Celtic Peril (Celtic Storm Book 6)

by Ria Cantrell

  Tom was amazed that the kids even wanted to be in it. The cold numbed his muscles as he pumped his legs furiously against the current. His lungs burned in his chest as he swam as hard as he could toward the little girl. Some of the waves were breaking further out and that was not helping. As a particularly large wave crashed over his head, his mouth was filled with briny water and he sputtered and coughed. Just a few more yards and he would be able to reach her, but it seemed that the closer he got, the further the undertow was pulling her out to sea. Damn it! Focus! You’re a freaking Knight of the Realm, you’ve got this.

  With a final push, using the strength in his arms and legs, Tom reached the girl. He grabbed her arm just as she went under for the umpteenth time. Treading water, he said, “Climb up on my back. I’ve got you. Put your arms around my neck.”

  He felt the weight of the girl as she pulled herself up on him and he hooked her legs around his waist. Still treading he shouted, “Just hold on, okay? Don’t let go even if we go under. Do you understand?”

  He felt the girl nod against his back and he tried to swim towards shore. It was even more difficult to swim against the current, but he had to or the both of them would be goners. His muscles were already fatigued but he dug deep to push himself ever closer to shallower water. As luck would have it, a jet skier was in the area and he raced at full throttle toward the man trying to save the kid from drowning. As he approached, another large wave crashed over their heads and the little girl choked and spit out the salty sea water.

  “Here,” he called. “I can take her.”

  Tom worked on treading the water again so he would not drift away from the guy on the jet ski. As he pulled the girl off of Tom’s back, Tom waved for him to go.

  “Take her. Don’t worry about me. Get her to safety.”

  “Alright, I’ll be back for you as soon as I bring her to shore.”

  Tom watched as the child was taken out of harm’s way and he paddled even as his movements became more and more futile. He was getting tired. His legs were beginning to cramp up and the waves were relentless. It seemed the more he tried to swim back in, the further he was being sucked out. The water temperature did nothing to help and in fact, it increased his fatigue. Try as he might, he could not beat the odds against him. His last conscious thought was of Jenna. At least he would be with her again.

  ~

  Chapter Fifty-Seven ~

  Jenna made her way to the sacred standing stones. It had been the same each day since Tavish was pulled back through time. She walked through the dense brush of the woods leading to the clearing no matter what the weather was like or if the moon was full or not. There she waited, hoping beyond hope that he would come back to her. This day was different. She had an unusual feeling of dread, more than the days before. She knew why.

  It was because it was the last of the year and the day time frame that had been granted to her by the king. He had said that at the end of that day, she would be free to decide her own fate if the betrothal no longer stood. It had been really all she wanted at the time and now she regretted feeling that way. All she wanted was to hold Tavish in her arms one more time. After today, their binding betrothal would be no more. As for her fate, she had no idea what she wanted anymore. Everything she had thought she desired seemed to fade away with the mists of time.

  Jenna had so many unanswered questions. The biggest one was the hardest one to face. Did I love him enough? If she dug down deep within her soul, she would have found that the answer was yes, but right now, as she sat beneath the harsh light of the unforgiving moon, Jenna thought, “Nay. I did nay make the most of loving him.”

  Bronwyn watched her daughter sitting on a large boulder keeping vigil over the Stones. She had so wanted Jenna to find a mate that she forgot what it meant to be a mistress of one’s own destiny. Now, her daughter sat there, broken and lost. She had chosen her mate only to have him snatched from her. Bronwyn wished she could take back the times she and Jenna had argued over the matter. She would give anything to have her vivacious, strong-willed daughter back in place of the ever morose and empty person Jenna had become. Every day, Bronwyn could see a little more of her dying, if not physically, then emotionally and it raked her heart like unrelenting claws.

  Bronwyn knew about that sort of loss. She had almost lost Drew once and she knew that if that had happened, she would have ended up much the same as her daughter now was. It was nay that they pined for lost love. It was that their souls somehow were not complete without the mate of their hearts. Bronwyn completely understood that Morag had carried such a burden for most of her life, yet she had been a vital part of the clan. If only she could go to the woman for counsel now, but as it was sometimes with the Old One, she could not be found.

  Bronwyn went through the woods and sat herself down beside her daughter. With a ragged sigh, Jenna said, “He is nay coming back, is he mum?”

  “I dunna’ know. If he could have, I think he would have by now. I dunna’ think anything could have kept him away.”

  “What do I do now?”

  Bronwyn shrugged. “Ye’ are free to do as ye’ choose, Daughter.”

  Jenna laughed sadly. “Ironic, is it nay? I dunna’ choose anything now. I dunna’ care if I spend the rest of my days forced to marry a man as old as Grandfather. I dunna’ care if ye’ sent me to England or had me locked in a convent.”

  “I know. And I am so sorry for trying to force yer’ hand. Can ye’ ever forgive me?”

  Jenna looked into her mother’s eyes. She seemed to have changed so much since the death of Grandda’. Worry and grief were ever present in her expression. Even her own father could not seem to take it away. Jenna looked at her hands which she wrung over and over in her lap. “There is nothing to forgive. Ye’ only wanted what was best for me.”

  “I worried that if ye’ did nay make a choice, one would be made for ye’ and I did nay want ye’ to be in a loveless marriage. I did nay want ye’ wed to a man Grandda’s age. I wanted ye’ to know a love like I have with yer’ father.”

  “I know that now.”

  “Come, t’is almost morning.”

  “I’m afraid, mum.”

  Bronwyn stroked her daughter’s back. “Why, lass?”

  “I dunna’ know why but I feel like Tavish is dyin’. Do ye’ think I can feel that?”

  Bronwyn nodded. “I do. I suppose he feels that way, too. I think he’ would sense that about ye’.”

  Jenna whipped her head and glanced back at her mother. “I am nay dyin’, mum.”

  “Aren’t ye’? Ye’ are witherin’ away more every day. Soon, I am fearin’ there will be nothin’ left of the fiery Jenna we all knew and loved.”

  “Oh,” she said, looking back at her hands. “I dunna’ know how to change that.”

  “Perhaps not now.”

  “Not ever,” Jenna snapped. She would never allow her heart to open again for any man, no matter what her fate was. She knew it would only ever beat for one man and that man was Tavish MacCollum; Tom Callum. It mattered not what name she gave him, it would remain the same. Time may ease the loss of him, but it would never erase the love she felt in his arms.

  ~~~~~

  Deirdre and Morag both sat beside the hospital bed of their unconscious son. The doctors said that there was not much else they could do. The paramedics had performed CPR on him at the shore, and even though he breathed on his own, they did not know how long he had been without oxygen. They were waiting for the results from the brain scan to see if they could tell the extent of the damage done. He had saved a little girl, they said. He was a hero. Heroic deeds meant nothing to those left behind. The two women who had been separated by time, now sat unified with prayers for the man who seemed closer to death than the pull of life. Their son was going to die and there wasn’t a damned thing they could do about it.

  Turning to Morag, Deirdre said, “I don’t know how you could have been able to bear to leave him.”

  “I wanted him to hav
e a chance at life. I couldna’ bear it. I grieved for him my entire life.”

  “I can’t bear to lose him, now. But I would let him go if it meant he would live. I understand that now. His love was back in your time. If only he could fight for his life, I would gladly let him go to be with her again. At least I would know that he was happy. You see, Morag. I do understand how you felt.”

  “Aye, I knew that ye’ would.”

  Deirdre unfolded the letter again and re-read it for the hundredth or so time. It was filled with words of love and thanks. It spoke of a deep happiness that had been found even though his life had been joyful and wonderful. Love was the most important thing; Deirdre knew that. She said, “Can you help him? I am ready to let him go, but not to death.”

  “I dunna’ know. I need to appeal to the Guardians. Perhaps they will take pity on him and deliver him from the grasp of death.”

  “Guardians? Do you mean like angels?”

  “I suppose something like that. They aid the One God in His plans. Perhaps they are angels, for I know not. I have known mere mortal men, who were great while living to be elevated to become Guardians once they had crossed into the afterlife.”

  Deirdre took Morag’s hands and said, “Please, speak to them for our son.”

  “I will speak to them, but I canna’ promise anything. What has been written has been written.”

  “Written! Oh my God, the letter. Morag, this letter--it’s from Tom to me. In it he wrote that he chose to stay.” Deirdre’s eyes lit with the revelation.

  “So he did. I had thought it was the Guardians who called him back, and mayhap it was, but now, I think mayhap, it was just a mistake. He should nay have ever been back here; so he should nay have ever drowned. They will listen to my reasoning. I need a place; a quiet place where I can summon them. Do ye’ know of such a place?”

  “Yes. The hospital chapel. I think it is mostly empty. Come with me, I will show you the way.”

  Morag walked beside the woman who had found her young sick son so long ago. The corridors were stark white as she remembered that fateful day when she had left her son to be cared for by strangers in order to save his life. This was the same place; she had come full circle. Mayhap t’was a sign that she would be able to bring him home after all.

  ~~~~~

  Tom’s eyes felt like an ocean of sand had been poured in them. So did his throat. He tried to open his eyes, but it took every ounce of strength to do so. Slowly, with great determination, he was able to pry open one eye. His vision was quite blurred and he tried to focus on the figures standing beside his bed. He opened the other eye, just a slit and saw a tall man standing beside Morag. Why was Morag standing by his bedside? His head hurt too much to think, and he just wanted to sleep; peaceful oblivion; free of heartache and pain. He felt himself being shaken awake again and he tried to focus his sight from the haze.

  “Lad. Ye’ have to come back to us. Ye’ made me a promise that ye’ would take care of my lass. I dunna’ take kindly to those who break their word.”

  Tom’s eyes opened widely for a moment and he quickly shut them again. Holy shit, I must be dead!

  There, standing before him was Caleb MacCollum. Now he knew he must have drowned in the sea trying to save that little girl.

  “Come on, lad. Open yer’ eyes. Yer’ a knight, damn ye’. Do what knights do. Fight.”

  Tom moaned and forced his eyes opened again. The stark light caused blinding pain to sear into his skull as he tried so desperately to see.

  “Am I dead,” he croaked. His voice felt raw, as if he had swallowed ground glass.

  “Nay, lad. Not yet, but ye’ soon shall be if ye’ dunna’ fight.”

  “I don’t want to fight. I want to be left alone. What are you doing here anyway? Aren’t you dead?”

  Caleb smiled and said, “I was.”

  “This must be one crazy ass dream,” Tom rasped. He must have been pretty close to death if the dead laird was visiting him.

  “I’m ready to go with you, Caleb, if that is why you have come.”

  “I’ve come to kick some sense into ye’. Only, as a Guardian, it would be frowned upon. Did ye’ or did ye’ not promise to take care of my lass? Ye’ made that vow on my death bed.”

  “Wait, what? Guardian? What are you talking about?”

  Morag held a glass of water to her son’s lips and she said, “Take a drink. It will help ease yer’ throat.”

  Tom gulped the cool liquid down and even though it felt like icy razor blades, he welcomed the water for his thirst.

  “Now then, t’is very complicated, but Caleb is now a Guardian.”

  “What the hell is a Guardian?”

  “They are the people deemed worthy to assist the Creator to fulfill His plans for the souls that dwell on earth.”

  Caleb flashed a lopsided grin and said, “Can ye’ imagine that, lad? They found me worthy.”

  “So you aren’t dead, then?”

  “I am neither dead nor alive, lad. I am just here to help ye’. Ye’ve been quite ill. People are very worried about ye’. These men, these physicians, they can find no reason fer’ ye to be in the state ye’ are in. Ye’ were supposed to heal, but have nay done so. Morag believes that yer’ spirit was dying, and ye’ were takin’ yer’ body with it.”

  It took effort, but Tom rolled onto his side and grumbled, “Then let me die in peace.”

  “I canna’ do that, lad. T’is nay part of the plan. Ye’ were nay supposed to be back here, by wrote of yer’ own words. T’was an accident, and so ye’ were nay supposed to die by drowning. Only, ye’ saved a little girl so yer’ being here now has been redeemed.”

  Turning back and looking over his shoulder at Caleb and Morag, Tom asked, “What does this all mean?”

  “Lad, yer’ lass is dyin’, too. Not her body, but her spirit. Ye’ promised me ye’ would take care of her.”

  “Jenna is already dead. There is nothing more I can do.”

  “Aye, in this time, she would be, but where ye’ left her she lives. She may as well be dead for all life has left her eyes, her spirit and her soul. She is dyin’ because she waits fer’ ye’ to come back to her.”

  Suddenly, Tom started to feel the strength coming back into him. It was not so much an effort to sit up now. He pulled himself into a sitting position and he said, “Can I return to her?”

  “Is that what ye’ wish, lad?”

  “Yes. I wish it.”

  “Then get yerself well so ye’ can be with her.”

  “But how?”

  “Lad, ye’ are Morag’s son, after all.”

  Caleb said that with a wink and when Tom next looked, Morag stood alone with him in the hospital room.

  “Is it true, Morag? I just need to click the ruby slippers and you’ll take me back?”

  “Pardon? What are these slippers that ye’ speak of?”

  “Never mind,” Tom laughed. He felt his life returning steadily with each passing moment.

  “When can I go?”

  “Once ye’ get better.”

  Tom nodded. Yes, he would have to get better. As he felt hope well inside him for the first time in weeks, Deirdre and Dan, his parents opened the door.

  “Look who’s awake, Dee!”

  “Tommy! Oh Tommy!”

  “Hi, mom,” Tom said, embarrassed by his mother’s outburst.

  “You went for one hell of a swim.”

  “I know. I think I’d rather be locked in a storage closet then to go into the raging undertow again.”

  Danny and Deirdre looked at each other and both shrugged. Deirdre spoke to Morag and said, “Did you tell him?”

  “I thought I would leave that to ye’.”

  Tom pulled himself up further by the handrails on the side of his hospital bed. He was careful to not dislodge the I.V. that was protruding from the back of his hand. “Tell me what,” he asked.

  “That I, well, I read your letter to me and your dad. I know that you need to go back to th
at girl; to your Jenna. Morag and Kiera filled us in about what had happened there. We want you to go and fulfill your destiny. It is not ours to hold any longer.”

  “But Mom, Dad, I don’t know if I will ever see you again. Are you sure?”

  “Son, you have ever been the joy in both of our lives. When we learned we couldn’t have children of our own and God saw fit to literally drop you on our doorstep, we have always felt beyond blessed. We can’t hold you back from what your heart calls you to do. Besides, I have a feeling we will see you again.”

  “Oh really? How is that?”

  The three people that had been his parents exchanged glances and Tom said, “I know, I know. I am Morag’s son, after all.”

  ~

  Chapter Fifty-Eight ~

  Jenna pulled herself up from the large stone. With quiet resolute acceptance, she realized that Tavish was not going to come back. Her heart felt like it was going to explode inside her ribs and it hurt to even breathe. She could not even cry for she had cried so many tears in the past months that she felt like there were no longer any more left to shed.

  Gathering her skirts into her hands, she stood to go. Bronwyn linked her arm through her daughter’s. She felt sad for her and she prayed that someday, the light would come back into her life. She also knew that today would not be that day. With one last look back toward the standing stones, Jenna gulped down a tearless sob. Bronwyn guided her away and they started to make their trek back to the keep. Jenna would never go to the circle again. She had made herself that silent vow. It was over. The Fates had spoken. Probably punishment for all she had done.