Chapter Ten
Maddie visits Alex again in his sleep.
Alex Grant was an old man. Beyond old. He knew his time was coming, but he didn’t fear death. Perhaps because he believed all of the dreams he shared with his dear wife were true. Some believed they were just creations of his mind, but he knew them for what they were—visions from heaven.
His dear Maddie was in heaven, but she came back to give him important advice when necessary. Whatever others chose to believe, no one could deny that whatever Madeline Grant told him came to fruition.
Alex moved around his chamber slowly as he prepared for bed, appreciative of all the tools his sons and daughters had crafted to make his life easier.
At last, he climbed into bed and lay back, resting his head on the pillow and staring up at the beams overhead.
He hadn’t seen Maddie in a while, so he wondered if she would visit him this night.
Things in Scotland were heating up as they prepared for the onslaught of the English and King Edward II.
Suddenly, as if his mind really had conjured her—a talent he wished he had—there she was, standing in front of him in a white, translucent gown.
She looked exactly as she had the day they married.
“Was that not the gown you wore the night of our wedding?”
He arched his brows at her, surprised to see her teasing him with such skin, her voluptuous curves glorious beneath the fabric.
Maddie glanced at her gown and waved a hand at him. “Oh, Alex, whatever I wear is a product of your memory. This must have been a favorite of yours, but you know it has naught to do with this visit.”
“Aye. I always did love you in that night rail.” He smirked. “Go on. I know that look. Who’s at risk this time? I’m certain someone is in grave danger, so I’ll wait for you to tell me who the troublemaker is this time.”
Maddie sighed and leaned toward him, taking his hand. “I’m not sure. You must keep an eye on Chrissa. Something is going on, and I know not what. She looks so much like you and her mother. Do you not think so? And she’s headstrong like Kyla. They have your blood in them, for certes.”
“And yours,” he reminded her. “The English are after her, or is it the other force? The one that wants to take over our castle.”
She lifted a hand to her lips, thinking. “Would that I knew. There is evil lurking, that much I can see clearly. I’ve heard it will rival the evil we faced many, many years ago. It pleases me that Logan is coming. Perhaps he’ll help you figure out who seeks to cause trouble between our clans.”
“Do Logan and Lina have the sword in their possession yet?”
“Aye, Lina will bring it to you, and you must help her decide on the proper protector. I cannot say anything else about it, nor do I know who should take ownership. But I do know this. Chrissa is in trouble, and the battle on Midsummer’s Day will be pivotal.
The lads must send as many guards as they can to Stirling.”
“But?” he whispered in her ear, taking advantage of their closeness.
“The other force, the one that seeks to sow discord between the Grants and the Ramsays, will come as a surprise. You must assist them in rooting it out.”
“Will you take me home with you when this is over?” he asked, his heart racing as he awaited his answer. He was so ready to be with her again.
“Alex,” she said, leaning into him so their bodies melded together.
“Much as I would love to, you know I cannot tell you. Oh, drat.”
She looked at her hand, the vision disappearing.
“I love you, Alexander Grant. Thank you for taking such good care of our bairns, grandbairns, and great-grandbairns. We have some feisty new lassies.”
He opened his mouth to tell her how right she was, but he didn’t get the chance.
She was gone.
Epilogue
I sure did get some hate mail for this final meeting, but it was time.
You knew it too!
Alexander Grant sat in front of the hearth and whistled, an ear-splitting noise that all the wee ones in the clan had learned to listen for a long time ago.
He smiled as they gathered around him. John considered himself too mature to sit for bedtime stories, but Alex noticed he never stepped too far away, lingering at a nearby table close enough to overhear whatever tale he told that eve, Coira nearby.
Dyna and Derric’s two daughters, Els and Joya’s daughter, Alick and Branwen’s two sons, and Alasdair and Emmalin’s two young sons sat waiting patiently for Seanair to begin the telling of this eve’s tale.
The new lassie was cradled to Branwen’s chest.
Other bairns gathered round to participate in the wee ones’ favorite time of the eve.
Ailith came up to her great-grandfather and leaned on his knee, looking up at him with her odd insightfulness. “Seanair, do you cry? Why?”
Alex patted her head as he thought on the story he planned to tell in his mind, knowing some of the memories would rid him of the odd pricking of tears in his eyes. “Och, wee lassie, you imagine it. I’m not crying, just thinking hard about which tale I’ll tell.”
“The swordfight against Grandmama’s betrothed,” one of the ladies suggested.
“When Growley and Loki saved Gracie.”
“Nay, the battle to save Aunt Kyla,” another offered.
“I love the one where Aunt Jennie believed Uncle Aedan died. Such trickery!”
“When Maddie saved Claray.”
Loki sat in a chair not far away, a bairn in his lap, and nodded to Alex. “’Tis a night for the telling of the Battle of Largs, my laird.”
He glanced over at Loki, who was as much kin as if he’d been born a Grant. “I believe you are right. I’ll tell the tale of that battle. Then I’ll tell you one more tale about a fine lass who came to me long ago and will come again someday.”
The youngest bairns knew not what he spoke of, but he noticed his grandchildren moved closer as did all his nieces and nephews, his brother Brodie, his sister Jennie, and so many others.
As if they knew what he knew.
Out of nowhere, Dyna, Astra, and Chrissa joined the circle, their faces as rapt as if they were still bairns.
It was time.
Alex had clung to life with everything he had to see this end, to leave his sons and daughters, his grandsons and granddaughters, and his great-grandbairns with what they deserved most—freedom.
Finally, thanks to Robert the Bruce and the guts, gumption, and tenacity of the Scots, they had prevailed against the English bastards. They had sent Edward running.
Now he could rest at peace, knowing his clan, his people, were led by a Scot. The sudden surge of exhilaration he’d felt this eve would carry him through this tale of the Battle of Largs. He wished to make sure the courage and strength of his clan and his brothers would not be forgotten.
“It was a dark day in the history of the Scots when the Norse thought they could bring their multitude of galley ships up the firth and attack our land and our people.
They came out of their galley ships, swarming the beach near Largs, swinging their swords against us, but they couldn’t defeat us.
Robbie was there with a strong force of Highlanders he’d been training for quite a while.
Brodie was there, fighting harder than anyone I’ve ever seen.
“And then there was a lad with a slinger who took out Norsemen so slyly the victims never knew what hit them.”
His praise of Loki’s talent sent the lads he’d mentored—Gillie, Thorn, and Nari, and his adopted son Kenzie—into gales of laughter as they shouted his name.
“But it was the Scottish people who prevailed in that short battle. Our enemies got back into their ships and sailed away. Our fortitude and loyalty carried us through, much like in the Battle of Bannockburn, which is sure to be remembered as the fight for freedom for many, many years.
“Of course, some think we have gained much from the Norse’s visits because many stayed, giving us the gift of their strength and culture, not something to be overlooked.”
When he made that statement, he gave a pointed look to his son Connor and his half-Norse wife, Sela.
Then he reached down and took Dyna’s hand.
“You’ve enriched our lives in many ways.”
He heard Sela sniffle at the end of the tale, but he wouldn’t allow it, instead moving on to his next tale.
He told of the young blonde lass who’d been mistreated by her own brother but lived on to be one of the strongest women he’d ever known.
While he spoke, he heard whispers about Great-Grandmama, Maddie, or other enduring terms for his dearest wife.
They all knew the story of how she’d been shunned by this very clan in the beginning because of cruel rumors spread by an evil man, her former betrothed.
The tale was of a strong woman who didn’t allow adversity to destroy her.
She continued to create story books to entertain and delight the children of Clan Grant, and to live an irreproachable life—all while she was mistreated.
How he’d chastised himself for not noticing. As laird, he’d focused his efforts on protecting and defending the clan instead of what was happening right under his nose.
He continued the tale of how Maddie had tricked all his guards to look the other way while she jumped into a hole that had formed in the earth, risking severe injury, to save two dear children.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the sobs of his sister Jennie, who’d been one of the bairns.
She had been stuck in the bottom of the deep hole with a gash on her head, watching over a wee lass who’d hit her head and fallen into a deep sleep.
Maddie had broken her arm in the fall, but the pain had meant nothing to her compared to her worry for the innocent bairns.
Alex had awakened to the truth of the situation. He’d learned to listen, to consider others’ feelings, and to love without holding anything back. He’d married the lass, knowing he’d never regret marrying someone with such strong conviction. Knowing she’d gift him with strong sons and daughters.
And she had—five of them.
She’d given him more in their many years together than he’d ever deserved.
He spoke of their challenges, their joy at each of their children’s births, of their wonder when their three grandsons—Alasdair, Els, and Alick—had been born on the same night, at the same time, and of the wonderful moment they’d adopted Maeve.
He spoke of their arguments, how she quietly taught him the gift of forgiveness, and how together they’d learned to work as partners to consider possible solutions to their many problems. How they’d been blessed by God in so many ways they’d been grateful every day.
When he finished, he stood with a great amount of effort, Kyla handing him his long stick of wood he used for support, Maeve and Elizabeth right behind her, while his sister Jennie rushed to his other side to assist him to his chamber.
He nodded to his two sons, his grandsons and granddaughters, and to his brother Brodie. Then he made his way across the great hall to a quiet rarely heard in the Grant hall. The bairns began to stir behind him, while the others whispered to one another, but he paid them no mind.
Kyla opened the door for him, Maeve and Elizabeth nearby, but he stopped her, leaning down to kiss her forehead, and said, “I love all of you, daughters, and you’ve always made me proud, but I must speak to my sister privately.”
Tears tracked down Kyla’s cheeks the way he’d known they would, and he allowed the squeezing hugs that sent ripples of aches through his old bones because he knew they needed it.
She and her sisters left him, Maeve wiping away tears, and Jennie closed the door before assisting him into bed, something that took a while.
Once he lay back on the bed, a deep sigh leaving him, Jennie pulled a chair up next to him. She kissed his cheek and said, “Give Mama and Papa a hug for me, and Maddie, and Robbie, and well, you know.”
“I know not for sure, but I’m tired, Jennie. My time will come soon.”
“You’ve lived many wonderful years, Alex, and what you’ve made here… Mama and Papa will be so proud.”
His eyes fluttered shut. He couldn’t stay awake for one more moment. He had a vague sense of his sister covering him up with a blanket before leaving quietly. Being a healer, she’d always had an odd sense of when things were about to happen.
He fell asleep quickly, hoping to see Maddie. His need for her had become more than he could bear.
One moment he was thinking of his dear Maddie, and how she’d always carried the scent of lavender, and the next he was riding Midnight, his old war horse, across a meadow full of heather.
He found himself in a deep forest, and although he’d never been there before, Midnight led him to a burn where the horse feasted on the cool water.
Alex dismounted, realizing at once that he was in the midst of a dream because he carried no pain, no aches.
Giddy with disbelief, he pulled out his sword and lifted it overhead, something he hadn’t been able to do for a few years.
He did it a few times just for the sheer joy of it.
A serene sense of peace fell over him, and his first thought was that he wished he could stay in the forest forever, but for the fact that he was alone.
The scent of the pines, the swaying of the branches, and the rustle of the squirrels soothed him.
He sheathed his sword and lifted his head to take in the sweet Highland breeze, his long hair lifting off his neck from the wind.
Something made him look up. There, standing in the mist ahead of him, stood a man with dark hair, a pretty red-haired lass a few steps away. “Papa, we’ve missed you. Our thanks for watching over Alasdair and our grandbairns.”
“Jake?” Alex took a few steps forward, his eyes probably deceiving him because the son he missed every day now stood in front of him with his wife, Aline.
“Aye, ’tis me, Papa. We’ll spar in a few days, but someone else is here to see you first.” Jake pointed to Alex’s right, a deep mist swirling around all of them as he disappeared.
Then he saw her.
Maddie stood not far away, radiant as always in his favorite blue gown that matched her eyes, her hair golden in the moonlight, unplaited and glorious with its soft waves.
He said, “Maddie, love. I miss you. How much time have you managed for me this eve?”
His dear wife smiled and opened her arms for him. “Eternity.”
He strode over and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in the sweet scent of her hair. He kissed her softly on her lips and said one word.
“Finally.”