Page 44 of A Promise of Love

J udith knocked softly on the door, and when the voice bade her enter, she walked in unsurprised.

She'd already spoken to Lauren, one of the women from the village sent to take Meggie her meals when Judith was occupied in the weaving shed.

It was Lauren who told her that Meggie had begun to speak, to turn away from the broth, and had, instead, begun to tease her about being intentionally starved .

"It's as if she's decided to join the living, sweet lass," Lauren said .

Now, Judith walked into the room at Meggie's summons, closed the door behind her, waiting for the other woman to speak.

She was framed against the window, her back to Judith, her gaze focused on the undulating expanse of the sea, much the same way Judith had often stared.

As if the ocean held the answer to so many questions in her life. Why me? What now ?

So simple, so easy to voice, questions still unanswered .

Meggie was dressed in the simple dress she'd been wearing when attacked, although much mended and laundered - clothing was not such a simple thing to replace in the Highlands .

Meggie turned, glancing at the jar of heather ale in Judith's arms. A grin replaced the solemnity of her expression .

"Aye, an' it's a pure Scot's lass ye're now, Judith ?"

Judith smiled tremulously in response. "Sophie sent it up, but I urge you to use it judiciously. I find it has quite a kick ."

Meggie's smile lit up her face. "Aye, I remember ."

Judith was grateful for the memory which sparked such a smile, even if the amusement was at her expense.

She wondered if the entire clan had heard about her debacle with heather ale and supposed they had.

There were few secrets in the glen, which would make the coming months so much more difficult for Meggie .

"Come in, then, an' we'll savor the brew ."

"One tumbler only, Meggie," Judith cautioned, "I've no wish to lose my head again. Or find it twice as big tomorrow ."

"Aye," she said, smiling softly, "my Robbie would say the same ."

"Your husband," Judith said .

Meggie nodded, and turned back to the window, as if the view were somehow compelling.

In a way, it was. Heaven and earth. Land and sea.

Judith wondered if Meggie felt the way she'd often felt standing there.

As if her own problems were infinitesimal compared to the sheer size of the world.

That she was only a puny human being compared to the majesty of the rolling sea .

"It's a strange thing, life, isn't it ?"

Judith didn't answer, any words she might speak being less important at this moment than silence .

"I ne'er would have thought my life to be so verra different from my mother's or her mother. I'd not thought to be so verra different from the rest of the women I know. I loved Robbie with a’ my heart. I hated the English for killin' him, an’ my da and my bruthers, too. An’ then ye came, Judith, an’ I thought maybe the English aren't so bad, after all. Tha’ it was just war .

“Ye tried to save me, an’ I realized it wasna because ye were English, it was because ye were Judith ."

She turned and looked at Judith and held out one hand. Judith took it, set the heather ale down upon the floor and went to stand in front of the window beside Meggie. A small, sad smile appeared on Meggie's face .

"Ye musna blame yersel'," Meggie said, when she saw Judith's tears .

"I'm sorry, Meggie." Sorry. What a futile word. What a useless word .

"Aye, me too," Meggie said, and it wasn't her rape she meant. Judith looked down at the sill, at the sight of her hands clenched there .

So, she had heard .

It was one thing to speak to a lump in the bed, quite another to face that expression on Meggie's face. Horror, mixed with compassion. She might have looked the same had Meggie told that tale .

"I was layin' in that bed wonderin' how to go on, feelin' as I did the shame of it. As if something evil had been borne inside o' me, crept inside my womb. Yer words crept inside my heart, instead, Judith. I'll no tell anyone, ye can rest easy ."

"I never thought you would, Meggie," she said, her gaze still intent upon her clenched hands.

How did she tell the other woman that words were easy, it was the living that was difficult?

That some days, she felt as ancient as the ocean itself, as though one more step was too much, one more breath beyond her capabilities .

"Next, we'll be greetin' like bairns, Judith," Meggie said, her smile a little shaky, but no less bright. "Wi' all this fine heather ale, seems such a pity." She reached out to the other woman and enveloped her in a swift, hard hug .

"What are you going to do, Meggie ?"

"Do? What should I do? I'm the same person I was before, Judith ."

"Will you stay here , then ?"

Meggie smiled. "Runnin' won't make things easier. I've my memories here, Robbie, an’ Janet. Why should I let the English chase me from my home? Besides, I can't run from myself. I found tha’ out layin' in this bed. I had to wake up sooner or later ."

"You are so much wiser than I, Meggie," Judith said, humbled by the profound wisdom of the other woman's words .

"No, I'm not," Meggie said, gripping Judith's right hand tightly with her left. Her smile was determined, strong. "I've lost too much to lose myself, Judith. I'm all I've got left ."

For Meggie, recovery would come, because she was surrounded by people who loved her, with whom she belonged .

She would not have to hide, to pretend. Above all, she would never need to act in desperation and fear .

And bear the burden of that secret for as long as she lived .