Caelan cocked his head and glared at the old druid. “Have I ever told ye how much of a comfort ye are during times like these? Always saying thewrongthing?” Damned old wizard. He closed his eyes and held his head. How could everything go so wrong so quickly? And when it seemed things were finally going right?
“Damn it, man!” Emrys grumbled. “Ye ken what I mean. ’Tis important to know how much she knows and believes in the old ways. Answer me now. Was she frightened about traveling to the past or because she feared ye crazed?” He stamped his cane and caused blue sparks to rise from the soil and crackle across the ground.
Caelan grabbed the ancient one’s arm and stilled him with a dip of his head at the end of the glowing staff. “Mind yourself,man! This land must lie along the ancient lines. Dinna let your temper set something in motion that neither of us can control.”
Emrys pulled his arm out of Caelan’s grasp and smoothed his crumpled sleeve.“Mayhap that’s what’s frightened your lass. If this land’s been in her family for years, then it’s not the old ways making her afraid. Her granny would have taught her about that and made it natural to accept. But traveling to the unknown past, giving up all the niceties and safety she’s accustomed to, that’s what has her fearful.”
“She did not say. Stood staring at me, growing paler the longer I talked. That’s why I gave her space and time to think a bit. Told her I’d go for a walk. I’d hoped that when I returned, she would be calmer and more inclined to accept what I said.” Caelan rose from his seat on the porch and walked with his uneasiness, pacing around the yard.
Emrys shook his head and scratched the tip of his cane in the dirt. With a pained look at the empty driveway, he gripped his staff with both hands and steadied himself to his feet. “I’ll still travel back this moon and get the things ye require for your plan. We’ll move forward as though she’s chosen to return with us. I canna believe the lass has left for good or run away from ye without an explanation. That is not her way. Your Rachel is fearless.”
“We shall see, old man,” Caelan said with a defeated sigh. “We’ve naught but a short while left, and then we’ll see.” He gave the old druid a half-hearted clap on the shoulder, then climbed on the porch, and entered the dark, lonely house to continue his vigil alone.
CHAPTER 12
Rachel rubbed her gritty eyes, then squinted harder at the multiple images of Scotland pulled up on her laptop. Hours had passed, endless hours that she had lost track of while sitting in the booth at the back of the diner. Gallons of coffee had kept her upright as she downloaded everything she could find about the history of the land and the plausibility of time travel.
Almost everything she found on both subjects unnerved her even more than before she started. Scotland’s history was brutal and bloody. She’d read of Robert the Bruce and his battles, of the Jacobite uprising, of the Highland Clearances, and the cruelties inflicted upon the people through the battles and struggle for power and land.
The information she’d found on time travel left a knot in her throat that she couldn’t quite seem to dislodge. Quantum theory, Einstein’s research scientific data, actually supported what Caelan was stating that they had not only done but were about to do again.
She propped her head in her hands and stared down at the keyboard. Why wasn't anything in her life simple?
“Honey, are you sure you don’t want something to eat? All this caffeine and acid from my diner coffee is going to eat a hole clean through your gut.” Pamela, owner of the diner, head waitress, and also one of Rachel’s best friends since elementary school, plopped her more than ample behind down onto the bench across from where Rachel sat.
Rachel leaned back and stretched her arms over her head. “Thanks, but no, Pamela. I don't need anything. But your coffee is doing wonders at keeping me going, and I really appreciate you letting me camp out back here. What time is it anyway? I didn’t even notice it had gotten dark.”
After a glance at her watch, Pamela gave a dimpled smile and reached across the table to pat Rachel’s arm. “Nearly midnight, girl. I flipped the closed sign over a long time ago, but you stay here as long as you like. Since I live upstairs, I’m going on up to bed. I’ve got an extra room with a bed or there’s an old couch back yonder where I crash sometimes when my knees play out, and I can’t carry this load up the steps.” Pamela patted her fleshy rump. “If you decide to go home, just lock up for me, okay? You know where I keep the extra key. If you decide to stay, then sleep wherever you like.” The woman edged sideways to slide her plump girth out from between the table and bench. She paused one last time before passing through the door markedPrivate. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Rachel, but I wish you the best. You’ve always been a good friend, and I can’t count the number of times you’ve bailed me out and never asked to be repaid. God bless you and watch over you, girl.”
Rachel blinked against the sting of unshed tears as she watched Pamela limp from the room. Even though they were the same age, Pamela had always seemed years older. She’d dropped out of high school to raise her brood of brothers and sisters after her alcoholic father beat her mother to death then shot himself.But Pamela kept the family together with the help of a few big-hearted social workers.
Poor living conditions, no healthcare, and poor DNA had also saddled Pamela with a myriad of medical problems. Never complaining, Pamela always worked hard, was grateful for what she had, and helped others whenever she could. The woman never asked for anything in return.
“And I thought I had problems,” Rachel mumbled into her coffee while listening to Pamela’s pained groans and huffing and puffing as she labored her way up the back stairs of the diner.
Rachel closed her laptop, shoved it aside, then rested her forehead on top of her folded hands on the table. How in the world could all of what Caelan said be true? How could a laird from the year 1379 have recurring dreams about her, hunt her down with a druid, travel to the future to seduce her, and then tell her she had to choose to come back with him or he had to go back alone? What the hell kind of screwed up fairy tale was that?
Why on earth would she want to go to the past—permanently? No television, no computers, no deodorant, and, oh hell no, no coffee. Toothpaste, makeup, tampons—all gone. No showers, razors, tater tots, and, heaven help her, no ice cream!
Even worse, what if she decided she wanted to have children? The dangers were mind-boggling. And what if they got sick? At the rate women and babies died throughout history, it was a wonder humans survived at all.
She lifted her head, shook herself free of the mounting panic, and drained the last dredges of coffee from her cup. Sliding out of the booth, she scooped up her laptop and purse and headed toward the door. At the counter, she paused and fished out a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. She smoothed it out and weighed it down with a saltshaker, hoping it would cover all the coffee she’d consumed in the almost twenty-four hours she’d sat in thatbooth. Heading out the door, she checked to make sure no one was around, then took the extra key from the hiding place and securely bolted the lock.
As she clambered into the truck and took hold of the steering wheel, the blue, white light from the security lamp hit her wedding band and made it sparkle. She’d been quick to run down the list of the many things she would miss if she went back in time, but she’d avoided acknowledging the biggest gain of all if she found the courage to make that leap.
Never in a million years would she have dreamed a man like Caelan existed anywhere but in a fairy tale. He was as thoughtful as he was stubborn. As tender-hearted as he was barbaric and as gentle as he was brutish. He was an amalgam of opposites and contradictions that added up to the most loving, caring individual she had ever met. How could she live without him?
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, remembering the contentment, comfort, and feeling of being loved she experienced every morning when she woke up in his arms. Did she really want to go back to waking up to nothing more comforting than Sam and Maizy’s cold wet noses nudging her in the side?
Whenever she thought about Caelan, her soul stirred beneath her breastbone as though straining to reconnect to her other half. A dull, constant ache had filled her ever since she’d left the house without telling him,Yes. I will go back with you.Neither her heart nor her soul was happy without him.
She stared out the windshield at the full moon, her love for Caelan battling with the security she felt in this era. For some unknown reason, a distant memory of her grandmother pushed its way to the forefront of her thoughts.
She saw the ancient woman sitting in an old rocking chair on a smaller front porch than the one that was there now. The tiny, gray-haired lady was furious and holding tight to a small leather-bound journal with her knobby, arthritic hands. Her toothless mouth was clamped shut. Her cloudy eyes stared forward as the young adults inside the house argued over which one was going to haul the old woman to the old folks' home, and which one was going to tell her she wasn’t coming back.
“Come here, sweet girl,” Granny said to seven year old Rachel with a crook of her finger.
Peeping around the corner of the house, her dress streaked with dirt and torn, and her face stained with tears, little Rachel had fought valiantly against her mean parents, trying to make them leave Granny alone. But they wouldn’t listen. Just shoved her away and told her to go outside.
