“The—her—Emily’s children. I told ye I’d met them when I saw her last. The two young ones—she had those by Sun Elk, but the eldest, the boy …” He hesitated. “She asked me to name the baby—that’s a great honor,” he explained, “but something made me name the boy, instead. I called him Swiftest of Lizards—he was catching lizards when I met him, catching them in his hand. We—got on,” he said, and smiled briefly at the memory.
“I’m sorry, Rachel, I ken ye’ll think that’s wrong, but I’m no sorry I did it.”
“I see …” she said slowly, though she didn’t. She was beginning to have a hollow feeling in her middle, though. “So what thee is telling me is—”
“I think he’s maybe mine,” Ian blurted. “The boy. He would ha’ been born about the right time, after I left. The thing is … ken, I told ye the Mohawk say that when a man lies with a woman, his spirit fights with hers?”
“I wouldn’t say they’re wrong, but—” She flapped a hand, interrupting herself. “Go on.”
“And if his spirit conquers hers, she’ll get wi’ child.” He put his arm round her, his hand big and warm on her elbow. “So maybe Auntie Claire was wrong about the things in the blood—I mean, our wee man is fine. Maybe it was Emily’s blood that … aye, well …” He bent his head and rested it on hers, so they stood forehead-to-forehead, eye-to-eye.
“I dinna ken, Rachel,” he said quietly. “But—”
“We have to go,” she said, though her heart had gone so small she could barely feel its beating. “Of course we must go.”
56
Thee Would Make a Good Friend
“THEE WOULD MAKE A good Friend, thee knows,” Rachel remarked, holding back a laurel branch for her mother-in-law, who was burdened by a large basket of quilting. Rachel herself was burdened with Oggy, who had fallen asleep in the sling she carried him in.
Janet Murray gave her a sharp look and made what Claire had privately described to Rachel as a Scottish noise, this being a mingled snort and gargling sound that might indicate anything from mild amusement or approval to contempt, derision, or impending forcible action. At the moment, Rachel thought her mother-in-law was amused, and smiled herself.
“Thee is forthright and direct,” Rachel pointed out. “And honest. Or at least I suppose thee to be,” she added, slightly teasing. “I can’t say I have ever caught thee in a lie.”
“Wait ’til ye’ve kent me a bit longer, lass, before ye make judgments like that,” Jenny advised her. “I’m a fine wee liar, when the need arises. What else, though?” Her dark-blue eyes creased a little—definitely amusement. Rachel smiled back and thought for a moment, threading her way over a steep patch of gravel where the trail had washed out, then reaching back to take the basket.
“Thee is compassionate. Kind. And fearless,” she said, watching Jenny come down, half-sliding and grabbing branches to keep erect.
Her mother-in-law’s head turned sharply, eyes wide.
“Fearless?” she said, incredulous. “Me?” She made a noise that Rachel would have spelled as “Psssht.” “I’ve been scairt to the bone since I was ten years old, a leannan. But ye get used to it, ken?” She took back the basket, and Rachel hoisted Oggy, whose weight had doubled the moment he fell asleep, into a more secure position.
“What happened when thee was ten?” she asked, curious.
“My mother died,” Jenny answered. Her expression and voice were both matter-of-fact, but Rachel could hear bereavement in it, plain as the high, thin call of a hermit thrush.
“Mine died when I was born,” Rachel said, after a long pause. “I can’t say that I miss her, as I never knew her—though of course …”
“They say ye canna miss what ye never had, but they’re wrong about that one,” Jenny said, and touched Rachel’s cheek with the palm of her hand, small and warm. “Watch where ye’re walkin’， lass. It’s slick underfoot.”
“Yes.” Rachel kept her eyes on the ground, striding wide to avoid a muddy patch where a tiny spring bubbled up. “I dream, sometimes. There’s a woman, but I don’t know who she is. Perhaps it’s my mother. She seems kind, but she doesn’t say much. She just looks at me.”
“Does she look like ye, lass?”
Rachel shrugged, balancing Oggy with a hand under his bottom.