Flynn followed Gail into the living room and hovered over her shoulder as she set the microscope on the coffee table, sat on the edge of the sofa, and pulled the scale from her pocket. She placed it gently on a plastic slide that had been taped to the base.
"Here goes nothing." She leaned over the scope.
Silence. Her jaw tensed and she breathed in quickly as she focused the lens.
Flynn bounced on his toes. There was no way he could sit right now. "What do you see? Is it real?"
"It's a scale, all right." Gail's eye was glued to the lens. "The rings are clearly there, along with breaks in seasons. It's not like any scale I've ever seen."
Flynn squeezed his fists, his short nails digging into his calluses. Good thing his hands were tough. "What's wrong with it?"
"There's nothing wrong, it's just…" She adjusted the knob and the scope moved up and down. "If I'm reading this correctly, there have got to be hundreds, if not thousands of annuli marking the growth."
"What does that mean?"
Gail finally tore her head away from the microscope. Her features held disbelief, awe, and a hint of fear. "It means whatever this scale was attached to is possibly hundreds, maybe thousands of years old."
Bingo. Flynn's stomach seized, and his chest felt like a balloon blown too big. The evidence corresponded with Gail's estimation of the fin size and his theory of how Nessie hibernated in twenty-year increments. After all these years, he'd finally found proof to back it up.
He dropped on the sofa next to Gail and threw his arms around her, burying his face in her blossom-scented hair. "Thank you."
She pulled back to gaze into his eyes. Her worried expression stole the joy from his heart. He had to remind himself every time she proved him right, she proved herself wrong.
"Hey, it's just a scale. It doesn't mean every single mythological creature is true. That scale could have washed up from a long time ago. Just because we found it today doesn't mean it recently broke off of a dinosaur."
"I know, I know. But it's something, right?"
Gail sighed. "I came here to stop everyone from wasting their time. Not to strengthen their beliefs."
He took a strand of her hair and put it behind her ear. "What's so wrong with dreaming, Gail?"
"When you reach for the stars, sometimes you lose sight of what's real, what's important in life. You do everything you can to realize your dreams, and sometimes…" Her voice hitched, and she sniffed back tears. "Sometimes you stretch too far and fall."
"Just because your father didn't come back doesn't mean you have to curse everything he searched for."
"I don't want you, or anyone else, to make the same mistake."
Flynn smoothed her hair, cradling her neck in his hand. "I won't." If only she knew the true reason why he searched for Nessie, maybe she'd understand.
He wanted to lean down and kiss her, showing her everything was going to be all right. Even if the monster existed, the proof wouldn't demean her personal quest. It would only strengthen her resolve to face the truth about her father — that he hadn't wasted his life, and his death had not been not in vain.
Flynn's head dropped, his breath mingling with hers.
Gail gazed at him with eyes full of vulnerability.
A thudding series of bumps drew their attention to the hallway. Tom rushed into the room, panting, and hiked up his loose shorts.
Flynn's head snapped up. Why now? He must have dropped the picture. Good thing Flynn hadn't let him dig for the microscope.
"Something's out there." Tom's usually leather-tanned face was pale.
Flynn's arms dropped from around Gail. "In the water?"
"No, in the woods."
Chapter Thirteen
Blarney's Wisdom
Gail glared at Tom, daring him to interrupt her and Flynn's moment with a practical joke.
Great. Not another wild monster chase.
Tom's eyes widened as he caught his breath. "I'm serious. Something's out there."
Fear edged the normal level of annoyance, making the back of her throat tense up. Gail struggled for a deep breath. This time the monster could be real.
Flynn shot up. "Tom, get your camera."
"Already on it."
As Tom ran up the stairs, Flynn turned to Gail with an apologetic softness in his eyes. "You can stay here if you want, but I have to go."
Wasn't this the exact issue they'd been talking about before? Hadn't she mentioned something about him making the same mistake as her father? Gail's world tipped under her feet and her stomach pitched, threatening to spew the donut she'd stuffed down earlier.
She'd refused to go with her dad the day of his ill-fated expedition because she hated the cold. Maybe if she'd gone with him, she could have provided the voice of reason that would have stopped him from traveling too far.
Gail hardened inside. She couldn't let Flynn go alone. "I'm coming."
"Are you sure?" Flynn rummaged in the backpack he'd left near the door. He pulled out his camera and checked the memory card. "We don't know what's out there."
She rose from the sofa. "I'm sure."
Flynn studied her with a proud smile. "Together, then."
"Wait for me." Tom climbed down the stairs two at a time, lugging two backpacks of equipment. One of his handbags had a long torpedo shape. Why did he need an industrial-sized tripod? She didn't have time to ask because Tom bolted for the door and Flynn followed like an overexcited puppy.
Gail joined them on the hill as Tom pointed to the trees surrounding the beach where they'd come from earlier that morning. "Look."
The canopy of leaves shuddered as if something gigantic plowed through the branches. Sparrows took flight. The sound of a branch cracking echoed over the lake.
Gail thought her eyes would pop out of her head. She felt like she was in a scene from Jurassic Park. "You've got to be kidding me." Were they really going down there?
Flynn started down the hill as if lightning had zapped his limbs into motion. "Come on!"
Gail took off after him, glad she'd chosen sneakers for the hike earlier.
Is this it?
Would she be forever known as the scientist that found the Loch Ness monster? Barreling through the woods, with branches smacking her face and stinging her arms, she wasn't sure she wanted that. Sure, securing proof would bring her a certain level of notoriety, but finding the Loch Ness monster went against every theory she'd written, including her doctoral thesis. She'd sabotage her own work.
Tom called from behind her, "Wait for me!" Besides lugging all that equipment, his beer belly didn't help, and Gail had had a head start down the hill.
"Run faster!" Gail couldn't wait for Tom. Flynn's blue rain jacket flitted between the trees up ahead, and she didn't want to lose him.
Gail ducked under a birch branch and jumped over a puddle with floating leaves. A large, brown hump the size of an elephant's back hunched between the trees. Her heart stuttered, hoping Flynn wouldn't throw himself into trouble.
"Flynn, wait up!"
As Gail parted the branches and threw herself into the clearing, she didn't know what to expect. A gigantic monster holding Flynn in its jaws? The teeth of a deforestation tractor? Absolutely nothing at all?
Instead, a giant tarp had been tied down to the lower branches of the trees using ropes. Flynn stood on the beach, gawking at the construction as if the covering was an alien spaceship crashed to Earth. Gail joined him, catching her breath. "What do think it is?"
"Me hame, that's what it is."
Gail and Flynn whirled around. An old bearded man stepped from the brush, wearing cracked hiking boots, an old, ripped camouflage coat, and a hat made of raccoon fur. It reminded Gail of Tom's toupee.
"Your home?" Flynn stepped toward him, placing his body between the old man and Gail. Gail thought the gesture was sweet, but she could defend herself.
"Richt ye are." The woodsman extended a dirt-crusted hand. His face had deep ridges, as if his skin had
kept growing around his wrinkles. Although his appearance was unkempt, his teeth were clean and white and his blue eyes sharp. "Name's Blarney."
Flynn shook Blarney's hand without flinching, which Gail thought was highly diplomatic and sympathetic. "I'm Flynn, and this here's Gail."
"Nice te meet ye, Gail."
Gail nodded, looking him up and down. "You too." Living in the woods in a national preserve? That was so illegal. "How did you get here?"
Blarney raised his hairy, gray eyebrow and gazed at the sky as if the answer hovered there. He scratched his head under his raccoon hat. "Been livin' here, oh, 'bout the last ten years."
Great. A homeless man.
"No one's caught you living in the forest?" Flynn's shoulders relaxed.
Gail took his cue that the man was no threat.
"Shuir. I've bin kicked oot a time or two. But, I keep comin' back. The place has a hold on me." He smiled. "Good ol' Nessie's awaitin'."
Even better. A crazy, homeless man. What a waste of time. Gail wondered if she should report him when she got back to the cabin, but a small thread of guilt held her back. What harm was he doing living in these woods?
"We're sorry to bother you, sir. We thought you were… someone else." She turned to go, but Flynn held her arm.
He whispered in her ear, "Wait a sec. Maybe he knows something."
She turned to Flynn and lowered her voice. "What could good old Davy Crockett here possibly know?"
Flynn stared at her as though she hadn't heard a thing the old man said. "Something about Nessie."
Gail tilted her head and gave him the I-can't-believe-you-just-said-that expression she used on little kids when they talked about imaginary friends. "We have a lot to do back at the cabin."
"He's old, and he's been living by the lake for a long time. He's got experience and…" Flynn scratched his head, then his eyes lit and he held up a finger. "Wisdom."
"Or more like lice."
Blarney spit on both his hands and wiped them together.
"Let's invite him over for dinner." Flynn's voice lowered even softer. "Looks as though he hasn't had a home-cooked meal in a while." He touched her arm. "Please, Gail?"
Gail couldn't resist Flynn's pleading eyes or his sexy, pouting lips. Flynn was right, the old man could use some help. "All right."
The forest stirred behind them, and Tom emerged in the clearing, dragging his equipment. He gazed at Flynn, Gail, and then the old man. "Where's the monster? Did I miss something?"
Gail put her hand to her face to hide her annoyance. Really? It had taken that long for him to catch up? Had he stopped at the donut shop on the way? The real disappointment came from the monster being an old homeless man, but it was easier for Gail to blame Tom.
Flynn helped Tom lug the equipment to a safe resting place. "There is no monster. It turns out Blarney is setting up a temporary camp."
"Oh." Tom grunted, eying the old man skeptically. "Is he part of our team now too?"
Flynn's eyes glinted. "As a matter of fact, he is."
****
Flames crackled in the fireplace, ever changing as the ripples in the lake. Gail pulled off her sneakers and warmed her toes. Pots and pans banged from the kitchen. She'd wanted to help Flynn cook dinner, but he'd protested, saying two cooks spoiled the brew. So here she was stuck on the sofa with Blarney on one side and Tom on the other.
Tom pouted by his equipment, fiddling with a cracked lens on his video camera. He must have fallen somewhere in the woods when she'd left him behind. If Gail liked him more, she'd have felt sorry for him.
Blarney twirled a stick between two fingers. He studied the end then bit off a piece of bark and carved a sharp tip with his teeth.
Great company. Thanks a lot, Flynn.
"So, how did you get to be… where you are now?" Gail smoothed her tongue over a porcelain veneer her dentist had attached to her broken tooth when she'd fallen off her bike in seventh grade. Just watching Blarney work made her gums bleed.
Blarney held his newly made spear up to the light. "This'll catch a nice, fat squirrel."
"Doubt that's what Flynn's cooking tonight." Tom threw the broken lens into the trash across the room.
"Can't hae hearty pickins every day." Blarney shook his head as if to rid his mind of voices telling him what to do. "Sorry, lass. Ye wanted to know 'bout my past, did ye?"
Gail shrugged. Maybe she shouldn't have asked. "Just curious what brings a man like you to these woods."
"The very thing that's brought you and Tom." He pointed to the kitchen. "And him as well."
Tom leaned forward, smirking as though an old man couldn't possibly know his true reasons. "And what's that, pray tell?"
"Nessie." Blarney whispered the name as if it was an incantation. "Been huntin' her ever since I was a wee lad." He placed his new spear on the coffee table.
"So have we all." Tom stared ahead into the flames as if his mind was elsewhere. Gail felt like the odd one out. She was in a cabin full of loonies.
"Saw her, I did. Way back in fifty-five." Blarney crinkled his eyes and leaned back. "I was oot fishin' with my pa. We were practeecing stayin' very still to nab a guid catch. It was the kynd of night where the hair on yer arms would staund up at the lichtest breeze. Round the lake, the trees were whisperin' like acolytes before thair god. And thare she be…" He made a waving motion with his hand. "Like a queen surveyin' her domain."
The fire crackled in response, and Gail realized both she and Tom were listening to his lunatic story on the edges of their seats.
Blarney closed his eyes, as if remembering back to that night. "She stretched her snout to the moon, and the white licht glistened on her scales. Me pa and I juist gauped, awestrichen as good ol' Nessie dove back intae the depths.
"The neist time I saw her, I was a young man. Seventy-seven it was. A great year. I'd gotten a job at a fishery as a boatman. Came here ivery simmer, lookin' for the beastie I'd seen with me pa. As I was walkin' throu the woods, I came upon that beach. A hulking mass was pullin' at the shrubs, eating every brainch clean of leaves."
He spread his fingers and pointed to the space in between. "Her feet were webbed, like evolution haed morphed her fins into quasi-legs, or the ither wey around. Who knows? She spotted me, then dove intae the water withoot so much as a splash."
These stories were getting more and more unbelievable, and Gail's logical mind reined in her imagination. The only detail that didn't sit right with reason was the dates. Every year corresponded with the drops in fish population and the other sightings Flynn had spoken of. Coincidence? She hoped so.
"Whan I retired, I sold me house and gave my belongings to charity. I had na need for 'um. All I wanted was to find Nessie again. I've been hunting her these past years, chairting her diving patterns, tracking her on land and in the sea, always ane step ahint."
Tom smiled wickedly. "You should confer with Gail. She's onto something with her drops in fish population."
Blarney gaped at Gail as if she had all the answers. "Ye daena say."
Gail shot Tom a look that could kill. "Thanks, Tom."
He folded his hands in front of him. "My pleasure." Then he turned to Blarney. "What are you going to do if you finally catch Nessie? Mount her on your wall?"
Gail shot him a glaring reprimand. Honestly, why say such an inconsiderate, hillbilly remark?
Blarney shook his head violently, as if Tom had suggested he jump off a bridge. "Oh I daena want to kill her. Just see her ane mair time. Some say she wakes to grant leif to ane lost soul. While others say she wakes to take it away."
Flynn popped his head in. "Dinner's ready."
A chill crept across Gail's shoulder as everyone shot up. Blarney and Tom bolted for the kitchen, but she stayed behind, still contemplating Blarney's words.
"Gail, are you coming?" Flynn shouted.
"Yes." The replica of Nessie seemed to stare at her as she walked by, following her across the living room with its cold, dark eye.
The kitchen was warm with spicy smells and golden light, taking away the living room's chill. A steaming shepherd's pie sat in the center of the table along with a plate of rolls. The food smelled like home-cooking heaven, eclipsing any creepy notions Blarney had put in her head.
Gail sat next to Flynn, wondering what other charming qualities he had up his sleeve. The plusses already outweighed his crazy side. But she sensed there was more to him he wasn't telling her, an essential element to who this fervent cryptozoolgist was that would change the way she thought about him.
What? Now I'm psychic? Gail buttered a biscuit. Honestly, one week in the magical hills of Scotland had played with her mind. She'd just have to pry more out of Flynn over time.
Tom took a seat next to Blarney and cut himself a piece of pie. "Too bad we don't have any silver Pacific salmon to go with this. Fresh from the catch. Pan-seared with some garlic sauce and lemon juice. It hits the spot." He smacked his lips.
Gail paused with her fork in midair. Something about the way Tom waxed eloquent about fish seemed out of place. "Fish? With shepherd's pie?"
Tom glanced down and played with his mashed potatoes as if she'd caught him at a game. "Just making conversation."
Across the table, Blarney filled his plate with a heaping piece of pie and some rolls. "Thanks, lad. Hivna had food like this in a long time."
"Help yourself." Flynn smiled. He turned to Gail. "I overheard you talking in the living room, and I think Tom's onto something here."
Gail sighed. Oh no. Not again.
Flynn barreled on, undeterred. "If you work with Blarney charting Nessie's sighting patterns and the drops in fish population in certain parts of the lake, I think you may be able to predict where and when she's going to come up again next."
"I doubt that." Gail tasted a spoonful of mashed potatoes, and the buttery texture melted in her mouth. Man, she could get used to this. "This is delicious."
Flynn held her gaze, his spoon hovering over his uneaten food. "Maybe your data is the missing key Blarney needs."
"No more talk of work. Let's enjoy our night." Despite the feast in front of her, Gail's stomach tightened.
Love on Loch Ness Page 8
