The sun warmed the stone seat of the crude bench. She sat quietly, her long skirt draped over her crossed legs.
As the pleasant breeze flowed across her body it lifted the ends of her short hair. She looked over the valley, verdant and lush in the spring. The blend of new greens and ancient grey rocks both buoyed her heart and infused her with a lingering melancholy. She was home, but her heart felt like a stranger. Her gaze fixed on the old castle across the way sitting nearly as high on its ridge as her stone cottage rested on this hill. She thought she was like that old structure. Still standing, but not good for too much. She felt stuck between her past and a strangled hope for a better future—a future devoid of love.
Her eye caught movement along the narrow road coming from the village. She could make out a car moving quickly, alone on the well-worn surface. The sun reflected brightly and she could only tell it was dark and low. As it passed by the church, she lost sight of it, but assumed it would be making the turn to go up to the castle. There was hardly any other reason for a visitor to be in that part of the village. The castle's owners gave tours and served a passable lunch in a feeble attempt to ward off the inevitable demise of the family relic. The castle had little historic significance and was far enough off the beaten path to make it little more than a novelty.
She did not see the car ascend the access to the castle. After fifteen minutes, she was surprised that the vehicle emerged on the other side of the church and kept travelling east. There was nothing but the end of the road, less than two miles away. Her surprise grew as she watched the car slow and take the turn onto the tiny road snaking up her hill.
It dipped behind a low rise and as it reappeared she thought she heard a familiar sound. The roar of the engine as it climbed evoked vivid memories. The sun now fell full on the front of the car. A small gasp escaped her lips. The Jaguar leaped ahead, its British Racing Green bonnet gleaming in the sun's glare.
It was her car.
She rose quickly and made her way back to the cottage. She passed the small structure and continued down to the end of her drive. Unlocking the gate, she pulled it open.
The roar came closer. She smiled at the familiar sound as her stomach turned in turmoil.
Appearing around the last sharp bend, it braked hard as the driver saw her standing in the road.
The top was down and the large man removed his cap.
"Miriam."
She smiled at the use of her proper name.
"Angus,' she said in reply.
"Fancy a lift?"
"I just may. Pull in and I'll close the gate."
The car stopped far enough in the drive so Mim could clear it and refasten the lock.
Mim climbed in, Mac let out the clutch and they sped up the hundred yards to her cottage.
He shut the engine, set the brake and climbed out. She did as well and walked around to face him.
"Not what I was expecting today?" she said.
"Well, I felt sorry for the old gal," he said gently moving his hand over the bodywork, "wasting away in Dede's garage. I figured she should be home."
"And, you just happened to make all that happen?"
"Took a bit of planning, but yeah."
"How did you find me?"
"You told me you lived near Stirling. Between the pub in town and the local pastor, I got good directions. It helped I was driving your Jaguar. They all recognized it."
Mim ran her hand along the sleek fender and up the windscreen.
"I did miss her."
Mac nodded and slipped his hand atop hers.
"Miss anything else?"
Mim lifted her head to look directly into his eyes.
"Aye."
Mac took her hand and pulled her to him. He opened his arms and she slipped in, wrapping herself close to him.
"Mac, I am sorry. I don't know where to begin. I should have written, or called, or something."
He kissed the top of her head.
"Decided to get rid of your hair, I see."
She nodded against his chest. "It was not a well-thought out plan. Just got up one day and hacked it off. My hairdresser nearly fainted, but managed to salvage something. Goes along with the rest of my life...not many well-thought out plans."
"Your hair looks great, Mim." He had the wisdom not to mention how thin she had gotten or how haggard she looked.
"Mac, I owe you so much. At the very least an explanation."
"Ok, but first I have a simple question."
Mim tilted her head slightly to look at him.
"Are you happy to see me?"
Tears welled in her eyes. Their cool green turned to hot. She sobbed and hugged him hard.
"More than I can say."
"Well, then, I think explanations can wait."
She cried into his chest for a while, soaking his light sweater.
"Could you stand having a whisky with me," she asked.
"Yes, that would be nice. But, I have to do something first."
Mim looked at him. "What?"
He moved his lips to hers. His kiss was tender, but it broke the band she had wrapped around her heart. She kissed back, wanting to fuse her lips, her body with his.
"I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you," she said softly moving her lips against his.
His only response was to kiss her deeply, crushing her to him.
He broke away. She wanted more.
"What is it?" she asked.
"When you told me about this cottage and how special it was to you, you left something out."
"What?"
'Does it have a bed?"
A grin broke across her face.
"Aye, a grand one," she said.
"Best news I've ever heard."
He took her hand and she led the way to the cottage.
His head nearly reached the low threshold leading into the main room. To his right was a large hearth with blackened stone attesting to its heavy use. He imagined it probably provided heat to the cottage. Mim walked ahead, past the tiny kitchen and into the bedroom. The large wooden bedstead dominated the room. Two windows admitted cool, blue light.
Mim turned to face him as her skirt twirled around her legs.
Fixing her gaze on his face, she softly said, "Undress me."
Mac held his eyes steady. "You're sure."
"Never been more sure of anything."
Mac pulled her sweater over her head, revealing a long-sleeved tee shirt. He ran his fingers along her arms to her neck and down her back. Grasping the hem, he slowly raised it. Mim was naked underneath. Her white breasts bounced softly with the effort to free her head. Mac inwardly grimaced at how clearly her ribs stood out. He moved his hands to her breasts and cupped them. For months he longed to feel these perfect mounds, though now they appeared smaller. His thumbs brushed her nipples and Mim sighed deeply.
He bent to place a tender kiss on each hard nipple. Mim ran her fingers through his hair putting subtle pressure on him to keep him caressing her.
After enjoying the soft skin and stiff nub, he knelt. Mac undid her trainers and slipped them and the short socks from her feet. He slid his fingers up her legs until they felt the top of her underwear.
"Still sure?" he asked.
"Please, Mac, please hurry."
He grasped the cotton panties and eased them down until Mim could step out of them.
