Page 5 of Sinbound to the Highlander
With a knife, she tested the meat, and it was getting soft. She quickly added the turnips and stirred them in. Helping her mother cook was a part of her daily life. The others had her assisting her father on the farm when they needed extra hands to pack up the produce, and to her home, where she aided her mother with the household duties. When she had time to herself, she helped Missus Beathag, the town’s old healer, with her tinctures, infusions, and poultices.
Taking a seat on a rough-hewn kitchen stool, she kept one eye on the pot, but her mind drifted. She was of age to marry, many women her age were already married, and some had bairns that passed three or four summers already. The men in the village were young, handsome, and very courteous to her, but she had never felt any connection to any of them.
A connection means tryin’ to make one—which I havenae. What is holdin’ me back? I’ve drawn attention from Iain Muller and Andrew Drummond…but…
Never could she answer that question. When she tried to dig deep, a ridiculous notion that she was not fated to live in this village and marry one of the men there, had sprung up in her heart. But she did not see a way it would ever happen.
The bubbling of stew had her pulling the pot off the iron prongs, to rest it onto a thick wooden block. In good time too, as her parents came into the room from the backdoor. Her mother was smiling and ruddy-cheeked, and her father dressed and chuckling lowly.
It was good to see them so happy as it was not always that way at times. A few years ago, there had been a horrible drought that had scorched their crops to dry twigs. And when she was about nine, a terrible blizzard had rolled in, swelled the rivers nearby, and had flooded the whole town.
The fields had drowned. Her father had been inconsolable, and her mother a worried mess. They had struggled those times, but they always made it through. Now that the summers were warm and the crops were growing and overflowing, they had food in the house and a small cache of silver coins.
“The stew is done,” she gestured to the pot. “Would ye like to share it out?”
“Nay,” her mother shook her head, “The bread is still bakin’. Ye can pop into Missus Beathag and ask her what she needs from ye on the morrow. By the time ye’re done there, the bread should be ready.”
She looked between the two and ducked her head, “I’ll be back soon.”
Turning away, she saw a loving look pass between the two and thought they were sending her to have more privacy. It was dark, but she knew the way to the older woman’s home. The path that took her there, was lit by buzzing lighting bugs and serenaded by the song of crickets.
Missus Beathag's house was just across and behind a thick line of hedges. As she rounded the bushes, she spotted the home with light spilling out from the closed door. She hopped up the flat steps and knocked on the door and waited.
The sound of shuffling feet had her stepping away, so the elderly woman, leaning heavily on a cane, opened the door and exclaimed, “Freya Crushom, Dear Heart. Why are ye here so late?”
Before answering, Freya dipped her head to kiss the woman’s cheek. “How are ye, Missus Beathag?”
“I forgot to ask ye what herbs ye wanted,” she said. “And I ken Maither and Faither want some time to themselves.”
“Ah,” the healer said and gestured for her to come in. “Come in, sit for a spell.”
Stepping in, she closed the door behind her, and helped the woman sit. Then, she took her seat near the roaring fireplace. In the firelight, Missus Beathag’s hands, spotted with age and callused with using a pestle for years, clenched around the handle of her cane.
“I ken it’s nay the time for many herbs to have grown, but I need mandragora, hawthorn, nettles that ye already ken about, and ramsons, that’s wild garlic, Dear. The plant has broad green leaves, and large heads of starry white flowers that smell strongly of garlic. But daenae go in the morning, go in the afternoon. Remember, pluck them with yer right hand only and keep them in yer left. For the mandragoras, go pick them after sunset and use an iron tool.”
“Aye,” Freya said, in a solemn tone.
Missus Beathag leaned forward with her eyes, rheumy but sharpening, “What is botherin’ ye, lass?”
Freya nibbled on her lip a little, then sighed out her answer, “I keep wonderin’ about me real birth parents, why they sent me away.”
“Lass, I understand yer frustration, but keep worryin’ about it willnae solve it. It is worryin’, but if ye keep yer mind on it all the time, ye’ll never have any peace. Whatever the reason was, ye couldnae do anythin’ about it. If they dinnae want ye, they could have killed ye. What ye can do is use the life they allowed ye to live to make the most of it,” Missus Beathag counseled. “Now, what else is botherin’ ye?”
Her face warmed, and she ducked it, “Marriage. I ken I’m old enough to be on me own now, but that means I should marry. I just deanae feel any connection with the men here.”
A soft snort was interspersed in the silence that followed her bashful statement, “Have ye ever tried to make a connection with them, lass?”
Even more self-conscious, she shook her head, “I suppose that’s what’s needed, eh?”
“It is,” Missus Beathag said, “But if I were ye, I wouldnae worry meself about marriage, lass. Ye’re lovely on yer own, and the right man who will come along will see ye for it.”
Freya held in her reservations as she still felt that her mottled skin was going to be a problem. “So, ye need mandragora, hawthorn, nettles, and…er…wild garlic?”
“Aye, remember, that plant has broad green leaves and large starry white flowers,” Missus Beathag reiterated. “And go when it’s past noon, lass. In the cool of the day.”
“Aye,” Freya said, rising to kiss the older woman again. “I’ll find what I can.”
The older woman took her hand and held it securely, “And daenae ye worry about yer husband, Dear Heart, he’ll come around soon, and ye’ll feel it down to yer bones.”
“I’ll try,” Freya smiled while pulling away.
She closed the door behind her and headed home.
Why is it that I feel Missus Beathag kens something I daenae? And why is she so sure I’ll find me husband soon, when I cannae see it?
