A while later, they had settled down on a picnic blanket with plates of food. The little girls looked ready to dig in with their bare hands, but Donald and Douglas tempered them, offering them forks and giving gentle reminders to take their time.
They had gone with some of the lighter side dishes for the neglected wee lasses, knowing they likely wouldn't be able to stomach a burger or a hotdog. They didn't seem to mind, only eyeing the barbecue curiously over the boys shoulders.
"You all look so much like mom." Rosie spoke after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "You have her hair, and her eyes. Her olive skin."
"Oh aye?" Donald raised an eyebrow. "What about you, then? What do you have of hers?"
Rosie frowned, and shrugged. "Nothing really. Maybe facial structure a bit. It - it makes me wonder, if she's really my mother. I mean, she said she had a DNA test done to check and it was a match, but. . ."
"Oh lass, 'o course she must be, if ye say we look like her." Douglas assured. "Even if she isna, ye'll always be our bonnie wee sister."
Donald agreed. "It's like, ye must get yer looks from someone else. Our father maybe?"
It was the two little twins who denied this, shaking their heads resolutely.
"No?" Donald looked down at them. "Ye dinna think so?"
They shook their heads again, reaching out to touch Rosie's red curls and ripping their hands away as if they'd been burned, faces scrunching up unhappily.
"What's wrong, a leannan? Do ye no' like Rosie's hair?" Said Douglas, perplexed.
The girls didn't respond of course, simply going back to their food, and Rosie went on.
"Mom told me I must get my red hair from our grandmother -"
Quite suddenly, the girls went rigid, dropping their forks as the color drained from their identical faces.
"Do not speak of her." Said one, in clear, perfectly enunciated English.
"It's dangerous." Said the other.
Donald raised a brow. "Speak o' the devil and she'll appear, is it?" He asked.
They nodded, hands clenched together.
The other three exchanged a glance. "Did she hurt you?"
The little girls huddled closer together. "She hurts everyone she comes in contact with." They answered evasively. "She cannot love, for she has no heart."
"I see." Douglas replied, and decided to change the subject. "Since yeve decided that ye do speak, will ye tell us your names?"
The girls appeared to think about it. "We must have new names." They said at last. "She won't find us if we leave no trail."
Donald smirked. "That's verra smart o' ye. What would ye like tae be called then?"
They shook their heads. "You should decide. It mustn't stand out and you know the naming customs here far better than us."
The boy-twins exchanged a look. "Verra well. Dougie what do ye think?" Donald asked.
Douglas looked thoughtful. "Hm. . .maybe. . .something simple, like - oh! What about Rona and Iona? I always thought those would be bonnie names for twins."
"Oh aye!" Donald agreed. "That would be perfect for a wee pair o' Scottish sisters! What do ye think, lassies?"
The girl-twins smiled slightly. "We like those, don't we, sister?" The slightly bigger one responded. Her sister agreed. "We've never heard those names before."
Douglas chuckled good naturedly. "They are islands off the west coast." He explained. "Rona is the rough island. Iona is the holy island. They are both peaceful places. We'll take ye there on our boat if ye like."
The girls smiled. "Oh, that does sound nice, don't you think, E - Rona?"
"Yes. We'd like that." Rona agreed.
"Well, I think they make cute names." Rosie spoke up, having been silently observing for some time.
"That's settled then." Said Donald. "Now about -"
"Rosie!"
They all looked up to see a dark-haired woman rushing toward them.
"Oh Rosie, thank god you're alright. I was so worried!" She cried, on her knees in an instant and clutching the redhead to her. It was obvious, by this act, who she was.
"Get off, mom, don't touch me!" Rosie snapped, shoving her away and shifting closer to her brothers.
"Rosie please, I -" Regina started, but Rosie cut her off.
"No, I don't want to hear it. I was missing for twelve years and you turned a blind eye! They -" she gestured to the boys. "They suffered and you let them - I forgot and you let me!" She all but screamed the last bit, before jumping up and fleeing the scene, tears streaming down her face.
"Rosie, wait!" Regina called, but Donald placed a staying hand on her shoulder.
"Leave her, lass. I'll see she's safe." With that, he got up and followed her after a brief, whispered word to Douglas.
Regina turned to Douglas, a desperate light glinting in eyes so like his own. "I didn't mean -"
"I know. So does Donnie." He replied. "But ye must understand, ye hurt her badly. She wilna forget it now she's remembered - that she asked tae come home tae us, and you not only denied her, but let her forget her roots and her family."
But it wasn't so much that that Rosie was so upset about, Douglas thought. It was that she'd come so close to losing her brothers without even knowing it, that they had struggled without closure while she had lived her life across the ocean, none the wiser.
"I didn't want to lose her." Regina whispered. "I thought that if I told the police, they'd take her from me. No one would have believed that a six year old girl had escaped her abductors and found the biological mother she'd never met, all in a strange country. And I was right. The people at the airport thought I had worked with the people who took her."
Douglas ran a gentle hand through wee Iona's long, black hair. "It is hard tae have faith in a broken system." He agreed. "Then again, it's best when every avenue is explored with a case like Rosie's. When people go missing, you can never be quite sure who's responsible, ye ken? If ye happen tae be on the receiving end of the questions, ye must just have patience."
"You're right, of course. I'm afraid I'm not a very patient person though." She looked down at the two wee lasses at his side. "And who's this? You never mentioned you had children."
Douglas smiled warmly. "That's because we dinna. Rona and Iona need a home and Donnie and I are going tae give them one. We've fostered before, ken, it's hard no' tae when ye do this." He gestured at the gathering around them. "But this is a wee bit different. Rona and Iona are for keeps."
He should tell her the truth, he reasoned, that these girls shared their blood, but he didn't. He might have understood why she'd done what she'd done with Rosie, but that didn't mean he was happy about it. He and his brother might have been gentle creatures, but they weren't above a bit of revenge now and then.
The girls looked up at him quizzically but seemed to understand his thoughts, as sly smiles crept across their identical faces. They met Regina's eyes, then ducked shyly behind Douglas, hiding in his plaid. He cuddled them.
"Sweet, are they no'?" He said.
"Perfect." Regina breathed, watching them.
Then, Rona poked out, looking indignant. "Don't call us sweet, we're sour as lemons!"
Douglas chuckled, lifting her into his lap. "Och, even lemons can be sweetened. Take lemonade for example."
Regina smiled, watching as he cuddled them, speaking in gentle, accented tones. He had such a soft heart, it was no wonder they hadn't gotten over losing Rosie.
"You're so good with them." She said.
"Aye." Douglas shrugged. "I'd say we had a good teacher, but that couldna be further from the truth. Sometimes I wonder how we do it, wi' no one tae guide our hands, but perhaps it's jes' something inherent." He curled a bit of Rona's long hair around his finger. "Helena - our caseworker - once told us that it can go one of two ways. A bairn who is mistreated will either grow up to be an abuser himself, or to no' want a thing tae do wi' it and go out o' his way tae be better."
Regina raised an eyebrow. "You believe that?"
He nodded. "Aye. We do."
o0o
Donald sighed in relief when he spotted Rosie sitting on the riverbank, knees drawn up to her chest and hugging herself. He moved to join her, descending the bank with the care of someone long used to handling wet ground and steep slopes, and settled beside her. She looked up at him, her blue eyes shining with tears.
"I hate her." She said.
Donald put an arm around her. "Maybe ye do jus' now." He agreed. "But it wilna last, I dinna think. Ye'll forgive her, one day."
Rosie pulled back. "No I won't." She spat, and then changed abruptly. "I don't understand! How are you and Douglas so calm about this?"
Donald gazed out at the water. "I suppose, 'tis just how we are. Helena always said we were a verra agreeable pair. We were favorites among the foster families for it."
Rosie frowned at him. "But aren't you angry? She kept me from you, for years, and you - and you - you almost killed yourselves!"
Donald stiffened. "Aye." He said. "There are times I wish ye hadna read all that book, lass. There are things in there a sweet, wee lass shouldna ken."
Rosie wrinkled her nose. "I'm not sweet, or wee. I stopped being the former when I was abducted, and I'm almost an adult, so I'm not wee either."
Donald chuckled, suddenly tearful. "Maybe so, but ye'll always be my sweet, wee lass. No matter what happens."
She stared for a moment before throwing herself at him. He hugged her to him, burying his nose in her hair and biting back relieved tears.
"Dougie might be the other half o' my soul, but you're my heart, mo chridhe." He told her.
o0o
Regina looked off toward where Donald and Rosie had disappeared. "Do you think he's found her?" She asked.
Douglas chuckled. "I doubt she ever left his sight." He replied. "Donnie wouldna think o' losing her again sae soon."
She looked up at him, eyes bright. "You're not at all how I imagined you. I always thought you'd take after your father, his cruelty. He loved his daughter - your half sister - and no one else was worth his time. He took me as his wife to be nanny to her, and because he wanted a son."
Douglas' lip lifted into a tiny smirk. "Oh aye. A male heir for his throne."
Regina looked at him in surprise. He smiled. "Rosie told us everything."
She raised a brow. "And you believed her?"
"Aye, o' course. You forget, lass. You're in Scotland - the highlands to boot. This is the birthplace of myth and legend. There's more folklore in these mountains than likely all o' America put together, and ye ken, folklore is more often than no' rooted in truth. Tae say nothing o' that we were found on a fairy hill as wee bairns, hours old." He explained. "We always expected there tae be some unbelievable explanation to that."
They were quiet for a few minutes, watching the happenings around them. A little boy came and shyly asked if the girls wanted to play with him, but they hid behind Douglas, peering nervously out.
"I'm afraid they're no' feeling too well today, laddie. Otherwise I'm sure they'd love tae play wi' ye." Douglas explained.
The boy nodded and ran off. Once he was gone, Regina looked back at her son. "Do you. . .think, maybe, she's being a bit dramatic? I mean, she has every right to be upset, it's just this level, it's unlike her. I'm afraid she'll never forgive me."
"Aye." Said Douglas. "Have ye read our book? We ken Rosie has.
"In part." She replied. "I haven't read it through, if that's what you mean."
Douglas dislodged his gaze from her and looked away. "Don't." He said. "Ye'll never forgive yerself if ye do."
"Why?" She asked.
Douglas effectively pretended to have not heard her. "Oh look." He said. "There's Donnie and Rosie back from their wee walk." And he turned from her to greet them.
o0o
The next day, Donald and Douglas took their womenfolk and sailed home to their wee house on the isle of Tiree. To say 'wee' was an understatement. The house was all of two rooms, not including the closet-sized bathroom (whoever had owned it before them had obviously just wedged it in wherever it would best fit, and the twins didn't have the money to change it), and looked as if it had been there a hundred years at least.
It was well looked after though, and the yard, on arrival, was neatly trimmed and scattered with several chickens of various breeds. In the back, a small flock of sheep gave loud bleats of greeting and a rather wild looking vegetable garden took up residence nearer the house. Further out, there was a larger garden affectionately referred to by Donald as his 'tattie plot'.
"The neighbours mind the animals while we're gone." He explained. "They take the eggs and milk too, so it doesna go tae waste."
"I see." Said Regina.
While Rosie might have been taken by the little homestead, Regina was unimpressed. The place was hardly appropriate for a family of peasants; her own children deserved far better.
And that was how it began.
Donald and Douglas had outright refused when she'd suggested they move to the states to live with her - that was understandable, they were adults and they had a life here, to say nothing of that they'd just met her. When she'd argued that the house was not in an acceptable condition (especially considering the two rather sickly little girls now living in it), they stubbornly insisted that it was perfectly adequate. It was clean and heated, after all, with the usual modern amenities.
"It's nay sae much the state o' the house that matters as it is the state o' the people running it." Douglas explained patiently. "Donnie and I would have been pleased with dirt floors and glassless windows if the people were kind and loving."
Rona and Iona had seconded that sentiment. All it did for Regina was disturb her, further fueling her desire to have the family she'd always dreamed of. Rosie, evidently, wasn't coming home with her either, so if they wouldn't come to her, she'd have to come to them.
Loath as she was to leave Henry, he had agreed that it was the best solution. They could always visit each other, and "besides, mom, it gives me a really good reason to see Scotland."
There was, however, one condition. Donald and Douglas had looked at her dubiously when she told them they'd have to renovate the place. They'd been outright offended when she'd handed them a rather sizable check to cover the expenses, and made valiant attempts to hand it back.
In the end, after some grumbling, sheep-shearing and general puttering about the yard, they, being a fairly reasonable pair, agreed. After all, they at least needed another bedroom, preferably two, and while selling the place and buying a bigger one might have been easier, the challenge of renovation was altogether more fun - especially when it wasn't on their dime.
When Regina returned three months later (she had wanted to spend time with Henry and then Snow, in typical princess fashion, had been upset that Rosie apparently cared more about her estranged brothers than she did Snow herself, and had whined about how they were all going to live in a place where she couldn't follow), it was to find a brand new second story well underway.
Rosie had also calmed some by that time, though was still inclined to give Regina the cold shoulder from time to time.
All in all, they were soon settled into the newly renovated farmhouse, mother and children reunited at last.