Chapter Two
Two months later
What’s his story?” I asked, holding up a small stone statue of what I thought was a human head. Its eyes were lens-shaped, its nose bulbous. I squinted at it while I wiped sweat and dust from my brow. Its eyes followed me.
Charles barely spared it a glance as he shuffled across his living room.
“Cursed?” My eyes flew open, and I held the statue farther from me.
“Or maybe it brings good luck. I can never remember which one. Guess you’ll find out now that you’ve stared into its eyes, and it has your soul.” Charles waggled his eyebrows at me and grinned.
I rolled my eyes but smiled anyway.
“I could use some luck,” I muttered, jotting down the statue’s details on my inventory sheet and setting it back in its box.
“You don’t need luck, Kira.” Charles harrumphed. “It’s Friday night. You should be out having fun with friends. Meeting up with a nice guy. Not hanging out with an old-timer like me while packing boxes. Not that I don’t appreciate the help.”
“I’m too tired to go out,” I said with a shrug. At least that wasn’t a complete lie.
“You’ve been working too much. That’s what.” He lowered himself painfully from his walker to his favourite armchair.
I smiled fondly and hastened to help. I fluffed a pillow and placed it behind him before setting his walker and tea nearby.
“I’m quite happy helping you pack up your things, Charles,” I said over my shoulder as I returned to the boxes and books strewn around his living room.
I had spent the better part of the past hour lugging boxes from his basement.
Charles would be moving into a retirement home soon, and his house was for sale.
“Besides,” I continued, picking up a box labelled fortingall dig, 1963, “I love going through your old photographs and papers. You lived such an adventurous life.”
“You could, too, Ms. Kira. The world is a wonderous place. There’s a lot out there for you. Far more than anything my dusty living room can offer.” He waved his hand around almost knocking over his tea.
I set the box on the chair beside him and moved his cup farther from his arm.
“Oh,” he said, looking at the box with interest. “Now, that brings me back. Crann Bethadh. The Fortingall Yew…” His voice trailed off as memories took hold and he relived a past life.
“If I wasn’t here, who would listen to all your wonderful stories? I know how much you love telling them,” I teased.
His eyes slid back to mine. “You’ve heard all my stories. Can probably tell them better than me.”
“I haven’t heard about Crann Bethadh. Isn’t that the Celtic Tree of Life?”
“Indeed,” he murmured. “Couldn’t have found it without her, it was buried so deep. I was scared to lose her, but in the end, I chose love. Best decision I ever made.”
Now this was a story I hadn’t heard.
“What happened?” I asked. A thrill of anticipation raced through me at the thought of hearing another one of Charles’s stories.
My mind conjured up a dusty tomb underneath a towering yew.
The underground crypt was cloaked in shadows, lit only by flickering torchlight.
I could almost smell the damp stone and smoky flames.
What had Charles found, and who was the woman? Had it been Marion?
“Now, don’t go changing the topic.” Charles’s eyes grew sharp again, and he jabbed a finger in my direction. “I’m almost ninety. Lived a full life. Now, you, on the other hand…”
He paused as if considering his next words carefully.
“Remember that grandson I told you about? Owen?” He fiddled with the sleeve of his cardigan.
I swallowed my disappointment at being denied one of Charles’s stories. I didn’t travel and rarely left my house except for work. Listening to Charles’s thrilling tales of adventure was an escape from my otherwise routine and somewhat boring life.
“I think so.” I turned away to place more books in a box. “Works in security or something, right?”
“Right. Owns a bodyguard agency in downtown Toronto. Grant Protection Services. Well, I’ve mentioned you to him—”
“I’m not meeting him, Charles,” I said without looking up. “I’m not ready. You know that.”
“Todd is the worst scoundrel,” Charles growled. “If I ever get my hands on him, I’ll knock him senseless, that’s what. Make no mistake, Ms. Kira. You’re too good for that bawbag.”
That made me laugh. “Bawbag?” Charles had grown up in Edinburgh and, although he had lived in Toronto since the 1960s, his Scottish roots still showed themselves occasionally. He could be especially colourful when insulting someone. I loved it.
His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Bampot? Walloper? Gowk? Perhaps some English insults. Utter plonker. Uncouth swine? Proper tosser? How about rat bastard?”
“That one!” I exclaimed, throwing my head back with a laugh. I didn’t think it had originated in the British Isles, but it was perfect. “Todd shall forever more be known as a rat bastard.”
“Excellent choice, Ms. Kira,” Charles chuckled, and we shared a fond look before I returned to our original conversation with a sigh.
“I know he treated me terribly, Charles, and that I need to move on. But it still hurts. And I’m just not ready for…anything.”
Charles stared at me in sudden horror. “You’re not thinking of forgiving and going back to him, are you?”
“Absolutely not,” I said, shuddering at the thought.
Charles nodded in satisfaction. “Life isn’t meant to be travelled alone. Marion and I had over sixty years together. My bonnie lass.” He smiled, and I saw his eyes mist. “I just want that for you, too.”
I wanted that, too, but old-school love like theirs no longer existed.
“You were lucky to have each other.”
Charles snorted. “Luck had nothing to do with it. It took a lot of work on both our parts. We put each other first. Something your ex-fiancé knows nothing about.”
He studied me. “Love isn’t all candlelight dinners and romantic getaways, and it shouldn’t feel like a rollercoaster or like you’re waiting to be chosen.
Character is what counts. Commitment to one another.
Find someone who knows how to stay when it’s hard to love.
I hope you trust again someday, Ms. Kira.
Not all men are like him. If it’s the last thing I do, I want to see you happy. ”
“I am happy,” I protested, not quite meeting his eyes.
“You’re satisfied with the status quo. There’s a difference.” He leaned forward in his chair and fixed me with a steady gaze. Just shy of ninety and Charles was still sharper than most people I knew.
“Now, Owen, on the other hand—”
“I’m over Todd,” I assured him, “but I don’t want to go down that road right now. Thanks, though. I appreciate you looking out for me.” I gave him a smile I hoped looked reassuring. Charles looked anything but reassured.
“Well, now, about that…”
My gaze flew to his. “What did you do, Charles?”
“Well, I mentioned you to Owen—”
“So you said.” A feeling of unease settled in my stomach. Charles at least had the decency to look somewhat abashed.
“He’s coming here tonight. Any minute, in fact. Been trying to get him here all summer, but he works too much. Oh,” he said, twisting in his chair to look out the front window, “I think I hear his car now.”
“Charles, you didn’t!” I was mortified. Just because I wasn’t ready to date again didn’t mean I wanted to meet a man while looking like I had climbed out of a crypt.
Charles cackled with glee. “Well, I’ve been talking a lot about you, and he said he wants to meet you. I think this could be a good match. Just you wait and see.” He rubbed his hands together. The conniving old fox.
I stood up, hastily straightening my clothes and smoothing back wisps of hair. Before I could do anything more, there was a hard knock, and Charles called out, “Just a minute!”
“Ohhh…” I groaned as I walked to the door, brushing my hands on my jeans only to realize I was spreading the dust around and making it worse.
Upon opening the door, I made an inelegant squeaking noise. Mystery Man, who I had been dreaming about weekly—okay, nightly—stared back at me. Damn. Would this man ever see me looking my best?
His eyes narrowed. “You,” he ground out.
Okay. Not the greeting I’d hoped for if we ever met again. Unfortunately, instead of a witty comeback, I stood there like a starstruck fool. Say, something, I silently shouted at myself. The only saving grace was that he, too, seemed incapable of further speech.
He continued to glower at me. What could I have possibly done to offend him? Nothing, I decided. Of all the rude, insufferable, aggravating…
The sound of a throat clearing startled me, and I turned my attention to the second man standing before me.
His short dark hair and warm brown skin glowed in the porch light, and his eyes held a gleam of mischief.
His mouth crooked up in an amused grin as he glanced between me and his friend before he thankfully broke the awkward silence.
“Hi there. We’re looking for Charles. I’m Jace,” he said, holding out his hand.
I reached for his hand automatically before I remembered that I was a complete mess, and I instinctively pulled back. But then I realized that was rude, and I reached for his hand again. Only he had pulled back, and we had a moment of awkward hand chasing.
Can the Earth open and swallow me? Right now?
“This is Owen,” Jace said, ending another awkward pause and gesturing to his friend.
Owen did not reach out to shake my hand, choosing instead to narrow his eyes even more.
I didn’t know that was possible. I followed suit and fixed him with my best glare, hoping it didn’t look like I was squinting.
If I glared any harder, my eyes would close.
Aggravating did not begin to describe this man.
I found my voice at last. “I’m Kira. I’m helping Charles pack his things.”
“Come on in, fellas!” Charles called from the living room, and I stepped aside to allow them to enter.
“Granddad,” Owen said, clasping his grandfather’s hand in his own. “How have you been?” His deep, comforting voice washed over me before I could stop it.