MAN IN THE MIST

by Annette Broadrick

  "Now then, young man," Minnie said over dessert, "tell me how you and Fiona met."

  Fiona quickly said, "Aunt Minnie, I'm afraid you don't under—"

  "Nonsense! I understand perfectly well. He took one look at you and fell in love, which is a mark in his favor. He knows quality when he sees it. Now, then, let him speak, Fiona. You and I can visit later."

  Fiona dropped her head into her hand and closed her eyes.

  Greg spoke, his voice sounding suspiciously amused. At least he didn't break into another fit of laughter. Fiona wished that she could find the situation amusing instead of its being the most embarrassing situation she'd ever experienced.

  "I came to Scotland in search of birth records for my client, who recently discovered she was adopted in Edinburgh, Scotland, twenty-five-years ago. My search led me to Fiona," he said.

  "How could Fiona possibly help you?" Minnie asked impatiently.

  "I was told that Dr. MacDonald might have additional information regarding the adoption. When I discovered he had died, I looked up his daughter in the hope she had the files that might give more details on the adoption.

  "I turned up at Fiona's home several nights ago, lost and running a fever. She took me in, dosed me with some mysterious and potent hot drinks and when I was better she gave me permission to look through her father's files."

  Minnie turned to Fiona. "Why would you allow such a thing?"

  Becky appeared in the doorway as though waiting to hear the answer, as well. Fiona wondered how long Becky had been loitering just out of sight.

  "I saw no reason to deny him access." She met her aunt's steely gaze without blinking.

  "Those files are private, Fiona. They should have been destroyed when your father died."

  "Perhaps. But they weren't, so I let Greg look at them while he was recovering from his illness."

  "He has been staying in your home?" she asked incredulously, as though that piece of information had only now registered.

  "He wasn't well, Aunt Minnie. I decided to care for him there."

  Minnie turned to Greg. "You seduced her, didn't you?" she asked with unfeigned disgust. "You horrid man. While you had the files as an excuse to be there, you had the perfect opportunity to seduce my niece!"

  "Aunt Minnie! How can you say that? He has been a gentleman throughout the time he's been here!"

  There was no humor in Greg's face when he replied. "No, Miss MacDonald, I did not seduce your niece. Regardless of what you think, I am an honorable man. I do not take advantage of people, male or female. I certainly don't prey on innocent women. Your unfounded accusation is insulting not only to me but to your niece, as well." He pushed his chair away from the table. "If you'll excuse me." He stood and left the room. The two women sat there, listening to his footsteps echoing on the tiled floor of the foyer, then the front door opening and quietly closing.

  Silence echoed around them.

  Minnie finally spoke, her voice subdued. "Where do you suppose he's going?

  Fiona studied her hands in her lap. She didn't look up at the question. She shook her head.

  Becky walked silently into the room carrying a coffee tray. When Minnie saw her, she said, "Thank you, dear. I believe we'll have coffee in the library. There's a fire there, isn't there?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Minnie stood and looked around her as though uncertain what to do next. She glanced at Fiona who had also risen. "I offended him."

  "Yes."

  "One of the curses of growing old, I'm afraid. My thoughts suddenly leap out of my mouth before I can stop them. I didn't mean to offend him."

  Fiona offered her arm to her aunt who gratefully took it. They walked out of the room and followed Becky into the library.

  Once they were seated, Fiona asked, "What did you mean to do? You've been interrogating him since we walked through the door, as though he planned to steal all the silver in the house. I've never seen you this rude before, Aunt Minnie. Abrupt and impatient, perhaps. But never rude."

  Minnie made a face. "I know. My behavior was inexcusable. I wanted to protect you, I suppose. I wasn't thinking about how my words sounded." She held her saucer with one hand and sipped her coffee with the other. "He's a very nice young man, you know. I can see why you're in love with him."

  "It isn't like that, Aunt Minnie. I've been attempting to tell you since we arrived that he isn't my young man as Becky thought. He's here on business, that's all. I provided him a place to stay. He's returning home soon, with or without the information he came to find. I thought you might be able to help him. I had no idea there would be such a huge misunderstanding at the time we arrived, or I might not have brought him to see you. There is no romantic relationship. I want to make that very clear."

  Minnie carefully set her cup on the saucer and, equally carefully, placed the saucer on the table next to her chair.

  "There's no reason to lie to me, dear. I understand what it's like to love a man."

  "Aunt Minnie! You aren't listening to me. I am not romantically involved with Greg Dumas!"

  Minnie studied her face for several moments before she said, "I see. Yes," she continued, nodding her head, "I see that now."

  "What are you talking about?" Fiona asked, feeling more and more exasperated.

  "You aren't aware you're in love with him. That's not surprising, really. You've never been one to spend much time with young men. I always suspected that when you finally fell, you would fall hard."

  Fiona wondered if her aunt had slipped away into senile dementia without anyone noticing. Perhaps she would have noticed if she had visited Craigmor more often, she thought with a sense of guilt.

  She reached for her aunt's hand. "You're tired, Aunt Minnie," she said softly. "We've kept you up too late. Perhaps tomorrow you'll be feeling more yourself."

  Minnie drew herself up. "Young woman, there is no reason to speak to me as though I'm dotty just because you haven't recognized your own malady. On the other hand, if you have, you've conveniently put it out of your mind. Would it help you to know that he's very much attracted to you, as well?"

  "No, he isn't. From the little I've been able to discover about him, he lost his wife. He's still grieving—that much I do know."

  "Perhaps he was, when he arrived in Scotland. However, you have shaken him, made him aware that he's still alive. He probably doesn't like that very much," she added with an understanding nod.

  Fiona doggedly pointed out, "He has a young daughter. I'm not sure how old she is."

  "So if things work out between the two of you, you would be starting your married life with a ready-made family."

  Fiona jumped up from her chair, wanting to pull her hair. She paced across the room and stared unseeingly at a row of books. "Why can't I get you to understand that we are not in love with each other and we have no intention of getting married? The idea is ludicrous," she said, working not to raise her voice.

  Her aunt sounded amused. "I understand your frustration, Fiona. I'm having the same problem with getting you to understand that you're refusing to face what's going on between the two of you. Why, the electricity between you is so strong it could light up the entire house. Deny it if you will."

  Fiona spun around. Her aunt calmly watched her, looking unruffled and very sane. Fiona's heart began to pound erratically and she had trouble breathing. Minnie nodded wisely.

  "Becky knew as soon as she saw you with him. You haven't tried to hide it, you know. You glow with your love for him. It shows every time you look at him, every time he speaks. Surely you had some inkling…" She paused, looking at Fiona in dismay. "I'm sorry you find the knowledge so painful, my dear."

  Fiona had returned to her chair and sat while her aunt spoke. By the time Minnie finished speaking, tears ran down Fiona's face.

  "I didn't know," she whispered.

  "Or you didn't want to know."

  "He's going back to New York. He may have left tonight for all I know."

  Minnie sho
ok her head. "No, dear. He'll be back. He left rather than be rude to an old woman who was prying into matters that don't concern her. He won't abandon you here. Believe me. He'll return once he's gained some control." She leaned forward. "If I'd had any doubts about his feelings where you are concerned, they were dispersed when he came so vehemently to your defense." She touched Fiona's hand in a soothing gesture. "The two of you have chosen a difficult path, but I'm a firm believer in the tenet that love will find a way."

  She poured Fiona another cup. "Have some more coffee and then go on up to bed. I'll wait down here for Mr. Dumas. I owe him an apology. I won't be able to sleep until it's delivered."

  "Why are you so sure he'll come back?"

  Minnie smiled. "Where else would he go? You say he came to speak with me, didn't you? In addition, he needs to return you to your home. Sooner or later, he'll be back. I'm wagering that it will be sooner."

  "If you're wrong?"

  "It won't be the first time I've slept in this chair in front of a nice, warm fire. Probably won't be the last."

  Fiona didn't know what to do. She was exhausted from the emotional strain of the past several hours … from the past several days, for that matter. She set her cup on the table and said, "Then I'll go on up. Where do you want me to sleep?"

  "In your old bedroom, of course. We'll talk more in the morning."

  Minnie watched her niece leave the room, her heart aching for the young girl. Whoever said that love was a wonderful state to be in was an idiot. Being in love was painful, particularly when it might be one-sided.

  Each of these two young people was at that stage in their relationship. The situation would be almost comical if it weren't so serious. Minnie had never considered that someday Fiona might move away from Scotland. Fiona was her only relative … her only heir. When she died, Fiona would inherit this home and its contents. In addition she'd already received a well-endowed trust fund from her parents that would continue to provide all her needs for the rest of her life.

  Minnie leaned her head against the chair and closed her eyes. "Ah, Robbie. If only you were here to guide me through this. You were always wise beyond your years … and so sensible about things. Will there ever come a time in my life when I won't wake up missing you, or fall asleep yearning for you?"

  She dozed until the sound of a car in the driveway brought her to full wakefulness some time later. She pushed her way out of the chair and started for the front door, doing her best to hurry before he knocked. There was no reason to disturb the other two occupants of the house at this hour. Becky needed her sleep and Fiona had worried herself into exhaustion.

  Minnie opened the door just as Greg reached the top step. He paused on the edge of the landing and looked at her.

  "I owe you an apology, Mr. Dumas," Minnie said briskly. "Please come inside so that I don't have to contract frostbite to deliver it."

  She wasn't sure he was going to comply. When he did, he made his reluctance plain.

  "I came to get Fiona," he said, slowly walking toward her.

  "Yes, I know. I sent her to bed some time ago. Please come inside."

  She stepped back and allowed him to move past her. She smelled the distinctive odor of ale and nodded to herself. The pub had been an understandable choice for him to make. Perhaps a drink or two had eased his anger somewhat.

  Minnie led the way into the library. Becky had built up the fire before she went to bed but it was now down to embers. Without asking, Greg knelt in front of the fire and replenished its supply of fuel.

  "There's some coffee left. I'm afraid it's cold by now."

  "Doesn't matter," he said, rising from the hearth.

  She sat in her chair and motioned for him to sit in the one that Fiona had occupied earlier.

  "I don't usually blurt out everything that pops into my mind like I did tonight. I'm afraid I was inexcusably rude and for that I am sorry. Becky has made up a bed for you. It's upstairs and to the left. The second door on the right. I believe you'll find it comfortable."

  Greg leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees, his clasped hands between them. "I'm afraid you've accepted me into your home under false pretences, Miss MacDonald. Fiona and I are not a couple. We are not planning a wedding. I'm here on business. That's all."

  She nodded. "I know. Fiona explained all of that after you left."

  "I know it was rude of me to leave that way. I just—" He stopped, obviously searching for words.

  "You didn't want to strangle a doddering old fool and decided a timely retreat was in order." She smiled. "Yes, I know."

  He looked startled, then nodded. "Something like that," he admitted ruefully.

  She settled back into her chair. "Tell me, young man. How can I assist you in your search?"

  "By telling me the last name of a couple whose first names were Moira and Douglas. Moira gave birth in the fall of 1978 and your brother delivered her three daughters. What I need to find out is Moira's last name."

  "I'm afraid I can't help you. They must not have been from Craigmor because I've never heard of them."

  He rubbed his face and sighed. The only sound in the room was the quiet snapping of the fire.

  "I'm curious," Minnie asked a little later. "What do you intend to do if you're unable to find the information you seek?"

  He shrugged. "Go home. There's nothing else I can do."

  "I wish I had the information you're seeking."

  "So do I. I would have thought the birth of triplets would have caused quite a stir in the village."

  "Yes, you mentioned daughters, didn't you? Triplets, is it? I would certainly have heard if someone had given birth to triplets."

  "That was what I was counting on. However, I've searched through boxes of files and found nothing. I'm beginning to believe there's nothing to be found." He rubbed his temple as though he had a headache.

  Minnie watched him for a while as he stared into the fire. When she spoke, he looked startled, either by her voice or her subject matter.

  "Fiona tells me you have a daughter. How old is she?"

  He blinked, his mind obviously on other matters. Fiona knew that he had a daughter? "My daughter?" he repeated, suddenly remembering that he'd been talking to Tina one afternoon when Fiona came home. "She's five."

  "Five. A lovely age. So inquisitive, so full of life."

  "She is that, all right."

  "Before you retire for the night, I was wondering if you'd like to see some of Fiona's childhood pictures."

  His eyes narrowed. Had Fiona mentioned to her aunt that he wanted to see childhood pictures of her? He'd like to tell her to forget it, but the truth was, he was curious about Fiona. Besides, there was nothing wrong with looking at photographs, if that would make her aunt happy. "I suppose so," he said slowly.

  "Do you see those photo albums on the third shelf over there?" she asked, nodding to one of the walls filled with books. "Would you mind bringing them to me? There are three albums."

  Greg crossed the room, slid the albums from the shelf and returned to the area where Minnie sat watching him. "I believe they're self-explanatory. If you have any questions, I'll do my best to answer them."

  Greg opened the first album. He felt guilty at looking through them without Fiona's knowledge or permission and yet his curiosity impelled him. Greg leafed through the albums and followed the pictorial chronicle of Fiona's life, carefully recorded by an untold amount of snapshots… And Jill had accused him of being a shutterbug.

  He continued to turn the pages and watched as the bright-eyed sprite of a baby became a toddler, a little girl, a gangly child and a petite teenager. Many of the photos were with an older couple.

  "I take it these are her parents," he said.

  Minnie smiled. "The photographs are of my brother, James, and his wife. Fiona was adopted."

  "Yes, she told me that in reality she's their niece."

  "So Fiona thinks."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I have no
idea why, but Jamie and Meggie chose to tell her they were related to her."

  "They weren't?"

  "Meggie was an only child and I'm Jamie's only sibling."

  "Fiona has never suspected?"

  "No. However, I am curious. You discovered that your client was one of triplets. What is your client's birthdate?"

  He'd already checked his notes since discussing it with Fiona. "November 28, 1978."

  "Interesting. Fiona's birthday is November 28 of the same year."

  "Yes, she told me she'd been born in the fall of that year. I—" He stopped speaking and stared at Minnie. "You don't suppose—?"

  "I have no way of knowing, of course, but I suspect Fiona and your client may be part of the set. I must admit you gave me quite a start when you mentioned triplets. I never knew about there being multiple births."

  He hesitated, then asked, "You knew I was here in Craigmor before, didn't you?"

  She nodded. "Of course. I had no reason to think I could give you any information regarding triplets."

  "Why did you choose to tell me about Fiona, since she doesn't know?"

  "I hesitate to answer that question. I've said a great deal tonight, some of which I sincerely regret. I don't want to regret anything more."

  "I won't be so quick to take offense next time," he said softly.

  "I have no way of knowing who Fiona's parents were. If she is one of the triplets, I believe she should be told. Although I don't want her to think badly about the story Jamie and Meggie told her, I also don't want to deprive her of the possibility of meeting members of her family."

  "So you told me because—?"

  She chose her words carefully. "I told you because I realized this evening that Fiona might have formed an attachment of sorts toward you. If that is the case, I feel it imperative that I tell you the little I know about the circumstances surrounding her birth. Your investigation may have a strong impact on Fiona. I want to make certain you understand all the ramifications."

  "You're not suggesting that I tell her, are you?"