She hurried through her morning tasks and rushed to the main area of Clare’s cottage. Through the small window casement, she realized the sun had not risen yet. It was earlier than she’d thought. Eva found Clare setting a large pot over the fire in the kitchen’s hearth. When she reached the table, she sighed and hoped her conversation with the woman was successful.
“Good morn, Clare. Will you join me? I hope to discuss something with you.”
Clare pulled out a loaf of bread that she’d wrapped in a thin cloth and set it on the table. “Aye, ye can talk to me whilst I eat my morning fare.” She sliced the bread and smeared a jellied sauce on it. “This is a busy day, for the shearing of the sheep will be at its busiest and I promised to aid the women who wash the wool.”
“I suspect that you have your hands full with Breckin’s brothers too.” Eva took a piece of bread and poured herself a little mead in an empty cup. “Now that they have returned from Willa’s cottage.”
“Ye do not speak a falsity there. Those lads are tough to keep track of, and to be honest, I am getting a mite old to be running after them. I tire of it.”
“I thought so,ah,not that you are too old to run after them but that they are hard to keep track of. I have a proposition for you…” Eva wasn’t sure if the woman would agree so she rambled. “If you teach me how to cook, I shall take the lads off your hands. They can live with me and Breckin when we move to the end of the island. The longhouse should be finished soon and I was going to start getting it ready. There is plenty of room for us and a place for the lads to sleep.”
Silence.
Eva’s shoulders tensed as she waited for Clare’s answer. She needed to learn how to cook and the only person who spoke to her besides Willa was Clare. There was much to be said in learning new things and she wasn’t against doing something for herself—she’d just never had to—until she reached the Highlands.
“Ye mean to say that I shall be free of them completely?” Clare raised her eyes and intently stared at her.
“If that is what you want, then yes. Breckin is their brother and should be responsible for them, and being his wife, I am related to them now. The chore of watching them should not fall solely upon you. I will be gladdened to keep watch on them until Breckin returns. You will have your cottage to yourself and perhaps a little peace.”
Clare continued to stare hard at her and then her chin bobbed slightly. “’Tis been some time since I have had the cottage to myself. I agree, Eva, and shall be pleased to show ye how to cook. When will they stay with ye? Because ever since they returned from Willa’s, Connor has been a bear, and with his brother recovering, Caden has been pacing about with nothing to do.”
Eva chuckled. “Connor is just cross because he cannot walk on his leg yet. I shall put Caden to work and find something to keep him occupied. Are the lads still sleeping?”
“Connor is in their room and Caden went to visit Aymer.”
“Are you making stew for supper?” She peered at the pot.
“I am. Since ye want to learn, ye shall prepare it this day. I will tell ye what to do.”
Eva spent most of the morning following Clare’s directions. She made a rabbit stew and learned how to make basic bread. Cooking was much easier than she’d thought it would be and, she decided, it might even be fun. After she’d taken the bread out of the small oven, she set it on the table to cool. Clare had been patient with her and didn’t rush her through the tasks which helped Eva to remember all that she’d spoken and the order of the tasks.
“That is how ye can prepare supper. Stew is the easiest to make. Och, there are other meals too. On the morrow, I will show ye how to make a delicious pottage for the morning fare,” Clare said as she cleaned up the kitchen area. “A hearty meal is best to begin the day. We shall meet early in the morn before all rise.”
Eva nodded. “My thanks, Clare, for your help and for showing me how to cook. I look forward to learning more from you. I need to go now. I do not want to be late for Mass.”
“Father Murphy usually begins about midday, so aye, ye should get going.”
Eva helped to clean up the table. “Are you attending Mass?”
“I would. Och, I promised to help the washerwomen. This day will be busy enough with the sheep shearing. I am sure God will understand my absence.” Clare waved to her and headed for her bedchamber.
The day was warm, so Eva forwent her cloak but grabbed her tartan in case the wind picked up. She walked to the bridge with a spring in her step. On the other side, she ambled to the church. Severalpeople were entering, though some lingered outside. Eva entered and reached the first pew before the altar where she genuflected toward the altar before she sat next to an elderly man. She bowed her head in prayer, asking that Breckin return unharmed and soon, because though she was loath to admit it, she missed him. The church was such a place of solace, she felt serenity steal over her.
Soon, Father Murphy entered and approached the altar. He stood and gazed at the people who had attended the midday mass and smiled before he began his liturgy and spoke at good length about sins, forgiveness, and kindness. Then he peered at her for some reason and motioned to her. Eva was astounded that he’d purposely chosen her for whatever he had in mind. She rose and walked to the altar, then stood by the side.
“Good folks, we shall now hear a psalm from our beloved lady, Lady Buchanan.”
Eva felt the heat overtake her face. “Oh, nay, Father, I cannot sing in front of so many,” she whispered low, hoping no one would hear her.
“But ye must, lass. Come now, sing a psalm for us. Your voice is bonny and the clan needs to hear ye sing. Send your voice to the heavens. Will ye withhold God’s blessing from them?” The priest winked at her and his grin widened, spreading across his face.
She thought she’d fall over as utter panic set in. But Father Murphy waved her onward and cajoled her to sing. “How about ye singDies Irae, Milady? If ye need to, face the altar when ye sing. Our ears will rejoice at the bonny song.”
Eva’s embarrassment trembled through her but she nodded and faced the altar. She kept her gaze on the wooden cross that sat on a table behind the altar. “Nay, Lord, not thus! White lilies in the spring, Sad olive-groves, or silver-breasted dove, Teach me more clearly of Thy life and love, Than terrors of red flame and thundering…” Her voice echoed in the church and when she finished the song, silence met her.
With a deep breath, she bowed her head to the priest and returned to her seat on the first bench. When she turned, all eyes bore into her as if the parishioners were stunned. Eva sat and clenched her shaking hands. When Mass ended, she hurried out of the church and weaved her way through the exiting people.
Outside, she took gulps of air, and as she walked onward, her body ceased its trembles and nervousness. She couldn’t believe Father Murphy had made her sing in front of everyone. Eva had never had an audience before. She only sang because she loved the songs and the beautiful words.
