And what if she met Neil?
A shudder ran up his arms as he passed stores and homes with roughcast walls covered with thousands of pebbles.
Neil and his Free Caledonia comrades opposed the Allied cause. They believed Scotland would fare better under German rule.
What if the Free Caledonians learned Cilla had a direct connection to Germany? What if she had some way of communicating with her Abwehr handler that MI5 couldn’t detect? With Nazi help, Neil’s friends could do great damage.
“Fine sermon this morning, aye?” Father gripped his homburg against the wind as they left Dunnet village and passed through flat farmland.
“Aye.” Lachlan pulled his officer’s cap lower on his forehead. “The Parable of the Unforgiving Servant. Which one of you suggested that to the good minister?”
Father chuckled, and his blue eyes glinted. “That would be your heavenly Father, lad. Not your earthly one.”
In the parable, Jesus told of a servant who owed his master a large debt he could never repay. Facing debtor’s prison, he begged for mercy and received it. Then that same servant threw another servant into prison on account of a trifling debt. When the master heard, he imprisoned the first servant as well, saying, “Shouldest not thou also have had compassion on thy fellow servant, even as I had pity on thee?”
The wind spun away Lachlan’s sigh, spun it toward St. John’s Loch glinting to the east. “In the Father’s eyes, Neil’s debt to me is as trifling as the hundred pence owed to the servant. I know I need to forgive Neil, even if he never admits he was wrong.”
Father shrugged broad shoulders. He didn’t need to add anything, since Lachlan had already figured it out. “Forgiveness is never easy.”
Mother gave Lachlan a sympathetic smile. “But you have the Lord helping you. Neil has nothing but ...”
“Whiskey and politics.” For the first time in over a decade, he felt a rush of pity for his brother. “It’s not enough.”
“No, it’s not,” Father said. “Can you declare a ceasefire?”
Lachlan raised half a smile, for he had but half the solution. “A ceasefire requires two willing participants.”
“True.”
“But I—I’m willing.”
“Good lad.” Father’s mouth bent low. “Are you also willing to take a few shots without firing back? Turn the other cheek?”
Lachlan let out a mock groan. “Why do you keep bringing the Good Book into this? Aye, I’m willing.”
“Thank you, love.” Mother smiled with lips wiggling with emotion.
For Mother and Father, he’d take those shots, take the bruised cheek, take the frustration of absorbing Neil’s ire and not reflecting it back to him.
In the field to the west, sheep lay low in the green grass to let the wind flow over them.
Lying low ...
If Lachlan lay low and kept the truce, perhaps Neil would come home more often. Talk more about his doings, about whether he was involved with Free Caledonia again. Might even slip and mention if a connection had been made to Germany.
That could lead to arrests. To dissolving a subversive group.
Lachlan clamped his lips between his teeth.
Mother was chatting about her plans for the week as the wind tugged strands of red and gray from the knot of hair at the base of her neck, and Father was watching her with his usual look of adoration.
If that were to come to pass, Lachlan would break his parents’ hearts yet again.
Why could it never be straightforward?
15
Dunnet Head
