The Boys and the Traveler

The Boys and the Traveler Epiloge

Ten years had passed. When Rover had died of old age Jamie had quit travelling too and he settled down in the metropolis Edinburgh. He had followed the jobs available, had travelled in France, Belgium and the Netherlands. In each country he had made new experiences and had absorbed new styles of art.

Edinburgh offered ample opportunities for 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 favourite pet or a new counter for his pub or pharmacy. It might as well be repair- or restoration work at Edinburgh Castle or 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 celebrity in the local wood carving- and artist scene. His colleagues considered him to be a tough competitor and many 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!

On a beautiful summer evening he sauntered home from his studio after a long day. A lot of people were walking past him. Suddenly 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. Recognize was the wrong word, he was certain he knew him! Only his clothing didn’t fit, it was too expensive and distinguished.

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 astonished. It was not the surprise of someone who was erroneously called. From his grey green eyes spoke total bewilderment of the seeing again!

And the eyes rapidly changed to a look of happiness, while his lips formed 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 but most just ignored it and went their own ways.

“What are you doing in Edinburgh?” Jamie asked excited.

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

“I live here” Jamie said.

“So do I for the last couple of years”

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

Kyle looked at him with a smile and said:

“I guess because Edinburgh is a lot bigger than Kirkstile”

“And those fancy clothes…man, why are you wearing them?”

Kyle blushed a little and looked if he was caught red handed on a minor infringement.

“I still wear what I always wore. This was just for the occasion”

Jamie pulled his brows up in a questioning gesture.

“Well…”, stuttered Kyle clumsily, “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?”

“After I went back to Inverness Mr. MacKintosh considered me gifted with horses in a way that needed further education. He took care that I was made 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 gauge his line of thought, because he continued:

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

“And now you have to return to Inverness?” Jamie asked with slight disappointment.

Kyle shook his head emphatically:

“No! I can even set up my practice where I want it. There are no obligations, although he would like the idea if I came to Inverness if there is a problem in the stables, so I can solve it for him. But well…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: “I missed you too, my sweat 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, “so we can catch up!”

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

Jamie just laughed.

They entered Jamie’s small apartment. Immediately at entering something struck Kyle’s eye: over the fireplace hung a drawn portrait. A candle stood under it and Jamie lit it right away.

Kyle looked at it with astonishment and respect and whispered:

“Collin?”

Jamie just nodded.

“How did you 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.

“This is the face I saw, the face I thought to be Saint Peter. But it was Collin! I 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!”

Kyle took Jamie in his arms and whispered:

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

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

Kyle nodded and with determined voice he said:

“I found you back as well…and I won’t lose you again, not this time!”

In this same period of ten years father Lighthouse transferred his parish to his successor. It was not because he had become a bishop. To the contrary: after having turned over the matter in his mind for many, many times he told his bishop and his parishioners that he was leaving Kilmacolm and the catholic church “for personal reasons”. He knew he was going to embark on an uncertain future, but he decided that his freedom of thinking and way of life was more important to him than the rigid rules of the Catholic Church.

On a beautiful spring morning he welcomed his successor. When he guided the man through the church the newcomer stood surprised and exclaimed:

“Where did you get this beautiful pulpit?”

Brian told him the story. It was a long story and when it came to an end both men were standing in that little corner of the Kilmacolm cemetery.

After having been transferred twice the lesson of the old, wise Bohemian craftsman finally found fertile ground. These two boys had carved on the hard, unruly block of wood of their lives and had shaped it to what they wanted it to become. There was one important difference with the original lesson: both were able to look at their masterpiece in its completed form and enjoy it.

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

The End