Olympia Aberdeen – 12 November 1822
Tears pulsed down my cheeks as I worked on the next layer of grime. I scrubbed, and my bucket grew the shade of slime as I revealed the next name on the headstone.
Roderick Macgregor – August 1822
A pit formed in my stomach as I washed the final name on the headstone.
Alaric Macgregor – 15 November 1822
All three of them were buried here together. I sat back on my bottom, no more strength left in my legs to hold myself up. They’d lived their lives a perfect threesome, and now they existed a trio forevermore in death.
The idea that Alaric had died within days of Olympia shook me. Their fates forever sealed in earth and stone.
And then awareness dawned.
The 33rd Infantry badge.
I dropped the bristle brush into the bucket and stood, stunned by the realization that Keats was carrying the same infantry battalion badge that Roderick would have used. Was it a coincidence? Some weird relic left at Leith? But then, why was it framed on the wall, the only item he’d chosen to highlight in his small space? Nothing made sense, and somehow it seemed as if that was the point.
My feet carried me without thinking to the shores of the loch. I needed the reassurance only he could bring, my port in the storm. I felt dizzy with the awareness that I might be slipping into a paranoid alternate reality. I imagined going back to my mother in Ohio a stranger. My eyes trained on the gently lapping waters, one of my palms shoved into the pocket of my jeans and worrying the two pieces of gemstone together. Tears stung my eyelids as I mourned for the first time how much blood and pain had truly been spilled at Leith.
My knees shook with the effort to hold myself up, my breathing cycling through my lungs in shallow pants and adding to the dizzy feeling pulsing behind my skull. Was the whirlpool manifesting again? The waters swirling and calling me to take another look? With both sneakers still on my feet, I stepped into the shallow water of the shore. The heat from my fingers working the stone together in my pocket felt as if it might singe the denim. I wondered how all of this was connected to me and my family, what my own grandmother and great-grandmother had endured and never spoken about.
An aching ball of pain lodged in my throat, my vision growing watery as I stumbled another footstep into the loch. Afraid to fall, I thrust a hand out to catch the nearest boulder but was instead scooped into a pair of hardened arms.
I blinked, trying to clear my vision, but the sky was too dark with clouds, the shadows too high to discern true forms from figments. A soft groan vibrated against my body, grounding me in the here and now before the scent of pine and pitch came over me. I blinked the shadows away again, the features of my rescuer growing clearer with every pass.
He was the same, but different. Now that I’d finished reading the legends, the essence of him seemed to expand. I’d felt connected to him before, but walking in the footsteps of his past through the stories of the legends at Leith gave me a new perspective. My own new alternate reality.
I finally found my voice, holding my breath as I asked, “Are you real?”
Alder
“What do you think?” I ask.
She’s dripping wet in my arms, the mist already turned to a downpour as I move farther away from the shore with her limp form.
“You feel real.” Her gaze is dark, hollow. The bags under her eyes make it clear she hasn’t slept since she got here.
“Good. Then I am. For now, anyway.”
She sighs and pushes out of my arms, strength suddenly returned. I note that the closer she is to the water, the weaker she seems to grow. I wonder if she’s noticed that too.
“I’ve never gotten so up close and personal with anyone like I have you.” She’s half grumbling, and it draws a grin to my lips.
“Right back at ya, sunshine.”
She sends me a halfhearted glance and then hesitates at the edge of the path that leads to my cottage.
I want to bring her there; is it too forward to ask? I sense that she has more questions for me. I don’t know if I’m ready to answer them, but I’m ready to try.
If only she’d start asking therightquestions.
“How are you feeling?” I hover at her elbow, concern rooted in every nerve of my body.
“Like I nearly just fell in a lake,again.”
“You shouldn’t get so close.”
