* * *
Thrown to the ground,Kenna gasped, waiting for the force that pulled her through the gate to dissipate. She shivered in the chill darkness, even as dizziness and nausea brought a surge of heat to her neck and cheeks. All she could manage was to try to be still and take steady, even breaths.
HadSean’s gate worked?Could she really be home?
Or had her imagination merely summoned remembered sensations from before? If she turned to face the kirk would Sean be standing there, ready to comfort her over another failed attempt? Or would she find the original gate and kirk intact, with Sean naught but a memory of a man who wouldnae be born for centuries into the future?
She dinnae need to see, to know. ’Twas daft to think centuries had a smell to them, but they did. This washercentury. And she dinnae need anything besides the ache in her chest to ken Sean was lost to her.
“Enough!” she spat into the darkness. She was acting like a petulant bairn, wanting to both consume and keep her candy. She’d made her choice.The right choice. ’Twas time to act on it. She’d squandered too much of that fleeting commodity already.
Shaking and weak she peered into the darkness, struggled to her feet, and listened for sounds of danger. ’Twas deadly quiet but for her own breathing and the pounding of her pulse in her ears.
Needing the kirk on her right to set her bearings, she turned and verified what she already knew. It rose tall and solid above the outer wall, just as it had the last time she’d seen her mither and sister.
With only a faint hint of light on the horizon, Kenna began walking, careful to stay as hidden as possible. Was anyone still looking for her? Had anyone besides herself escaped? She had no idea how long the journey to Aberdeen might be, but she dinnae ken where else to go for answers. But what if Mither and Elanor were no longer there? Mayhap they’d been taken somewhere else to begin with. And mayhap Kenna had come too late.
Nae. She wouldnae even consider that. Desperately needing some comfort, she focused on Sean’s words.
Ye are my family now.
No matter what happened, she would hold those words in her heart until both of their lifetimes had come and gone, and he found her again.
* * *
Sean burstinto Owen’s kitchen red-faced and out of breath. “Sorry I’m late. I’ll wash-up and start those deliveries.”
“Oversleep? I dinnae ken I kept ye up that late,” Owen chuckled, then stopped to take a closer look at Sean. “Did ye get that red-faced just rushin’ down the stairs?”
“Nae, I—” Sean inched toward the sink. “Why don’t I hurry and get those deliveries done before yer customers get nervous? And I’ll explain after?”
’Twas cowardly keepin’ the truth from Owen, but Sean couldnae face tellin’ him just yet. He needed to find a way to soften the blow. Kenna said Owen was still reeling from losing his wife and Sean feared news of Kenna’s disappearance would prove too much.
How could he explain something he hadnae fully accepted, himself?
With his first delivery in hand, Sean escaped onto the same street he traveled before. But today the colorful flowers and pretty shops seemed like dull renditions of the village he’d seen yesterday. Like paper cutouts; flat and dreary.
He worked his way through the stack of deliveries to the end of town where Alban’s iron-works stood. It seemed a lifetime ago that he’d gone there, full of excitement. Now it merely represented loss.
Thirty minutes later, with all the deliveries done, he couldnae put off facing Owen any longer. Sean’s instinct was to go straight back to the kirk, but he owed Owen the truth. He’d shown Sean naught but kindness and generosity since they’d met. ’Twas no’ a kindness Sean would be returning today, but he could at least try to soften the blow.
When he entered the kitchen, Owen was humming. He looked up and smiled as he slid a tray of scones into one of the ovens. The rich scents, as enticing as always, seemed an affront.
Sean stopped, stunned by his depth of resentment that the world and all in it, moved on as if naught had changed. He clenched his jaw, fighting to retain some control. Owen needed his compassion, no’ his anger.
“There ye are,” Owen grinned, reaching for a bag. “I’ve a fresh batch of scones and a full pot o’ coffee. Take some up tae Kenna. She’ll enjoy them.”
“Owen—” Sean blew out a shaky breath. “Come sit down a moment. I’ve somethin’ tae tell ye.”
“Sounds ominous,” Owen teased. But when he looked at Sean’s face, his grin faded. “Looks ominous, too.” He gave Sean a worried look. “Ye’re no’ leavin’ us are ye, lad?”
“ ’Tis no’ about me.”
“Oh?” Owen settled onto the chair near his desk. “Who then?”
Sean thought his chest might cave under the weight of his burden. He was about to break this amazing man’s heart all over again. “Kenna.”
Owen tensed, his face paled, even in the heat of the kitchen. “Is she ill? Why dinnae ye tell me before? Does she need a doctor?” He stood, nearly knocking the chair over. “I’ll see for myself. Ye shouldae told me sooner, Sean.”
