He let her go and she was off and running. A loud crash made her pull up short just as she was about to enter the chamber in which she had seen Duncan. The end of the corridor where Alexander had just been standing, formerly blocked by a four-foot-high pile of rubble, had completely collapsed in on him.
“Oh no! Alexander, noooo!” The words ripped from her throat and her heart felt as if it were crushed in her chest. The roar of crashing stone walls and the snapping of heavy wood beams drowned out her horrified screams.
He’s dead! Alexander was crushed under the collapsing stones.
Suddenly, out of nowhere a hand grabbed her arm and she was dragged into the dungeon room. Duncan urged her across the room and literally pushed her beneath the heavy wooden table that had held all of Imogen’s magical paraphernalia. Gusty sat there numb to the core as she listened to the walls crumbling all around them.
She had lost him. She had lost her one true love!
Chapter Twenty-Five
Indian summer had arrived once again—her favorite time of the year. Halloween was only a week away and Gusty wanted to make it a memorable occasion for her guys. With the help of Mrs. McClure, her landlady, Gusty had planned a small costume party, inviting all the neighbor children over for games and treats.
As she walked down to the mailbox she sighed a little sadly. She always enjoyed the long walk down the narrow country lane. The afternoon stroll had become a ritual. Every day for the last six months she had made the same trek and it usually gave her pleasure and peace of mind. The panorama of the high blue mountains in the distance and the sloping green valley below her was breathtaking. She had chosen this small community in the rolling hills of Idaho for the sole purpose of the security and privacy she found here.
In the beginning they had both been overwhelmed by the transition. It had been hard losing everyone they loved in less than a few moments of a devastating nightmare. Their life in the twelfth century had come to an abrupt end that fateful day just over a year ago.
After Duncan had pulled her beneath Imogen’s sturdy worktable, the room caved in around them, taking one end of the table down with it. Gusty held Duncan close and they’d waited for the death that was sure to come but the end of the heavy wood table above them saved their lives.
When the last ominous sounds of crashing stones and creaking timbers faded and the dust settled Gusty and Duncan had somehow survived, unharmed, lying under one end of the table in a small space covered in bits and pieces of debris that had fallen from it as it collapsed. They were alive but they were still trapped, buried under tons of rubble with no chance of digging out. Gusty had felt like weeping for the helplessness of it all but then she’d felt the small body clinging to her, trembling, and she knew she must be strong for Duncan.
Gusty tried her best to comfort the boy but it had been hard to keep the hopelessness out of her voice. If anyone else had survived the disaster, it would take days to dig them out—if anyone even attempted a rescue. There was a good chance they would be given up for dead.
“What are we going to do, Gusty?” Duncan had asked.
He’d wanted her reassurance and she’d not been sure she could give it. She’d mentally shrugged and let her arms drop to her sides in a hopeless gesture. There was absolutely nothing she could have told him in that moment that wouldn’t have been an outright lie. And Duncan was smart enough to recognize the truth.
Then beneath her hand she had felt a familiar object and she’d moved her fingers over it to reassure herself that she’d found something useful. She explored the item with her fingers and had felt like shouting for joy. Her heart had raced as she’d sifted through the small bits of rubble around her legs until she found what she had been looking for and then she’d smiled broadly and sent up a silent thank-you prayer for small miracles. She’d discovered a way out—but she’d need to work a little magic. When she lifted her hand to Duncan’s small face and felt the wet cheeks beneath her fingers she groaned in compassion and had placed a kiss on his dusty forehead.
“Duncan, lad, I have to be totally honest with you and I need for you to be very brave. No one is going to come and rescue us. We are buried under too much rubble.”
“I know, Gusty, we are going to die.”
He’d spoken with little feeling and she’d feared he was going into shock. She remembered how his small body had trembled against hers.
“Now that is something I need to talk about with you. If there were any other way out of here, I would not even consider what I am considering.” She’d paused as she felt him raise his head as if listening to her intently. “There is a slim chance we can get out of here but it will mean doing something you might find a little unusual. Do you believe in magic, Duncan?”
“Aye,” he said but his tone had reflected his doubt.
“Good, because I have a little magic to show you.” As she spoke she’d placed the fat candle she found in one of his hands. “Hold this and don’t move.”
In the dark she made a couple of strikes with the flint and steel she’d also found and in the flickering light she could see the candlewick. On the fourth strike the flame had caught and flared, giving them a beacon of light in their dark world, a bit of hope.
“Ooooo! Oooo, Gusty, thank you, you do know magic! I do not like the dark!”
“Neither do I, Duncan, neither do I. But this candle will not last long and we need to use it wisely.” She’d shifted his small body off her lap, which had been no small task in the confining space. “We need to find the large black book Imogen had on this table. If some of the candles fell down here there is a good chance other things fell as well.” She’d moved small rocks and rubble around and twisted to reach as far as she could back underneath the collapsed part of the table. At first she’d found nothing but then her fingers had come in contact with what had to be the book. But as much as she’d stretched she could not get a good hold on it. She’d tried to wedge herself into the small area so she could pull it free but she found she could not move it. She remembered that moment of disappointment.
“I can’t quite get hold of it.”
“Let me try.”
They’d maneuvered around until Duncan managed to wedge himself into the sloping area until he got both hands on the book.
“Can you pull me back now?”
Gusty had grasped him about the waist and slowly dragged him back. The book came with him. But her relief had been short-lived as the candle flickered and she realized their air supply was dangerously low.
“I do not have time to explain what I am going to do in any detail. I need you to trust me and I will do my best to get us out of here. All I can tell you is that magic brought me to you in the forest the first time and now magic will save us both. I know you don’t understand what I’m trying to tell you. But someday you will. For now you will just have to trust me and do as I say. Okay?”
Duncan had stared at her with a wide, puzzled gaze but he’d nodded in agreement.
She remembered the hopeful look on his face when she’d handed him the candle. She’d been careful as she pulled the book onto her lap and turned the pages, looking for the incantation Imogen used to take Gusty back to the twelfth century. She’d prayed her idea would work. The candle had flickered lower and sputtered. With flying fingers she’d searched for the words of the spell and then she’d taken Duncan’s small, trembling hand in hers and she’d chanted the spell she hoped would transport them to the future. The words were barely out of her mouth when the candle had gone out, leaving them in total darkness.
When she and Duncan had first landed in the future she was shocked to find it was only a week or so later than when she had disappeared into the past. She didn’t understand why but it seemed the time continuum between the past and the present moved at different speeds. While she had spent over a year in the twelfth century, when she and Duncan traveled back to the twenty-first century the worm hole had spit them out close to the same date she had started her fantast
ic journey.
Their crashing arrival into the future had not gone unnoticed. They received odd looks from one pedestrian and from a woman driving by in her car when they suddenly appeared in the middle of the sidewalk, covered in dust, their ancient Scottish clothing tattered and torn. She had managed to flag down a taxi to take them to her house.
When they arrived Gusty was surprised to find her car parked in the driveway. Michael must have moved it there before he made his way to twelfth-century Scotland. Finding the spare key under a garden stone, Gusty pushed Duncan into their temporary sanctuary.
A knock on the front door reminded her that she again had monetary responsibilities. She opened the door to find the taxi driver, waiting to be paid his fare.
“Sorry. Just a minute.” She found a twenty, handed it over, thanked him and closed the door.
They had stayed there until Gusty made arrangements with a real estate agency to sell the property. With money from the sale and the substantial amount of money in her bank account she and Duncan started a new life in a new century.
Gusty had decided from the moment they materialized back in the future that night it would be best to find a secluded area where Duncan could adjust to this new world and his new life. But she had not needed to worry about the young boy. He was adapting well, much better than she had expected in fact. He liked everything about the twenty-first century—the clothes, the food and the books and magazines with pictures.
Four months after arriving back in the twentieth century she delivered her son, Seamus Alexander Malcolm Michael Sutherland. He had come screaming in protest into this world after being expelled from the warm and safe haven of his mother’s body. Gusty had been delighted when her new son was placed in her arms for the first time but tears blinded her as she realized he would never know his father.
Seamus seemed to take on more of his father’s characteristics with every passing day. Gusty tried not to dwell upon those last few moments she’d held Alexander’s hand in hers and looked into his beloved face. Instead, she put all her energies into her infant son and young nephew. Her two little guys… The boys were quite a handful. But she would have them no other way, even if she needed a few minutes to herself once in a while. That was why she enjoyed the walk to the mailbox to collect what little correspondence they received.
Mrs. Anna McClure had volunteered to watch Duncan for an hour or so every afternoon when she found out Gusty was a single parent, just to give her a break. At first she had resisted the offer but when she became heavy with her pregnancy she had accepted the extra help with pleasure. The arrangement worked out well for both women—Gusty had someone to take care of Duncan when she went to the local hospital to have Seamus and Anna was a single grandmother who loved children but had none who lived very close. Gusty had been grateful for her help, especially when she came home with the robust, squalling boy eight months earlier. The baby took up a great deal of her time. He was definitely his father’s son, big and loud and demanding.
Right now, Mrs. McClure was up at the house making Duncan’s favorite cookies and listening to his stories and answering his never-ending questions. The child had proven to be a great comfort to her, especially on her blue days and there had been many of those. He was bright and cheerful for the most part, and he was adjusting well to his new environment. He kept her busy with his constant demands on her time, asking for explanations for each new discovery.
Flipping open the squeaking mailbox door, Gusty looked inside to find several pieces of mail awaiting her perusal. She pulled them out and closed the box and then turned to retrace her steps back up the lane to the farmhouse. She absently glanced through the envelopes, reading the return addresses. Bill, bill, junk mail…what the—? Gusty stopped dead in her tracks. She clutched the letter tightly as the rest of her mail fluttered to the ground.
The plain white envelope looked like any other but the scrawling handwriting on the front was familiar, the lettering large and bold, flowing with elegance and power. Was it possible? Maeve?
Her breath stilled for a moment and then she began to hyperventilate. Surely this was a joke. She glanced around, half expecting to find Duncan peeking out at her from behind a tree to see how she reacted to his prank, but no…Duncan was with Mrs. McClure, back at the house, and his penmanship had a long way to go before he could form such fancy letters… Gusty shook her head and ripped open the envelope.
Inside was a plain white invitation, one that could be purchased from any stationary store, with the words You Are Cordially Invited printed in gold-leaf letters across the front. She lifted the flap and read the invitation’s details. Frowning, she re-read the words. Something seemed…odd. The language…this wasn’t English. The entire text was written in…Gaelic? The address on the front of the envelope had been in English but the inside of the invitation was written entirely in that old Scottish language. In essence it translated to read:
You Are Cordially Invited
To witness the union of
Clan Sinclair and Clan Mackay as
Isabelle MacKay
And
Malcolm Sinclair
Are married in a
Ceremony of jubilation
On Saturday, the thirty-first of October
At seven o’ clock in the evening
Sinclair Castle
Scotland
Tears filled Gusty’s eyes and she had to wipe them away before she read through the information again and again. Hope bloomed anew in her heart.
I can go back! We can go back! Bless you, Maeve and Hagen!
Clutching the invitation to her chest, she ran up the lane toward the house. She took the stairs two at a time and burst through the door, calling for Duncan. He and Mrs. McClure appeared in the kitchen doorway with worried looks on their faces. Duncan clutched his favorite food in his hand, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
“What is wrong, Gusty? Why are you yelling?”
“Pack your things, Duncan. We are leaving for Scotland,” she announced as she headed up the stairs to their rooms. “Mrs. McClure, Anna, I need to talk to you about the house. Could you make some coffee, please? I need to get my lock box from my room. Oh God! There is so much to do. It looks as if Duncan and Seamus and I are moving to Scotland.”
“Moving to Scotland?” Duncan followed at her heels. “But, Gusty, you said you never wanted to live there again.”
Gusty paused on the stairs. “I know what I said, Duncan. But we have been invited to a wedding.”
“Do we know anyone in Scotland?” he asked.
Gusty continued on to the second floor and Duncan followed her as he ate his sandwich and watched her frantically pull her suitcases from the top of the closet and lay them out on her bed. She then reached for the small metal box and turned to answer him.
“We have family in Scotland, Duncan.”
“Oh? Who?”
“Don’t ask questions now. I will explain later. Right now there is a lot to do and very little time to get it done. I have to call and make reservations for our tickets. We have one week to get everything organized before we fly to England.”
Duncan’s eyes lit up. “We will ride on a plane?”
“Oh yes. We will fly on a plane for hours,” Gusty assured him and laughed at the little jig he did around the room. He had been pestering her for some time to let him ride on the great silver planes…ever since they had come to the future and he had seen one fly overhead. Now he would get his wish.
“Yaaaay!”He yelled before he turned to leave the room but Gusty called out to him as he stepped into the hallway.
“You need to pack, too, Duncan. There isn’t much time and you can only take some of your things. You will have to pick and choose those that you most want and only what will fit into two suitcases, understand?”
“Aye, two suitcases. I will pack at once.”
“But your room is the other way.”
“Aye, I know, I am going to pack the PB&J.”
&
nbsp; She laughed at his answer. The boy was hopelessly addicted.
Gusty spent the rest of the afternoon explaining everything to Mrs. McClure. It took a little talking but Gusty finally convinced Anna to accept the rent for six months for leaving her without a paying tenant on such short notice. She also planned to leave all her possessions to her landlady. She had no use for them. One suitcase to make the trip to Scotland would do her. If extraordinary circumstances took her to her heart’s desire what use did she have for anything from this century?
Chapter Twenty-Six
October 31st. Scottish Highlands, Sinclair Castle. Dusk.
Gusty drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Having the driver’s seat on the right side of the car was strange. The small foreign model felt strange to her. She glanced in the rearview mirror to assure herself that her two boys in the backseat were behaving themselves. Duncan grinned and wiggled a finger at her before he turned his attention to the scenery flashing by. Seamus was fast asleep, suckling his bottom lip in his dreams. She brought her gaze forward as the car bumped over another rut.
“We are almost there, Duncan. Just a few more yards,” she assured him.
“Are you sure? This does not look like any holding I ever saw.”
Gusty laughed. “Aye. I am sure.” Thrilled to be back in the Highlands of Scotland she breathed in the scent of sweet wild grass as they drove past a stretch of flower-strewn green meadow. Memories of walking through such a meadow and feeling the warm sun on her face made her smile. A sudden shadow covered the car. She glanced up at the dark clouds blowing in and frowned at the threat of rain.
“Just a bit farther,” she whispered, hope in her heart at what lay ahead.
Her anticipation grew as she drove the rental car down the seldom-used, narrow drive. The road wound through overgrown hedges and around large toppled stones that had at one time been part of an ancient wall surrounding the once impressive Sinclair Castle.
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