A wave of sadness hit him as he stood there watching them. He thought of William and what might have been if only they’d had time to get to know each other. Of the bond of brotherhood they might have shared.
After departing the Peanut Museum and grabbing some fresh boiled peanuts for snacking, Callan and Daisy continued on toward North Carolina.
Daisy, her long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail that swung as she drove, had made them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which they ate as an afternoon snack while they drove. Callan did not like boiled peanuts. They were revolting.
“I hate the boiled peanuts.”
She shrugged. “Told ya, love or hate, no middle ground.”
The lass was right.
“Ugh, I swear peanut butter always sticks to the roof of my mouth,” Daisy laughed after taking a big bite of her sandwich.
“Aye. The peanut paste sticks like mud to a boot.”
While they couldn’t stand up in the van unless they popped the top, he unbuckled his seat belt and knelt down next to the ice chest they used for drinks.
“Pepsi or water?” He asked as he gave Frankie a biscuit and some water.
“Pepsi, please.” He refilled her bright purple cup that kept their drinks cold and the ice from melting all day long. When he asked her how it worked, she took his tablet, went to the company information and gave it back to him to read.
He handed her the drink, poured root beer in his own black cup and carefully climbed back into the passenger seat, buckling the safety belt.
The sun came out and a song about a home in Alabama came on the radio, as he reached over to turn it up. The music had him tapping his foot as Daisy sang along, making Frankie bark.
When the song ended, Daisy glanced over at him, huge dark sunglasses on her face. She’d bought him a pair of aviator sunglasses, telling him he looked hot in them. It had taken him a while to understand that hot could mean the warmth of a fire or the sun, or hot could mean a most pleasing visage.
“You’ll love Roanoke Island.” Daisy said as she told him about the place. “An entire colony disappeared without a trace. Maybe they all traveled to another time.”
He wondered if ’twas possible? But he was no longer worried about going back to his time. Nay, he decided to make his way here. In this time. When they returned, he would call Evan and tell him that he would teach rich men how to wield a blade.
The air waswarm and humid as Daisy drove across the bridge to Roanoke Island. Seagulls called out, their cries blending with the distant hum of boat engines. She’d always wanted to visit and explore the Carolinas. While she’d been to Florida and Georgia, she hadn’t visited North or South Carolina. Maybe after Callan gave the broken dagger to the Merriweather lady, they could take a week to relax at the beach before going back.
Once they were back in Boston, she’d ask a lawyer she sometimes house sat for if he could help Callan. They needed to make him legal. Would he want to stay with her? She loved having him around, but he might not think it was proper. There had been times during this trip that she thought it was time for a new beginning, time to leave Boston and settle somewhere new. Maybe the beach?
“This place is beautiful,” Callan said, leaning out the window to catch a better view of the shimmering water.
Daisy nodded, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “The Lost Colony of Roanoke is one of America’s oldest mysteries.”
With plenty of daylight left, they parked the camper van near the visitor center and set off to explore the island, inhaling the scent of pine trees mixed with salty sea air. The path beneath their feet was covered with pine needles that crunched with every step.
Their first stop was the Fort Raleigh National Historic Site. The reconstructed earthworks and the historical markers painted a vivid picture of the past. Daisy could almost hear the echoes of the settlers’ voices, the hopes and fears of those who had once walked these grounds.
“What do you think happened to them?” Daisy asked, glancing at Callan.
Callan shrugged, his expression thoughtful. “Mayhap they all perished.” But he wondered. “Do ye think they could have traveled through time like me?”
“Maybe.” Daisy shrugged.
As they wandered through the Elizabethan Gardens, the air was filled with the sweet fragrance of roses and honeysuckle, while the gentle buzzing of bees lent the space a sense of tranquility.
While they walked, her hand in the crook of his arm, she could picture them together, the holidays, and the next several years. A deep sense of contentment filled her.
When they turned a corner, there were several benches and a fountain. An older couple sat, their hands entwined. They introduced themselves as Marty and Martha.
“We’re celebrating our 50th wedding anniversary,” Martha told her. As George recounted tales of their travels this past year, Daisy couldn’t help but glance at Callan, who listened with a polite, intrigued expression. The idea of spending decades with someone, sharing a lifetime of memories, stirred a deep yearning within. She pictured herself and Callan, weathered by time but still together, still exploring the world side by side.
She smiled at the couple, congratulating them on their anniversary. “Fifty years. That’s an amazing accomplishment,” she said, eyes shining.
