Chapter Two---Different World
Claire immediately jaunted down to Golly's cabin from the house in hopes to find her old friend. Jess sat at the kitchen table trying to eat a bowl of soup. When the knock came to the door, Jess set her spoon down, wandered over to the front entry way and opened the door, "Claire?"
"You're so not going to believe this and why didn't you tell me you were coming back up here!" Claire walked in, and Jess laughed as she closed the door.
"First, it was a last minute choice and second...what am I not going to believe?"
"Lexie wants me to move into the house to help her out with the bairns. You know, actual job...I haven't really worked since last summer...I mean worked fer Aunt Marjorie and all, but this is different."
"Way cool," Jess's voice dropped an octave and a clue that she wasn't particularly thrilled about her current situation.
"What's gotten into ya?"
"Nothing much, except for this..." Jess made way over to the coffee table in front of the sofa and plucked up an envelope.
"What's that?" Claire looked at the envelope peculiarly until her eyes focused on the letter that Jess pulled out from it.
"Duncan ran off to the house hours ago and forgot to take this with him. Good thing, except..."
"It's my letter..." Claire's face plummeted to the floor and didn't even glance at Jess.
"Erm, I was gonna ask that bit, but ya beat me to the punch. Sit, please." Jess latched her hand onto Claire's arm to persuade her to sit on the couch with her.
"I wrote that letter, Jess, about my heart and all. Susan must've mailed it out. Duncan got the letter? You're sure?"
Jess nodded her head instantly, and smiled, "He seemed okay with receiving it."
Claire blew out a breath of relief, "Does he know it's me?"
"Um, no, since you didn't sign it, Claire, you have to say something!"
"I can't say anything. Besides why would he get my letter? I don't have his heart?"
"You have his wife Lili's heart," Jess blurted out right away as she studied Claire up and down and down and up, making sure she understood what she said.
"Nu-huh! Duncan doesn't have a wife..." Claire blinked, as Jess replied out soundly, "He did, Claire. Didn't anyone tell you anything about Lili?"
"Susan doesn't say much, I mean she explained what happened at Minnie's birthday party months ago and how Paul knew Lili, someone Duncan...oh my."
Jess laughed when she witnessed the look of 'Oh my lord, I know all about it and I never gave it much thought' on Claire's face, "Two and two makes four, aye?"
"I'm stupid!" Claire smacked her self, connecting her hand to her forehead and letting out a grunt of disgust.
"No, you're not, but it's important you say something to Duncan," Jess touched Claire's arm, hoping to calm her down.
"What do I say to Duncan, Jess? By the way, I have your wife's heart in my chest? Does that sound normal to you?"
"Uh, Ah..." Jess's nose wrinkled and she paused just long enough for Claire to react.
"Well, NO!"
"You like him...you fancy his socks off and if he's prone to liking you back, which I'm sure he will and that way. He'll get it," Jess knew Claire better than she thought and she could tell Claire had something for Duncan...more than she lead on.
"Nu-huh! No, I don't, not that way...wait Duncan likes me?" Claire started to dourly protest and then blinked in bafflement again as Jess continued to study Claire, her body movements and her words weren't adding up—Claire had some kind of a love thing brewing for Duncan. Claire then sighed, "What do I do?"
"I'm not going to say Duncan fancies you back or doesn't. Claire, first, you bring the letter to him and explain. Second you move into the house and enjoy taking care of Lexie's bairns and third...just relax yer knickers."
"Aye, all right, I can do that...no I can't!" Claire said in panic as she stared back at Jess full of woe, "If I move into the house...I'll be around Duncan 24/7! That would be an tremendous nightmare!"
"Claire, you're no diamond in the rough! What happened to all of the self-confidence you have?" Jess then nudged Claire with her elbow trying to get her to chill out.
"It went out the window as soon as I saw you with my letter!" Claire retorted cleverly and then changed the subject to Jess, "Why are you here?"
"I left Sean."
"Professor Cook? You ditched him!" Claire recalled the conversation she had with Jess around Christmas time. Claire wasn't big on Jess 'dating' the 'older' man, but she didn't express her feelings since it was Jess's choice. Now, relief swept over her, "You're not pregnant and in trouble are you?"
"Aye," Jess's heart sank with her reply, "whadddd? NO! I'm not pregnant!"
"Why did you leave him?"
"He's divorced his wife, and I moved in with him...however, things are going way too fast and so I cut out on him. I packed up my stuff and headed up here."
"I'm sorry, what about land management in Thailand?"
"Not going to happen. I have to find a job here since I'm flat broke, maybe Molly will let me work at her shop or maybe there's something here on the estate for me..."
"Have you asked your Da or Archie or Paul about estate work?"
"Not yet. I don't know how to tell him much else about Sean. I mean I've been here for a few days now, I can't keep taking residence on his couch during the day."
"I'd ask him, Jess. It can't hurt to ask."
"I'll ask about work if you tell Duncan about this," Jess handed Claire back her letter. Claire hesitated before answering, "I'll do it Monday."
"Monday? Why wait?"
"Jess, I have to move my stuff into the house and I have things to do on Aunt Marjorie's farm and---?"
"You're stalling. If you don't tell Duncan, I'll tell him."
"Why didn't you before?"
"Because I wanted to be sure it was your handwriting and since you've admitted it is..."
Monday rolled right around as Claire was in amidst of taking up residence in the house as planned. Claire now lived in the guest room for the time being as Lexie had suggested. Claire lugged her suitcase to the top of the stairs, wheeled it down the hallway, before walking past Duncan and Ewan's bedroom. As she was in the middle of unpacking, she heard a few knocks on the wall...at first Claire thought nothing of it. The banging became louder and louder, until she decided to maneuver to the wall and knock on back.
Ewan chuckled to himself as he lay on the bottom bunk looking at a motorcycle magazine and knocked again on the wall—he wanted Claire's attention—he wanted to tell her the 'Ghost of Glenbogle' came to welcome her to the house. There wasn't a reply back and instead he heard, "That's you, making that racket in my room?"
Ewan didn't turn his head to look at Claire, he coolly replied, "Welcome to the servant's quarters and actually the Ghost of Glenbogle likes you."
"Thanks," Claire laughed, "Of course, why am I not surprised that you're next door to me?"
"Well, it was either you live in there or in the attic. An' I'm pretty sure Ms. Lex wouldn't have any of it. I think Duncan had suggested you taking our room, until I said something." Ewan added with a smirk, and then joked, "You don't know how complicated it is to room with Dopey Dwarf up there."
"I can only imagine." Claire kept to her self about confessing to Jess haplessly about being remotely into Duncan. The last thing she needed was Ewan finding out and teasing her over and over about it.
"Well, you need help bringing your loot in?" Ewan beamed, hoping Claire was going to agree to it.
"Aye, sure, ya can carry the heavy loads," Claire joked warmly as she watched Ewan drop his magazine and hop off of the bed.
"Gee, thanks," Ewan rustled as he tagged behind Claire, down the hall, to the back steps and out towards the kitchen door. They made way to Susan's car, full of Claire's belongings as Duncan drove right up in Archie and Lexie's SUV.
"Moving day! Claire! Everyone's moving today!" Duncan beamed as he jumped out of the truck and instantly went over to Claire and snagged up the box out of her hands.
"Thanks Duncan," Claire added impishly.
Ewan cast his eyes in Duncan's direction, and then Claire's, she wasn't as cheery as she normally was, or full of pranks and puns towards Duncan. Claire didn't walk behind Duncan into the house. Instead, she continued to unpack the car as Ewan viewed her intently.
"What're ya gawking at?" Claire gave him an eye roll and then a chuckle when she noted she was being watched.
"Nothing really, just how many heavy boxes are you expecting me to carry in one run?" Ewan noticed that Claire had six boxes at her feet.
"Uh, um, here," Claire handed Ewan a lamp, and then an ironing board.
"Ironing board?"
"Aye, don't tell me you don't de-wrinkle your clothes on special dates?"
"I never gave it much thought really, besides I haven't had a special date in a long time."
Claire laughed out and shook her head at Ewan, "You won't have one if you don't iron! Hmph, Men!"
That night, Claire had most of her stuff put way into her 'new' room—she had some odds and ends she left at her aunt's farm. However, she'd get on them on the weekend. Claire gave out a heavy sigh as she was pretty much moved in. A knock came to her door as Ewan appeared with a walkie-talkie.
"What's this?" Claire retorted when she noticed his hand held and hers.
"Just a wee something to use if you get lost on your way to the loo, I mean, I don't get lost, but if you need something..."
"That's grand, Ewan," Claire looked at the walkie talkie and chuckled again when she noticed the note he had tied to the antenna... 'Welcome aboard, Cloak.'
"You see, I'm Dagger and you're Cloak. I figured we could have aliases too. You know...like you said you played it when you were a Bairn with Susan..."
"Very good, Dagger," Claire chuckled again as she turned on the speaker and pressed the talk button. Ewan did the same...
"Come in Cloak."
"Roger, Dagger!"
"Let's go rob the kitchen of Molly's special almond pound cake!"
"I like that idea, I mean, er...sure Dagger!"
Claire turned off the walk talkie and tossed it onto her bed and hiked after Ewan down the hall and towards the kitchen. Duncan met Ewan and Claire as they entered the kitchen. He was already enjoying Molly's dessert.
"What are you doing?" Claire said as Ewan chimed out, "Curses foiled again!"
"Pull up a spork," Duncan joked as he handed Claire and Ewan two spoon-looking forks. Claire sighed at first and then stole a bit off of Duncan's spork, "Hey!"
"It didn't have yer name on it!" Claire winked ruthlessly as Duncan's face went into a macho grin and his left dimple revealed itself.
"Apparently the cake did..." A voice called into the kitchen and it was Jess, as she walked into the room, grabbed a plate and fork from the dish rack at the sink. Duncan smartly dished out pieces to everyone and Ewan handed him plates. Duncan stared longingly at Claire for a long time, and Ewan started watching Duncan and Claire interact again but kept his comments to himself. Jess, she was just oblivious to anything going on between the pair.
"What's got you in a rut?" Ewan inquired to Jess.
"Everything," Claire spoke up for Jess.
"What ya mean everything?" Duncan eyed Jess wisely, knowing something was up, something he didn't notice when he last went to visit her down at Golly's.
"She's jobless, boyfriend-less and um, becoming a couch potato," Claire remarked as Jess glared at her.
"Jess, you know I can talk to Golly and we can put in a good word with Archie n' Paul about you—I'm sure there's gotta be something on the estate for you to do. Or work in Molly's shop, or work down at Ghillie's or..."
"I talked to Molly today. She said that Lizzie would talk to me tomorrow about working in the shop until she had words with Archie about something for me to do on the estate grounds or Paul's wildlife centre. Where's Minnie?"
"Min's in bed," Duncan grinned lopsidedly as he always had this special secret smile for his daughter, especially when someone would bring her up.
"Oh right..."
"She's almost 18 months, Jess and she eats constantly, even impressed Lexie when she wanted to tempt to go potty on the lavvy. Lex is in the middle of potty training Jayne. Wayne won't do it, but Jayne she's all over it...time just flies..."
"That's right, when do they turn two?" Jess asked quietly.
"3 weeks," Claire and Duncan said at the same time. Claire quieted down and Duncan's cheeks were then the color of his shirt, bright red before Ewan changed the subject, "Any of you joining the Glenbogle Fishing Derby in a week or so?"
"Oh right on, that's coming up soon isn't it?" Jess grinned enthusiastically.
"Aye, winner takes the 1300 pounds prize for the best Brown Trout from River Bogle!" Duncan announced with a big head nod.
"Lotta cash," Claire blew out with a whistle as Ewan, with now ruffled feathers at how much Duncan kept staring at Claire and her back at him---he suddenly wasn't too keen on them being so friendly, and added, "Not that much cash, besides, there's all kinds of rules I reckon."
Claire looked at Ewan for the past months they had become pretty bosom buddies, terrific mates and somewhat good friends, but she could tell something was plaguing him. Duncan took over the conversation before she could ask him what was wrong...
"I s'pose, I'll join in," Duncan glanced at Claire, "You going to join too?"
Jess laughed hearty, "Her? Fish! Heh. Right! Maybe for her bloomers out of a---?" Claire gave Jess a wicked look and both Ewan and Duncan perked up assuming there was a story to be told.
"I was five, my mother got me a fishing pole, and well, I thought I'd fish out my knickers after I tossed five pairs into my old paddle pool! I mean, I was five! I pretended them to be fish!"
"Ah-huh, an' how many 'fish' did ya catch!" Ewan snickered out with a chuckle or two just as Duncan and Jess laughed and Claire scowled humbly with her answer, "Okay, so I can't fish, but I tie a mean fly tie!"
"Fly tying? Tricky business, not very good at it myself..." Duncan started to say as Claire smiled, "I could show you, it's pretty easy."
"I mean I've tied flies, um, whoops, fly tied, anyway..." Duncan's words got all jumbled up as his eyes connected with Claire's and Ewan grumbled under his breath something unsuitable.
"My mum showed me how and it's just as much fun as fishing!" Claire didn't pick up on Ewan's grumble, but she caught him trying to imitate her, while his fingers went up to his cheeks and he fluttered his eye lashes, "Oooooh, me mum showed me how, honest, she did, I can't fish...boo hoo!"
Claire eyed Ewan up and down and blinked, she about to put him in his place, and then Jess slapped Ewan on the back of the head, "What ya do that for?"
Ewan rubbed his head and choked on a piece of pound cake...and gave Jess the evil eye.
"Because Claire is the worlds worst fisher-woman and I'm supposed to spread that vicious rumor about her!" Jess spoke up triumphantly with a giggle, "I can give Claire credit though, she does fly tie very well," Jess winked at Claire and then she added, "Can you and I have a word? Excuse us, female business!"
Claire and Jess stood up from the table as they left Duncan and Ewan in awe, wondering equally where they were off too.
Jess and Claire stepped out onto the kitchen door stoop. The sky was clear, lots of stars dotting out constellations, and the quarter moon just cascading light over head too and not to far off was the loch and the peepers were starting to make their presence that spring was here. The girls sat there side by side.
"You and Dunc seem to be getting along splendidly. Did you tell him about the letter?" Jess investigated as Claire shied away from answering, "Well, ah, um..."
"Claire, you didn't tell him?"
"I don't quite know how, Jess, I mean why should I spoil everything by bringing up his dead wife?"
"Claire, you gotta say something to him."
"Quit nagging me and I will."
"I'm not nagging."
"Yes ye're like an ole maid!"
"No I'm not."
"Aye."
"Not."
"Aye!"
"All right so may be the whole curiosity thing is killing me...I just wish you'd come out and talk to him about it. That's all."
"Ewan seems kinda cool." Jess replied as she hadn't hung out with him, only just those few short days around Christmas, "You know him well?"
"He is and I do," Claire spoke up matter of factly and then laughed, "He got me a walkie talkie."
"Walkie talkie?"
"A hand held radio."
"Oh," Jess laughed just as Duncan appeared at the door, "Ya gonna come back in?"
"It's nice out here, Dunc."
"Aye that it is, reckons the midges will be near soon," Duncan waited for a reply from Claire, but got one from Jess instead, "I must get back to Da's. Thanks for sharing the pie."
"Not a problem," Duncan grinned as Claire spoke right up again, "You need me to walk with you?"
"Nah, I'm able to handle it on me own, we'll chat tomorrow," Jess waved to Claire and walked off leaving Duncan and Claire alone.
"So, you think it's nice out here?" Duncan parked himself next to Claire and straightened out his kilt.
"Yeah, Dunc?"
"Yea?"
"You were married when you had Minnie right?" Claire glanced up at the sky.
"Um, well, not exactly, Lili didn't really like the idea of marriage. I mean she liked it just fine, but marriage seemed to have trouble with her. Lil and I were married for about three days until her accident," Duncan hardly ever talked about Lili to anyone except sometimes to Minnie or Lexie.
"I don't mean to pry and all, but how'd she die?" Claire began to question Duncan more about Lili and he still didn't seem to mind discussing it more.
"Accident, she took the truck into town, it was slick out, raining an' well, she crashed basically, just before the house drive."
"Did she---?"
"She made it to the hospital and then died as soon as they got her to the emergency room."
"I'm sorry," Claire felt sorry for other things too, not saying a word about her letter to him, or the fact that she did indeed have Lili's heart.
"Och no, you kiddin', no worry! It was about six months ago, Claire. I'm doin' okay."
"I'm going to retire to bed, I think," Claire stood up and held out a hand to help up Duncan.
"Can I walk you to your room, neighbor?" Duncan offered as Claire walked into the house just before he did, "Sure."
Chapter Three---Lizzie's nightmarish night...
A few more days passed, now just the start of the weekend, and still the sun's rays cast down upon the rounded slopes of the mountains in evening hours. The clocks had been turned back, the days were becoming longer and Lizzie sat in her seat on the train. Compton, well, he was sitting on the seat in front of her with his nose to a newspaper and his glasses set just to the middle of his face. Thanks to Jess and her asking for a job at the shop, Molly decided to give Jess the hours and start training her so Lizzie could take this weekend away.
Lizzie kept fidgeting with her hands, as she was nervous, how would this night go? Big fancy, swanky, and conservative dinner at the National Gallery of Art in Edinburgh, to welcome new age 'sculptures' by an Architect named Bronson Lee. Oh okay, Scottish-Japanese art in a traditional Scottish museum...different, but not unheard of since there were more than a few Japanese residents in the City of Edinburgh. Compton had put it easy to Lizzie the museum wants a muliti-cultural 'feel' to it, even it it's only for a one week exhibit. And since Bronson came from the 'Campbell' line and was a great mate of Compton's, he had to go which meant he needed a date, Lizzie.
"I do wish you'd stop twisting you fingers that way, Elizabeth," a voice came out from the newspaper, Compton wasn't even looking at her and he could still tell what she was doing...
"I'm just concerned that's all."
"No need to be, Elizabeth."
"I mean, we're going to the National Gallery. I haven't been there since I was a Bairn wearing a hopscotch frock with piggy tails in my hair. My father and mother brought the family down here for a summer holiday, just a tiny get away--I remember Jamie, Jamie's best friend David, and Archie and how much they irritated each other while playing a game of Gin Rummy. You know playing cards on the way down...Oh how I just love train rides...you know Martha does too..." Lizzie conversationally trailed off as she noted that Compton wasn't paying attention to a word she had just said. And Compton also showed no interest in talking about Jamie, when he too knew him as well, or even Archie, until she brought up, "Oh fiddle-phooey, it's meeting your business partners down there that gives me a fright!"
"There's nothing wrong with meeting them, we've rehearsed this before, and you simply make them feel welcoming around you. The nicer you are to all of them, the more respectful that they will be of you." Compton piped up, and arched his brow, while still reading the newspaper.
"Well, I mean, how did you quire them all?" Lizzie brought up the subject of how well known Compton was in Scotland again. However Compton just swept her question under an imaginary rug with an imaginary broom.
"Elizabeth, you're going to be delightful. There's no need to go over this again. I'm off to the dinning cart. I need a drink," Compton remarked stiffly as he folded up the paper, placed it under his arm and strolled out.
Lizzie sighed, glanced out the train window and replied to herself "I will not screw this up and if I do, well, I can tell---oh no, Liz, just get a hold of yourself, yer first few fortnights away from Martha in a long time and you're going to enjoy it!"
Compton entered the dinning lounge, ordered a drink, as his eyes caught a blonde sitting at a table...he knew who it was and ordered her a drink too. She gazed up at Compton, shifted her eyes away when his glance caught hers and then he strolled over to her dinning booth.
"Amanda, I promised you a---?"
"I'm a wee bit taken back at how she's here, Compton." Amanda replied as her sight then set on his.
"I know, you are, here's your drink..."
"Lemonade, how cute and quite suitable for Elizabeth, when are you going to realize..." Amanda's mouth when into a very imperial grin and below the table...her shoe slipped off her foot straightened out to touch Compton's shin and inched upwards...
"Mandy...let's not do this here," Compton tapped her 'trying to cop a feel' foot away after practically choking on his lemonade too, "I'm," Compton wiped his lips with a napkin, "perfectly capable of keeping the loving out of the public eye you know...I suggest, snuggle bear, you do the same."
"I can't help it, Compton, I need you. My husband's all ready in Edinburgh. He's taking a flight out to Cannes right after the dinner...why can't you just dodge the chimp and come be with me again?"
"Don't blow it for us, Amanda, just don't, don't blow this cover we've got."
"Oh so now there is an 'us'---?" Amanda's lips went into a pout and then her foot climbed his shin again...Compton immediately stopped her foot from rising again when he spotted Lizzie coming straight towards them, "There's always been an 'us,' lovey. Act natural, she's coming."
Lizzie traveled past other dining booths before she reached Compton's and Amanda's table. Lizzie didn't notice anything out of the ordinary between her boyfriend and the blonde suited up in a cream colored blouse and a pair of nice dress slacks, Amanda looked at Lizzie, slightly stunned at her attire but didn't voice her 'disgusted' comments.
"Elizabeth."
"I'm sorry, I'm thirsty too, and who's your friend? Oh my..." Lizzie's eyes met Amanda's... "Amanda McKellen?"
"Amanda MacLeish," Amanda instantly piped up, hinting at her 'well-known married' last name around Glenbogle and it's neighboring towns, "How long has it been, Lizzie? A few decades?"
"Actually, I last saw you at the Glenbogle Art Show, when my mother was competing against you mother for first place," Lizzie recalled everything vividly, as it was Molly's first year to run the Glenbogle Art Show, after begging Hector to host it. Molly and Gayle McKellen spent hours at the local village hall, sitting on steps drawing portraits of 'villagers' on the streets of Glenbogle—both eyeing each other with their canvases visible to just themselves. Gayle bet Molly she couldn't do a quick paint and put it in the show...just as Molly bet her the same.
"Yeah, what a shame that mother didn't win. Of course I'm not surprised," Amanda added slightly snide.
"How do you mean?" Lizzie's eyes leveled with Amanda's and she replied dryly.
"Let's face it, your father running the show, hiring the judges, and---?"
"That show wasn't rigged, thank-you, my mother won fair and square."
Compton sat there, as he let out a laugh, "You two are having a row like school children after all of these fine tuned years."
Amanda and Lizzie both avoided looking at each other, as Compton rose from the table, nodded his head at Amanda pleased, "Nice to see you Amanda."
Compton snagged Lizzie's arm abruptly and lead her out of the dinning cart, "That was rude and uncalled for Elizabeth."
"She started it Compton..." Lizzie snatched her arm back and entered the seating cabin, before regaining her composure and sitting herself down.
"Amanda MacLeish's husband will be there tonight, and he's one of the men you have to respect," Compton lowered his voice and sent Lizzie a smug look.
Lizzie gave him a hurtful one.
Compton miraculously caved in, "Elizabeth, sweetheart, you look daring tonight, however, don't be so brash when you meet people..."
"I'm not."
"Elizabeth, you've helped me out a great deal with the...?"
"Election I know."
"Don't be grumpy, a pretty lass with a frown, it doesn't suit you," Compton reached out hand to hers. Lizzie was reluctant to take it at first, until Compton finally faked a grin and got her to comply.
Hours later, the train had arrived in Edinburgh, Compton had successfully called for a taxi and had Lizzie and himself shuttled away towards the National Gallery of Edinburgh. Lizzie couldn't contain her excitement as she viewed out the window. Compton was quiet the whole way there and distant from Lizzie. As the taxi pulled up to the curb and Compton climbed out, he opened the door for Lizzie and helped her out too.
Lizzie glanced up at National Gallery and laughed, "Don't remember it being this tiny back in the day?"
Compton gave Lizzie a half smile, asked, "Are you sure? Well, let's go inside..." as he placed her arm under his and walked them up the cement steps and into the marbled hallway. Lizzie laughed out loud again. She followed Compton towards the 'convention' area as there were many people dressed up, no one like Lizzie. Most men were in business suits or women were in more conservative dresses as Lizzie was still suited in all-flashy pink and her hair--well...it was still swept off her shoulders.
"Compton MacFarlane and guest," Compton announced dignified to a woman standing at a podium handing out table cards.
"Oh guest? Um...well, she's not on the list, but let me check."
"Please?" Compton insisted as the woman scanned down her list while Compton and Lizzie stood there, waiting patiently.
"I'm sorry, however, we do have room at this table as you're to sit at this one," The woman replied as she handed Lizzie a card for table 12 and one to Compton for table 6. Compton gave Lizzie a 'Do you mind if we sit apart?' look, "Ah,"
"It's all right, Compton, we can mingle together and dine apart, no worry," as Lizzie took it all in stride. Compton beamed, before placing a kiss on Lizzie's hand, "You're---?"
"Life saver?" Lizzie added as Compton gave her another odd look and then forced a smile, "Ah, yes."
"The exhibit is that way down to the right and we'll seat everyone for dinner around 6pm," The woman smiled as her hand gestured Lizzie and Compton in the direction of the exhibit.
Lizzie studied the walls of paintings, sculptures, abstract arts, real life portraits down the main corridor as Compton toddled her over to a lot of justifiable 'men'. Lizzie noticed with slight relief that one of them was indeed Graeme.
"Compton," A man about five foot one inch tall, with dark hair and dark Asian complexion grinned and bowed his head to him.
"Bronson," Compton held out his hand and they shook it, "Marvy place...nice lighting, great view of..."
"Portraits," Lizzie spoke out overconfidently, as the men turned to look at her vastly confused, since Bronson dealt with sculptures, and Graeme, who heard her, stifled his laugh, "I'm...pardon me..."
"This is her?" Bronson went to kiss both of Lizzie's hands and welcome her to the show, "Siz--beth?"
"Elizabeth." Lizzie replied, correcting Bronson, Compton watched her carefully. God forbid, if Lizzie embarrassed Compton...which she just had.
"Eliz--beth, nice to meet you, you look brill," Bronson say Lizzie's name wrong again and Compton retorted quietly, "Bronson's got a bit of a stutter, Elizabeth."
Lizzie stood still, as she registered that Compton wanted her to apologize for correcting Bronson on her name. Lizzie smiled to Bronson, tossed Compton a look of despair and said, "Nice to meet you too, fancy art."
"Ah, well, I try."
Graeme couldn't bear it any longer as he listened to Lizzie and then Compton and Lizzie again—knowing very well, that Lizzie was nervous and Compton just brought out the worse in her. As Graeme challenged Lizzie intellectually about Bronson's artwork...
"Actually, he's always been a creative-minded one, terrible with logistics, humble and truly awful painter, but a fine sculptor...wouldn't you say?"
Bronson laughed as Graeme had a courageous look on his face, wanting Lizzie's true opinion of the artwork and his eyes stayed trained on Lizzie. Lizzie just laughed too, and Bronson stopped chuckling husky as he stared at Lizzie blankly. Lizzie's mind formed, 'Uh-oh, I'm so in for a long night, aren't I?'
"Compton, you picked her?" Bronson eyed his friend gutsy, "One who laughs at others expense?"
Lizzie then thought of a clever comeback to Bronson talking down about her—as if she weren't there, "Actually, most artists I know are gay, and can take a joke..."
"Oh?" Bronson chuckled, not offended, but Compton was...
"Yes, I have quite a few friends, or well known painters, my mother for starters, Andrew Booth, Stuart Asher, Lena Derevko, too name a few down and I have more in London that I did PR work for," Lizzie spoke up matter of factly, and Graeme continued to stare at her.
"Well, I'll be sure to not look you up when I need PR work done, excuse me..." said Bronson curtly as he walked away towards a podium, and Compton started to lecture her.
"Elizabeth, what was that about?"
"Compton, you're over reacting, Graeme gave his..." Lizzie started to explain her self and Graeme cut in, "Look, no harm, no foul, I just brought it to Bronson's attention. The place is dauntingly swanky, Comp, too good looking for this new wave crap."
"Aye, no need giving true opinions to Bron, he's our friend, you know," Compton rolled his eyes, "I'm utterly appalled at you, Elizabeth, you could have been a bit more friendly instead of tactless with your reply to him."
Lizzie was wide eyed at Compton's snapping at her...Graeme added thinking it was his cue to scatter before Lizzie snipped back at Compton, "I'm off to the races actually excuse me, Lizzie, to the lavatory."
Lizzie sighed, as Compton picked it up. They turned to listen to Bronson welcome everyone to the exhibit. Lizzie decided her high-heels were starting to bother her feet. As she placed her hand on a pedestal where one of Bronson's sculptures stood as she listened to Bronson...she felt a rock in the toe of her shoe...as she tried to balance on one foot, her weight went to the pedestal just as she continued to fiddled with the buckle of her shoe, pushing on the pedestal, it teetered, tottered, and then it toppled over as Lizzie and the sculpture crashed to the floor.
Bronson who was mid-sentence, "And I welcome you all one again to my very special exhibit..." became full of bafflement, and while his face turned a rainbow of colors, when his favorite piece of art, the art that got him the exhibit gig at the National Gallery, was now scattered all over on the floor. Lizzie stood herself up instantly, with the aggravating pebble in her hand, and her shoe in the other, as every one gawked at her before smiling, backing up, winking and saying, "Pardon me..."
Lizzie fled the exhibit room with one high heel on and one high heel off. Lizzie didn't know what to do, so she walked as far away as she could, before sitting herself down on a foot bench. Her purse was still over her shoulder, so she set it by her side as she fixed her heel.
Lizzie decided to visit other parts of the museum. She refused to go back into the main exhibit room so she clickity clacked down the hall, and went off to the left into a room called, "The Many Faces of Scots: The Clans." Lizzie remembered the room vaguely, as she scanned each portrait up and down, all faces that were of Victorian era. Lizzie noted the swords, clan emblems between each portrait, and she smiled when she set foot at the MacDonald clan.
Lizzie didn't remember all of the names, since there were so many faces but one in particular, caught her eye, "Lady Kathryn."
"She's exquisite, isn't she?"
Lizzie jumped startled, when she heard a voice from behind her. It was Graeme, "Yes, she is, she's a relative of mine."
"I often wandered how many of these faces are your relations...you all right?"
"Uh, yea, I s'pose, after knocking Bronson's sculpture over...funny I assumed Japanese art would be more paper swans and boats...I guess I was really quite wrong."
"I don't think he'll miss it, I know I won't—I thought the same thing, origami." chuckled Graeme, Lizzie's face lit right up as he handed Lizzie her purse, "You left this..."
"Oh, oh my, I had no idea..." Lizzie accepted her handbag and laughed back, "Tell me something, if you don't like art, why are you at a museum?"
"Well, art, it does, wonders actually, for everyone but me. Anyway about the bag, I thought it might be yours...I saw you carrying it in and out."
"Right, how long were you watching me?" Lizzie smiled at Graeme and he grinned back sheepishly.
"I just noticed you sitting on the bench dealing with your shoe and then you getting up and going—so I snagged your handbag and followed you in here," Graeme spoke well mannered, as he kept softly glancing at Lizzie, "You do look stunning, Lizzie."
"Considering I'm over dressed for the occasion?" Lizzie put herself down and her pink threads.
"Actually, I don't believe you are..."
"Not for Cyndi Lauper maybe...I just need the wild, red, orange and yellow hair..."
"Maybe the wrist gloves?" Graeme joked back...
Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,
and think of you
caught up in circles confusion--
is nothing new
Flashback--warm nights--
almost left behind
suitcases of memories,
time after—
"Or the tee shirt with a knot on the side, a crinoline skirt and some heavy socks and combat boots!" Lizzie took her dress and tried to knot the side of it.
Graeme smiled again, "Or the jelly bracelets..."
"Actually, I never had those...I was too old for them...we weren't really allowed to wear what we wanted at school," Lizzie smiled, "I know for a fact, Lady Kathryn didn't."
sometimes you picture me--
I'm walking too far ahead
you're calling to me, I can't hear
what you've said--
Then you say--go slow--
I fall behind--
the second hand unwinds
if you're lost you can look--and you will find me
time after time
if you fall I will catch you--I'll be waiting
time after time
"Right, how old was she in that picture?" Graeme stood beside Lizzie while they viewed the real painting.
"27, she died in childbirth."
"How terribly sad,"
"Well back then they didn't have the standard equipment to save women—heck even now they don't especially since so many have babies at home. I had Martha at home, I couldn't imagine what it would be like to never meet Martha and have this kind of death."
"That is, I reckon, quite true."
"Do you have children?"
"No, I don't, but Martha's very lucky to have a mother like you," Graeme winked and Lizzie's cheeks went red, and she didn't respond back—because she didn't know how. Graeme continued to stare at the painting when Lizzie would casually look over his way and then dart her eyes back to the portrait and then Graeme would sideways gaze over to her. They spent moments in silence, until, "Elizabeth, there you are!"
Compton, quite taken back at finding her in another part of the museum, but also quite relieved when he noticed Graeme was with her.
"Hi."
"What are you two doing? Dinner's going to start soon," Compton tilted his head, and scoffed at the painting of Lizzie's great–great aunt, "What an absurdly morbid woman you two choose to glare at...I wonder why museums keep these ancient things, she's about as appalling as your behavior Elizabeth."
Lizzie sighed again, discontent, and then turned to face Graeme, "I'll see you?"
"Decidedly so," Graeme nodded his head. He had planned on keeping at close eye on Lizzie since he was officially annoyed at Compton and his out of order remarks about Lady Kathryn as she resembled Lizzie, only with dark hair.
after my picture fades and darkness has
turned to gray
watching through windows--you're wondering
if I'm OK
secrets stolen from deep inside
the drum beats out of time--
if you're lost...
you said go slow--
I fall behind
the second hand unwinds--
if you're lost...
...time after time
time after time
time after time
time after time
Lizzie managed to stay behind Compton on her way out of the clan room. They wandered into the convention room and Lizzie was relieved not to spot Bronson Lee. However, Compton was relieved to not sit by Lizzie.
"I'm very sorry about the..." Lizzie began to apologize about the sculpture to Compton as they strolled towards their tables.
"It's all right, darling, Bronson will get over it, just please, no more accidents," Compton sighed out and Lizzie nodded her head. Compton's face softened as he gave her shoulders a rub, winked at her and replied, "I'm only a pebble throw away from you. Let me know if you need anything, Elizabeth." A petite blonde out of the corner of Lizzie's eye, dressed in flowery in-style frock with a hat on her head, and waved at Compton. He nodded and gestured back to her-at first Lizzie didn't think much of it, until she recognized the face. Lizzie who now had her table card, and moaned, as she wasn't sure she could handle Amanda sitting beside Compton at table 6. "And Elizabeth the main course is venison-you might want to eat well—you decide not to eat it, you might as well keep it on the light side and away from the dessert nibbles...since you're..."
"Don't say it, Compton," Lizzie scowled, envisioning clobbering him since he had one minute become Jekyll and then Mr. Hyde, "I don't eat meat, and I've told you this. I'm a grand lass and I can take care of myself." Lizzie said low and then made way towards table 12 and sure enough, with some relief, Graeme was at the same table as her, "Graeme?"
"Hi, I guess you were right we'd see each other again," Graeme peered up at her in relief since they were the only two bodies sitting at table 12, "I started wondering who would be sitting in your chair."
"Oh and you're happy it's me?"
"I'm delighted it's you."
Chapter 4---Wake up call
Lizzie and Graeme ate their meals together. They listened to the banter from the other tables as Graeme noted that she hadn't touched a bite of her dinner. Lizzie continued to study Compton's table. Amanda was beside him and her husband was beside her or at least Lizzie assumed he was Amanda's husband, because she kept touching his shoulder and making it well known that he was her 'territory'.
"Who's that man sitting next to Amanda?" Lizzie questioned as she nudged Graeme's shoulder.
"Harold MacLeish why?"
"Just wondering, she was traveling down on the train with Compton and I...well, not with us, but I found her in sitting at a table in the dinning cart with him," Lizzie continued to glare in table 6's direction. Graeme peered over to Lizzie as he could tell she wasn't pleased to be sitting here.
"Amanda and Harold have an odd relationship, he spends most of his time in the South of France working on his vineyards and running his yachts," Graeme began to explain as Lizzie turned her head and listened to him. "Look, Liz, there's no need to worry about her. I'm just sorry that Compton's been treating you this way."
"Treating me in what way exactly?" Lizzie waited for his reply and her eyes set on his. Graeme took a bite of his meal, sipped down some water and then added,
"I didn't mean anything bad about it."
"Bad about what? Graeme, everything's fine..." Graeme cocked his head at her when she illustrated 'everything's not fine' in her tone.
"Are you sure? I remember the last few times you assumed I was baby-sitting you. And well, you don't look like you're having a very good time. You didn't touch your dinner—just your carrots and peas in the creamy butter sauce."
"I don't eat meat. I only eat fish and eggs," Graeme laughed as Lizzie's eyes narrowed in on him.
"What are you laughing at?"
"Nothing, Lizzie, it just explains a lot to me since the lunch we were at for Compton's 'election' and how you didn't eat the chicken salad sandwiches, but just fruit, which was a garnish on your plate. I have a lot of utmost respect for vegans," Graeme smiled at her and Lizzie blinked, "Wait, you don't care if I don't eat this or not?"
"Of course not, I think it's kinda 'cool'." Graeme's brows rose and fell and his smile with a right cheek dimple formed on his face.
"Oh," Lizzie's voice dropped, Compton wasn't this understanding of her diet, like Graeme had been in all of two minutes of finding out. Lizzie studied Amanda, did Amanda eat meat? Was she more of Compton's equal? Absurd question—she's married, Lizzie's mind shouts out.
"Don't worry about Amanda, her brother and I go way back."
"Her father and brother bet off Ghillie's..."
"To Paul, I know." Graeme beamed again and then said, "Do you want my vegetables?"
"Actually, I need a loo, no, thank-you for asking, Graeme," Lizzie jolted up from the table, didn't smile at him, and just took off for the restroom.
Lizzie got to the restroom, wandered over to a stall and locked herself in. Lizzie was about to sit her self down, but her dress was quite a struggle, and she kept trying to pull it upwards. Lizzie was then distracted when she heard other ladies coming into the lavatory, and one had a voice she had heard before but couldn't seem to place her finger on it.
"I don't get why on earth she's here really. Compton's decision, personally, he could do better." One lady said as Lizzie decided to gently bring her feet from up off of the floor so no one would know she was there...eavesdropping in.
"I thought he was going to marry her?" Second lady asked, as the third replied, "Compton MacFarlane, would never marry a such an obscene, no class, completely sloppy woman—especially once who has no tact when talking to his business partners and guests. No matter what type of lineage she came from, I mean MacDonald's aren't that spectacular? The woman's a klutz and a ditzy airhead and besides that woman's got baggage, a married man's daughter, Compton said even if he did marry that bimbo he'd ship the young girl off to boarding school since her mother wouldn't even be able to fathom teaching her proper manners. Tonight just goes to prove he's so right about it."
Lizzie's cheeks grew warm as she continued to listen...
"You saw what she did to the exhibit? I mean Elizabeth wandered off on Compton tonight, what woman in her right mind would leave her man like that?" Lizzie knew the third woman...she knew her...who was she?
"Oh gd," Lizzie gasped...and then placed her hand over her mouth when she realized who it was for sure. Lizzie continued to stand and crouch on the seat with both of her feet, while waiting for more.
"Oh Amanda, you're so divinely pleasant to be around," as the other two women began to laugh as Amanda started to imitate Lizzie, puckering up her lips and going cross eyed, in a high pitched tone of voice, "Pardon me? I do PR work for many artists—sure ya do babe, for who? The circus clowns? Oh did I tell you how---?" Amanda burst out in laughter as Lizzie...tried to hold in her tears.
Lizzie couldn't believe it! Snobs, they are all conceited, vicious, arrogant twits! as her mind lasped out too...Did Compton see it this way? Lizzie wasn't fit to be with him so he kept telling her how to be 'fit and proper'? The three ladies vacated the bathroom, Lizzie who knelt with her feet on the toilet, tried to budge. As she shifted her body weight quickly and swiftly, her foot slipped into the 'colored blue' water of the toilet bowl. The action made her pink purse fly up into the air, and then she heard a 'rippppppppppp!' as her high heel caught a corner of the hem of her dress...Lizzie fell in a disastrous heap beside her purse, which its contents were all over the floor. Teary eyed, frustrated, upset, angered, as she looked at her favorite party dress, now ruined, and could feel her foot in her soggy and broken high heeled shoe as Lizzie stood up, retrieved the heel from the toilet bowl, and the water works from within her turned on...Lizzie again slid to the floor...
"I don't believe this...what did I do to deserve this cruelty?" Lizzie mumbled to herself, wallowing in self pity, and then wiping her face with the skirt of her dress. Lizzie then cleverly, promptly and suddenly stood her self up. She hiked out of the stall and her face met the bathroom mirror. Lizzie never wore make-up, only on special occasions, and her cheeks were now stained with black mascara. Lizzie then stormed out of the bathroom, "No, tact, no class, klutzy ditz! I'll give her a piece of my bad lineage mind!" Lizzie snapped at her self and continued to click clack, limp, click clack, and limp down the marbled hall...into the dinning area, as she made way for table 6.
Lizzie's eyes zeroed in on Amanda with her husband, chatting with Compton, actually more likely flirting but Lizzie didn't want to know anything else...instead, she noted the passing by waiter. Lizzie snagged his pitcher of water off of his tray, and then stammered up to Amanda, who said, "Lizzie? What on earth, dear, did you do to your self? URGH! Ah!"
"Elizabeth!" Compton hollered right out, "Nooooo!" as Lizzie poured the water pitcher right over Amanda MacLeish's head, with all intentions to show her exactly how she felt. Everyone in the whole convention room stared, gawked, and gasped at Lizzie. She was complete mess, Graeme even noticed Lizzie as he could tell she was angry like a volcano, about to erupt, "How DARE you!"
"Elizabeth, let's talk about this..." Compton stood up from the table.
"Nothing to talk about! I have never been so humiliated by a lot of bumbling, cankerous, vain, and inconsiderate donkeys! " Lizzie bolted off, clickity clack limping out of the dinning room with her handbag just hanging slightly off her shoulder. Lizzie's dress was still ripped, her face had visible mascara tracks running down her reddened cheeks as she yanked her high heels off, tossed them and ran out of the National Gallery.
Graeme went after her, as she saw her shoes, and plucked them up from the marbled floor, like Prince Charming did for Cinderella the night of the ball. "Lizzie! Wait! Wait a minute!"
Lizzie kept sprinting as she had enough, her face didn't feel like it was hers and her eyes were so blurry from the tears. Graeme stayed behind her, as his running and his breath were in tune finally after chasing her down the street. Lizzie stopped running and continued to wipe the tears from her eyes.
"Lizzie! Stop!"
"What do you want with me?" Lizzie replied sadly, but she didn't let Graeme answer and concluded, "Amanda called me...I can't even word all of it...I can't make a list of all of the horrible things that those women said about me—they even brought Martha into it." Lizzie continued to wipe away the tears, and regained her composure, until her anger crept in again. Graeme promptly took off his suit coat and wrapped it around Lizzie as he then replied, slipping his dress shoes off his feet before her, "Here take my shoes too."
"Your coat? Your shoes?" Lizzie sniffled, as she stepped into each shoe and glanced down at Graeme's feet in dress socks, "You can't walk back like that."
"Don't worry about me."
"I can't go back there. I don't even want to see Compton ever again. I just want to go home." Lizzie instantly spoke up, nervous.
"I know that's where I'm going to take you," Graeme stated firmly, "This way, we'll walk two blocks back to where my car is parked, come along now."
Later that evening, the rain started to softly sprinkle down on the car windshield as it made way out of the city. Graeme and Lizzie drove right along, as Lizzie continued to stare out of the window unsure of what to say. Graeme had lots of things to say, and he began, "I don't like those people much, Lizzie. Personally, if you hadn't dumped water over Amanda's head, I would have done it.""
"I gathered that much after your comment about Bronson's artwork."
Graeme snickered, and then tried to sound cheerful, "It's not artwork. Whatever it was, it wasn't artwork. I only went because I know Bronson and Compton and well, you."
"Tell me some thing--is there something wrong with me?" Lizzie's eyes scanned Graeme's face while he concentrated on the road. Lizzie sat herself up more in the passenger's seat.
"Nothing's wrong with you. Don't listen to a word of that white wash that came from Amanda's mouth, Lizzie. Whatever she said about you---don't listen to it."
"I wish I could stop thinking about it—she put down my lineage, called me a ditzy klutz and even brought Martha in to it."
"Martha?"
"My daughter," Lizzie gazed at Graeme, thinking he had forgot...
"Oh right, yes."
"Apparently, I wouldn't be suitable for teaching her manners so Compton would want to ship her off to boarding school. I went to boarding school and I was insolubly miserable, I came home ever chance I could get. I will never allow Martha to go to boarding school, I'm her mother. She stays with me, she goes to public school where she'll make best friends and can stay friends with them. My best friend went to public school and I remained friends with her. I even begged and pleaded with my father about staying at home and going to public school...do you know what he's say
"No daughter of mine will be taught in a public school---the education is a disgrace, private schools are the way to go! They have the over the top teachers and make the most prized winning students. You're going to private school and no buts about it, lassie!" Lizzie's voice went baritone as she impersonated Hector so long ago.
"Why would Compton make that sort of decision, putting Martha in boarding school, if you don't agree with it?"
"You tell me, did Compton mention wanting to marry me?" Lizzie's face dropped and she dabbed her eyes with tissue. Graeme carefully reached over and flipped the visor down so she could look into a mirror—and study her weary self. Graeme remembered dancing with Lizzie at Ghillie's just weekends ago and how she said she wouldn't marry someone who didn't know and accept her or her daughter for who they are.
"Here."
"Thanks."
"No, Compton told me nothing about wanting to marry you," Graeme replied evenly, "He would have said something to me..." I would have told him to go p up a rope, because I've had my eye on you Lizzie ever since Hogmanay night...damn, don't say that to her! Graeme's mind went into circles thinking about the right 'approach' with Lizzie, I only hang out with Compton all of these weeks because I genuinely care for you...comin' off too strong, she's rebounding dummy!
"Well good, because I never want to see him ever again. Amanda, I started to wonder if something was on going with them."
"Not to my utmost knowledge," Graeme added as he tipped his head to take a look at Lizzie while she cleaned up her face. And nodded to the unopened water bottle in the coffee cup holder, "You can use that water, to clean up---if you like it might be a bit tepid..."
"Thank-you," Lizzie opened the bottle of water and tried to clean the black trail marks off of her face, "I never wear make-up and now look at me, I resemble a back up singer for KISS!"
Graeme eased his lips into a smile and chuckled with Lizzie, even though he was upset with Compton too for how he treated Lizzie. For the past five months, he had witness Lizzie and Compton's relationship 'blossom' or 'grow' and now it was safe for him to conclude, he didn't care for it. Not one bit. "About baby sitting you Lizzie, I certainly hope you're..."
"No, I don't think that way."
"You used too, I mean, the election luncheon, the celebration at Ghillie's..." Celebration at Ghillie's where Graeme danced with her and Compton unruly cut in.
Just then, Lizzie's handbag began to sing, just as Graeme tried to hint around liking her, just a wee bit...Lizzie opened her bag and pulled out her cell phone as the numbered dial lit up the cabin of the car. Lizzie peered down at the phone before placing it to her ear. Lizzie noted the number and knew the voice from anywhere, "Hello Justine?"
"Hi Lizzie...I was wondering how you were so I thought I'd give ya a ring." Lizzie forced herself to laugh with her reply, "I'm just fine, Justine. I meant to call you back but I've been busy at mother's shop. How are you?"
"You don't sound peachy keen to me," Justine tuned into Lizzie's distraught tone as the reception cut in and out...Lizzie could hear it because one minute Justine was clear as night and the next fuzzy.
"Hang on," Lizzie put her hand over the voice part of the phone, "Is it too much trouble to...?"
"Oh no," Graeme pulled them off the motorway, down an exit ramp and then over to the side of the road where Lizzie got better cell phone reception. The sprinkles stopped and Lizzie unbuckled her seat belt and climbed outside of the car.
"Hi, back."
"You all right?"
"I'm horrible actually," Lizzie admitted solemnly to Justine.
"Horrible? How do you mean?" Justine ran around her flat with her cordless phone tipped to her ear. Justine shuffled magazines off a coffee table and set down a tea cup that Lenny handed her, before she perched herself on her couch, "Talk to me Lizzie...breathe, let me know what's happening?"
"I just had the worse nightmarish night of my life..." Lizzie whimpered while tears returned again. Lizzie leaned herself up against the car.
"Is it Martha?" Justine asked with a red flag warning, hoping Martha was well too.
"No, no, she's fine. What's wrong with me, Justine? Why do men always use me as a doormat? Is it in my genetic make-up? Do I have 'use me, since I don't care' stamped on my forehead? Why is it I find someone, they stick around for two-three-six months tops and then bail out on me?" Lizzie sniffled once more as Justine could tell her dear old mate was in distress and crying.
"No, no, no, you're wonderfully witty, caring and grand with Martha—you have the knack for being a mother. I'm terribly relieved Martha's all right, Lizzie, but you---what, lovey, is wrong?" Lizzie's sobs came harder when Justine commented on Lizzie's strongest trait, being someone's mother.
"What happened, Lizzie?"
"Where do I begin?" Lizzie wiped a fallen tear with her hand.
"At the beginning, Liz, at the very beginning..."