “I would face the darkest evil and travel to the most decrepit of places if that’s what it took.”
“I imagine you have.” Angus turned from the flames to his brother.
“Aye, I worked hard in the Americas, and crossing the sea is not easy. We lost Gordon McDougall on the voyage home.” Logan closed his eyes and said a quick, silent prayer. “Gordon was ill before he boarded the ship. I told him not to make the journey, but he wanted so badly to come home.”
“Gordon was a fine man.” Angus joined him in a brief silence. “A tragedy.”
Logan rubbed his brow, remembering the pain and despair surrounding Gordon’s death. “I couldn’t bring Gordon’s body back. I could only bring what little he had with him and I’ll take it to his family first thing tomorrow with the news.”
“Logan, it wasn’t your fault he died. God has His own plans for each one of us and it’s not for us to understand.”
“Fair enough.” Logan eyed his brother. “But I have plans of my own, as well.”
Angus shot a look at him as Logan stood to stretch. “Before you go to sleep, Logan, tell me about these plans.”
“Let me save that until tomorrow. Nessia was right, I am tired and in need of sleep.”
Angus pursed his lips but consented. “Aye, tomorrow after you take Gordon’s belongings to his family we’ll talk about these plans of yours.”
“Thanks.” Logan held his brother’s shoulder. “It really is good to be home.”
Sheena rubbed her right eye as she walked into the village. Lack of sleep and tears shed over Logan last night irritated more than just her eyes.
Her whole body felt off, as if it wanted to shut down. But she had promised to bring a basket of food to the McDougall family today.
At church last Sunday, she found out Ailsa McDougall had fallen ill and the women of the church picked days to bring whatever they could over to help the family. Today was Sheena’s day, on behalf of the Montgomery household, because her mother wouldn’t dream of walking into the countryside herself and already declared they couldn’t spare a single servant for such matters, either.
Switching the basket from her left hand to her right, Sheena looked down as she rubbed her other eye. The cool breeze made her eyes tear up and sting. If this kept up, fairly soon they might refuse to stay open altogether. Sheena couldn’t live like this. She needed sleep and to do that she needed to banish Logan from her mind and let the past go.
Sheena turned around the corner of the last building that stood on the village of Callander’s main dirt road. Shutting her eyes tight to try to stop the stinging when another cool breeze assaulted her, she bumped into something and jumped back, startled and alarmed.
“Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Sheena knew that voice—she didn’t need to feel his hands holding on to her shoulders or see him clearly to know who stood before her. “Sheena,” Logan’s voice sounded full of concern. “Why are you crying?”
Sheena wiped at her eyes harder this time. “I’m not crying.” She pulled back from him.
“Then why are there tears running down your cheeks? Here.” Logan handed her a handkerchief.
“I didn’t sleep well last night and my eyes hurt. There. Does that answer your question?” Evidently, it answered more than that as a grin spread over Logan’s lips.
“Does that have anything to do with me?” Sheena didn’t answer. She handed him back his handkerchief with a “Good day” before marching off. Never would she own up to him about that truth.
“Not so fast, lassie,” Logan spun around and caught up to her. Patting his clean-shaven cheeks and chin, he asked her with a wink, “How do I look?” Her lips curled slightly and Logan didn’t miss the nuance. His grin broadened, even as she hurried past him. “Where are you going?”
Sheena stopped and stared at him, her chest tightening with annoyance. Better to tell him and get rid of him now than allow him to follow her all over the countryside as he seemed likely to do.
“I am bringing this basket to Ailsa McDougall. She’s ill.” Logan’s smile fell from his lips and he ran his hand through his brown, shoulder-length hair. He looked away for a moment into the distance at the crag that led to their water fall.
She didn’t mean to hurt him, but what could she say now?
“I have to visit the McDougalls myself, lassie.” The light golden flecks in Logan’s eyes no longer shone brightly and worry furrowed his brow.
“Logan, I do not need a chaperone.” But what she really did not need involved Logan standing near her and playing havoc with her emotions. Her future belonged to Ian Mackenzie.
“Be that as it may …” He seemed impatient, as if he wanted to tell her something, but couldn’t bring himself to do it.
And even though Sheena knew that as Ian’s future wife she needed to distance herself from Logan, she couldn’t stand it any longer. “Logan, what is going on?”
Logan’s gaze met hers and the intensity with which he looked at her made her hold her basket tighter. But she couldn’t look away. She knew Logan, even after all these years. And as much as he’d hurt her, she could still read every one of his expressions. And something definitely ate away at him.
The fact that he’d left her instead of marrying her should eat at his innards, but something else troubled him. And as angry as she felt toward him, she would help him now if she could. Any Christian would. At least that’s what she told herself.
“I have to tell the McDougalls their son Gordon died.”
Sheena’s hand flew to her mouth. “Gordon,” she murmured. She needed to sit down. Gordon was too young to die. Everyone expected great things from him. The community would be crushed. His family would be devastated. She felt Logan’s arm drape around her shoulder.
“He died on our ship, traveling back to Scotland.”
“Why did he try to come back here? Why didn’t he just stay in the Americas?” Sheena heard the note of irritation in her questions. Yet she didn’t expect any answers.
But Logan didn’t know that. “He must have had a good reason to risk his life. Just as I did.”
Sheena looked up into Logan’s face and searched his troubled brown eyes. Had love motivated his departure? Or did he just find he hated living in the Americas? She pulled herself away from him. It didn’t matter now. Not since her mother had betrothed her to Ian.
“We’ll tell them together.” Sheena’s voice achieved a calmness she had yet to feel.
“I am truly sorry,” Sheena told the McDougalls before she hugged them all one last time. What else could she say? After Logan told them all about how bravely Gordon faced his illness at sea, that phrase was all he could utter, as well.
Logan smiled at Sheena as she approached him, standing by the wooden door. How kind of Sheena to help him break the news of Gordon’s death to his family and stay to comfort the family as they let out their shock and grief.
“God bless you,” Sheena turned to say one last time before leaving the McDougalls’ hut—an exact replica of the one-room dwelling where Logan’s family lived.
Logan stepped out into the sunshine beside her. “Thank you, Sheena.” She stopped to look up at him. Her unsmiling face showed signs of stress and she simply nodded, folding her arms around herself, before turning and walking away from him again.
