Highland Child

1890 AD

9+1 Months

Unlatch the window. Unlatch the window, shimmy down the maple tree. Unlatch the window, shimmy down the maple tree, don't look back.

I look back, clutching my empty stomach out of habit.

I hear my new baby begin to cry in her cradle and there's a rustle of sheets in the next room.

I unlatch the window. I shimmy down the maple tree.

"Anna!" His voice calls out behind me.

I don't look back.

4 Months

"Gotta fix this gubbed squeaking door," Kenneth looks at me and laughs. He kicks the door again, "Tha's my job."

I giggle and hang off his arm, twirling my hair like the glaikit hoor everyone thinks I am, "So dae it. That noise makes Emily's toaty wean fash when they take their dinner in this hoos!"

"Oh, Anna, quit yer greetin'."

Kenneth begins to close the door and I giggle again, "Nay! Don't close the door, Kenny! It'll squeak again!"

"Me maw would have a crabbit day if I let the howfin beasties in the hoos." He closes the door.

"Ah! I canny bear the sound!" I cover my ears in jest. He pinches me playfully on the cheek, "Ah, ya bastard!" I slap his hand as he draws away, hands playfully but protectively on my stomach. Kenneth grins, I roll my eyes, "Cummoan! Ye promised tae tell yer sisters over tea in town." I tug on his arm. He groans, "Now yer the greetin' een, Kenneth; we have tae tell som'een sometime, just no' ma blootered da."

Kenneth stops suddenly and holds me by the shoulders, out, away from his body. Slowly, he lets out a great sigh and hangs his head down, looking at the ground, "I cannae dae it, Hen."

I carefully take his head in my hands and hold it up so that I can look into his dark, wise, blue eyes. I look from one to the other; searching for something, but I don't know what, "Cannae dae whit?"

We stand like that for a moment where we seem to read into each other's deepest desires before he lets go of me and his shoulders droop, "A un nay ready tae be a father; am ur sixteen!" And I cannae be a mother, I clutch my stomach.

I hold him to me, his head on my shoulder and we sink to the ground. Our legs entwine in my skirt as we rock each other gently, minding my growing belly.

Since we were young, we have always been friends, it was just recently that we became more, but in this moment, we simply rely on each other for support and energy.

Soon after our heartbeats merge, Kenneth breaks the spell; he whispers, "Cannae we wait tae tell 'em 'till the morn?"

I sigh, "Cummoan. Tea cannae wait 'till the morn." We work to get ourselves standing upright again, I link my arm through his and rest my head on his shoulder as we walk.

I look up at him and he smiles, still looking ahead; he knows I'm staring. Kenneth is about six inches taller than me, his hair is fair and his skin is tanned from working out in the sun with his uncle. I look at his cut jawline and shaved chin; he knows that the idea of marriage scares me skint, but he holds a clean shave for me just the same. If he looks down at me, I would again be allowed to bask in those beautiful blue eyes that I was lost in just moments ago, but his gaze remains straight ahead, that life-like smile on his face. I just want to reach up and touch it--to kiss it--just to make sure it's real. But that would be improper.

We walk the gate for the twenty minutes it takes to get to town and the pub we take our tea in. We're silent the whole way for we both know how much of that there'll be when this baby comes in five months.