The highlanders promise, p.1
The Highlander's Promise, page 1
THE HIGHLANDER'S PROMISE
HIGHLAND DESTINIES
AILEEN ADAMS
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Afterword
1
MYRNELLA
“Dead. Duran’s dead,” Myrnella whispered, reminding herself.
Staring, yet not seeing out of the paned glass, Myrnella had to remind herself that her husband was not here. Duran was not here. He would not be hustling throughout the tavern the way he so often did. There was a silence that now filled her world; silence that had once been a liveliness that consumed her days.
The corners of Myrnella’s mouth tilted upwards as the memories flowed through her mind.
“There must always be noise. Ye cannae help but fill the silence, can ye?” Myrnella had shaken her head, while chuckling at Duran. Was that only a few months ago? It seemed like at any moment he would come bursting through the doors whistling and singing all the way.
“‘Tis a beautiful morning with a beautiful lass. Might as well add some music to the moment, aye?” Duran had replied as he continued humming. He had placed a chaste kiss on her cheek then moved to set a pile of papers on the counter before carrying on to the next chore, sweeping and wiping down the tables. That stack of papers had perched in the same place, not touched, by hands or humming, for weeks.
There was a deep ache in Myrnella’s chest as she was reminded why that was. Images of the day that changed her for the rest of her life began to crowd her vision.
An orange-breasted robin flitted into the windowsill, cutting off Myrnella’s thoughts. The bird tilted his head this way and that, as if he could sense Myrnella’s need for company, as if he could see her heartache. A soft greeting chirped from the robin as she took in the bird. The copper toned feathers looked so like Duran’s own copper hair. Both the bird and the man shared coloring that turned to spun gold in the sunlight. The similarity in hue made the young widow avert her eyes, away from the window that framed the bird. The downward glance filled her gaze with the pile of dishes in her sink and served as a reminder that she had work to do.
Her fingers plunged in the deep tub full of soapy water, pruning as she finished cleaning last night's dishes. Normally, before closing, she would clean the place top to bottom, getting it ready for the next day. There was something satisfying in knowing everything was in its place before crawling in bed for night. But lately, she was too exhausted by the time the last of the night’s patrons left. Every hour in her day had become so packed, most days she was just trying to keep her head on straight. By nightfall, she could hardly get herself to climb the steps to her room, let alone tackle the chores. And so, quite the to-do list now awaited her every morning. Long before anyone else was awake she had been elbows deep in dish water. With a steading breath, Myrnella trudged through the last of the dishes, drying them with the worn rag tied to her apron .
Turning from the sink with a sigh, Myrnella took note of everything else that needed doing before she opened. She still needed to wipe down the tables, sweep, and draw the curtains. Every available space was full of long, dark tables and a mismatch of benches and chairs. These were things that Duran had either bought or made when the tavern was first opened. She had spent a night sewing the blue curtains with small floral designs that framed the two windows that sat on either side of the front door. Large enough windows that when she pulled the curtains back, the whole room filled with light.
Myrnella loved the way the sun’s rays would warm the tavern. The whole place would transform into the most wonderful, inviting space she had ever been in. The sunshine would hit her flower vase just right, causing the light to bounce all over the walls.
Duran had surprised her one day with a beautiful vase that had swirling vines engraved into the sides, filled with wildflowers. A vase that now sat empty and unused, placed on some forgotten shelf in the kitchen in the back. There was no one to bring her flowers now and she did not have a moment to spare to go pick her own. Despite the masses of furniture, the room before her felt emptier than it ever had before. She moved to the table closest to her, wiping it clean as another memory played out in her mind. They had just celebrated the tavern’s first year open.
“Dance with me, Ella,” Duran had called. They had been closing down the tavern for the night, splitting the responsibilities between the two of them as they always had. But now he was in the middle of the tavern, with an expectant outstretched hand.
“Now? This late?” was all she could reply.
“Aye! We must celebrate.”
“Och?” she had cocked an eyebrow. “And what is it that we are celebrating, exactly? We celebrated plenty last week. What more can there be?”
“Life,” he had claimed with a resolve that stole Myrnella’s breath. His zeal for enjoying the moment had rubbed off on her as each year of their marriage passed. Life with Duran had meant there was always something to celebrate or be excited over. There was always something that deserved flowers or a dance.
And so they had twirled and twisted throughout the room, weaving between the wooden chairs and tables that took up most of the space. They did more bumping into the chairs than avoiding, truth be told. Their smiles had turned into giggles and giggles melted into laughter. Before long, the two had collapsed on the floor, belly laughing so hard Myrnella had clutched her stomach as tears rolled down her eyes.
Laughter had been a part of life with Duran as much as breathing. She missed that too. Myrnella knew that although their marriage had been unorthodox to most, it worked well for them. They may not have been the most passionate of couples to get married, but they were the deepest of friends.
She had known Duran her entire life, at least it felt that way. Myrnella met Duran soon after moving to town. They would often bump into each other, sharing stories of their families, passing along jokes. He was a familiar face long before they became close friends. At the village bonfires Duran would always be pushed to dance with Myrnella by the local busybodies. He had made light of those moments, causing Myrnella to forget the dance was not their idea. By the end of the long nights, he would offer to escort her home, ever the gentleman.
Over time, their familiarity grew into a friendship as they had spent more time together. And so, his eventual offer of marriage, while more practical than passionate, had made sense to her. When he offered her that simple gold band, it came with the promise of protection and purpose. She’d had a safe home and meaningful work with a kind man. Together they pursued Duran’s dream and took over the local tavern. They cleaned up the vacant building, restoring it into something warm and wonderful. A place she felt at home in and hoped others did too.
They stayed busy from the day the tavern doors had been first opened. In fact, there had rarely been an empty room in the five years since. Not to mention, the tavern hall had spent many nights with little room to sit. So many people were finding themselves returning time after time for a glass of ale after a long day’s work. Duran would tell her when they had been almost overrun with patrons that her welcoming smile drew the customers in and her kind presence kept them coming back. She was not so sure about that, but she enjoyed working alongside her husband.
She learned many facets of the business over the years. She could book weary travelers or chat with the locals, all while keeping things running. They hired more hands to help with the serving, freeing Myrnella up to do most of the managing. The tavern was such a success, that they were soon able to open two more shops in town—a tackle supply and a general goods store.
With more to do, the couple had learned well how to divide and conquer the work between the two of them. In recent years, he had handed her more responsibility for the tavern until she was running it almost entirely by herself. Duran claimed Myrnella maintained things better than he ever could. She was able to hire her best friend, Sarah, and several others she enjoyed working with. Myrnella and Duran both stayed quite busy between the three businesses and their own home, but she was content. The two spent long hours working each day, but they did it together.
Throughout their five years married, a deep friendship beyond anything Myrnella could have predicted had emerged. They laughed often while sharing their work. She found that in everything they had accomplished together, Duran had become her dearest friend. She had cherished those slow mornings together when they talked, when it felt like there was no one else in the world but them. There had been nothing they could not talk about.
Moreso, Myrnella delighted in all that they had built. Known for clean beds and good meals, the couple took pride in their work. Myrnella often did not feel accomplished in her day unless her feet ached and her back demanded rest by the time she crawled into bed. These days, it felt like she never got enough time off her sore feet before rising to do it all over again. Duran’s share of the work had fallen to her shoulders, and Myrnella worried she would not be able to carry it alone for much longer.
Finishing with the last of the tables, Myrnella realized how soon the doors would open and her first customers would start to pour in. Moving a bit faster than she had all morning, she grabbed the straw broom and pushed the accumulated dirt into a pile. The breath in her chest tighte
“I miss ye,” Myrnella whispered. She knew that if anyone had overheard her, they would think that she had lost her mind. But she had come to think of the robin as Duran checking in on her, and that helped her feel less… alone. The bird had first shown up after Duran’s funeral and returned every morning as she prepared the tavern for opening. The robin had been a constant presence in her life since that day. She found herself clinging to anything steadfast in the weeks following Duran’s death.
Myrnella’s entire world had turned upside down the day Duran died. It was all such a blur, walking into their house finding only chaos. Even now, she could only remember bits and pieces. Everything they owned had been turned on its side and strewn about. It had taken her several minutes to find Duran, and then it was too late. Myrnella had not even stopped to consider what would happen to their businesses amidst the shock of Duran's death.
They had gotten into the routine where Myrnella ran the tavern more than Duran. There had been no real love between them yet, he always treated her as an equal. Letting Myrnella do the things she could and teaching her how to do the things she could not. Although she did most of the running, Duran owned the buildings. Not just the tavern, but the two shops and their home. It was not until after the funeral when someone asked what she would do next that she stopped to consider.
At five and twenty, Myrnella was no young maiden, but neither did she feel old enough to be a widow. The only family she had that could help her was her cousin, Jamie, who lived too far away to consider moving. Beyond that, she did not want to leave. This was her home, her people. She had grown up here, her parents were buried here. And she was not ready to walk away, especially not after all they had built together.
In an act of determination, and maybe desperation, Myrnella made her way to the tavern the day after they buried Duran. She needed to cling to any semblance of normalcy she could find. She focused her energy on giving the place a good deep clean. Myrnella went through anything she could, piece by piece. The tediousness of it all gave her space to think through her options. She had made her way through the kitchen, scrubbing all the pots and pans until her fingers hurt. Every jar and ingredient was organized, every shelf had been gone through until she almost did not recognize the place. Set on tackling the main hall next, she grasped for the stack of papers Duran had placed on the counter. Thumbing through them with half a mind, she expected nothing more than receipts and lists. And then she found Duran’s will.
Her eyes scanned the pages over and over, not believing the words scrawled in black ink. The mark of the attorney sat at the bottom of the page, proving that Duran not only wrote this, but made sure it was legal.
“Everything,” she whispered to herself. “He left me everything.”
It took her many moments to let it set in. She was now the owner of not only her house, but the tavern and both shops as well. From this newfound sense of responsibility came a drive Myrnella did not realize she had. The weight of keeping each business afloat was heavy on her shoulders. Yet she had realized in the weeks to follow, that this was what she wanted. She did not want to leave, move away, and pretend all she had done in the last five years was a dream. She wanted the pile of dishes and the cacophony of late nights in the tavern. She loved what she did. What she did not expect was the time bookkeeping would take. Or the hours she would spend working, only to turn around and find more to do.
Those were the moments, when the list of matters to tend to would take more hours than there were in the day, that Myrnella missed him the most. When she just needed an extra set of experienced hands, someone she did not have to tell what to do for things to get done. In fact, how easily she adjusted to sleeping alone again surprised her, even if she had not been back to their home just yet. No, it was his partnership and friendship she missed more than anything.
The sudden flit of the robin’s wings as the bird darted away drew Myrnella back to the present moment. Shaking off her melancholy, Myrnella finally drew back the curtains and unlocked the door. She was ready. She had no other choice but to face another day.
“Morning, lass.”
Myrnella turned to face the first patrons of the day, Owen and Jenny. They were a couple with gray streaked hair and skin that spoke of a lifetime working in the sun. The two were regulars at the tavern. She did not know if that was a good thing or not.
“Morning, Owen, Jenny.” She nodded in greeting.
Jenny fixed her with that look. The one that told her Jenny pitied Myrnella, that she could not believe what Myrnella was facing. With a poised smile that did not reach her eyes, Jenny asked, “How are ye today?”
“I am doing well, just a bit behind on me chores, is all.”
“I cannae see how ye get all this done. ‘Tis too much for one girl like ye to take on, surely. Have ye thought about selling it and moving on?” Owen questioned, furrowing his brow in contemplation.
It was the same conversation she’d had with most of the people from the village. Well intentioned folks that could not believe Myrnella could do it on her own. Most did not believe a woman could do anything on her own, let alone run three businesses.
The front door swung open again and the silhouette of a man filled the empty spot the door left. A man with a back and hands that curled from years of hard labor.
“Leave her be, Owen. The girl will nae give up so easily, will ye lass?” Much like his frame, the raspy timbre of Magnum’s voice filled the empty spaces of the room. There were a few who believed she could handle what her husband had given her.
Myrnella sent Magnum a grateful smile before shaking her head and taking up her post behind the counter. And so the day truly began. With steaming cups of coffee and piles of biscuits she had made the night before flying off her tray. One after another, Myrnella repeated this conversation with anyone who dared to bring it up.
Some were gentler than others. They let stories of days gone by with Duran seep into their conversations before asking Myrnella any direct questions. Others followed Owen and Jenny’s approach—straight to the point, without concern for Myrnella’s feelings.
She did not know how to explain that she grieved over the loss of her partner more than her husband. That although they had spent five years as man and wife, they did not share a tender, romantic love for one another. Every attempt she made to put words to her feelings ended in a jumbled mess. Every word sounded like an insult to her husband rather than an honest admission of her grief. It was in those moments, when she wanted nothing more than to scream to anyone and no one in particular. But that simply would not do. Instead, Myrnella would find reasons to sneak back to the kitchens, away from prying eyes. There, she had let her frustrations stream out in tears before drying her face and getting back to work.
2
ARRAN
The brisk breeze tugged strands of Arran’s long dark hair out from its hold and slashed him across the face. Shaking the errant strands away, he pulled his coat up farther on his face in an effort to shield himself from the wind.
“Only a few more miles,” Arran said to his horse, encouraging the beast and himself. It had been a grueling journey. With no one to talk to but the animal under him, Arran had weeks to do nothing but ride and survive and think. He thought about his earliest memories—taking care of the horses in the barn with his Da or pulling weeds in the garden with his Ma. He could almost feel the sun warming his face, smell the rosemary that seemed to permeate everything when it was in bloom. Arran drifted back to a time when he went running through the woods with his closest friend, Duran. Together they would chase down whatever imaginary monsters they could conjure up with their minds. But those were his happiest memories, and they were few and far between. Most of his time Arran spent thinking about how he wound up here.
