The Travellers - 16. Loose Ends

In which things finally turn in another way as you might have expected…but then: maybe not…

Ten years had passed.

Jamie had followed the jobs available and travelled through the whole of Great Britain, France, Belgium and the Netherlands. In each country he gathered new experiences and, by visiting other churches, castles and museums between jobs, he absorbed new styles of art, marveling at all the beauty he saw around him and was inspired by it.

He had good times, feeling elated when he had mastered some tough and complicated job. It made him always smile mentally, thinking:

“I promised you I could do it, Collin!”

Yes, Collin was still in his memory. How could he forget his teacher and mentor? But after elation sadness often came, not about Collin’s early death, but for another reason.

Once he sat in his wagon during the evenings, feeling lonely, this other sore spot showed its ugly head, a sore spot, composed of a slim boy with bright grey-green eyes and long, blond hair…a boy he still loved…a boy named Kyle!

Kyle still possessed his heart and mind, despite the fact, that Jamie was fully aware they had split up by mutual consent, not out of impulsive anger. But more and more he started to doubt, if that idea had been as good as both had thought it to be at the moment of their decision.

He made some halfhearted attempts with other boys and men, but none of them could replace his first and only big love!

The memories of and feelings for Kyle kept haunting him, asking himself time after time:

“Was there really nothing we could have worked out?”

Only to answer the question with a shrug and with the thought:

“It happened that way and it can’t be made undone…!”

Only to step in bed, where they once slept the three of them, but now he had it all for himself.

After faithful Rover died of old age, Jamie decided that he had travelled enough and he settled down in Edinburgh. The city offered ample opportunities to work for craftsmen and artists. He drew portraits and made statues and busts. But he hadn’t relinquished the old craft of wood carving: it was the butter on his bread. He didn’t mind if the client wanted a statue or a bust of his recently passed wife or of his favorite pet or a new counter for his pub or pharmacy. It might as well be repair- or restoration work at Edinburgh Castle or in one of the many churches in town. Money was money and he had to make a living as well, but he managed to make ends meet.

He was not on the upper rung of the ladder yet, but developed into some kind of upcoming celebrity in the small local wood carving- and sculpture scene. His colleagues considered him to be a tough competitor and many an old and experienced wood carver wondered himself, where this youngster had come from or who had taught him the difficult craft. Whoever it was: it must have been a genius! But having no detailed knowledge, they overlooked the fact, that Jamie was the last in a long tradition of Bohemian wood carving art, something he didn’t even know himself. So, why blaming the ignorant?

There was another person who, after all these years, had fond memories of Kyle, but in his case it was of a more subdued nature, having subsided to sweet recollections only, but lacking the biting pain. He lived exactly opposite of Edinburgh, since he resided in Glasgow.

It was there, that Brian Farquhart, now called Mister Lighthouse by the many pupils entrusted to his care, stepped from the bus and walked to his apartment.

In these same ten years he told his bishop and parishioners he was leaving and he had transferred his small parish to his successor.

The first years of his disengagement from the Church had been hard ones: he lived from his meagre savings and more than that: he was frantically trying to find his ways in a world he hardly knew and struggled to discover options to make his goals come true.

But luck was with him, when he found a job as a welfare worker in a refugee home for neglected, mistreated and abused children on the limits of the Glasgow slums. Wages were small but job satisfaction overwhelming, abundantly compensating for the scanty pay.

And it seemed, that God forgave him his betrayal to the Church or maybe had never taken it as an offense in the first place, when he met Fergus, a somewhat younger colleague of him, muscular, broad-shouldered, black-haired, fully bearded and with a big mouth, but also with a very tender heart as well. It had been love at first sight and by now they had lived together for three years in a small apartment, braving all contempt and derision from their surroundings, totally confident that they were doing the right thing together.

His first years in the real world had been tough, but never as tough as the four years in Ypres. Now he finally did, what he had learned and practiced in the trenches: now he lived according to his own rules!

Despite that: on rainy, cold and dark evenings, when melancholy strikes, Brian Farquhart’s thoughts slid back to his rectory in Kilmacolm and more specifically to that young, gorgeous and impulsive boy, that had become the first love of his life. And he even shared these memories with Fergus, the man he loved deeply now, who invariably reacted with:

“I like that laddie. I sure wish I ‘ad known him!”

Only to let it follow by, accompanied by a good-humored grin:

“Ye wouldn’t ‘ave a chance in the world if I ‘ad been with ‘im!”

But Brian would always reprimand him with a cheerful:

“Shut up, you mongrel!”

On a beautiful summer evening Jamie sauntered home from his workshop after a long and tiring day. A lot of people were walking past him but he noticed none of them, absorbed in thoughts about some design he was working on.

But despite that or by coincidence and maybe even fate, he saw a man in front of him, who he thought he recognized, although the man walked in the same direction and he could only see his back. Only thinking he recognized him was the wrong phrase, he was certain he knew him! Only his clothing didn’t fit, it was too expensive and distinguished. But the body was very familiar, he knew the hair from literally feeling it, the gait was as he remembered.

He was in doubt…he could call out with the risk he was wrong. He could ignore it and regret it later he hadn’t called. Actually, he didn’t decide a thing…it just happened:

“Kyle!!” he cried out.

The man turned around and looked at him, his mouth open and his eyes wide in astonishment. It was not the surprise of someone who was erroneously called. Total bewilderment spoke from his grey green eyes about the coincidental re-meeting! And the eyes rapidly changed to a look of happiness, while his lips muttered a soundless:

“Jamie!”

They ran to one another and fell into each other’s arms with a lot of kissing. Some passers-by looked shocked, others showed disgust and there were those who scolded at them. Most just ignored it and went their own ways. But both young men’s worlds were limited to only each other, making them impervious to all reactions.

“What are you doing in Edinburgh?” Jamie asked excited, after he recovered from the surprise and the resulting exaltation.

“I can ask ye the same thing”, Kyle replied with a broad grin on his face.

“I live here”, Jamie replied, “I guess for about…four years now, maybe five”.

“So did I for the last four years”.

“But, why haven’t I met you before then?” came the next puzzled question.

Kyle looked at him with his gorgeous trademark smile, that hadn’t changed a bit in all those years, and said:

“I guess because Edinburgh is a lot larger than Kirkstile”.

“And what are these fancy clothes…man, do you wear that always nowadays?”

Kyle blushed a little and looked if he was caught in the act while committing a minor infringement.

“No, I still wear what I always wore. This was just…eeeuuuhhh… for the occasion”.

Jamie pulled up his brows in a questioning gesture.

“Well…” Kyle stuttered embarrassed, “I… I…graduated today… at the university of Edinburgh. I am a vet now!”

Jamie looked at him in disbelief, genuinely surprised:

“How did you manage to do that?”

“In a nutshell”, Kyle explained, “After we split up and I went back to Inverness, Mr. MacKintosh considered me gifted with horses in an exceptional way, that needed further education. He decided, that I would only work in the stables evenings and in the weekends. For the rest he insisted, no…he forced me to…that I would finish me school. He even paid me wages for the time I was at school. I got some extra help from his daughter, Miss Virginia, and they made me ready for the entry exams. And then he paid for the whole study”.

Jamie was unable to comprehend what he heard. There must be a snake in the grass here. Kyle seemed to sense his line of thought, because he continued:

“Without conditions. He considered me extremely gifted with the horses, so he wanted me to have the opportunity to become a vet”.

“That’s marvelous!” Jamie reacted, very impressed. But there was also a feeling of slight disappointment, prompting him to ask:

“And now you have to return to Inverness?”

Kyle shook his head emphatically:

“Nay! I can even set up me practice where I want it. There are no obligations, although he would like the idea that I come to Inverness if there is a problem in the stables, so I can solve it for him. But ye know…they invented trains for that, didn’t they?”

“I missed you so much in all these years”, Jamie whispered with tears in his eyes.

The reply didn’t take long in coming. Pressing his arms more tightly around Jamie’s body, Kyle responded:

“I missed ye too, me sweet darling!”

For a short span of time nothing was said, both of them attempting to get their feelings under control.

“Let’s go to my apartment”, Jamie suggested spontaneous, “so we can catch up!”

“Only catch up?” Kyle asked with a cheeky smile

Jamie just laughed meaningfully.

They entered Jamie’s small apartment. Immediately after doing so, something struck Kyle’s eye: over the fireplace hung a charcoal portrait of a man with dark eyes and long black hair, that hung in strands along his head, like it was wet. Under it was a candle and Jamie lit it right away after coming in.

Kyle studied it with astonishment and respect and whispered:

“Collin?”

Jamie just nodded.

“How did ye do that?”

Jamie smiled vaguely and answered:

“From memory!”

“But how?” Kyle insisted.

“Do you remember that night when I thought I was dead? There at the river near Inverness?”

Kyle nodded, feeling a slight shiver at the memory. It was not something he would forget easily, actually having feared for his lover’s life.

“This is the face I saw, the face I thought to be Saint Peter. But it was Collin! I will never forget that face: it was sweet, tender and caring but at the same time decisive, as if he knew right away what should be done. So, I drew it, as a memory to him!”

For another time Kyle took Jamie in his arms and said:

“I still got the drawing ye made of Rover hanging over me bed. I always knew ye would be a great artist”.

Then his voice dropped when he whispered:

“I certainly hope we will do more than… only catching up tonight!”

“Yes, my love, because I found you back again!”

Kyle nodded and with a determined voice and gleaming eyes he spoke:

“I found ye back as well…Then, when we were much younger and less mature, I saw no other way than splitting up. But as things stand now…I’m certain, we can combine our love and both our dreams. I lost ye once! But I won’t lose ye another time, not this time!”

And Collin? Sad but true: Collin remained where the boys had left him.

However, after having been transferred twice the old, wise Bohemian craftsman’s lesson finally found fertile ground.

It was not only his grandson, who benefited from it and who also fulfilled the prophecy, that his life was a piece of wood to be shaped to become his masterpiece, but that he would never see his masterpiece finished.

The final masterpieces were these two boys, who had carved stubbornly on the hard, unruly woodblock of their lives and had shaped it to what they wanted it to be. There was one important difference with the original lesson: both were able to look at their masterpiece in its completed form and enjoy it…together!

What the old men had never anticipated, not even in his wildest dreams, was that his lesson had also influenced a priest in a small Scottish village, even if only sideways.

If there ever had been a dead man, who smiled with satisfaction in his grave, it must have been this old man.

The End