Teeth clenched; she untied the bundles of honeysuckle and carried them to the marker. With a tender lover's touch, she traced her fingertips over the cold, chiseled surface and blew out a shuddering sigh. It had taken her a while. But she had finally found the rough-hewn stone and had it shipped over from Scotland. It was perfect for Jake’s headstone. He would never want the smooth, contemporary granite or marble found in the average churchyard. His stone mirrored him: rough around the edges and full of character.
“I still haven’t forgiven you, Jake.” Her strained tone echoed through the quiet wood. The heart-shaped leaves of the dogwoods rustled and dipped lower. She settled cross-legged in front of the marker just as she did every year on this day. “You broke your promises. Came back to me in a box. Didn’t give me any babies.” She shook a finger at the monument. “You also lied. Said doctors were safe because everybody knew they were just there to help. Took me for a fool, didn’t you?”
The wind swirled around her, stirring the dead leaves into a flurrying mass of browns, oranges, and reds. Sunshine hit the stone and lit Jake’s name and the date of his death.
She yanked up the grass and weeds sprouting up around his marker. “Just once. I wish you would answer me.” With a glance around, she lowered her voice and leaned closer to the rock. “You know Mama was a witch. So was Granny, and all the women before them. They all believed they could talk to loved ones on the other side. But they left me too soon to teach me how. Meet me halfway, will you?”
The wind pushed at her back. A heady gust whipped her hair into her face, lifted a single bundle of honeysuckles off the headstone, and dropped them in her lap.
She brushed her fingertips across the soft yellow petals. “Thanks,” she whispered, choking back more tears with a muffled cough.
A loud ding shattered the serenity of the place, jerking her free of her torment. She pushed herself up from the ground, walked over to the ATV, and fished her phone out of the side bag Stupid thing. She should have left it home again, but the runt of Mabry’s litter hadn’t eaten well that morning and her clinic tech might call.
She checked the screen and frowned. A text from Millie. And she hadn’t used code red, so it must not be that big of a deal. All it said was, “Call me.” Not even an exclamation point.
Uneasiness still gnawed at her. Something was up for Millie to text her. She knew what today was and that Hannah wouldn’t wish to be disturbed. She tapped in her number and was mildly surprised when her friend picked up on the first ring. “Millie? Did you forget what day this is?”
“I know what day this is, but you need to come to the diner right now. There is someone here to see you, and I don’t think you should miss this.” Millie sounded strained, as though she needed to say more but couldn’t.
“Is an animal hurt or sick?”
“No. Nobody’s injured, and he doesn’t have any animals with him.”
Hannah glared at her phone, wishing she had face-timed her friend rather than merely called her. Millie wasn’t making any sense, and she wasn’t in the mood for games today. This better not be another prank. “Did you sayhe?”
“Hannah, come on. Please?” Millie’s voice got softer as though she feared being overheard. “I told him you were kind of out-of-pocket, but he’s from overseas. Traveled a long way to see you. Just come into town for a little while. I understand it’s a tough day, but this won’t take more than thirty minutes tops.”
Teeth clenched; Hannah stared upward, praying for patience. Millie never stood up to anybody. Her heart always melted at the flimsiest of stories. “Fine. I’ll come,” she said. “But I’m on the mountaintop so, it’ll be about an hour. Can you ask Mrs. Newell if I canreschedule my talk to her class? I shouldn’t have scheduled for today in the first place.”
“No problem. I’ll get your raccoon talk rescheduled for next week, and I’ll see you here in a little while. Bye!”
Hannah stuffed the phone back in the leather side bag, zipped it shut, and climbed aboard. Who could be waiting at the diner? Whoever he was, he sure had Millie flustered. She stared at the pouch holding her cell phone. “What are you setting me up for now, Millie?”
She pointed her ride back down the trail, then glanced back at the weathered stone standing in the clearing. “Miss you, Jake,” she whispered.
The wind rushed around her body with a swirling hug as she headed down the trail.
4
His back to the wall, Taggart pretended to sip the coffee that had gone cold long ago. The spotless, linoleum-topped table in the corner proved to be a better vantage point than his former seat at the counter. For the sake of the nervous waitress, he had moved. Poor lass. While he sat at the counter and attempted polite conversation, she spilled nearly every order she pulled from the window. He had her so befuddled she even toppled his coffee twice. Besides, he had discovered from this seat in the corner, not only could he watch every person in the diner but also had a clear view of traffic coming in off the street.
The high-strung blonde server fidgeted behind the counter, fretting with the spring-loaded napkin holders she had already checked twice before. He studied her closer as she glanced his way for at least the tenth time in the past half hour, then looked at the clock on the wall. He knew she wasn’t worried about refilling his coffee. She had avoided his table as though he suffered from the plague. For whatever reason, his presence here had her stumbling around the diner as if she had two left feet. He had eavesdropped on her conversation with Hannah MacPherson. Why would today be a rough day for the very important individual he had traveled so far to see?
With a suppressed smile, he swirled the dredges of the coffee in the stained white cup. Every thought from every person in the room opened to him like a flower in bloom. Jasper Mills gave off the aura of a close-knit community. They shielded Ms. MacPherson, treasuring her as though she were a beloved daughter. Good. The Guardian of Taroc Na Mor deserved no less. If her people loved her, that boded well indeed. The strands he had discovered in her bloodline and genetics was true.
The bell on the wire above the door jangled. Taggart knew it was her before lifting his gaze, sensing her by the way the skin tingled at the base of his skull. Her divine energy sent a delicious shiver up his spine. Her sacred aura warmed the room, and he was her Protector. He would know when she entered his presence even if struck blind.
He hid his grin behind the ceramic mug lifted to his lips. The jaws of the Guild of Barac’Nairn would have hit the floor had they sat at his side. This blessed Guardian was not what they would expect. A deep chuckle escaped him. As far as he was concerned, this fiery lass was the definition of pure delight itself.
The petite young woman ordained to be Guardian of the sacred Draecna sported a ratty St. Louis Cardinals’s baseball cap pulled low over her narrowed green eyes that missed nothing. The curls of her dark blonde ponytail exploded through the tattered hole in the back, the mass tangled as though a windstorm had blown her into the diner. Grass and mud stained the ragged knees of her jeans. Her worn cotton shirt clung to her curves like tissue wrapping a treasured gift.
He lowered his cup to the table and relaxed back in his chair, unable to resist another amused laugh. He had never seen a woman wear such boots. Steel-toed work boots laced tight at her ankles. She clumped across the room like a big-bellied construction worker.
Her irritated stride to the counter impressed him. He could tell by her stomping she was ready to unleash Hades’ hounds if anyone crossed her. Such a fierce small package she was. Reminding him of the territorial wood nymphs of Glenoc Mur. The top of her head might barely reach the middle of his chest, but she vibrated with enough explosive energy to level an entire village.
The longer he studied her, the more his amusement lessened. She was ready for a fight. As he shifted in his seat, he realized he was her prey. Then he peered closer. This woman suffered; her aura revealed a great deal of emotional pain and the wound ran deep. Ms. Hannah MacPherson might be small, but her heart suffered with the greatest of sorrows.
Taggart sucked in a slow, deep breath, struggling against an uncomfortable stirring in the center of his chest. This most precious of Guardians was deeply hurt; she fluttered like a wounded bird. Her head turned when Millie whispered and pointed in his direction. He unfolded his frame and politely rose from his seat as she turned and barreled his way.
