“It wasn’t a lie.” Trulie scooted over and looped her arm around the chain suspending it from the roof of the porch. She replayed the memory of the emotionless conversation with Dan. He had been so absorbed in his stock-trading reports that he had barely acknowledged she was even in the room.
A smile came to her as she realized it hadn’t even bothered her. In fact, truth be told, she felt a bit ... what? Freer, maybe? Less tense? She pulled in a deep breath and released it. Relaxed. That was the word. She felt more relaxed with the knowledge that her days of tiptoeing on eggshells with good old Dan were over.
“It wasn’t a lie,” she repeated. “I am moving to Scotland for a while. It just happens to be in a different century.” She restarted the gentle rhythm of the swing Mairi had disrupted with her entry. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”
The young girl tucked her legs up under the folds of the oversized terry bathrobe and hugged her knees against her chest. “I can’t sleep.” The bright-pink bunny ears on her worn slippers flopped in time with the movement of the swing. “It’s going to be so strange here without you and Granny.” She sniffed and rubbed the end of her nose.
Trulie nudged the floor with one toe to keep the old swing in motion. She blinked hard against the sting of unshed tears. Mairi was right. It was going to be strange for the family to be split. They had never separated before. Even during Granny’s lessons on managing the time web, they always jumped together. “We will be fine,” Trulie reassured. “I know Granny is up to something. I don’t know exactly what, but she always has a good reason for everything she does. She wouldn’t have suggested we separate without good reason.”
Mairi sat silent with her small chin propped on her knees. The only sound interrupting the night was the rhythmic squeaking whine of the porch swing and the cricket song echoing through the darkness.
“Mairi?” Trulie gently nudged the girl’s arm. “I know it’s not going to be easy, but I promise we will talk all the time through the fire portal. We can even see each other if the coals are hot enough. We have to trust that Granny knows best.” She curled an arm around her sister and leaned her cheek against the top of Mairi’s head. “What are you thinking? I promise to keep it just between us.”
Mairi’s shoulders hitched up and down in a hurried shrug as the girl wiped her cheek with her sleeve. “I know we can visit through the fire portal. But...” Her halting whisper barely rose above the sound of the rusty chains. “This is the only real place Lilia and I have ever lived. It’s not like jumping and visiting history. This place has always been the home we have come back to. You and Kenna came from back there. You lived there for a while. When Granny decides she wants us to leave this time ... I don’t think I want to do it.”
So that was it. The child was afraid she was next—and probably with good reason. Trulie stroked her fingers through Mairi’s curls and chose her words carefully. She understood Mairi’s fears but the child needed to embrace Granny’s number one rule about life: it was meant to be lived to the fullest ... not just endured.
“I was only twelve years old when we relocated our home to this time. It’s not like I’m an expert on the thirteenth century.” Trulie tapped Mairi on the head. “I’ll have a lot to learn once we get back there, but I know I can adapt.” She gave a playfully tugged one of Mairi’s curls. “We Sinclairs are pretty smart, you know? We’re survivors.”
Trulie tried not to think about the harsh challenges of the past. No good ever came from dwelling on the negative. Most scenes of her early childhood seemed disjointed and foggy, as if someone had taken a poor-quality video and accidentally deleted some of the scenes. Trulie felt sure Granny and Kenna had wiped away some of the more unpleasant memories. Try as she might, even after all these years, she still couldn’t visualize her parents’ funeral or the time right before they had all jumped to the future. All that came back to her was an overwhelming sense of despair.
“Will folks back then think we are weird too?” Mairi lowered her feet, stopped the motion of the swing, and stared at Trulie, her eyes wide with fear. “Won’t they try to hurt us if they find out we’re ... special? Have you read about what they did to people they didn’t understand back then?”
Trulie’s heart hitched at the worry in her sister’s voice. Granny had never shielded them from what could happen if their heritage wasn’t kept a secret, but any time they had skipped back to the past, Granny had always chosen a fairly safe era to visit. Unfortunately, Mairi voiced valid concerns that couldn’t be ignored. Patting the child’s back, Trulie forced a smile. “We are going to be all right. We’ll hide each other’s secrets like we always do. I promise. We will be all right.”
“I hope so.” Mairi rose from the swing and went back inside the house.
“I do too,” Trulie whispered to the peepers singing in the trees.
* * *
Freezingrain pelted down from the dreary blanket of clouds. The droplets stung against Gray’s flesh as he kicked a charred beam sticking out of the muddy ground. He squinted up into the sky. Lore a’mighty, he hated this time of year.Nature could not decide whether to punish the land with more of the harshness of winter or give hope of the longed-for spring with a warm gentle breeze.
He bent back to his work with a harsh snort. The place still reeked of death and sorrow. The acridness of burned wood, seared stone, and now, rotting debris hung heavy in the damp air. He shifted against the weight of the wool mantle resting across his shoulders. The tender scars of his newly healed burns twitched with every move. The sensitive flesh nagged him with the memory of his failed attempt to reach his parents through the wall of roaring flames.
He bowed his head and swallowed hard against the crushing weight of failure throbbing in his chest. “Forgive me,Máthair,” he whispered.
No reply came but the cold wind moaning through the ruins.
He stomped deeper into the gutted frame of the once-ornate tower where his father had housed the only woman who had ever won his heart. Gray smiled as he ducked beneath a collapsed beam. His father had never attempted to hide the fact he adored his leman and barely tolerated his petty, obnoxious wife. Gray frowned and kicked at the debris. He knew in his heart those very feelings had surely led to his father’s death.
The distinctive crunch of horse’s hooves on the frozen ground echoed from beyond the blackened walls. Gray ignored it and moved deeper into the belly of the silent monument of betrayal. It had to be Colum approaching. No one else had the courage or stupidity to interrupt him while he searched through the debris for what seemed like the hundredth time. The answer had to be here. There had to be an overlooked sign that would point him to his parent’s murderer. All he had to do was find it and find it he damn well would.
“Come out, Gray. Ye ken as well as I ye’ve tramped through those ashes too many times already. If the answer lay hidden within those walls, ye wouldha found it well before now.” The slow, steady sound of the horse picking through the ruins halted beyond the collapsed wall to Gray’s right.
Gray pushed aside a blackened beam and squinted at the patch of ground where it had rested. “My mood will not bear yer lectures today, Colum. I advise ye leave off and tend to other business.”
Colum’s horse snorted and scraped a hoof against the ground, moving back and forth as though the scent of the place made the beast uneasy. “Steady, lad,” Colum said as he urged the horse closer to the dismantled wall. “Come out, Gray. Even Rua knows ye waste yer time.”
Gray rested both hands atop the cold, jagged blocks of crumbled stone and leaned against the wall. The scorch marks were darker here. The fire must have burned longer on this side.
Colum’s horse drew closer, fogging the air with a huff of warm, moist breath mere inches from Gray’s face. The mount shook its head, grumbled a low nervous whinny, then sneezed a burst of sliminess across the tops of Gray’s freezing hands.
“And how long did it take ye to teach yer horse to snot on command?” Gray flung the mess to the ground, then dried his hands on his clothes.
Colum chuckled. “Rua always knows the remedy for any situation.”
Gray ignored the urge to knock Colum’s grinning arse out of the saddle. It would be unseemly for a chieftain to behave so. Plowing back through the debris, Gray stepped through the broken archway and emerged from the ruins. He held his hands out to the freezing mist still drizzling down from the clouds. Might as well make use of the damnable rain to wash the soot and horse snot from his hands. “Did ye come up here for a reason, or have ye no better use for your time?” Perhaps he needed to assign more responsibilities to the worrisome man-at-arms.
