Heather Song (41 page)

A
s I played, I was hardly aware what sounds were coming from my harp or my voice. I was talking to myself, and also to Gwendolyn and Winny, in the way people do the closer they get to insanity. The vision of them was so real, so warm, so pleasant. I wanted to live in the vision, not in a cold dark dungeon whose only purpose was to hide bones of the dead.

Winny was alive beside me. We were making beautiful music. We were not lying dead in an underground crypt. We were playing the “Heather Song” on a beautiful hillside where everything was light and bright and fragrant and warm.

“
Listen, Winny
,” I said,
“let me teach you this song—unless Gwendolyn has already taught it to you— It is a hymn I learned…I learned it from someone…I think it was someone’s favorite hymn, but I’ve forgotten. Do you forget things, Winny? I am getting forgetful, but it will be all right, won’t it? I will remember when I am with you in heaven. Someone taught it to me, I cannot remember who, but I remember that it was someone I loved. You will like it, Winny; it is about God and angels and harps…We will play it together—you on
Journey
and me on the
Queen
. You have such thin delicate fingers, Winny—that is why you can play the harp so well.”

“But, Marie, I do not think I will ever be as good as you and Gwendolyn.”

“Oh, but you will, Winny. Your fingers are perfect for the harp…There is plenty of time. We have all the time in the world to play together.”

“But it is too dark, Marie—I can’t see your fingers to help me…I need to see to play— Please, Marie…Marie…I can’t feel the strings…Someone grabbed my fingers and took the harp away. Help me, Marie…help…”

“Marie!”

“Marie…Marie…it is too dark…Marie…Marie…”

The light from my last candle was flickering to its death. But I was scarcely aware of it. Slowly it faded, then in a final tiny death-burst was gone. I was left in utter blackness. I hardly knew it. The music from my harp somehow drew all my senses into it. I could no longer distinguish between seeing and hearing. Neither had I been able to hear the sea for some time. But I didn’t notice that either. I continued to babble and play.

“It is all right, Winny. We can play in the darkness.”

“But I am afraid, Marie. Please, Marie…help me…help me…”

“Marie!”

“It is all right, Winny. Just lie where you are—you are safe there. I will take care of you.”

“But, Marie…Marie…Marie…”

“Sleep, Winny…just sleep…You are safe now.”

“I don’t feel safe. I am cold and it is dark…I am afraid, Marie. I don’t think anyone will ever find me. I have been lying here ever so long and it is not a nice place, Marie…Marie…Marie…”

I was growing weary of playing. I wanted to sleep. But Winny kept calling my name.

“Marie…Marie!”

“Not now, Winny. Go back to sleep…We will play later. Let me sleep.”

“Marie!”

But it wasn’t Winny’s voice. It was a strange voice…a deep voice…a frightening voice. I kept hearing my name…How long had the voice been calling my name?

“Marie…Marie…is it you in there? Marie, wake up!”

Panic seized me. What was going on? Someone was after me! I was lying on the floor. How did I get here! I was playing my harp. How had I fallen on the floor! Strange flashes of light blinded my eyes. Terror consumed me.

“Winny…Winny…where are you, Winny?!”

I began to lose consciousness. The time had finally come when I would not wake up. I imagined voices…I grew warm and happy again. The voices faded into the distance…They were all waiting for me.

The voices grew louder again. I was getting closer and closer…but it was only one voice. Where had everybody gone?

“Who are you?” I tried to call back. “Where are you…Where am I?”

“Marie…Marie!” called the voice. “Marie, are you there?…It’s Iain! Marie, it’s Iain.”

A stab of blinding remembrance shot through my brain. From a time long ago! Somebody…a name…red hair…a kind smile…

“Marie!”

“Iain!” I tried to scream. Only a tiny croak escaped my lips. Was I dreaming? What kind of terrible nightmare to pretend someone was there.

“Iain—” I tried again. My mouth was too dry!

“Marie!”

“It’s too dark…I can’t see…Iain! What is— Are you with Alasdair and Gwendolyn?…Tell them not to worry, Winny’s here with us…It’s dark. All the candles went out. But we are here. Tell them we are coming to them. Tell Gwendolyn I have been practicing.”

“Marie, it’s Iain! You’re not dreaming. I am here.”

“Iain!” I shrieked. Reality began to penetrate my brain.

I squinted as a sharp beam stung my eyes.

“Marie…I see you! Can you follow the light with your eyes? I am over here…there is an opening. It’s me, Marie! It’s Iain. Can you stand and come to me?”

“Iain…Iain…Oh, God…is it really—”

I struggled to my knees, hardly conscious what I was babbling.

“Iain…I’m here…Are you still there?…Help me! God…oh, God—is it really Iain?!”

“I’m here, Marie. Come toward me.”

I staggered toward the light, then fell on my knees a few feet away.

“Iain…Iain…I was so afraid!” I cried as I broke into uncontrollable sobbing. “How did you get…But where are you, Iain?…The hole is too small. I can’t get through.”

I collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Iain waited a few seconds.

“How did you get there, Marie? Tell me how to get to you.”

I struggled to stop crying and get a breath.

“Olivia…,” I whimpered. “I’m in the basement.”

“Basement…What basement?”

“I don’t know…below the church. I forgot where.”

“The church has no basement, Marie.”

“Not the basement…the crypt…the old crypt.”

“But where, Marie?”

“In the crypt…the basement…somewhere in the castle.”

“How can I find it?”

“The keys…Nicholls has keys…Iain, help me!” I said, struggling to my knees and to the little window that now had light coming through it.

“I will come to you, Marie. But you must be brave awhile longer. It will take me an hour, maybe more. But I will come to you, Marie. Tell me where to go. You must tell me how to get there.”

“From the basement…a long corridor beneath the castle…a tunnel…It’s blocked up…Nicholls has keys. Get the keys…a big brass key. Unless Olivia hid them. She is not nice to me, Iain. She said terrible things. She left me here, Iain. She is not nice.”

“I know, Marie. But when we have the keys, where do we go?”

“There’s a room…in the old monastery…at the end…on the right, I think…or is it the left, I don’t know…and a broom, find the broom…holy water font in the room…There’s a lock in the corner…it’s hard to see…under a stone in the floor…You have to sweep the floor to find it…An old lock under the floor opens the door…a stair leads down the crypt…Olivia may have blocked it…Get through the stones to the oak door…behind the oak door. That’s where I am. I tried to break it but wasn’t strong enough. Please don’t leave me in the darkness. I can’t find my torch. Oh, Iain, I’m cold and afraid.”

“Here, take mine. Try to find yours.”

He handed his flashlight through the opening. My fingers fumbled for it and met his hand reaching through. I clasped it with mine and held on for dear life, sobbing again.

“Is it really you? It feels like you—is that your hand, Iain? Don’t let me go…Please, don’t let me go.”

“I have to, Marie. But just for a moment.”

He pulled his hand away. “Find your light, Marie.”

I turned frantically back into the room. I found the light over beside the
Queen
where I had dropped it. Its beam was weak. I staggered back.

“Give it to me,” said Iain. “Hand it through the opening. You keep mine. It will be brighter.”

“Iain, Iain…I can’t believe you came. I was so afraid. Thank you. Oh, Iain…I thought I would die.”

“Here is a bottle of water, Marie,” said Iain, handing it through the opening. “Drink it slowly, very slowly. You have had nothing in almost three days. Only sip at it. I will be back before you know it.”

“Please don’t go. I don’t think I can bear it.”

“Be brave, Marie. You can do it. I know you can. You are a courageous woman. Be brave, Marie. God is with you. He was with you all the time. He led me to you. Don’t despair. I am coming. I will bring Ranald; he will help me find you.”

“No…no, Iain. Ranald mustn’t come. Winny is with me, Iain. Ranald mustn’t see her. It would break his heart.”

“I understand, Marie. I am going now, but only for a while. Be brave. Play for me again, so I will hear you when I find the basement. Play the hymn about angels’ harps.”

“Oh, yes…I can do that. I will play for you!”

I
can hardly say what was worse, to have been losing my mind talking to the bones of Winny Bain and playing my harp in the darkness, or the two hours that followed, my senses awake again, full of hope, invigorated by a few drinks of water, yet aware more keenly than ever that I was trapped in a crypt with dead people’s bones…and that
if
something happened to Iain in the meantime, my plight would be worse than ever.

I went to my harp. Weak though I felt, still talking to myself, I began playing again. I was determined not to stop until Iain returned.

It seemed like days, not hours. My hands and fingers grew so tired I could barely hold them to the strings.

Eventually I heard sounds, muffled at first…the tromping of feet…then a great metallic clank…and the room flooded with light.

I tried to stand. My head swirled…I saw Iain…I think Nicholls, Alicia. Everything was a blur.

Iain hurried toward me and I dropped in a faint. I knew nothing as he ran back through the tunnel with me in his arms, followed by the others. Neither did I remember being hurried up stairs and through corridors and outside into the waiting ambulance summoned by the frantic call from the policeboat as it sped Iain back to the harbor. I vaguely recall hearing its siren, and being faintly aware of Iain at my side holding my hands and speaking into my ear. But all went black again.

I woke up several hours later at Dr. Gray’s Hospital in Elgin.

When at last I opened my eyes, I actually felt surprisingly good. The IVs in my arms had been pumping fluids into me long enough to have stemmed the worst of my dehydration. My hands were bandaged and I was conscious of tremendous weakness. They had feared mild hypothermia as well as dehydration. My temperature in the ambulance was only 94 Fahrenheit, but was now climbing steadily back. I was hungry enough to eat a horse, though I had to settle for gelatin and Popsicles and broth the rest of the day.

I glanced around the room and tears flooded my eyes.

Mrs. Gauld stood there crying. I couldn’t believe it. And around the bed stood Alicia and Nigel and Cora, Nicholls, Farquharson, Tavia, Fia, Ranald, several of the other maids, Reverend Gillihan…and of course Iain.

I tried to say something. But only a croak came out. The entire room burst into chatter and tears and laughter, some cheering, hugs and hand squeezes, everyone talking at once and more joy than I would have thought one small room capable of containing. I smiled so big my chapped lips began to crack. When at last I succeeded in finding my voice, my first words surprised me as much as anyone.

“Does she know?” I asked weakly.

No one doubted who I meant.

“No one has breathed a word,” replied Iain. “We thought you ought to have the privilege of telling her yourself.”

“I can’t imagine what I will say,” I said.

“I have the feeling words won’t be necessary,” rejoined Iain.

I glanced around and realized that there was one other face missing.

“And Sarah?” I said.

“She cudna stand no’ comin’ wi’ us,” said Cora. “She’s been sair upset aboot ye. But somebody had tae stay wi’
her
, ye ken. We
cudna
hae her gae wanderin’ off agin’, ken. Sarah’s got orders fae me that her mistress isna tae leave her rooms, no’ for the rapture itsel’!”

“There’ll be unco little worry o’ that, I’m thinkin’,” mumbled Nicholls.

From his side, Tavia now stepped close to the bed and held out her hand to me. A diamond sparkled from her fourth finger.

“Look, Marie,” she said. “Harvey celebrated your being found by asking me to marry him.”

“Tavia, it’s lovely!” I said. “Congratulations, both of you!” I turned to Harvey. “I must say, Nicholls, I am honored to have been able to help push you across the line. I was wondering how long it was going to take you.”

Everyone laughed and was treated to the rare sight of seeing Harvey Nicholls’s face go red.

I now looked sadly at Ranald. He nodded with a knowing expression. He had obviously been told.

“I am sorry, Ranald,” I said with a smile. “If it is any consolation, in a strange way she was good company and may have helped keep me alive. I had a vision of Winny with Gwendolyn in heaven. I hope it was real. I think it was. They were both playing harps.”

“What ither kind o’ music cud they be makin’ than the music o’ the angels?” said Ranald.

I looked over at Alicia. She was smiling and tears were spilling down her cheeks. “They were playing your ‘Heather Song,’ Alicia,” I said. “They invited me to play, too. I almost did…but I guess it wasn’t quite time for me to go be with them yet.”