Alternately she moves our fears,
Alternately our hope.
But when she sinks, or rises higher,
Or graceful does advance,
We know not what we most admire,
the dancer, or the dance.
—Anonymous
Calum found Amy in the meeting hall, a huge barn of a room near the wharf, where most of the work was done. He didn’t call out her name or make his way through the crowd to stand at her side. But he stood there watching her as he had been for too many days and far too many nights.
He’d never seen a lass work so hard. One minute she was handing out clothing or checking the fit of a winter coat on a small boy. The next she was serving food to a line of hungry people that wrapped around the building two times.
He’d seen her peel potatoes, wash plates, fold blankets, and help a young mother feed her fussy two-year-old twins. He’d seen her try to speak Gaelic until she had everyone around her laughing. She would claim the language was just beyond her.
He knew it wasn’t. He knew she was smarter than that. But he also saw what she had, that the emigrants who spoke little English had laughed with her and her antics had made them more willing to try to speak.
He’d seen her walk through the hall late at night, picking her way through all the people who had bedded down on mats on the floor. She was still handing out blankets because she was so afraid one person might go without. She had learned quickly that many were too shy to ask for something they needed and many were afraid to ask because they could only do so in Gaelic.
Everything she did, she did with sweet smiles and a burst of energy that made him tired just watching her. He had never known anyone like Amy. Granted he’d seldom taken the time to know a woman, but he was glad he’d taken the time to know her.
He respected her, and respect was something he didn’t give easily. Even men had a hard time earning Calum’s respect. He was a tough critic. Eachann claimed it was because he wanted the rest of the world to be as meticulous as he was and that he got angry when they weren’t.
He didn’t know if that were true, but he did know Amy was someone he wanted to understand and he didn’t care that she wasn’t exactly like he was. She wasn’t slow and methodical, clinging to a routine. Watching her was like watching a dragonfly flitting from flower to flower. It was like trying to hold a waterfall in the palm of your hand or trying to capture the wind.
Now she was about twenty feet away from him, standing in a crowd of women. He could see her frown and could tell she was listening so intently to those women to try to understand their feeble attempts at English.
He’d seen her do that since the very first day. And when she didn’t understand what they were saying, she found someone to translate or she took the time to figure out what they wanted.
Her hair wasn’t brushed. It was in a tangled and loose blond braid that hung down her back. Damp curls had slipped out and hung around her face. He watched her swipe them out of the way while she listened and folded blankets at the same time. Her face was damp with sweat and her dress was wilted and wrinkled and had some child’s supper dribbled all over it.
“So how long are you going to wait?” Angus MacDonald clapped him on the shoulder.
“Wait for what?”
Angus nodded at Amy. “The lass. How long are you going to stand around here all moonfaced before you marry the girl.”
“Moonfaced?” He almost choked on the word.
Angus laughed. “Aye. You ought to have a look at yourself, Calum. Robbie and Dugald have bets going to see how long you last. Robbie claimed you’ve been trailing her like a bloodhound for the last two days.”
Moonfaced?
Angus looked at him, then shook his head. “I know what’s ailing you. And you might want to take an older man’s advice. Put yourself out of your misery and just take the girl right to Reverend Munro. It’s easier than fighting it, lad.” Then Angus walked away.
Moonfaced... trailing her like a bloodhound? Marry her?
He stood there feeling as if the windows in the room were suddenly growing smaller. He looked around him, but he didn’t see anything. It was as if his eyes weren’t working. He shook his head and then ran a hand through his hair. He looked back to the group where Amy had been standing, but she wasn’t there.
For some reason he needed to see her, right then. He just needed to look at her. So he could understand what was happening. He didn’t think he could talk right now. But he needed to see her.
He scanned the room and walked through the crowd. But nowhere in the huge room did he see her smile or her long blond braid. Nowhere did he hear her laughing.
He crossed to the door with determined strides. He passed Robbie MacDonald, who called his name, but Calum didn’t stop. He shoved open the door and someone made a howling noise like a hound baying at the moon.
