by Willa Blair
Though she could puzzle out some of it, she opened a translation program and sat back in shock when she read the result.
Steal this safe from Scottish soil and cursed be your poor generations with love, like mine, lost too soon. 1746
Dear God. Holt’s mother was right. The family was cursed, and this cabinet was the reason. Caitlin’s heart beat a wild staccato in her chest. It made sense that it belonged to a Jacobite family, a Jacobite healer, since she thought it most likely for a woman to pronounce a curse for a love lost too soon—one who'd been lost at Culloden, perhaps?
The cabinet must have been stolen by an English soldier or noble, sent back to England and from there to America generations later—poor generations later. In this context, that had to mean poor of children, of descendants. Of a future, with only enough to carry on the family name and the curse. An heir, few more. And love lost too soon. Holt knew his family’s tragic history two or three generations back, but she strongly suspected if she could trace it into the late 1700s, the same pattern would appear. The nineteenth-century Christmas stereographic pictures of one adult with one or two children certainly fit.
There was only one answer. Holt had to get this cabinet back to Scotland.
****
Holt pushed his chair back from the desk in the office. Caitlin stood on the other side, fairly vibrating with what she was trying to tell him. He could see her lips moving and hear her voice, but the sounds she made were nonsense. Babbling. A curse carved into a cabinet. Passed down in his family. The source of all the discord…all the heartache…for the last couple of centuries?
“It doesn’t make sense.”
“But it does,” Caitlin objected, her accent noticeably thickened. “Ye are no’ Scottish, so ye didna grow up with this sort of thing. But I did. I’ve seen it.”
“A two-hundred-year-old curse?”
“Aye, and the ghost left behind in my cousin Ian’s estate to guard family treasures just like those,” she argued, pointing up toward the attic.
“Treasures?” Holt scoffed. “They don’t look like treasures to me.”
She started to pace from one side of the desk to the other. “No’ to ye, no’ nowadays, but in the eighteenth century, in a family where men were either killed at Culloden or hunted down and killed afterward for being Jacobite or having Jacobite sympathies…hell, for being Scottish? Aye. When the victors raped the women, stole the clan’s wealth and possessions, and carried the lot back to their estates in England? A curse would make a great deal of sense.”
“I know I told you what my mother thought, but really? I don’t know if I can believe this cabinet is the source—if it’s real.”
She stopped and put her hands flat on the desk, leaning toward him. “Ye did see those photos. The ones with the sad, wee bairn or two and a single adult? Believe them.”
He gestured for her to sit down, surprised when she straightened, then dropped into a chair without argument. “You can’t be certain when or where they were taken, or who the people are in them.”
“Maybe not, but why else would they be here?” She leaned forward, elbows on knees, waving her hands as she talked. “The person who carved a curse into the very thing that likely provided income for her family did so because she knew it would be stolen. The English might have burned the lot, but they didn’t. At the time, that cabinet was probably full of valuable herbs and compounds used by a healer. Things that could have helped wounded clansmen recover. Things the English would have wanted for their own wounded.”
“That seems reasonable.” Holt hated to admit it, but what she found in the cabinet was the first tangible connection to the curse his mother had believed to be real. Maybe not proof, but it made him think.
“In Scotland, healers were often wise women—women with special sight and training in herbs, potions, portents—passed from mother to daughter. So that curse she carved into her most prized possession had teeth. And still does, as recently as your parents’ generation. If I were ye, I’d take it very seriously, and I’d fly that cabinet back to the Highlands as fast as I could get it loaded on a plane.”
That seemed extreme, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud. “It’s really got you spooked.” And what if she was right?
Caitlin sat back and crossed her arms. “If he’s still alive, would you ever want to meet your father?”
The whiplash change of subject floored Holt. “Why? He hasn’t bothered to be part of my life.”
“How could he if he doesn’t know you exist?”
That stopped Holt cold for a long minute. Then he shook his head. It didn’t matter. He had no idea who his father was. His mother said he’d died, and with his mother and great-aunt dead, the family who might have known his father’s name were out of reach. “If he was alive, why would I disturb the life he’s lived without me. He might have another family—”
“Aye, ye might have brothers and sisters and cousins and more. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
“Would it? How would I know?” Christ, she’d pressed her lips into a thin, taut line. An uncomfortable feeling flooded Holt’s belly. Guilt for upsetting Caitlin? “Look, this is all too new—and weird. Can we leave it be for a while? You have other pieces and the catalog to finish. You said you wanted to get home before Hogmanay. Let’s not get tied into knots over one cabinet.”
She sighed, then stiffened. “Fine. But in the meantime, you should make arrangements to send it back.”
“Send it back where?”
“To the Highlands.”
“Where in the Highlands?” Holt snorted. “Put it on a truck, find a likely spot, and dump it beside the road? Advertise it and find a buyer? What?”
“I…I’ll look into it. Jacobite furnishings are collectible even if they don’t belong in a museum. And this one might.”
“Where?”
“If we’re to break this curse, Inverness, perhaps. Or an estate like my cousin’s.”
“Fine, see if your cousin wants it. Problem solved.”
Chapter Nine
Two mornings later, Caitlin had gotten nowhere researching the curse, and Holt had made himself scarce. Working, he told her and waved her away if she happened to catch him on his laptop in the office.
This morning, Caitlin was happy for the diversion of a trip into the village on an errand for Mrs. Smith. Before going to the market, she dropped by the bakery to get pastries and two coffees. As Alice boxed up two luscious chocolate croissants, she told Alice where she was headed. “I still haven’t paid my debt, but I have a good feeling that today is the day to catch Doc Coats for a few minutes.”
“Good luck. I hope he enjoys these. If he does, tell him to come by sometime for more. My treat.” She winked.
Caitlin laughed and promised to deliver the message.
When she arrived at the vet’s office, the reception area was full of anxious pet parents waiting for an appointment or dropping off their fur-babies. Caitlin explained her errand to the receptionist, Rachel, and was taken back to the doc’s office without delay.
“Ye are a hard man to catch sitting still,” she told him after Rachel left them. “But I always pay my debts. I promised ye coffee, and since there’s been a delay, I’ve added interest in the form of a treat from Alice’s shop around the corner. I hope ye like chocolate.”
“Who doesn’t? This wasn’t necessary, but thank you. The coffee is welcome. I was up half the night with a horse…well, I doubt you want to hear the details.”
Caitlin held up a hand. “I won’t take up any more of your time, then. Your waiting area is full.”
“No rush,” Doc said. “My techs will let me know when they need me. I appreciate you giving me an excuse to take a few minutes to revive.” He pulled a croissant out of the bag, bit into it, and smiled. “You’re a lifesaver. This is great. The bakery is around the corner?”
“Alice’s place, yes. It’s so close, I don’t know how you’ve missed it.”
He shrugged. “
Work.” He gestured for her to take a seat in one of the two chairs opposite his desk and sank onto his.
“How does your wife like the crazy hours you keep?”
Doc shook his head. “Not married. Never have been.” He stared into his coffee cup. “Missed my chance years ago.”
“It sounds like there’s a story there.”
He nodded. “A sad one.”
“I’m sorry.” She came here to pay a debt, not make him miserable. “Tell me, then, how did you find yourself in Scotland?”
“It was a few years ago.” He sipped his coffee and leaned back in his chair. “I was still in the Army.” He glanced from Caitlin to the second coffee.
His meaning was clear. He wasn’t in a hurry. Caitlin picked it up and settled in to listen.
“You take the other croissant, too.” He favored her with a grin then continued. “I did some training with mountain rescue teams in your Munros.”
“So ye ken what we call our higher hills.” Caitlin bit into the second croissant and let the chocolate flow happily over her tongue.
“Over three thousand feet, yes. You have over two hundred of them, so there’s ample opportunity for people intent on bagging another Munro to get into trouble, especially as fast as the weather can change up there.”
When she finished chewing, she asked, “How many did you bag?”
“Only a dozen or so. We spent most of the time on Ben Lomond and Ben Nevis, working with dogs to track lost hikers.”
“That sounds exciting. Do you miss it?”
“Not the word I’d use. Gratifying. Sometimes tragic. Deceptively dangerous. But yes, I miss it. You know I’m still doing some search-and-rescue training here. Someday I hope to open a full-scale training center.”
“So you weren’t there to train with them…”
He nodded and finished chewing. “I trained them to work with dogs I also trained.” He finished his croissant just as the receptionist, Rachel, leaned in the door.
“Sorry to interrupt, but you’re needed in Treatment Two.”
Caitlin dropped her unfinished croissant into the bakery bag and tucked it in her purse. “Thanks for taking a few minutes with me. I’d love to hear more, but I’ll get out of your way.”
“Stay here and finish yours.” He moved around the desk and gestured toward the door. “Thanks for the coffee and chocolate. I appreciated the break.”
She’d have to tell Alice he wasn’t unsocial at all, just busy, and he had some interesting stories to tell. Maybe Alice should waylay him the next time she saw him. Caitlin smiled at the thought of playing matchmaker for the two of them. Alice might be just the woman the never-married, chocolate-loving Doc needed.
She sipped her coffee and fished her croissant out of the bag, then took a bite while she looked around the office. As much as she liked Holt Ridley, and as much as she wanted to end his family’s curse and see him happy, she was leaving here in another week. If she planned to make it home for Hogmanay she didn’t have a lot of time to play Santa’s helper. Not and finish the job she’d been hired to do.
Rachel popped back into the office. “Want to see some puppies?”
“Aye, of course.” Caitlin swallowed the last of her coffee.”
“We’ve got five, and they’re beyond adorable. Come on.” With a wave, Rachel led her to the back where animals were boarded while their owners were away. Off in a quiet corner, a box guarded by the mother dog held squealing pups.
“She’s been out,” a vet tech told Rachel before he led another leashed dog out the back door.
Caitlin couldn’t resist the puppies. “Oh, how cute.” She bent down to pet the mother while telling her softly that she wouldn’t bother her babies, just look at them. She glanced around at her friend. “How do you not pick them all up and squeeze them?”
Rachel grinned. “I have to admit sometimes I do. When Mama, there, is outside taking a break. She’s just back from one, or she’d be in the box with them. Oh look. She’s going to feed them.” Sure enough, while Caitlin’s attention was on Rachel, the mother dog had hopped into the box and stretched out by her pups. One by one, squealing, noses twitching, they made their way to her and suckled.
Caitlin squatted and stared to her heart’s content at little pink noses, tips of tongues that peeked out, then disappeared, tightly closed eyes, and big round puppy bellies. “I could watch them for hours. I wish I could take them back to Scotland with me, but they wouldn’t be old enough by the time I leave next week—and then there’s that pesky long quarantine.”
“Next week?” Rachel’s dismay was plain in her tone and furrowed brow. “So soon?”
She pushed to her feet. “Holt talked me into staying to see an American Christmas, but after that, I want to get home in time for Hogmanay—New Year’s to you.” And if Holt agreed, she vowed she’d take that cabinet back to the Highlands.
“Are you going to miss Christmas with your family?”
Caitlin pictured her cousin Ian’s new family and smiled. “They’ll manage quite well without me. Besides, Hogmanay is a bigger party in Scotland, and I’ll be home for that.”
“We’ll miss you, you know.”
“I’ll miss all of you, too. At least we can stay in touch via video chat. You can send me pictures of these wee bairns.”
“I thought I heard voices back here,” Doc Coats said as he entered the room. “Ah, the puppies. Cute, aren’t they?”
“You know they are.”
The bell over the front door chimed, and Rachel left them to take care of their next customer.
“Can I ask you a question?” She didn’t know what he would say, but if she was delicate, he might answer. Her conversation with Mrs. Smith about Holt’s missing father gave her an idea she would pass on to Holt. Surely some of the other older residents in the area might remember him, and recall his mother’s boyfriend’s name. If Holt found some of his old friends, he might learn something. Caitlin was about to exhaust her supply of acquaintances in town. Alice was no help. She’d moved to the area only a few years ago. But Doc Coats used to live here and seemed to be the right age to have known Holt’s mother. Maybe he could tell her something.
“You just asked one.” He grinned.
“Besides that.” Caitlin waved a hand, aware his grin was not quite Holt’s, but not completely different. “You said you lived here for a short time before you went into the service and had your career. You must have traveled all over the world. Why did you come back?”
His expression turned pensive. “None of the places I’d been stationed appealed to me after I retired. I was a med tech in the service but spent a lot of time with K9 units, which gave me a head start on vet school. So I did that, then started looking for a place to settle. I liked this area, or maybe just the girlfriend I left behind.”
He looked uncomfortable enough to make Caitlin wonder if he’d left behind the love of his life. “What happened to her?”
“I came back once on leave and tried to see her. Her aunt told me she was gone. When I tried to convince her to tell me where Jenny was, the aunt claimed she’d died, then closed the door in my face without telling me what happened to her.”
Jenny? Her aunt? Caitlin’s pulse leapt, then slowed as she pictured a younger Jim Coats facing the door that had just been slammed in his face. “I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago. Anyway, none of our school friends knew anything strange. If something had happened to Jenny Cooper, they should have known. Something bad would have made the papers. She just disappeared, and my leave was up. I left town and never looked back until the village vet retired at the right time for me to step in and take over the practice.”
Jenny’s last name was not Ridley, but there was an aunt, just like Holt’s mother had an aunt in her life. Caitlin didn’t want to seem too eager to find out about his past love life, so she asked, instead, “How did you find out about this job?”
“Online, like everything else these days. I checke
d the local paper’s web edition every now and again. Always hoped I’d see some mention of what happened to Jenny. I happened to see an article about the vet’s retirement and got in touch. Coming back permanently was a tough decision. A lot of memories here, not all good.”
“But you came anyway.”
“I always wondered what would have happened if I’d stayed in town. For a couple of years, even after what the aunt told me, I tried to find Jenny, but couldn’t, and eventually gave up. She was the one that got away.”
Without being obvious, she tried to study Jim Coats with Holt in mind while he talked. She thought there might be a resemblance, but her memory, or her wishful thinking for a Christmas miracle and a joyful father-son reunion, could be playing tricks on her.
Could it be? She turned to regard the puppies as she smoothed a damp hand over her pants leg. What if at some point Jenny’s name changed from Cooper to her aunt’s, Ridley, perhaps as a shot at the aunt who tossed her out on the street? Or if the aunt, as guardian, had done it before the pregnancy became known. If so, Jenny did move away, but to a nearby village. A single mother, she would not have stayed in touch with the same circles Jim Coats knew her to frequent from high school. And if she was Holt’s mother, what a shame Doc Coats hadn’t found her—and his son—before she died for real.
Coats moved to the box and squatted next to Caitlin, studying the puppies as they nursed. He reached out to pet the mother before pushing to his feet. “I always hoped her aunt had lied and Jenny married, changed her name, and moved somewhere with someone who made her happy.”
His empathy for the animals in his care was obvious to Caitlin. But how would he react when he found out the truth? He’d said Jenny was the one that got away. Would he be open to the possibility that he had a grown son by the woman who was the love of his life? And who could tell him? Caitlin didn’t think it was her place to break news like that, but so far, she was the only one who might know the rest of Jenny’s story.
