October 28th
Halloween was fast approaching. The shops full of cookies and candies, costumes and decorations, the houses adorned with banners, pumpkin faces, witches on broomsticks, ghouls and other assorted samples of American Celebratory paraphernalia. Catriona felt she was beginning to understand how this society worked, at least a little better than she had done when she had first arrived. Partly this was due to the length of time she had spent not just as a visitor, but as a member, of said society. However, she acknowledged that more of it was due to finding a niche for herself, a friendship circle, a family, who accepted her and considered her not as an oddity, but as an integral part of their 'merry throng'.
She was hard pressed to remember the last time she had felt so accepted, and as a result so self assured, and happy. Yes that was it, she was happy - a feeling she had not ever been well acquainted with. She supposed that she had been happy when her mother was alive, but even then only when they were alone together. When others had intruded on their lives they had been less than happy with the way people expected them to think or react. Here no one seemed to judge her personality or beliefs. The other academics in her faculty, whilst not necessarily understanding her, had welcomed her and were openly supportive. She found it all such a contrast from her past experiences the she might have even said she was euphoric rather than just happy.
All she knew was, her heart was lighter , and the pressures she put on herself to continually overachieve as a compensation for not 'fitting in' were lessening. She found that she could achieve what she wanted and still have the time to spend with friends and with Matthew.
The progress in dealing with Matthew's condition over the past few weeks was incredible, and the progress in their relationship as mother and son was such that the deep wounds of despair and guilt she'd been assailed by since his birth had largely dissipated. Each weekend she and Matthew had spent time together, at first just a few hours in her rooms on campus but after the first weekend, and the party at Joe's, they had both spent Friday afternoon to Sunday evening at Joe's house. Joe had been wonderful to them and she was beginning to hope that perhaps her secret wish that their relationship could blossom further might not be such a ridiculous one after all.
Neither of them had indulged in more that the odd hug and Joe had been the perfect host, but she caught the looks he sometimes sent her way when he thought she wasn't looking. Nevertheless she did not feel inclined to 'push it'. Joe was a a great guy, one both she and Matthew felt comfortable and happy with, but sharing weekends and sharing lives were two different things and she felt that she could not instigate anything - any relationship beyond friendship would have to be initiated by Joe, and he would have to be very sure it was what he wanted before she would accept. In the meantime she was grateful for Joe's support and happy to enjoy his company.
Connor had stayed longer than he's originally intended, taking the odd day here and there to travel the islands of the San Juans, and the area around the Olympic Peninsula and Puget Sound. He had managed to unearth some curious items, mostly of Dutch origin, which he had purchased for Nash Antiques . When he had done with his buying spree he managed to spend some time with Duncan, observing him, talking to him, and he noticed some changes in his 'cousin'. It had been a while since he had been able to spend any length of time with Duncan, and he wasn't sure he liked what he was seeing.
Duncan was in such a subdued mood that it was clear to him he was brooding - and fairly obviously over 'matters of the heart' - yet he could not tell for whom the moody Highlander was pining. He knew that after Tessa's murder Duncan had tried to build a relationship with a woman called Ann, a Doctor, but on discovering his immortality and the realities of the game she had broken off all contact with him. He'd taken it very hard at the time, but Connor had never really seen her as a long term companion for Duncan.
What Duncan needed was someone with a sense of humour, and with a sense of purpose in their lives. Ann had certainly had the latter but not the former as far as Connor had been able to see. Duncan was dour enough for ten people all on his own, he needed someone who balanced out his introspective nature. Be that as it may Duncan was clearly 'mooning' after someone. He only hoped it was not Catriona who was the cause of what he could only call love-sick behaviour. he like her immensely, but she was clearly a very introverted person with troubles of her own, and she seemed quite tense around Duncan - though she smiled in a friendly enough fashion at him. Connor had also seen her looking sorrowfully at the other man, perhaps they had tried to start a relationship and for some reason she'd broken it off. However, the more he pondered the matter in this direction the more unlikely he thought the scenario to be. Catriona seemed to give off an aura of vulnerability, tied up with a fear of intimacy - something he'd seen before in women who were single parents - and remembering some of the rumours he'd heard in Glenfinnan a couple of months back he thought he might have an inkling why she was that way.
Whatever the truth of the matter, they were not suited to each other, that much he was sure of. Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod was apt to become the epitome of the dour, brooding Scot, which was why, in Connor's opinion, Duncan's most successful relationships had been with Tessa and Little Deer. If there was one thing neither of those women had allowed it was brooding.
He pondered the problem for days, trying to find the best way to broach the subject without making the problem worse. There was no doubting that the younger man could be like a bear with a sore head when pushed to talk about personal matters. Pussy footing around the subject was not likely to produce results. In short he was at a loss as to how to proceed.
In the end, and typically to Connor's way of thinking, it was Duncan's physical and mental exhaustion that opened the way to the discussion. They had risen early as always, neither man able to bear wasting a minute of any given day. The beautiful, yet crisp morning air and the clear blue sky had beckoned them forth for along run in the park. They ran the entire perimeter, keeping to the sea wall path, a magnificent view of the port and the mountains encouraging this outdoor pursuit. They ran the circumference of the Park, a total of 6 miles, twice before returning to the dojo for kata practice. After 3 more hours of the most arduous katas, culminating with a complicated series of shadow sword play movements, whirling the phantom weapon around the head, thrusting forward, kicking, cross splicing again with the sword arm, spinning and striking, both men were fighting hard for breath and sweat sheened their bare torsos.
When he managed to gain his breath enough to speak, Duncan suggested repeating the exercise this time with real weapons. Connor agreed and they went through the process with all due honours. Saluting each other they first went through the moves side by side, reminding Connor of the time when he had been training his newly immortal 'cousin' - and reminding Duncan of the times he had gone through the same ritual with Richie. After one full repetition, by common agreement they squared off against each other, and at Connor's command of "Hajime" they moved as mirror images of each other until, at the final parry and thrust, they met in the middle of the dojo, panting and barely able by now to hold themselves or the matched katanas upright, their muscles shaking with fatigue. Connor finally drew enough breath to call "Yame" and they withdrew from the tense final position, bowed to each other and moved to put away the swords.
Duncan leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees, and gave a cough as his chest protested at the lack of oxygen finding its way into his lungs. Connor wondered how often lately the younger Scot had pushed himself to the limits like this. He frowned. Usually, as far as he knew, Duncan only went all out in training like this when he was facing a challenge, but no one had been near them for weeks. It seemed that Duncan was using his practice sessions to exhaust himself so that he wouldn't have to think about whoever it was he was pining after. That made a certain sense, he had done that before. Duncan had tow modes of dealing with his emotions it seemed, denial and therefore withdrawing from everything - or going all out to prove he was immune to everything and would be damned if he'd let anything affect him. This time it appeared he chosen the latter response.
Patting his protege on the shoulder he said,
"OK mi amigo, time to unwind, you're stretched tighter than a bowstring. Shower now and then upstairs for a scotch or two, a warm fire and a yarn. You my boy are going to spill the beans or pay a forfeit."
He waggled his eyebrows in a mock challenge and Duncan responded with a wry grin.
"Don't you think it's a bit early in the day for scotch?" He asked, making a mere token protest.
"Don't give me that my lad, time was we drank the stuff without thinking of niceties like time of day, as far as I'm concerned, if it gets you to relax it's never too early." Connor replied.
"Fine then," Duncan wheezed, "If I ever get my breath back I'll pay you any forfeit you demand."
Connor chuckled.
"Don't worry yourself unduly Duncan, it is not a fearsome task I shall demand of you."
So saying he turned and grabbed some towels and went to take his own shower.
end of chapter 37
go here for the nesxt chapter Chapter 38 .
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