Reginald nodded. “Please pass my appreciation on tae yer parents.” He glanced at Phillip, who’d been pacing on the porch. “Ye may need tae rescue yer friend.”
“Aren’t you going to join us?” Drew looked puzzled.
Reginald nodded toward the west hill, where the muted glow of the setting sun, had given way to purple and grey, like a huge bruise across the sky. “If ye’ll excuse me, I’ve been itchin’ tae get a look at those rocky outcroppings ever since we arrived. Just more family legends about boyhood games of plundering pirates, and the like, tae check out. But I’d like tae do it while there’s still a wee bit of light. I’ve promised tae explore a different spot wi’ Lauren tomorrow, so I thought tae do this, now.”
“If you wish, but I think the ladies are expecting you for supper, soon.”
Reginald winced. “I dinnae wish tae seem unappreciative, especially tae Phoebe. She’s been exceedingly gracious. But I’ve no’ much appetite, tonight. Would ye offer my thanks along wi’ my apologies? And…” he felt a bit sheepish dumping his cowardly escape on Drew to explain. “…my regrets over missin’ the card game? I’m sure I’ll regret it later, but I think I’ll just take this wee walk tae the outcropping and then retire for the night.” He mustered a smile. “I’m sure I’ll have a ragin’ appetite, come morning.”
“Of course,” Drew answered. “I’m sure they’ll understand.”
Reginald wasnae sure at all, but he turned toward the hill, just the same. He dinnae need tae see the outcropping to remember every stone and crevice. ’Twas just as clear in his mind now, as it was when last he was there. He just couldnae sit through another round of questions at dinner. Nor a word-joust with Phillip and Deidre. ’Twas exhausting, and he had neither the heart nor the skills for it.
Call him a coward, but he just wanted to find that quiet place he’d been longing for. As soon as the night swallowed him up, and they couldnae see him from the porch, he’d find that bit ’o sweet grass and lie down. And if, pray God, he had any luck left, he’d close his eyes and let sleep steal his jumbled thoughts.
Later, when the house slept and his head wasnae burstin’ wi’ questions he couldna answer, he’d creep inside and crawl into his borrowed bed. ’Twould no’ do, to be out here sleepin’ on the ground, come morning. ’Twould insult Phoebe. Besides, those nights were behind him, now. He had to learn to do as the living did.
He would. If he could just rip his heart out of the past.
Chapter Twelve
The wee sliver of a new moon was barely halfway across the sky when Reginald gave up tryin’ to sleep away his tortured thoughts. More than once, he’d had to force himself no’ to think about his parent’s last days and focus on something else. But like a poisonous snake, they would slither back into his mind and the agony would begin again.
“ ’Tis no use!”
He wanted to rage at the same stars he and Lauren sheltered under last night, that seemed to mock him now. ’Twas no’ right that they shimmered over such pain.
Defeated, Reginald trudged to the house, slipped through the kitchen as quietly as he could and finally made it to his room. Hoping a steaming shower would ease some of the tension so he could finally sleep, he turned on a lamp.
Laid neatly across the edge of his bed were several more items of clothing, along with a bag and a note:
Just a few more items so you’ll have a change of clothes. Put your soiled clothing and linens in this bag and set them outside your door for laundering, whenever you’re ready.
I’m still working on your plaid, but, as you mentioned, your longshirt is quite damaged, so I brought you one of Crayton’s. I know he’d be as proud for you to have it, as I am.
~Phoebe
Reginald sank to the edge of the bed, waging a valiant battle against the hot tears burning behind his eyes. Despite his efforts, several won out and fell, staining the note he still held. Her kindness near broke his heart.
Mayhap ’twas the emotional events of the day, but if he dinnae ken better, he’d think she was his mither, incarnate. Phoebe dinnae look like her or sound like her. But she had the same pure-loving soul.
He kenned that as clearly as the pain radiating beneath the scar of his death-wound. ’Twas like a hex, reminding him why he hadnae kept his promise to come home, and why the life he wanted with Lauren could never happen.
If her family couldnae approve of her associating with anyone below their social status, they certainly wouldnae accept a skill-less, penniless ghost from another time.
And mayhap, neither could Lauren.
That thought was the most painful of all.
* * *
The shower easedsome of the tension in Reginald’s shoulders, but did nothing to lessen his troubled mind. After a cursory glance at the bed, he quickly dressed. The idea of getting into it felt like he’d be climbing into a box enclosed in an even bigger box. Besides, sleep was as far away as the answers he sought.
Shamed by his ungracious reaction to Phoebe’s splendid room, along with his disgraceful slide into self-pity, he turned off the light and quietly made his way outside, again.
In the still, cool air, Reginald opened and closed his fists. He wasnae normally a fidgety sort. What made this night so different? For hundreds of years, he’d been stuck on the moor, with naught to do but wait, wish and regret.
So, when Soncerae began helping the lads leave the moor for another chance at mortality, he’d sworn if ’twas ever his turn, he’d waste no more time in such useless endeavors. He’d take advantage of every precious moment and opportunity.
