“You okay?”
She nods. I don’t know what it is about this woman, but I’m intrigued by her, drawn to her in a way I’ve never felt before. I want to kiss her more. I want to taste her. I want to do so much more to her.
I hold her hand, just to be sure she doesn’t fall again. Her gloved fingers meld softly with mine. I like the feel of her palm against mine.
Am I growing soft lately?
I wonder what goes through that mind of hers. I wonder what she thinks of. I’ll have to learn to read her body language better than I have. I have so very much to learn about her.
Her pensive face looks about us as we walk to the graveyard, but my eyes rest on a hooded figure several yards ahead. I know who it is, though, so I’m not at all surprised when my grandmother turns at the sound of our footsteps.
“Well, hello there, Leith,” she says gently, her blue eyes gentle and kind.
I nod. “Nan.” She’s my mother’s mother, ninety-seven years old and spritely. She lives in one of the small chalets that dot the outskirts of our property, and in recent years has agreed to allow us to send in a cook, cleaning staff, and an in-residence caretaker. “What are you doing here alone?”
Her voice is a bit wobbly when she speaks. I hadn’t noticed that before.
“Oh, just visiting your brother’s grave,” she says with a wistful sigh. “So young he was, Leith.”
I exhale silently. I didn’t want to speak of this in front of Cairstina, not yet.
Then why did you bring her here? My conscience lectures.
“That isn’t what I asked, Nan.” Though I try to gentle my voice, I don’t modulate the stern tone. I want her to know I disapprove of her coming out to these snowy, icy parts alone. Hell, with her recent history, I wouldn’t allow her to come out here alone even if it were bright and sunny.
“Well, wanted a wee bit of a walk,” she says. “Micah fell asleep. Now don’t be too harsh on him, Leith. I like being alone sometimes.” Micah is her caretaker, and he’ll answer for this. She turns to the grave, kisses her gloved fingers, then pats the rounded top. “He was a good boy,” she says softly. “I remember the day he was born.”
She shivers, and I realize she’s got to be cold. She’s wearing nothing but a thin overcoat despite wearing a hat and gloves.
“For pity’s sake, you can’t be coming down here without your coat.” I shrug out of mine and make her put it on. She rolls her eyes, but I can tell it pleases her.
“Now who’s this you’ve got with you?” she asks, her eyes twinkling.
“Visitor. Name’s Cairstina.”
She smiles and nods to Cairstina. “Oh, pleased to meet you, lass. Won’t you come back with me to my house?”
Cairstina looks to me, and I nod, pleased she’s deferred to me.
“She can’t speak, Nan.”
Nan can’t hide the surprise on her face. “Is that right, lass?”
Cairstina nods.
“Well, we say quite a few things without ever using our words at all, don’t we, Leith?” She gives me a wink, and speaks softly, as if to herself. “Daresay most of what we say, we say in silence. Now, you two come back to the house with me, will you?”
It isn’t until she starts walking up the hill I see a pretty pink roller attached smack dab in the back of her hair.
“Take my arm, please.”
Nan waits until I get to her and obeys, smiling at Cairstina. “He’s always like this, just so you know,” she mutters. “Bossy from the womb, he was.”
Cairstina smiles.
We walk toward her chalet, and Nan talks about the days of her childhood, how after Christmas the church and the surrounding village would call it Christmas until the Feast of the Epiphany.
“None of this December nonsense,” she mutters. “We knew something as special as the birth of the Christ Child deserved more than a few days of celebration.”
Nan’s the most religious of our lot, and she either doesn’t have a clue what it is we do privately or thinks the holy water she sprinkles around the estate will somehow get us past the pearly gates.
We walk with her back to her house, as we listen to her stories. Though Cairstina can’t speak, she nods her head eagerly, and is as attentive a listener as one could hope for. She holds my right arm and Nan my left.
“Now, Leith, you can leave me here while you tend to your lady,” she says with her signature class.
I shake my head. “No, ma’am, I’ll need a word with your house help.”
I open the door and let her in. She bangs her boots by the door as if to shake off the snow, but I suspect she’s trying to sneakily alert her staff that I’m coming in.