The Edge Of The World

The shop was thankfully empty and I hurried inside, slamming the door shut behind me, startling Donald, the shop owner, and son of one of my father's closest friends.

"It really is you Kate, we all wondered, but there's no doubt." His smile was broad.

"Well of course it's me, last time I looked in the mirror, I was most definitely myself and noone else." I was completely confused.

"You don't know, do you? Sweet heaven, you've no idea." He shook his head in disbelief and came round the counter, guiding me to the back of the shop, sitting me down on the set of steps he used for reaching the higher shelves.

"For god's sake if you've got something to say Donald then out with it, you're giving me a headache!" I had the distinct impression that I wasn't going to like whatever he was going to say and I felt queasy for the first time in days.

He was pacing around nervously and I closed my eyes, growing dizzy just watching him.

"When did you last see the local rag?"

"Around three months ago Donald; what's that got to do with anything?" I asked, still none the wiser.

"Have you ever heard of James Hanlan? Better still, I think I still have last weeks copy of the paper somewhere around, give me a minute." The name didn't ring any bells at all. I could hear Donald opening and shutting drawers underneath the counter, then I heard him shaking out a paper.

"Here Kate, have a look at this, because from what I can tell, this Mr Hanlan seems to have more than a little knowledge of you. I know you can't see the painting, but Moira the gallery owner knew it was you as soon as the painting was put up. There's no doubt about it, and there's no way it could be anyone else." I felt the paper being pushed into my hands and opened my eyes reluctantly, gasping with shock at the full page spread, detailing the new exhibit at the local art gallery.

"Seumais..." I shook my head as I looked at his photo, standing proudly beside his new paintings, and one large one that stood alone in the middle of the gallery floor on a simple easel, covered over.

I dropped the paper to the floor and trampled it as I made my way to the door, I felt completely numb. He had started painting, not only that but he had brought his paintings to the island, displaying them without a word to me; I would have felt hurt but just the thought of seeing him had my stomach doing summersaults. The gallery was only a couple of minutes walk away, but it felt as though I was walking through a thick syrup, I ignored greetings, seeing only the street sign that pointed the way to the gallery.

My hand was shaking as I pushed the door open, my heels click-clacking on the polished floor. Despite having a small appearance on the outside, the inside of the gallery was vast, with a vaulted ceiling, painted a stark white, but the honeyed wood of the floor gave it a warm appearance. My brain couldn't quite take in what I was seeing, all the colours, huge canvases, rioting colours that could only be the machair. As I paused at each one it felt as though I was being drawn home, I could smell the heady scents of the flowers, the salt laden air. He hadn't forgotten at all, even my little whitewashed cottage featured, nestled at the foot of the hill. I had been putting it off but I couldn't any longer and I turned round and stood face to face with the main exhibit. My fingers reached out, clutching at the drape, slowly pulling it. My breath sounded loud in the large room as I exposed more and more of the painting; it was undoubtedly me, lying naked and fast asleep on my side, my hair brushing against the side of my breast, relaxed and quite clearly contented with the ghost of a smile about my mouth. All around me were a rainbow of flowers, and I looked beautiful. I was seeing myself as he saw me; just thinking about it took my breath away.

Time passed, it could have been minutes, it could have been hours, I could have spent all day there and it would have seemed like no time at all. These were his paintings and it was easy to visualize him painting each brushstroke. I jumped when I heard the door to the gallery open, turning round quickly, I didn't want to share the space with anyone. With my eyes downcast, I walked quickly over to the door but was stopped short by a firm hand on my shoulder, a warm, heavy, familiar hand. My heart began to thump heavily in my chest as I slowly looked up at the man that had turned my life upside down.

"You took your own sweet time Kate, I thought you would never get here." His words felt like a soothing balm over an open wound and I pulled in a shaky breath before I spoke.

"I had no idea you... You've got some explaining to do James Hanlan." I wanted to be angry but I failed miserably and I grinned broadly, just simply for seeing him.

"Lord Kate, you have no idea how much like my mother you sound, please call me Seumais, James is just my nom de wotsits, everyone calls me Seumais." I felt myself being caught up in his arms, held tightly the way I had dreamt of over the past few months.

"I thought I was never going to see you again Seumais, you could have written or something." I gave up talking and just held onto him, trying my best not to turn into a blubbering wreck.

"I told you it wasn't goodbye. You handed me inspiration and I took a leap of faith, but I knew there was no way I could get these paintings done with you around to distract me. The gallery owner was only too happy to display the paintings, given that they have a distinctly local flavour." I looked into his eyes and knew in that instant that I had found forever.

"I hope you realise that I'm not too keen on having myself on show like that, no matter how beautiful you made me look." I cast a quick look over my shoulder at the painting and turned back, my lips brushing against his, drawn into a kiss that let loose all the frustrations and pent up feelings that had been blocked over the intervening weeks.

Both of us were left gasping for air as we broke apart and I suddenly remembered why I had come to town in the first place.

"You are beautiful Kate, besides, that painting is definitely not for sale, even although I've had a few more than generous offers for it." He winked and pulled me in the direction of the sales office.

"Are you busy this afternoon Seumais, I've got a hospital appointment I have to keep and I'd like you to come with me." He stopped dead in his tracks and gripped my hand almost painfully.

"God, you're not ill are you Kate, I thought you looked a bit thinner than the last time I saw you, and you're awfully pale, tell me you've not been ill all this time and I've been none the wiser!" Eventually he stopped for breath and I laughed, puzzled at my mirth.

"I've been as sick as a dog to be honest, every morning, regular as clockwork, my lovely pert breasts are now swelling out of recognition and I've started crying watching television adverts." I walked past him and waited by the door for him to move, but he didn't.

"Then it's lucky I've always had a thing for pregnant women, isn't it!" He reached me quickly, picking me up and whirling me round, much to the amusement of the gallery owner who had come out of the office to see what all the fuss was about.

Mid afternoon saw us both sitting in the antenatal waiting room, nervous and excited, waiting to be called. I felt bloated with the amount of water I had been told to drink, but just as I thought my bladder was about to burst, we were taken through to a small room for the scan. My breath whooshed out of my lungs as the cold gel was smeared over my belly, but Seumais held my hands tightly in his, as much for his benefit as mine, I had never seen a man look so pale. It seemed to take forever before the monitor was turned around for us, but I couldn't make sense of what I was seeing.

"Is there a history of twins in your family Kate?" The doctor asked, smiling widely.

"Excuse me?" I wasn't exactly sure I had heard him right.

"Lord woman, was one child not enough for you!" Seumais joked by my side, but I could see tears in his eyes.

"Twins?" I whispered, looking back and forth between the doctor and Seumais.

I was still testing the word out on my tongue a couple of hours later when Seumais took the car keys out of my numb fingers. The life that had stood still was now racing off with me barely able to cling onto it, but I was happier than ever. That evening we laid back on the machair, fingers entwined, watching the clouds, tinged pink and orange by the setting sun. Birds wheeled over our heads while the grass tickled the soles of our bare feet.

"I've come home to a beautiful sunset." Seumais whispered, turning over to face me.

"The sunsets are always perfect at the edge of the world." I answered, stroking the side of his face with my fingertips.