Kieran rested his hand on Janet’s shoulder. “It’s about time you came to your senses. Be careful on your way back.” Closing the door against the rain, he drew Bonny into his warm, solid arms to watch Graeme’s car splash down the puddled drive. “They’ll be good together.”
“Yes, but no one can top us.”
His eyes were two bottomless pools, and Bonny read them well. “You’re thinking how close we came to losing each other when I refused your marriage proposal.”
“Aye, only by God’s grace.”
“If he could work that miracle, he can take us through whatever comes.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
“I’m sure of it.”
“We just acquired a Scottish Kari and Dan, friends we can count on. I appreciate Janet’s offer to talk when I feel down.”
Kieran reached for her hand and turned from the window. “Come on. I’ll rest with you for a while. Upstairs or the library couch?”
“The library. Stairs wear me out. But I don’t need to lie in bed all the time.”
He steered her across the hall. She settled with a book while he tucked a blanket around her legs and drew close. “Patience, Mrs. MacDonell. My head clears a little more every day. Your appetite’s better. We’ll be back on top in no time. The best cure for grief is patience and the routines of daily life.”
Chapter Three
An all-unbearable darkness of spirit overwhelmed Bonny again. Worsened by Kari and Dan’s twins and Kieran’s hesitance about adoption, her lethargy created limbs of lead and the will of a slug. Each day she slipped further into despair. In sleepless hours of the night, grief muted her attempts to pray.
Rain poured down for the third straight day, swamped the yard, cascaded down windowpanes, and hid from view all but the trees closest to the house. Janet and Kieran had warned her how the rainiest part of Scotland affected moods. Accustomed to New Mexico sunshine, the damp and cold seeped into her bones. Her boat took on water faster than she could bail.
Her nine months at Fort William Christian College and the few months before she married Kieran were full of excitement, new love, and dreams come true. Nothing penetrated the fog of depression that now descended over her.
Voices drifted up from the kitchen where Kieran, Hamish, and Angus discussed farm duties for the week. Anxious to get back to running the farm, the doctor still refused to clear Kieran for work until the next visit. Bonny had no such desire. The breakfast tray, deposited beside the bed by Maggie, lay untouched, and a shower required too much effort.
The steady rush of rain through a downspout outside the window was a mere trickle compared to the flood of longing for her child who would never experience rain or sun. Dan received prosthetic legs after an IED explosion in Iraq. She had a piece of her heart amputated in Belford Hospital, but no prosthesis could make her a whole woman.
Pain pills on the nightstand offered the oblivion of sleep, a refuge from the kindness of Maggie, Hamish, Eleanor, and the haunted echoes of impossibility. Unscrewing the cap, Bonny took two, swallowed them with water from the half-empty glass, and drew the blankets over her head to block out the light. One day, she must face the world. Not today.
Sometime later, a hand shook her shoulder, dragging her up from the depths of a drugged slumber. “It’s noon, mo gràdh. You must eat to heal.” Kieran knelt beside the bed, his deep voice tender.
“Leave me alone.”
His firm grip on the blankets made it impossible to hide her face. “You’ll feel better if you dress and come downstairs. I’ll read to you or play the piano, but you must get out of bed.” He extracted the blankets from her grasp. “Sometimes we have to be forced to live in order to survive.” With one swift movement, he sat Bonny on the bedside then lifted her to stand.
“Kieran … no.”
“Eleanor made potato soup and fresh bread for lunch.” His strong hold prevented her from turning back to the bed. “You’ll join us at the table, and you will eat. You needn’t carry the sadness alone. It was our baby—our hope. I need you.”
“Dr. Moncrieffe said to rest.” She stamped her foot for emphasis and tried to turn away. “Let me go!”
In answer, he propelled her toward the bathroom with gentle but firm hands. “Do I stand you under the shower in your nightgown, or will you cooperate?”
Bonny acquiesced with reluctance. It would do no good to resist.
The warm water flowed over her head and back, relaxed her, and her stomach growled in hunger. When she stepped out, Kieran wrapped her in a plush, red towel. The rub of terrycloth against her skin further increased her circulation. After she dressed in the soft, pink lounging pajamas he laid out and coiled her hair into a knot, Kieran drew her close. “We’ll do better together than when you’re miserable in bed and me miserable downstairs.”
He followed her down the back stairs to the kitchen, the heartbeat of the old house. The old, white Aga cooker, a cast-iron monstrosity of ovens and cook plates in its alcove of blue and white Dutch tiles, radiated heat throughout the room. Bonny accepted the chair he offered. Maggie set hot soup and bread in front of her and caressed her shoulder before returning to her own meal. “Kieran promised us a piano recital. I haven’t heard him play in ages.”
As the soup spread warmth through her, Bonny relaxed. No smiles, but family was a blessing. If she thanked God for one thing each day, perhaps she could begin to heal.
Snuggled on the living room couch near the fireplace, Maggie beside her, peaceful strains of hymns and Scottish folk songs eased her hopelessness. The most loving man she knew set aside his own grief and chose her favorite tunes to lift her spirits. How his big fingers skimmed over the keys with such delicacy caused her to marvel.
When he finished, Kieran moved to her other side. “I plan to drive down to the chapel tomorrow and check the progress. Come along. We’ll pray, looking out at the loch and forward to the day people worship there for the first time. We need to focus on the positive, love. I’ll offer encouragement faithfully the way you did for me during my depression.”
Infertility posed no new challenge, but this time Kieran shared her sadness. Janet’s offer of lunch might do her good. Maybe a woman, who wasn’t her mother-in-law, could speak light into her darkness. Perhaps Kieran’s old friend would suggest a way to engage him in a serious discussion about adoption.
***
Cheerful laughter, the homey clatter of dishes, and Angus heading out the door to set the farm in motion met Bonny when she descended the stairs the next morning. In her desire to please Kieran, she realized how much she needed the people she loved. Time alone took her mind to places better avoided.
Next to the library, the big farm kitchen with its dark wood floors, wainscoting, and huge, rectangular table was her favorite place in the house. This morning, the wide windows framed by blue and white curtains, blue placemats, and bright sunflowers grated on her frayed nerves. Everything about this kitchen screamed Bronwyn, as did most of the house. Kieran agreed to redecorate before the wedding and morning sickness followed by grief interrupted her plans. Conversation around the kitchen table hushed when Bonny stepped into the room.
“What’s wrong?” Maggie and Eleanor dished up more eggs, haggis, black sausage, and bannocks than she could eat while her sweet husband pulled out her chair.