“How far is it to North Carolina?” He finished his snack and tossed the trash into an empty bag. Frankie was napping in the back on his purple bed, occasionally softly yipping in his sleep as he dreamed of chasing rabbits or playing in the park.
Her blue eyes sparkled when she pushed her dark sunglasses up on top of her head.
“If we drive straight through, without stopping to see anything, it should take about thirteen and a half hours. If you’re not in a hurry, I thought you might like to see more of the country. The states are so different from each other, and there’s so much to see.”
“Nay, I am in no hurry. I would very much like to see this land of yours.”
As he looked out the window, she promised they wouldn’t take the highway the entire time, as the back roads were much more scenic and interesting.
“My plan isn’t written in stone. We can always stop along the way if you see something that looks interesting.”
The smell of the vehicles and freshly cut grass from the men cutting it on the side of the highway drifted in through the open windows, mingling with the faint scent of Daisy’s perfume. The hum of the engine and the rhythm of the road had a hypnotic quality, and Callan found himself lost in thought.
His mind wandered back to Scotland, to the rolling hills and rugged landscapes he knew so well. He missed his homeland even though he’d had to leave. The pain of the banishment from the clan still stung.
In all his years, Callan never thought he would miss England. But he missed the crash of the waves against the rocks, standing on the battlements of Blackford, and sparring with William in the lists. Even so, he could not deny that this road trip was exciting.
Seeing a world so vastly different from his own, meeting Daisy. She was unlike any other woman he’d ever known, and he wanted to spend more time with her and her laugh that warmed him from the inside out.
CHAPTER 15
As Callan strolled through the heart of Salem, Daisy’s hand tucked in the crook of his arm, he couldn’t help but notice the bustling streets filled with people enjoying the pleasant day. The sun turned the cobblestones silver as they passed by the numerous shops boasting witch-themed wares, piquing his curiosity.
“Are there so many witches in this time?” he asked, brow furrowed in confusion.
Daisy explained that it was different now, with witchcraft being more about tourism, nature, and self-improvement, and that no one was hanging witches anymore. Callan pointed to a group of women dressed in black, his tone a mix of curiosity and disbelief. “Ye ken they burned witches here, aye? I heard those women talking.”
Daisy shook her head, gently correcting him. “No, they didn’t burn them. They hanged most of them. Common misconception.”
As he looked at the buildings, he thought of his homeland, and the priest that did not care for women.
“They burnt them in Scotland.” The scent of incense drifting from the shops tickled his nose, causing him to sneeze.
Frankie trotted alongside them, stopping to sniff the other dogs and everything else along the way. The sun blinding, Daisy pulled on a pair of sunglasses, explaining that most of those women were just misunderstood, much like in his time, women who knew a bit too much about herbs or dared to speak their minds.
As they paused before a shop called “The Witch’s Brew,” its windows adorned with vibrant swirls and mystic symbols, Daisy turned to him.
“Shall we see if there’s a real witch inside?”
It wasna wise to jest about witches, no matter what century they were in. As they stepped into the shop, the coolness enveloped them, a pleasant reprieve from the summer heat outside. The shelves were filled with all kinds of objects, similar to those he’d seen when he first arrived in Boston, and the air was thick with the musky scent of old books and dried herbs. A woman with striking black hair greeted them with a knowing smile.
“Welcome. I’m Morgana. How may the spirits aid you today?” she asked.
Callan lowered his voice and inquired, “Can ye tell me what ye know of time travel?”
Morgana’s laughter rang out, clear as the chimes by the door, as she explained that time travel was still strictly in the realm of fantasy, even in Salem. She offered to give them a reading, but Callan politely declined, thanking her as he and Daisy stepped out of the shop and into the light.
The day turned hotter as they visited a museum, enjoying the cold air inside, taking a tour with a knowledgeable guide.
That afternoon, they left Salem behind, headed for the Berkshires, where Daisy promised to take him on a hike, which would also help to tire out Frankie.
“Let’smake camp for the night and we’ll go on a hike in the morning.”
It was midday when they turned into the campsite, a place where they paid money to spend the night.
Stepping out of the van and letting Frankie out, Callan stretched his legs, taking in the surrounding land. The sight of a fire pit caught his eye, and he nodded to himself, recognizing something familiar, something he knew well.
“I will make the fire,” he announced, a hint of pride in his voice.
