The Bairn of Brianag

"You worry for Master Robbie," she said.

Tears sprang into my eyes. "Yes."

She returned to my stays. "Master Robbie do well," she said. "He come home."

I drew a deep breath. "Yes," I said. "Yes, he will."

At supper, Mr. Randall and I were the only two at the table; it was oppressively silent in the dining room. He drank both whisky and wine; I could not eat but only sipped a little wine myself. After supper he went into the library and closed the door; I went into the drawing room and sat staring into the fire.

I called to Polo to bring more wine to me. After a little while, my trepidation eased. I nibbled at the peanuts from the pan by the fire.

Robbie would come home. He would. Perhaps he was hiding from the outlaws.

Perhaps even now he was back at the Creek village with Eco. Finding that he was with his Indian wife would be to me far less grievous than finding him dead.

I went upstairs to bed. The ceiling moved above me. I held Robbie's face in my mind's eye. I loved him. He was mine. He would come home.

____________________

The next morning my head hurt from the excess wine that I had drunk. I pressed my lips together as Rabbit put up my hair. I wore my riding habit; the rain had moved past and the day was clear and frozen.

I took the horse down the lane and onto the road to Gillean. I wanted to see my father and Kevin. I arrived there in a short time, and took tea with them. They comforted me that Robbie would no doubt be home soon; I soon took my leave and started back to Brianag.

I took the trail down toward the river. The cypress trees were naked; against the clear blue of the sky the branches looked like streaks of ink. The river was high and rough, and seeing it made me feel colder. I turned and went back to the road, and returned to Brianag.

I left the horse with the servant and went into the house. The quiet unnerved me.

The happy noise of friends and celebration that had continued throughout the fall had not only gone away, but seemed to have taken all the joy out of the house with it. As I stood there in the hallway, the void inside me grew until I felt as if I had been emptied out completely and become as dry and hollow as a paper lantern.