Chapter Eleven
The following morning, Harper and Skye rowed over to Dornie to spend some time alone to talk. Harper really needed her friend and asked if they could seek privacy. But concern for another attack kept them close to the town.
“I believe the queen was convinced,” Skye stated as they walked along the edge of the loch.
“I think you’re right. At least she didn’t try to have us burned at the stake.”
“So not funny,” Skye responded.
Harper supposed not since it was a real concern.
“What did you want to talk to me about? Good news, I hope.”
Before Harper could respond, she caught sight of Daimh on the other side of the narrow woods. His horse was burdened with a heavy basket tied to the back of the saddle.
“Where’s he going?” Harper asked.
“I have no idea. I thought we delivered all the gifts. Wait, I believe there is a cottage further back in the wood that belongs to Eilidh. Now that I am thinking on it, I don’t remember she had turned out to greet us yesterday. Let’s see if we can follow him without being seen.”
Slipping between the trees, they watched as Daimh approached a small cottage well hidden, smoke from its peat fire curling above the roof. Knocking, he waited until an older woman opened the door. Handing her the basket, he said something and then behind her, the girl Iona appeared, grinned, and stepped aside to let him enter.
“Iona?” Harper said, the green-eyed monster rising again and turning her tone hard.
Skye smiled. “I have no doubt the basket is for Eilidh, her mother. Daimh makes certain that many of the widows have sufficient to eat and checks on them.”
“But if her daughter lives there, why should she need Daimh? I could understand if she was alone…”
“She was alone for years, until Iona returned. It may just be habit. And mayhap there was a reason she didn’t appear with the others, and he worried about her.”
Harper shook her head. “I have seen the way Iona looks at him. Like he’s a roast and she is starving.”
“Stop. I am convinced he has no interest in her. Have you seen the way he looks at you?”
“I guess I am just being silly. I just like him—so much.”
Skye raised her eyebrows. “So will you stay?”
The same question. Harper’s doubts would creep up on her at the strangest times, like just before she drifted off to sleep or in her dreams.
“I dearly want to, Skye, but I have no function here. I have no domestic skills. I can’t cook or sew. Maisie oversees the weaving, Freya the sewing, Kenna the kitchen, and Neasa everything else. You bake amazing things. I will lose my mind with nothing to do all day. And there’s the matter of the lie. I can’t tell him the truth. How do you manage the secret.”
“I am certain we can find something you can help with. So many things that require your special talents.”
“Like?”
“You are a master of organization. And that is always important. And you are the best friend I ever had. And that is the most important of all.” Skye sucked in a deep breath. “Does this mean you’ll stay?” Hope was clear in her voice.
Quelling any remaining doubts, Harper nodded. “I have been thinking about it. And you’re right. I don’t have anything to go back to. You’re here and I think I could get used to this life.” Harper took a deep breath and blew it out. “But you haven’t answered me about the time travel thing.”
“I am madly and completely in love with my husband. If he lived in modern times, in another country, I would not have hesitated to travel to him. I just think of it that way. Instead of miles, I traveled years. And what would it serve to tell him the truth. Keeping it from him does no harm, does it?”
“I suppose you’re right. And I imagine I could think of it in the same way. Because I cannot imagine living the rest of my life without you—or him.”
Throwing her arms around Harper, Skye whooped with joy. “Well, I suggest we get you some more clothes.”
“Shopping? Works for me,” Harper giggled. “But…” and she groaned loudly, “ I don’t know. It just goes against everything I believe. The whole time travel thing. And I’m going to have to learn Gaelic.” That was followed by another groan, which elicited a laugh from Skye.
“And ask Daimh about his visit to Eilidh. I know he will ease your mind.”
***
Afternoon brought rolling thunder and the darkening sky encouraged all to hurry to shelter. Thunderstorms in Scotland in December were not unusual, and no one relished the thought of getting caught in a torrent of icy rain.
The sun had completely disappeared behind thickening clouds. Harper and Neasa had taken a few minutes to walk along the loch and get better acquainted when the blackened sky warned them to take cover. Wind pushed at them, reminding them not to dawdle, and they had just lifted their skirts to make a run for the castle when a slash of lightning lit the sky, illuminating the landscape in an eerie glow. Immediately there was the sound of a blood-curdling scream near the edge of the loch. Freya was keening as if her heart had been torn from her, and beside her, on the ground, was Conall, sprawled wide and appearing lifeless. Beside him, the earth was scorched.
Racing to him, it was obvious what had just happened. He had been struck by lightning. Rain poured over them as they reached a panicked Freya, gripping her new husband’s hand to her chest and rocking back and forth, keening in misery.
Running on adrenaline and instinct, Harper fell to her knees beside the prone man and began chest compressions. With no other thoughts than to keep going, no matter how tiring this promised to be, Harper counted, paused, then resumed pressing on his chest. Her entire focus was on making this man’s heart resume beating, knowing this was the only thing that could save him. Despite the cold and dripping water soaking her, Harper’s body roared with the heat of determination and her sweat mingled with the rain pouring into her eyes. Shaking off the wet drops, she kept pumping and praying—for his life, for the strength to not stop no matter what.
Freya, still hysterical, screamed louder, and tried to push Harper aside, but Neasa restrained her as Harper worked to save Conall. Neasa seemed to understand Harper might have knowledge from the future that could aid the man.
After what seemed like forever, Conall gasped and his eyelids flung wide open. He was alive!
Exhilarated and exhausted by her efforts, Harper sat back on her heels and tried to calm her own gasping. Exhilaration exploded in her chest. She had just saved a man’s life. Clasping her shaking hands together, she inhaled with unabashed pride. She had always wanted to be a doctor, but with no encouragement from anyone, she had let the dream fade. How she wished she had been more dedicated. This feeling was like nothing she had ever experienced.
“Oh my Lord, oh my Lord,” Freya cried. Kneeling beside him and stroking his cheek to assure herself he was truly alive, she laughed out loud. “You’re nae dead.”
Yes, Harper re-affirmed to herself. He was indeed nae dead.
“Nae yet,” he responded, his breath coming in quick puffs. Smiling tentatively, he reached for her hand and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. “But I feel like I was trampled by a horse.”
It was then Harper became aware that a crowd had formed around them, seemingly unaware of the pouring rain soaking them all. “Can we get him inside?” she asked, her tone more of a command than a request.
Several of the men surrounded him and lifted him up, carrying him to the shelter of the castle.
As Harper, Neasa and Freya made their way behind the men, Freya turned to Harper, clearly confused but grateful. “I do nae understand. He was dead and you brought him back to life. How is that possible?”
“He was only sleeping from the shock. The wind was knocked out of him, is all,” Harper answered. “I just reminded him to breathe.”
Harper and Neasa exchanged a look. It was clear no one here had any idea about CPR and Harper would have to find a way to better explain it. But for now, Conall was alive and probably had a new fern-like tattoo on his skin as a permanent reminder of his encounter.
Leaning in, Neasa whispered, “Can ye teach me that? I ne’er saw anything the like.”
Chuckling, Harper nodded. “Absolutely.”
Conall was laid out on one of the trestle tables in the main hall and Harper moved to him and touched his neck, feeling for his pulse. Strong and regular. Sitting up, he reached for her hand. “What happened? Freya said ye brought me back from the dead.”
As Harper began explaining by repeating what she had told the others, Freya threw her arms around Harper’s neck. “Ye saved him. I do nae know where ye learned such a trick, but I was certain he was gone. No one ever survives a lightning strike.”
“It is a simple thing, really. I learned it at the hos… convent. But he should rest. He’s had quite a—shock.” She couldn’t resist. Then, exhaling her relief, she turned to go to her room.
“She’s a witch!” Iona hissed, her voice echoing through the hall. “He was dead. I saw it. She used an incantation and brought him back from the dead. And now he will be possessed by the devil.” She stepped closer to Conall and pointed. “Look at his neck. He bears the sign of the devil.”
The telltale fern-like tattoo from the strike was clearly visible on his skin now.
Harper merely shook her head. “That always happens when one is struck by lightning. It is…” She couldn’t think how to explain the power of electricity to these superstitious people.
“It is the mark of the strike,” Skye jumped in, appearing behind Harper and putting her arm around Harper’s shoulders. “I have nae doubt ye have all seen it before, haven’t’ ye? But it is usually after life has left the body.” She looked about the room for affirmation. Several of the clan nodded, accepting her words, but many still looked skeptical. Rage flushed her cheeks. “Ye think because Harper knew a way to save him, you should call her names, and especially something so despicable as a witch.” This last was directed at Iona. “You should all be ashamed.”
Freya stepped forward. “Instead of blaming Harper and insulting her, ye should all be happy she has healing powers.” Freya moved close to Conall. “Do ye feel as if the devil has possessed you?”
“Nay. I feel blessed but verra sore. I will be eternally grateful for Harper seeing to the sparing of me life.”
“There, ye see. This was no different than when I sew a wound. Do ye all think that is of the devil?” Freya demanded.
“When you do, it does nae leave a mark,” Iona spat.
“And what exactly do ye think a scar is,” Freya responded in anger.
Iona took a step toward Freya. “I’m nae saying anything the others aren’t thinking.”
Revelation came and Harper raised her hands, palms out. “When you get a cramp, you rub it. Right?” Many nodded. “Well, the heart is a muscle, just like in your legs or arms. When Conall was hit with the lightning, his heart did just that. It cramped. I rubbed it and it went back to beating normally again.” Harper heaved a sigh. “No magic, no witchcraft. Just pressing on a muscle to make it work again.”
The clan members seemed satisfied with Harper’s explanation and slowly dispersed, going about their business while Freya helped Conall to their chamber. Looking over her shoulder, Freya’s gaze met Harper’s. “Thank ye,” she mouthed.
Alone in the hall, Skye stepped up to Harper and hugged her. “No good deed goes unpunished, right?”
Harper pulled back, full of concern. “But what if—what if he was supposed to die and I changed history?”
“I can’t answer that. Much too metaphysical. But you know you did the right thing. You couldn’t let him die.” Skye angled her head. “And maybe you saving his life was as it was meant to be.”
“But do you think the others listened to Iona and believe that I’m a witch?” Shivers ran up her spine. If the clan believed she practiced dark arts, her life would be at risk.
“No. I think they accepted your explanation. Just don’t light any black candles or whisper incantations,” Skye teased.
“Very funny.” Harper ran her hand through her still soaked hair. “Saving lives is hard work.”
“Speaking of work, I have an idea. You ran a hospital, right?”
“I did,” Harper affirmed.
“Well, Neasa has always been the healer here, with Freya stitching wounds. But we have no formal set-up. How about if we ask Ian if we can set up a kind of infirmary? That way, you and the others can work together if someone is sick or injured. And, it gives you a purpose and a reason to stay.”
Harper pressed her lips together, thinking, then nodded. “It makes sense. But we don’t have any drugs.”
“Neasa knows all about herbs and things. I used all the antibiotics I brought already, but you can certainly organize what we do have and make healing a more efficient business.”
“I don’t want to step on Neasa’s toes.”
“I bet she’ll be delighted to have some help. The woman is tireless, but even she can’t do everything all the time.”
Harper nodded. The idea of being able to impart healing to these people was amazing, a dream come true. “Let’s talk to her.”
“Then you’ll really stay?”
Harper blew out her breath. “I’m definitely leaning in that direction.” In her heart, the decision had been made, but she was still reluctant to commit it to words. A tiny kernel of disbelief still lingered. After all, she laughed inwardly, time travel wasn’t possible, was it?
Skye let out a whoop and threw her arms around her friend. “I am so happy.”
“What if things don’t work out with Daimh? And there’s still the matter of Davina,” Harper said.
“Ah, Davina. Can you imagine if she actually wakes up and tells people she’s from the sixteenth century? What do you think will happen?”
Harper thought about that for a moment and laughed. “The psych ward. You’re right. I think we’ll be fine on that front.”
“And Daimh sees nothing but you. You must know that.”
“Iona?”
“Just because another woman likes him—that worries you?”
Harper nodded. “You’re right. I’ve never been a quitter.”
“Then don’t start now.”