Chapter 35
CHAPTER 35
Half an hour later, the car screeched into the parking garage of Adeline’s apartment building. Emma parked and got out without a word, plucking a set of keys from her pocket as she walked on ahead. Adeline ran to catch up, willing her best friend to say something about the story she’d just told her.
Instead, Emma pressed on, powering up the stairs to Adeline’s floor. She opened the door to Adeline’s apartment and marched into the kitchen, where she promptly took a bottle of red wine out of the cupboard—a gift from a patient—and set about pouring two huge glasses.
Still in silence, she carried the glasses to the living room and sat down, sliding one glass across the coffee table toward Adeline.
“I’ll expect you to be ready to tell me the actual truth by the time you finish that,” Emma said, at last. “Whatever you’ve been through, I’m here for you, but I can’t help you unless you come clean. We can speak to the proper authorities whenever you’re ready, but don’t feed me the wildest fantasies you can think of and think I’ll believe you because it’s just mad enough that it might be true.”
Adeline took the glass, staring down into the dark red liquid. “It is true, Emma.” She sighed, disturbing the surface of the wine. “I fell in love with a man who has been dead for more than three hundred years.”
“And I think you went through something so traumatic that you’re suffering from major PTSD, and this is a story your brain has made up as a coping mechanism,” Emma replied, making Adeline wish she’d never told her any tidbits of medical knowledge whatsoever.
Adeline took the silver cloth out of her apron pocket, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger to soothe herself. “I thought I was suffering from a catastrophic brain injury on the first day. I went through every possible, logical explanation for what was happening to me. But… it was real. He was real,” she said firmly.
“His skin smelled of woodsmoke and salt. His eyes were cobalt blue, with these little flecks of gold in them, and a freckle in his left iris,” she went on, closing her eyes to remember… but the image of him was already beginning to fade. “When he kissed me, nothing else mattered. And when we… y’know—Emma, I’ve never felt anything like it. It was like we were made for each other, and he just… knew exactly what I wanted. If I think about it, any of it, I’ll be red as a beet in seconds.”
Emma sipped her drink anxiously. “You’ve been alone for a long time, Addie, and under a huge amount of stress.”
“This cloth was given to me by a seer. She told me, ‘If ye ever wish to return,’ and handed it to me. There was an opal egg inside, with glittery bits like my old snow globe,” Adeline continued, ignoring Emma’s assessment. “But when it came down to using it, I didn’t want to come back. I wanted to stay, which is… wild, I know, but—he would be worth never having running water. He would be worth giving up everything modern.”
Emma sighed. “Addie, I think we should take you to the hospital.”
“I made a difference there!” Adeline insisted, her patience wearing thin. “I didn’t know what the heck I was doing, but I helped. I know things that could help them, but… now I’m here, and I’m sitting in my apartment, and it doesn’t feel at all like home anymore. I was in love for the first time in my life, and I had to leave, not because it was time, but because—”
A sob cut off the rest of her words. Clutching the stem of her wine glass, she hunched over as pain ricocheted through her chest, her broken heart struggling to beat the same as before. And as she sat there, fighting for control of herself, strange sounds slipped from her tight throat—the sounds of a wounded animal, suffering.
“Someone was running toward him when I left,” she murmured through heaving sobs. “They had a club of some kind. I disappeared before I could see what happened, but… all I can think about is that he got hurt and there’s nothing I can do about it. They were all fighting to protect me—Logan and his family—and I didn’t get to say goodbye. Didn’t want to say goodbye.”
Whether it was the pained sounds coming out of her or something on her face or something in the story, she didn’t know, but when she looked up at her best friend with bleary eyes, Emma’s expression had changed completely.
“You’re really not making this up, are you?” Emma whispered, like it was something that couldn’t be spoken out loud.
Adeline smiled through her tears. “You said it yourself—the storm couldn’t take out all of the cameras. I wasn’t in any of the recordings because I vanished from this room. I wished I wasn’t alone. I threw the snow globe, and… poof , I got sucked through time to him.”
“So, definitely not kidnapped by a cult from the parking garage?”
“Did the cameras in the parking garage pick me up?”
Emma pursed her lips. “No.”
“Look, this is why I didn’t say a word to the cops, but if you were to take what I’m wearing and run it through some kind of carbon dating, it would prove what I’m saying,” Adeline said, sensing that her friend was truly beginning to believe her. “It happened, Em.”
Emma took out her phone. “Give me a minute. What was his name?”
“Logan Anderson, Laird of Gibson, early 1700s.” Adeline crossed her fingers, praying he hadn’t died the day she left.
Emma’s eyes slowly widened to the whites, the glare of her phone reflecting in them. “Holy crap,” she mumbled. “He exists. Well, existed.”
“When did he die?” Adeline braced herself.
“1758.”
Eighty-five . He lived a long time.
“Did he marry?” she asked thickly.
Emma thumbed through whatever article she was looking at. “It doesn’t say. However, it does say that the location of his castle is a bit of an archaeological mystery, so they’re not too sure where he’s buried or where he lived. The reference for his death is from a book that was found in… somewhere called Inverary, in 1965, among a bunch of other old books.”
Adeline’s heart clenched, wondering if she’d even be able to find the island if she tried to. Maybe she could lead archaeologists there and…
And what? Find his grave?
She didn’t want the history book version of him. She wanted the flesh and bone version, to kiss her and make everything okay again.
“Addie,” Emma said, her tone serious, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think we need to get you back to your man.”
Adeline blinked. “You do?”
“As long as you promise to visit if you can,” Emma replied. “If not, how about you leave me a message? Write it somewhere that archaeologists will find. Keep me updated.”
Adeline’s heart soared, only to come crashing down again. “That’s just it, though,” she murmured, holding up the silver cloth. “I think I missed my only shot at happiness. It doesn’t matter if I want to—I can’t get back.”
She was stuck in 2023.
Meanwhile, three hundred years in the past, Logan had become someone he did not recognize. His temper was short, his mood bleak, his general demeanor unpleasant to be around, always snapping and snarling at anyone who tested his patience. But time itself was the thing that grated on his patience the most, the weeks since Adeline’s departure dragging by at an almost mocking pace.
He spent most of his days tending to his duties with a grim determination, putting up walls, fixing what was broken, helping his people to recover from the events that had led to his loss.
Indeed, the only good news he received in Adeline’s absence was that the spread of Dallas’s poisoning had not been as broad as the man claimed. With so much to do on the night he brought a mob to Gibson Keep, it seemed Dallas had only managed to taint a few of the tonic jars. And just two villagers had died from ingesting it.
“I thought I told ye nae to bother me anymore?” a gruff voice declared as Logan rode up the shallow slope to the lonely hut on the cliff’s edge.
With nothing better to do that morning, Logan had decided to pay Jonah a visit. There had been a note on Adeline’s writing desk that said, Jonah McBray, six-week check-up. And though it had not quite been six weeks, Logan thought he ought to finish the work that Adeline had started, if only to feel closer to her.
“Aye, and I told ye that I wouldnae cease pesterin’ ye until ye’re nae here anymore,” Logan replied, glad to be away from the keep for a while, on his own.
Theo and Moira had been following him around like puppies, constantly asking, “Are ye well? How are ye feelin’ today? Can I fetch ye anythin’?”
Logan knew they meant well, but there were moments where he just wanted to be left alone. He was in mourning, in a way, after all.
The terrier shot out of the now-repaired hut, jumping up at Logan’s legs as he slid down from the saddle. He crouched to scratch the dog between the ears. “Ye look plumper than ye did before. Has yer master been spoilin’ ye?”
“Been nickin’ me food right off me plate, more like!” Jonah retorted. “I swear that dog kens I cannae move too fast, these days. I turn me back for a second, and me breakfast is gone.”
Logan laughed, surprised by the sound. “How is yer back?”
“Nae so bad,” Jonah replied, coming out of the hut. “That lass kenned what she was doin’, I can tell ye that.”
Logan’s laugh faded. “Aye, she did.”
“Have ye heard any word from her?” Jonah settled into one of the porch chairs, gesturing for Logan to sit in the other. “I expect she’s happy to be back where she belongs, around her family and that.”
Logan exhaled stiffly. “I wouldnae ken. I have nay way of writin’ to her.”
“How did ye invite her to the island in the first place if ye have nay way of writin’ to her?”
“It’s a long story.”
Jonah nodded, a smirk on his lips. “Wouldnae have naught to do with the seer, now, would it?”
“What?” Logan froze.
Jonah chuckled to himself. “Ye think me a dolt because I live out here on me own, but I see more than ye ken. And I ken that lassie wasnae from any part of this world.” He shrugged. “Well, the seer told me, anyway. She visits from time to time, tells me things she cannae tell anyone else while we have a nip of somethin’ strong. Everyone needs someone, m'laird—even two old goats like her and me.”
“She told ye about Adeline?” Logan could not believe his ears.
Jonah picked up a jar of his home-brewed liquor, pouring two hearty measures into clay cups. “She tells me everythin’. I suppose I’m the only one she kens willnae say aught to anyone, and willnae judge.” He passed Logan a cup. “Then again, I’m tellin’ ye, so I cannae be that trustworthy. In me defense, she said I could. That I should, truth be told, if ye ever came by again.”
“Does she ken how I can see her again?” Logan drained his cup in one go, his nerves jittering excitedly.
Jonah refilled his cup. “I think she wanted me to be the bearer of bad news.” He sipped his own drink, his eyes squinting at the churning sea. “She thought ye might try to find her, but she’s taken herself to the northern islands for a while.”
“What for?”
Jonah shrugged. “How should I ken? We’re nae that friendly with one another. I daenae pry, and neither does she.” He paused. “But she said to tell ye that she’ll look for a token while she’s there, but ye shouldnae raise yer hopes. The blessing that sent Adeline here doesnae always take kindly to men.”
“A token?” Logan’s mind conjured up an image of the pearly egg nestled in the silver cloth.
Jonah cast him a knowing look. “Even if ye had one, would ye leave?”
“I… daenae ken.”
“I think I do.” The old man smiled. “I think ye’d want to, but ye wouldnae be able to. Ye’re a laird, after all. Ye’ve got people who rely on ye, even if ye’re nae bein’ too pleasant to ‘em right now—if gossip is to be believed, anyway. And if ye want to go somewhere else, the way Adeline did, ye cannae be havin’ second thoughts.”
The moment the words left Jonah’s lips, Logan knew he was right. No matter what he felt for Adeline, he had a duty to fulfill. If traveling to her was even possible, he would never feel comfortable, always thinking of the people he had abandoned. It seemed that, on either end, he would be left questioning himself.
Besides, a clever, amusing, beautiful woman like her deserved so much more than a dead man in living clothing. That was what he knew he would be in her present.
“Aye, well, it’s enough for me that she was saved from the stake and gets to live a long life,” he said, more to himself than to Jonah. “Doesnae matter if it’s nae with me.”
Jonah snorted. “Aye, and I’m the King of Scotland.” He paused, sighing. “Nay one wants to be alone, m'laird. Nay one chooses it. Bein’ alone isnae enough for anyone, so daenae be a martyr. Ye might nae be able to see her again, but daenae pretend that ye daenae miss her. That’s the worst thing ye can do.”
“How do ye ken that?”
Jonah’s eyes tightened. “Because I’ve done it, and that’s why I sit here with me dog, on me own. It’s only now that I’m older that I’ve remembered to miss me wife.”
“How do ye get over the grief, though?”
Jonah shook his head, tutting. “Ye dinnae, m'laird. With a lass like her, ye dinnae.” He smiled. “Or get yerself a dog.”
Staring out at sea, the liquor warming his belly, Logan drew in a deep breath of the salty air and wondered if Adeline was out there, thinking about him. If she was trying to find a way back, or if she had decided that her world was exactly where she belonged.