Page 65 of Connal

Valerie gave him a solemn look. “I won’t live very long, you know. I get only one lifetime. Are you okay with that?” When he nodded she took hold of his hand. “Are you still going to be okay when I’m old and wrinkly, and I hobble when I walk?”

“I cannae wait for that part,” he told her, just as seriously. “You’ll be the loveliest crone on Caladh.”

“First rule of our new relationship,” she said, holding up one finger. “We do not call elderly women crones.”

A few days after returning to the island Valerie came back to the stronghold with Fletcher once they had finished inspecting the available out buildings in the bailey. She had plenty of things to discuss with Connal before the wedding next week, but setting up a school at Dun Ard for the vassal’s young children had risen to the top of the list.

“I think we can renovate that last granary to serve as a classroom,” she told the seneschal. “If the carpenters can enlarge the windows and replace the flooring, that is. Half the kids here won’t wear shoes, and I don’t want to spend the day picking splinters out of their feet.”

“Must they truly learn numbers and alchemy as well as reading and scribing?” Fletcher asked. “And why should the wee lassies be taught?”

“Math, Science, Reading and Writing,” she corrected him. “Those are just the basics. Even if the children spend their entire lives on the island, education is important. Also, if you haven’t yet noticed, I’m a lassie.”

He grimaced. “Apologies, my lady. ’Twill prove interesting, no doubt.”

Valerie went upstairs to wash up before the evening meal, during which she planned to talk to the chieftains about recruiting some teachers from the local village to help her share the new workload. Since there were about fifty children in need of schooling, she thought splitting them into morning and afternoon classes would be sensible. She sat down at her desk to make more notes.

A knock on the door made her call out, “Come in, please.”

Nyall entered and bowed before coming over to inspect her writing. “Wedding plans, my lady?”

“Class schedules. I’m not giving up being a teacher.” She set down her pen. “What can I do for you, Captain?”

“Jamaran brought this with him when he came to warn us you’d been captured.” Nyall placed the locket Dale had given her on the table. “I hope ’twillnae make you unhappy.”

Why did she hate the sight of it? “No, it’s fine. Thank you.” She glanced up at him. “How is the commander?”

“Fully healed now,” the captain said. “He and Merrick and the other Finfolk, they’re out searching for Duxor, one of their men. He’s a troublesome one, but went missing some days ago.”

“I hope they find him,” Valerie said. “We’ve had enough trouble to deal with lately.”

“Aye, my lady.” The captain bowed again before he left the bed chamber.

Valerie picked up her last remembrance of Dale. The chain’s clasp had been broken when the shapeshifter had yanked her away from Jamaran during the attack. She could probably ask Connal if the stronghold’s smith could repair it, but she didn’t want to wear it again.

Maybe I drove him to kill himself, but I didn’t want that. It wasn’t intentional. He should have talked to me and told me how depressed he was.

She opened the locket to look at the tiny picture of Dale one last time, and a tiny bundle of paper fell into her lap, When she unfolded the one-inch strip, which had somehow stayed dry, she saw printing on one side in ten point Calibri––the same font Dale had always used for his class notes.

I hope you’ll find this someday. My doctor diagnosed me with stomach cancer six months ago, but none of his treatments have worked. It’s spread to my liver and lungs now, and I can barely get out of bed anymore. I’m sorry for the affair, taking your money, and every other foolish thing I did. I’m going to end it tonight. This is all I can do to spare both of us more pain. Find a better man than me, and be happy, Val. I love you––D.

The note slipped out of her fingers as everything that she hadn’t understood suddenly became clear. Dale’s hair loss had probably been the result of chemotherapy. He’d likely used the money from her savings to pay for alternative treatments that their medical insurance didn’t cover. Knowing he was terminally ill explained his angry outbursts whenever she had talked about the future. Perhaps everything he’d done had been a desperate attempt to cling to life while concealing his condition from her.

If only he had trusted me.

Valerie knew exactly why her husband had been so secretive. Dale’s mother had been diagnosed with stomach cancer while he was in high school, and his father hadn’t been able to cope with the responsibility and left them. Dale had been the one to nurse his mother through treatment until her death, which had been slow and terribly painful. Valerie even remembered her husband saying that if he ever got as sick as his mom he’d rather kill himself than die the way she had.

Somehow Valerie had wandered down from the bed chamber and now stood in the great hall, where the maids were busy setting up the trestle tables for the evening meal. She should have helped them, but she needed a moment to compose herself, and went to sit by the fire.

A hand rested on her shoulder. “Something wrong, mo bòidhchead?”

“I’m all right.” The knot of grief she had been carrying for more than a year now unraveled inside Valerie. “Dale left a note in my locket. I’ve always blamed myself for driving him to commit suicide, but it actually had nothing to do with me. He killed himself because he was very sick.”

Connal sat down beside her on the bench, and she read the note to him, and briefly explained her husband’s history with his mother’s illness. Then, without knowing exactly why she did it, she walked over to the hearth and dropped Dale’s note into the flames. Standing there and watching it burn gave her a sense of closure that she had never before experienced.

“What may I do?” the laird asked, joining her.

“There’s nothing we can do. Dale won’t be born for another eight centuries. Even if I had known he was sick, and tried to persuade him to keep fighting for his life, in the end I think he still would have jumped off that bridge.” As Connal’s arm came around her she leaned against him. “It’s just sad. Like finding out the real reason that Joana died.” She looked up at him. “Your wife was really brave, you know.”