Chapter 5 #2
As Callan leaned back, tilting his face to the sun, a street performer nearby began to play an instrument unlike any he had ever heard.
A woman nearby said ’twas a violin. The melody was soft and warm, bringing him comfort as he struggled to fit in.
How was it possible he had traveled over 700 years into the future?
For a moment, Callan closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him.
“Duck!”
While he was beseeching the fates, something hit him in the head. The solid “thunk” reverberated through his thick skull as he cursed. ’Twas a round green disc.
“Oh, I’m so, so sorry!” A lass called out, running towards him.
A dog ran over to greet him, tail wagging, a blue cloth tied around its neck.
“I’m so sorry about hitting you with the frisbee. Frankie usually catches it.”
Callan handed the green disc to the lass, then patted the dog whose coat was black, brown, tan, and white. The beast proceeded to lick his hand and arm.
“He likes you.” She grinned. “Then again, Frankie really likes everyone.”
The lass tapped a finger to full lips.
“Well, not bad people, but he loves all the nice people.”
The woman was dressed in the odd black hose he’d seen many women in this time wearing.
She wore a pale yellow shirt that showed off her tanned arms with words on it that said, I can’t make everyone happy.
I’m not a taco. She had verra fetching long legs, brown hair piled up on top of her head, secured with a blue and yellow checked bit of cloth, and friendly blue eyes.
The lass was breathtaking, and for a moment Callan forgot to breathe. The lass smelled of summer, a sweet flower, and grass after a rainstorm.
“Are you okay?” A giggle escaped as she clapped a hand over her mouth. “I am sorry, it’s just, wow, you must have a really hard head. It was like the frisbee hit the concrete.”
“Aye, lass, think nothin’ of it,” he rumbled. “My mum always said my head was as hard as the stones in the glen.”
“I’m Daisy.” She smiled, her eyes tilting up at the corners as if she were descended from a faerie, or mayhap she was a faerie and might aid him? Usually a practical man, Callan found himself willing to believe almost anything if it would help him return to his own time.
He inclined his head. “Callan Graham at your service, lass.”
“Oh, I just love a Scottish accent.” She plopped down on the bench beside him, her knee brushing his as she took a bottle out of her bag along with a bright blue bowl, into which she poured water for the dog.
As the beast lapped the water, a metal charm on his collar jingling, she chattered on, oblivious to the stench emanating from his plaid as the dog finished and ran into the grass to play with the other wee beasties.
While she chattered on about the dog, the nice day, all the tourists, and other things he did not understand, Callan glanced at two slobbering, scruffy dogs currently mauling the green disc called a frisbee, as they barked and jumped.
When one dog jumped on the smaller beast playing too rough, Daisy let out a shrill whistle that instantly froze the dogs. She looked him over as he stretched his legs out in front of him, one booted foot crossed at the ankles, enjoying the warmth of the sun.
“Are you working the Renaissance Faire? It’s a bit early to get into costume. The Faire doesn’t start for another week.”
She tilted her head at him as the wind caught a wayward tendril of hair, sending the scent of rosemary, flowers, and something bright and sharp to his nose, a most pleasing scent.
“I don’t remember seeing you there last year, but there were so many people coming and going, it’s not surprising.”
Daisy reached out and ran a finger along the stained sleeve of his linen shirt. It had been laundered but still bore faint bloodstains.
“I love your costume. It’s very authentic. It looks handmade.” She added with a grin, “don’t tell anyone, but sometimes I pretend I live in medieval times, too.”
Callan shook his head, trying to make sense of her words. Costume? Renaissance Faire? He didn’t know what she was talking about but she seemed kind, and was verra fetching, so he relaxed, watching her as she talked more about the Faire.
“I know not of this Faire,” he said, dragging out his words, remembering what someone had shouted at him. “’Twas a party that lasted overlong.”
Daisy took a drink from a huge bright blue cup, the likes of which he’d never seen before.
Callan swallowed and took a chance. “I am not familiar with this place. Somehow I have lost my way. Might you aid me in returning home?”
Her skin was so clear, not a single scar marred her face or arms as she held out a phone, like the small boxes he’d seen people staring at all day and night.
“Want to use my phone?”
Lucy had said that odd word, and he now knew that she, too, was a traveler. Did William know his wife was from another time or had she kept the secret from him? With her odd speech and manners, he must know.
Callan placed a hand on the bench. The acceptance of traveling through time to the future finally settling deep within him.
When he didn’t answer right away, she tapped on the phone and looked at him. “Let’s call you a car. Where to?”
He thought for a moment and brightened. “Where is North Carolina?”
“Wow, that is really far from Boston. You don’t sound southern, aren’t you from Scotland?”
“Aye, I was born in Scotland, but now England is my home.”
“That’s way far away.” Her brows went up. “How about a plane? Once you get there, you can take a train or boat or something.”
The sun caught bits of gold in her hair as she quickly pulled the cloth loose, captured the errant lock and piled it back atop her head.
Callan hesitated. A car was a metal horseless carriage, and whilst he had no idea what a train or plane was, he had only said North Carolina because Lucy said ’twas where she hailed from and he thought perchance he might meet her kin and they would aid him.
“I have little of the green paper money,” he admitted.
Daisy nodded as she packed up the dog’s bowl and placed it in her purple pack.
“I know exactly what you mean. Try holding down multiple jobs.”
She tilted her face to the sun. “I pet sit, walk dogs, house sit, run errands, and I run social media for a small business, so my hours are really flexible, which is great because I love working at the Faire every year.”
She held up a pendant she was wearing. Callan leaned in, catching the smell of roses as he admired the fine work. The pendant held a shard of green and white pottery set in silver.
“’Tis beautiful.”
“I worked in a booth last summer, and as part of my pay, the artist’s wife gave me the pendant. This year I told them I’d work wherever they needed me. It’s so fun being surrounded by like-minded people.”
Callan couldn’t believe people paid money for her to walk their dogs. Why did they not just let them run about outside?
And why would a rich noble pay this lass to sit in his home? Did his servants not watch over the estate when he was away?
When she stopped talking, he pulled out the bag of coins from his sporran, opened it, and held it out to her.
“Is this enough for you to aid me?”
“Oh my gosh, those coins look like they’re made of gold and are really, really old. Put that away.” She looked around, the color high in her face.
“Do you want someone to rob you? Sheesh. Enough with the hot medieval highlander act.”
Callan stiffened as he put the money back in his sporran.
“I am not hot, ’tis a most pleasant day.”
At first she simply blinked at him, then she laughed, like a child laughed from deep within their belly, filling Callan with warmth.
“You’re funny.”
Daisy nodded to herself. “I believe fate puts people in our paths for a reason. My mother told me that my grandmother was a hippie. She used to pick up hitchhikers all the time. I guess more of her than my mom rubbed off on me. My mom gets so distracted, she’d never even notice a hitchhiker, let alone pick one up. ”
She eyed him up and down. “You’re not going to murder me in my bed or post weird pictures of my feet online, are you?”
For a moment he blinked at her, making sense of the words.
“Nay. I am no murderer. I know not of these feet pictures.” He had killed men, but only when necessary or in self-defense, so nay, he was no murderer.
Daisy stood, brushing off her hose as the dog jumped up, tail wagging, the soft fur brushing across Callan’s bare knees.
She pointed. “Frankie can be very ferocious when provoked. You better remember that.”
The dog, tongue lolling, let out a happy bark. When the fetching lass turned to go, his shoulders slumped until she looked over her shoulder with a grin, waving him towards her.
“Are you coming or not?”
Callan leapt to his feet, plaid swinging. “Aye, wherever you lead, I will follow.”
They walked side by side as he watched the dog sniffing everything around them.
The fae touched lass held the blue leash, the silver rings on her fingers glinting in the fading sun.
“Where are we going?” Callan liked how her eyes sparkled when she talked, how she moved her hands in the air as if trying to hurry the words from her mouth to let them loose into the world.
“My place. It isn’t much, but it’s home. I’m all for helping a fellow Renaissance Faire lover.”
His brows rose, but remembering how Lucy did not think it strange to share a room with him, he kept his mouth shut, knowing he must fit in here in this odd land with its strange customs.
“I thank ye, lass.”
Mayhap this woman might know a real witch or a faerie? Then he could finally go home. Hope bloomed in his soul.
Callan would find his way through the centuries across time to Blackford and his newfound family, though it was too bad he would not be able to spend more time with the enchanting lass.