Read Online Fair Is the Rose by Liz Curtis Higgs - Free Book Online
Authors: Liz Curtis Higgs
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spirit fill’d with joy,
my God and Saviour praise;
Whose goodness did from poor estate
his humble handmaid raise.
As the last echo of their voices faded, Leana watched Rose present Jamie with the babe, as befitted the kimmer’s duty. ’Twas the father who would see the child blessed by the minister and held up for the congregation’s inspection. The ebony centers of her sister’s eyes, wider than ever in the dim sanctuary, shone with unshed tears. “Behold, your son,” Rose whispered, holding Ian before her like an offering.
Leana released Jamie’s hand with some reluctance, taking a half step backward, giving him room to cradle his arms beneath Rose’s. Leana observed their bent arms touch, then tarry. Jamie did not move. Nor did Rose. Though she could not see Jamie’s face, the look her sister gave him burned like coals freshly stirred to life.
Nae! Leana stared down at the floor. The candle in her hand shook, spilling wax on the flagstones beneath her feet. Please, Jamie! She could not bear to look at her husband or her sister or the son she’d borne seven days past.
Nothing had changed after all. Jamie could never care for her. Not when he still loved Rose.
Help me, Lord, for I cannot bear it .
A tear dripped to the floor and landed beside the candle wax as Leana fought for composure. The words she’d spoken when the firstpangs of childbirth had brought her to her knees returned to taunt her now. Jamie, I love you. I’ve always loved you . How foolish she must have sounded! How foolish she must look now, unable to hold her head up at her own kirkin.
“Leana?” It was Jamie’s voice. “Leana, what is it?”
Eight
Is it the shrewd October wind
Brings the tears into her eyes?
Does it blow so strong that she must fetch
Her breath in sudden sighs?
W ILLIAM D EAN H OWELLS
L eana raised her chin, pretending it did not quiver. The room swam into focus: Jamie holding their son, Rose taking her seat in the family pew, Reverend Gordon staring hard at her across the top of his spectacles. Leana blinked, feeling disoriented. “Wh-what am I to do?”
“You are to sit,” the minister informed her. “The precentor is ready for the gathering psalm.”
Jamie tipped his head toward the nearest pew, and she dropped into it, her face hot with shame. Whatever must Jamie think of her, standing there like a statue? He placed Ian in her arms, then eased down next to her, sitting closer than was proper in the sanctuary. She held the babe to her chest, tucking Ian’s head in the curve of her neck, her thoughts racing all the while. Perhaps she’d imagined the desire that had flowed between Jamie and Rose. Was it fear that conjured such scenes in her mind?
The service began, and Leana did all that was expected of her—standing, sitting, singing psalms, reciting verses—praying it would end quickly. Ian was growing restless, and her swollen breasts ached. Most of all, she longed to be home. Soon , she told herself, drawing strength from Jamie’s nearness.
When the benediction was spoken, the congregants rose to stretch their stiff legs and wander out of doors, looking for a suitable spot where they might partake of the dinners they’d brought from home. Pickled beef and mutton pies were pulled from baskets and pails, as Leana andthe others made their way through the crowd of well-wishers, many of whom reached up to touch the babe’s blanket as Ian passed by. The threatening sky and skittish breeze did little to dampen the high spirits of the villagers for whom a healthy babe was a cause for rejoicing.
As the new family walked toward the chaise, her father fell into step beside them and appraised his grandson. “He behaved well.”
“Aye, Uncle,” Jamie answered for them both. “My mother in Monnigaff will be most eager to see her granbairn.”
Leana stiffened. Not here, Jamie. Not yet .
Lachlan McBride waved his hand in an expansive gesture, as though he were scattering coins instead of words.
my God and Saviour praise;
Whose goodness did from poor estate
his humble handmaid raise.
As the last echo of their voices faded, Leana watched Rose present Jamie with the babe, as befitted the kimmer’s duty. ’Twas the father who would see the child blessed by the minister and held up for the congregation’s inspection. The ebony centers of her sister’s eyes, wider than ever in the dim sanctuary, shone with unshed tears. “Behold, your son,” Rose whispered, holding Ian before her like an offering.
Leana released Jamie’s hand with some reluctance, taking a half step backward, giving him room to cradle his arms beneath Rose’s. Leana observed their bent arms touch, then tarry. Jamie did not move. Nor did Rose. Though she could not see Jamie’s face, the look her sister gave him burned like coals freshly stirred to life.
Nae! Leana stared down at the floor. The candle in her hand shook, spilling wax on the flagstones beneath her feet. Please, Jamie! She could not bear to look at her husband or her sister or the son she’d borne seven days past.
Nothing had changed after all. Jamie could never care for her. Not when he still loved Rose.
Help me, Lord, for I cannot bear it .
A tear dripped to the floor and landed beside the candle wax as Leana fought for composure. The words she’d spoken when the firstpangs of childbirth had brought her to her knees returned to taunt her now. Jamie, I love you. I’ve always loved you . How foolish she must have sounded! How foolish she must look now, unable to hold her head up at her own kirkin.
“Leana?” It was Jamie’s voice. “Leana, what is it?”
Eight
Is it the shrewd October wind
Brings the tears into her eyes?
Does it blow so strong that she must fetch
Her breath in sudden sighs?
W ILLIAM D EAN H OWELLS
L eana raised her chin, pretending it did not quiver. The room swam into focus: Jamie holding their son, Rose taking her seat in the family pew, Reverend Gordon staring hard at her across the top of his spectacles. Leana blinked, feeling disoriented. “Wh-what am I to do?”
“You are to sit,” the minister informed her. “The precentor is ready for the gathering psalm.”
Jamie tipped his head toward the nearest pew, and she dropped into it, her face hot with shame. Whatever must Jamie think of her, standing there like a statue? He placed Ian in her arms, then eased down next to her, sitting closer than was proper in the sanctuary. She held the babe to her chest, tucking Ian’s head in the curve of her neck, her thoughts racing all the while. Perhaps she’d imagined the desire that had flowed between Jamie and Rose. Was it fear that conjured such scenes in her mind?
The service began, and Leana did all that was expected of her—standing, sitting, singing psalms, reciting verses—praying it would end quickly. Ian was growing restless, and her swollen breasts ached. Most of all, she longed to be home. Soon , she told herself, drawing strength from Jamie’s nearness.
When the benediction was spoken, the congregants rose to stretch their stiff legs and wander out of doors, looking for a suitable spot where they might partake of the dinners they’d brought from home. Pickled beef and mutton pies were pulled from baskets and pails, as Leana andthe others made their way through the crowd of well-wishers, many of whom reached up to touch the babe’s blanket as Ian passed by. The threatening sky and skittish breeze did little to dampen the high spirits of the villagers for whom a healthy babe was a cause for rejoicing.
As the new family walked toward the chaise, her father fell into step beside them and appraised his grandson. “He behaved well.”
“Aye, Uncle,” Jamie answered for them both. “My mother in Monnigaff will be most eager to see her granbairn.”
Leana stiffened. Not here, Jamie. Not yet .
Lachlan McBride waved his hand in an expansive gesture, as though he were scattering coins instead of words.
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