Finding Fraser(82)

“Feel like some breakfast? A good lambing always gives me a roaring appetite for eggs and bacon.”

I nodded and stood beside her, looking down at the new arrivals busily gobbling their own breakfasts. The mama sheep was flaked out on her side, nearly asleep with exhaustion, but all signs of distress gone.

“I’ll head back up after we eat to take care of this mess,” Morag said, indicating the pile of bloody straw with the flashlight.

We started down the hill together.

“Will the lambs be okay out on the hillside like that?” I asked. “I can help you carry them down to the barn, if you want.”

Morag shook her head. “Nae—they’ll be jes’ fine, the little beggars. I’ll have the vet up later in the week to check ’em for scour and so on. If I was worried at all, I’d bring ’em in, but they both latched on jes’ fine.”

We walked into the main barn door, and Morag headed straight over to the giant stone sink. She sluiced the blood off her hands and arms, scrubbing with a soap whose antiseptic smell wafted across to where I leaned against the next stall.

I walked over to close the door to my room. We must have left it open in the rush to follow Morag up the hill. I also tried very hard not to think about Hamish. About what had nearly happened inside my room. Or about what hadn’t happened up on the cold hillside. Inside my head the thought Jamie would never have run seemed to be on repeat.

Morag was striding down the barn toward the door to the farmhouse. I followed along, staring at my mud-boots as they shushed through the straw. “That’s three babies since I’ve been here,” I said, more to myself than anyone. “This is a weird habit to be forming.”

Morag grinned as she dried her hands on an old piece of sacking. “Are ye sure it’s a habit, Em? P’raps it’s more of a … calling.”

The look on my face made her cackle, and still chuckling, she walked out of the barn to see about making breakfast.





Farm Family…

11:00 am, June 25

Nairn, Scotland



It seems some Scottish warriors are at a loss when it comes to babies——even baby lambs! Okay, just kidding. But my landlady Morag’s new lambs are gorgeous, and she tells me the wee farm family will feature at a Highland Games sometime this summer.

Today the sky is a thin, clear blue——no rain in sight, and I’m hoping my warrior returns soon.



- ES



Comments: 63

(Read 63 comments here…)





To: emmasheridan@gmail.com

From: JackFindlay@*range.co.uk

June 25



Hi Emma,

I want to apologize for being such a gomeril the other day in Edinburgh and dashing off on you, so I thought email might be more private than posting a comment to your blog.

Still, I would like to hear more of the lamb story, next time we meet. You have a way of giving just a tantalizing tid-bit in your posts that leaves your readers wanting more. You are a fantastic storyteller——keep at it! This is a skill I need to learn with my books, which brings me to my next point.

Thank you also for your kind words on the blog, flogging my books, and for helping me get past a problem that’s been worrying at me with the new story. Your honest assessment has been more valuable than I can articulate.

As always, wishing you and your warrior the very best. I am a sucker for a happy ending.



Jack



PS I also want to apologize for the perhaps slightly over-enthusiastic greeting I gave you at the bookstore. These events can be very trying and——well, it was just lovely to see a friendly face. So——sorry.



PPS To clarify, I am not sorry for the kiss itself——or kisses, if you want to get technical. I am, however, abjectly sorry if I crossed a line or startled you in any way.



PPPS Right, so I do know I crossed a line, kissing you when you are already in a relationship, but just to be clear, it’s very customary in places like Europe for people to kiss each other on greeting. Edinburgh is a very European city.

However, I think I’d better just stop now before this gets even more humiliating. Thanks again for coming, Emma, even if it was by accident.



JF





Summer may have come to the village, but I soon learned that summer in this part of northern Scotland, at least, meant the occasional sunbeam, quickly murdered by rain-filled clouds and a piercing wind.

So essentially, the same as winter.

But somehow, I didn’t mind it at all.

Since I was on late shift that day, I spent the whole length of Katy’s coffee break in the chair at the library, reading and re-reading Jack’s email. I wasn’t sure just what to make of it. He had been happy to see me, yes—but something in that kiss felt different. Before he knew I’d only stumbled upon his reading. I stared at the screen until my eyes were sore, replaying that kiss in my mind. Of course he knew I was with Hamish. And he was with Rebecca. He was just happy to have a friendly face to read to. Of course he was.