Tangled in Time (The McCarthy Sisters)

by Barbara Longley

  “All right. Let’s do this thing.” Grayce opened the door and held it for her and Meredith. “Ohhh, can we stop in the gift shop on the way out? I have two credit cards I haven’t maxed out yet,” she said, coming up beside them.

  Regan huffed out a laugh. “Sure.” Despite the constant ache of missing Fáelán, she did feel a little stronger today, and she had her sisters to thank. “I’m so glad you two are here.” She glanced from Grayce to Meredith. “Follow me.” Regan led them to the main floor exhibit hall and to the case holding Fáelán’s armband.

  “Oh, my God,” Meredith muttered. “This place is packed with spirits.”

  “I know, but we aren’t going to spend more than a few hours here. If we can help more than one ghost during that time frame, fine. If not, we cut them off.”

  “Fine by me.” Grayce peered into the glass case. “Setting limits and taking care of yourself first is a good thing, Rae. Mom and Dad have a tendency to push too hard, especially with you two, because you see dead people. Lucky for me, visions can’t be forced.”

  “I know better than to let anyone push me anymore.” She was going to be a mother, and dammit, she would live a balanced life. From now on, what she did or did not do with her gift of sight was entirely up to her. “I’ve decided to help ghosts I randomly encounter, but I’m not going to get involved anymore with the living who want to commune with their dearly departed. Dealing with grief-stricken people only leads to dealing with more grief-stricken people, and that’s what got to me. It’s hard to say no to people who are in so much pain.”

  She had a much better understanding now of what that grief entailed: exhaustion, the numbness and detached feeling, the constant empty ache and the anger. Fáelán chose staying in the third century over her, dammit, and now he was gone. Really gone. Constantly being around others who grieved, the bereaved who were unwilling to let go, would not help her move on.

  “Speaking of closure, how are you doing? Is there anything Grayce and I can do to help you cope with your loss?”

  Regan’s gaze caught on Fáelán’s armband, and her breath hitched. She still sensed his energy as strongly as ever. How was that possible? “I’ve been thinking about how to say goodbye to him ever since I woke up this morning. When the time is right, I’m going to trespass onto Newgrange again. At first I didn’t think I could bear being anywhere near the site, but saying my final farewell where Fáelán and I met feels . . . right. I’ll hold my own service for him at sunrise.”

  Grayce ran her hand back and forth across Regan’s shoulders. “We’ll go with you.”

  “No.” Regan shook her head and sighed. “I need to do this by myself. It’s hard to explain, but letting him go will be the last intimate moment I’ll ever have with Fáelán. I don’t want to share that with anyone.” A few tears trickled down her cheeks, and Meredith handed her a tissue. “Thanks. I’ll always love him, you know?”

  “Of course we know, and the three of us will do something special when you get home, something to mark the moment.” Grayce patted Regan’s back.

  “I’d like that.” She sniffed.

  Meredith moved closer to the display. “Which one of these was his?”

  “The wolf effigy with the garnet eyes.” Goose bumps rose on Regan’s arms and the back of her neck as the temperature took a sudden drop. “Take your places. We have company.”

  Grayce moved a short distance away to stand where she could watch the entrance to the Ireland’s Gold exhibit. Regan turned to face the spirit, relieved to find the same lost and confused young woman she’d encountered before. Meredith took her place, so she faced Regan.

  “Help me,” the spirit’s whispery voice implored. “I want to go home. I can’t find my way, and I don’t know where I am.”

  “We’re here to help you,” Regan told her.

  “Can you tell us where you come from?” Meredith added. “What is the name of your village? If we knew, we could direct you there.”

  Another entry for her manual on ghost-whispering: say whatever it takes to help a confused spirit cross over. Regan stood in front of the case filled with gold artifacts, listening as the ghost described where she’d lived. “You aren’t far from home,” she lied. “Look.” She pointed in no particular direction, knowing it would take a while yet to get through to a spirit who had lingered as long as this one had. “Do you see? There’s the path leading to your village.”

  Grayce warned them tourists were on their way, and Meredith shifted, so it appeared as if the two of them were talking about what they saw in the exhibit in front of them.

  “I miss my children and my husband,” the young woman said, still stuck in the loop of her fear and confusion. “I don’t know why I’m here. I want to go home.”

  “We understand,” Meredith said, her tone compassionate. “Will you let us help you?”

  The spirit truly looked at them then, and Regan smiled. “Please allow us to see you on your way home to your husband and children.” It took a long time and a lot of persistent repetition before she and Meredith finally got through to the confused soul, but the young woman finally grasped the fact that they really could help her.

  “I would be most grateful for your help. My husband is a rich and powerful man. He will reward you for your aid to me.”

  “We need no reward, my lady. Look behind you,” Regan told her. At this point, it was crucial to keep the ghost’s attention off the case holding the bracelets she’d attached herself to. “Do you see the road?” Regan glanced at Meredith, mentally handing her the baton in their tag-teaming effort.

  “Do you see the way, my lady?” Meredith pointed away from the gold artifacts.

  “I do! I see the path.”

  “Good. Your family will light the way for you now.” Regan studied the apparition, gratified to see the woman’s gaze fixed upon the direction Meredith had pointed. Once a spirit took on that faraway look, they were close to crossing over. “Do you see the light?”

  A whispery gasp, and the ghost began moving. “I see my husband. He . . . he is beckoning to me.”

  Regan smiled at the happiness infusing the spirit’s whispery voice. “That’s wonderful. Go to him.”

  “Incoming,” Grayce said, nodding toward the stairway leading to the exhibit.

  The confused spirit now moved with purpose, her face lit with joy. The group of tourists entered the exhibit just as the ghost crossed over. The temperature returned to normal. “We’re done here, and I’m starving.” A deep satisfaction settled over her. She could do this; she could help spirits cross without losing sight of her own life.

  Meredith surveyed the hall. “I’m sensing a lot of clamors for help.”

  “I know, Mere. Me too. There will always be a clamor for help, but we don’t always have to answer. We deserve to have lives, and right now my life includes needing to eat.”

  “I guess you’re eating for two now, huh?” Grayce teased as the three of them made their way out of the museum.

  “Other than having to pee frequently, I don’t really feel pregnant yet. It’s still really early.” She tried to imagine herself with a huge belly in front of her. “I guess that’ll change quickly enough.”

  “I’m looking forward to being an auntie.” Meredith smiled.

  “Me too. Don’t forget, I want to stop at the gift store,” Grayce said, hurrying ahead of them. “I won’t take long.”

  Meredith stood beside Regan at the edge of the gift store while Grayce shopped. “A lot has happened in the past several weeks, hasn’t it?”

  “It has. You were right when you said my mind would be blown. Everything I experienced has changed the way I look at the world.” She glanced at her sister. “I’ll be all right, you know. Eventually.” She blew out a breath. “Wow. How am I going to explain all of this to Mom and Dad? It’s hard to imagine; Mom and Dad are going to be grandparents, and you and Grayce are going to be aunts.”

  “I wonder what your little one’s gifts will be.”

/>   “Me too.” No matter what his or her gifts were, Regan would not push her child to do anything he or she didn’t want to do.

  Grayce joined them, holding out her wrist so they could admire her bracelet. “What do you think? It’s made to look like the gold band around the Ardagh Chalice.”

  “Very Celtic. It’s nice,” Regan said as they headed toward the exit.

  Meredith held the door open. “The National Gallery of Ireland is only a few blocks from here. I read they have a gourmet cafeteria. Do you want to eat there before we head to Christ Church?”

  “Yes, and I love you two,” Regan said, her eyes tearing again. She swiped at her cheeks. “Lord, this is annoying.”

  Grayce flashed her a sympathetic look. “Do you remember the story Mom told us about how she knew she was pregnant with me and Meredith?”

  “Yeah, I do.” Regan smiled through her tears. “She was reading the Disney version of The Fox and the Hound to me, and by the end of the story, she was bawling like a baby. That’s how she knew.”

  Meredith directed them to turn the corner. “Grief and pregnancy hormones are going to make things doubly tough for you, Rae.”

  “I know.” Regan studied the sidewalk, and a deep, dark chasm of sadness opened inside her. How easy it would be to step right in and let it close over her, but Fáelán wouldn’t want that. And she had their baby to think about. She needed to find ways to cope, and saying goodbye would help. “The double whammy is another reason I want to go home.”

  Fáelán had bathed and dressed with care, even though he had naught but garments from the third century to don. As he left the village of his youth, his insides churned. He would never see his parents, sisters, nieces and nephews or his clan again, but at least they knew he was well. Not like the last time, when he came to them after being cursed. Then he’d broken their hearts.

  Not only had he just said his final farewell to his family and his clan, but he was also leaving behind the daughter he’d never met. “Don’t forget to tell Boann to find me in the future.” He cast Fionn’s fae cousin a sideways look.

  “I won’t forget.” Alpin pointed down the trail. “I shall open the way to Howth for you when we reach the cover of the forest ahead.”

  “My thanks to ye.” He hadn’t remembered Regan when she came to the past for him, and a new worry surged. “Will Regan remember me, do ye think?”

  “Aye. The two of you exist upon the same thread in the tapestry of time, for your life stories are shared. The thread in the twenty-first century intertwined with the thread from this time the moment Regan came to warn you about Morrigan.”

  “Hmm.” Morrigan’s curse had brought him and Regan together. He’d not considered that afore hearing Alpin talk about the threads of time. “I suppose I must be grateful to Morrigan for cursing me then.”

  Alpin laughed. “I would not go as far as that.”

  “I am greatly indebted to ye, Alpin. Not only did ye grant your aid when I was cursed, but ye sought Regan’s whereabouts and reassured me she was well after Morrigan took her. And now ye are sending me home. How can I ever repay such a debt?”

  “’Twas King Lir who asked me to see you back to the twenty-first century, and as far as the rest goes, think nothing of it. I have a blood tie to Fionn; he is like a brother to me. Know this, mortal. Not all of Danu’s descendants are as selfishly cruel as Morrigan.” Alpin shook his head. “She has brought great shame upon our people more than once. If she remains without magic and under her father’s supervision for all eternity, ’twould be a good thing.”

  “My daughter also played a part in ending the curse. Knowing she has not grown to be like her mother gladdens my heart.” Fáelán stopped next to the edge of the forest. “This will do, aye?”

  “Aye.” Alpin strode several paces into the forest.

  His heart flopping around in his chest like a fish out of water, Fáelán followed. Anticipation mixed with a healthy dose of trepidation coursed through him. By God, if his woman was brave enough to step through time, he could do no less.

  Alpin raised his hand and drew a rune in the air. The air began to shimmer and wave. “This will take you to Regan’s door. I wish you well, Fáelán.”

  He shook his arms, rotated his head and neck, took a breath and blew it out. Why did he feel as if he were preparing for battle? “I can do this.”

  “Aye, with a wee bit of help.” Alpin gave him a push, and the faerie’s laughter followed Fáelán into the passage.

  Time and the world rushed past Fáelán, and he landed upright in front of Regan’s cheery red door. He took a moment to steady his nerves, stepped forward and knocked. Naught happened.

  The eastern sky had just begun to lighten, and the fog of early morning hovered above the ground. ’Twas likely Regan was asleep, and she hadn’t heard his knock. He tried again, harder this time. The scent of impending rain came to him, and he glanced at the sky. The setting moon and a few stars still shone. ’Twas partly clouded, but . . . The air around him charged with electric energy, and the temperature dropped.

  He tensed, and his pulse raced. He’d been assured Morrigan could not escape, and he had King Lir’s ward to protect him, but still . . . Morrigan was resourceful, devious and vindictive.

  A woman appeared, her features illuminated from the light beside Regan’s door. Fáelán stared in wonder. Regan had spoken the truth. His daughter had his nose, mouth and chin. She looked so much like his mam, the impact gut-punched him. Unlike him, she was garbed in jeans and a blouse from this era, and her long, curly hair hung down her back. “Mo a iníon, is it ye, Boann?”

  “Aye. It is me, mo a athair,” she said, her tone low. “Long have I waited . . .” Her voice faltered. “I have so longed to meet you, Father.”

  Fáelán opened his arms. “Since the day I learned of your existence I have longed to know you as well, mo a cailín.” Boann walked into his embrace, and he gathered her up. “I’m more sorry than I can ever say that I was not there for ye as ye grew into the lovely young woman ye are today. I owe ye a great deal, and we need to talk.” He released her and peered into her eyes. “But first, I must—”

  “Her sisters are within, but I kept the sound of your knocking from them, so I could have a few moments with you. Regan is not here, Father.”

  Fáelán’s heart dropped, and the worry he’d carried for her crashed over him. “Cá bhfuill sí?”

  “All is well. She is at Brú Na Bóinne, saying goodbye to you.” Boann stepped back. “She believes you died the day you fought Múiros, and she mourns your loss.”

  “I need to go to her.” He glanced toward the curb. His car and Regan’s were both gone. “Feck.” He plowed his fingers through his hair. Regan must have had his MINI Cooper returned to his kin in Waterford. “I’ll have to wait, then, won’t I?”

  “If you wish, I will send you to her.”

  “Aye, do so. But . . . will ye stay, Boann?” His throat tightened. “Promise me you’ll be here when we return. I long to get to know ye.”

  A broad smile lit her face. “I promise.” Boann lifted her hand and created a portal for him. “Go. Regan awaits.”

  On impulse, Fáelán kissed his daughter’s forehead, and her shy look of pleasure filled him with gladness. “Introduce yourself to Regan’s sisters whilst I fetch Regan. If I have aught to say about it, Grayce and Meredith will soon be kin to us.” He stepped into the shimmering doorway through space, anticipation quickening his blood.

  Fáelán landed on his feet at the crest of the hill in front of the passage tomb’s entrance. Regan stood in the misty dim light, with her back to him, talking and gesturing to . . . no one that he could see. Her yoga mat was laid out on the ground beside her. Incense burned from a narrow wooden holder, and she’d set a bouquet of wildflowers upon the ground. The scent of the incense floated to him on the breeze, and the sight of Regan melted his heart. After all they’d been through, after all she’d done for him, at long last they’d be together. “What are ye
about, Álainn?”

  Regan whipped around and gaped, and then she burst into tears. “Oh, Fáelán, you’re a ghost after all. I was afraid this would happen, and now I really do have to help you cross over.”

  “Nay.” He frowned and stepped forward on shaky legs. “I’m no scáil, I’m—”

  “Don’t say it!” she cried. “Don’t tell me that after everything I went through, you’re cursed again. Dammit. How did this happen?” She covered her face with her hands and growled. “The cycle is starting all over, isn’t it? So my sisters were right, and you didn’t die the day I saw you fighting. You went back to that other woman . . . and now—”

  “Jealous are ye, love?” He couldn’t stop smiling or prevent his eyes from growing moist. His knees were weak. His mouth had gone dry, and his poor heart hammered against his ribs. More than anything, he longed to hold Regan close, make love to her and vow to be hers for all the rest of his days.

  “Wait.” She dropped her hands and frowned at him. “Now you remember me? Now, when it’s too late?”

  “How could I forget your constant wheedling about the light I’m to walk into?” He canted his head and flashed her a wry look. “Do ye think I’ve forgotten how ye defied my wishes, and put yourself in harm’s way to see my curse ended?” He crossed the distance between them. “How could I forget holding ye in my arms and loving ye until the wee hours of the morn?”

  He could scarce breathe, and he drank her in with his eyes. “I’ve missed ye, mo a míorúilt lómhar. By the gods both old and new, I’ve missed ye desperately, and I never wish to be parted from ye again as long as I live.” He cradled her face between his hands and pressed his forehead against hers.

  Regan placed her hands on his wrists, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I . . . I don’t understand.” She tilted her head back, and her gaze roamed over his face as her grip on his wrists tightened. “You . . . you’re really here? But I saw . . . Before I closed my eyes, the blade of that sword was only—”