“I suppose to the next town,” Ivor replied. “We’ll get some provisions there and then…well, then we’ll see what happens next.”
Callum nodded. “Ivor? Am I going to stay with you now?”
“Until we get you somewhere better to live,” Ivor replied. “A life on the road is no life for you and Mossie.”
Callum didn’t say anything, but it was evident that the boy didn’t like that answer. In fact, he was remarkably quiet for the rest of the day, and when he slept at night, he did so with his back to Ivor.
The next day, they arrived in the little town of Lingow, where Ivor often stopped to rest. His friend Sadie lived here with her many fostered children, running an impromptu orphanage of sorts despite being a poor single woman. Ivor liked her a lot and usually stayed with her and the children when he was in the area.
The house stood out amongst the others, a large ramshackle cottage with a bright red door that Sadie had allowed the children to paint for themselves. Ivor liked it, even with its imperfections and handprint marks. In its own way, it said,You’re safe here.
I wish that Iona and I had found a place like this all those years ago. Perhaps she’d still be alive today.
He dropped Aibreann off with the local stable master, hoisted the puppy in his arms, and held Callum by the hand as they strode up to the cottage. He rapped smartly on the door. Sadie greeted him almost instantly, the poorly painted door swinging open to reveal a curvy dark-haired woman with a baby on her hip.
Her grey eyes widened in surprise as she said, “Bless me soul, it’s Ivor Sinclair. Have ye come to hide out from some Laird again?”
Ivor laughed. “Sadie,” he said warmly. “Who’s the bairn? One of yours?”
Sadie shrugged. “He turned up on me doorstep yesterday. Another one whose parents couldnae feed him, I suppose. Poor mite was half-starved. Luckily for him, me milk’s still flowing since Daisy was born, so he’ll be all right.”
Ivor smiled. Sadie housed about ten orphans – eleven now, including this little one - but she also had several children of her own. The oldest was about fourteen and helped with the younger children. Sadie had been half a child when that girl was born; Ivor remembered it clearly because it was that year that they met.
“Any idea who Daisy’s faither is?” he teased.
Sadie shrugged, unrepentant. “Like the rest of me bairns, she never had a faither. She just appeared in me belly one day.”
Aye, and with yer looseness, nae wonder.
It wasn’t an insult – Sadie simply didn’t have time for men but did enjoy a nighttime tumble. Ivor had been with her once or twice, but she’d assured him that none of her brood was his.
“And who’s this?” Sadie asked, peering around Ivor at Callum, who was shyly hiding behind his leg. “Another one for me? Or did ye get yerself a wife and some sort of device that speeds time?”
Ivor chuckled. “This is Callum, and this is Mossie,” he introduced, moving the pup in his arms. “I was hoping ye might be able to put us up for the night.”
“Well then, Callum and Mossie and Ivor,” Sadie said with a smile. “Lucky I made extra soup tonight. Come on in.”
* * *
Late that night, while Callum slept in a room with some of the children, Ivor lay awake on the guest bed and stared up at the ceiling. How had it come to this? Why couldn’t he sleep?
Suddenly, he was aware that someone else was in the room. He almost went for his knife, then paused for a moment to consider and said, “Sadie?”
She walked closer, and he saw her, wearing nothing but her nightshift, a coy smile on her face. “How are you, Ivor?”
He said nothing as she sat down on the bed next to him. He knew why she was here, of course; she often took him to bed during his visits. It was an enjoyable time, and she was a fine – and experienced – woman. His brief fling with Eithne was over. What reason would a man like Ivor have to reject Sadie now?
And yet, as Sadie reached for the hem of her nightshift, Ivor put out a gentle but firm hand to stop her. “Not tonight, Sadie,” he said quietly.
Ivor could barely make out her expression in the darkness, but he guessed by her movements that she was surprised, not offended. She moved her hands away from her clothes and said, “Really? Are you quite alright?”
“Just grand,” Ivor replied. “Ye arenae…ye’re nae…”
He could see the gleam of her eyes as she smiled even in the blackness of night. “Oh, Isee,” she said. She straightened so that she was sitting again, the space between them once again entirely chaste. “What’s her name?”
“I dinnae ken what ye mean,” Ivor replied. Sadie said nothing, and he realized how foolish he sounded. He let out a long sigh, wondering how women possessed such intuition. “Eithne,” he answered. Saying her name hurt like a spike through his chest. “Her name is Eithne Kinnear.”
He waited for a flicker of recognition, but there was none in Sadie’s eyes as she said, “That’s a pretty name. I’m glad ye found each other.”
