by Rebel Carter
Maybe it wasn’t so bad that I didn’t have a plan as long as I was with him…
I gave him a quick nod and ignored the stunned looks on the women’s faces. They stared at him with open mouths and wide eyes, as if they had never heard a nice thing come out of his mouth, and I found that I didn’t much care for that, either.
They didn’t know him, even after all the years they’d lived near him.
I pulled my apron off and stepped around the corner toward him, eyes never leaving his as I came closer. “Agnes, I need to—”
“Go on then, shoo,” Agnes ordered, coming through the kitchen door as if she had been waiting with an ear pressed against it. I laughed at her pleased expression. She looked every bit the part of the cat who got the cream.
“It’s about time ye came ‘round,” she said with a pointed stare at Callum. He blew out an annoyed sigh and ran a hand over his face.
“Auntie…” he warned with a pinched look before he caught hold of my hand and pulled me with him. “We’ll be back in a few minutes,” he tossed over his shoulder, grabbing my coat from the hook by the door. “It’s cold out,” he said to my surprised look when he held it out for me.
“Thank you,” I murmured, ignoring the whispers the gesture had elicited from the women at the counter. Callum slipped his hand back in mine once I was bundled up. I might have objected, or even asked where we were going, but I was too overwhelmed by Callum’s sudden appearance and the way he held my hand.
My feet followed his lead, and a moment later we had left the bakery behind.
“Take all the time ye need!” Agnes called out with a cheery little wave as the door shut behind us. When we hit the sidewalk Callum continued forward, but this time he slipped his hand from mine to my elbow as he guided me along.
I frowned at the loss of his hand in mine but said nothing, until I realized we were heading away from the bakery and the printing press. We were leaving the slice of town I was most familiar with and moving into what looked like an older section.
I glanced around at the older buildings, many of which had fallen into disrepair. Our footsteps echoed on the now empty streets, snow crunching underfoot, and my breath came out in front of me. Good thing Callum had made me dress warmer. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. With a heavy denim and wool lined coat, thick beanie and sturdy boots on, Callum looked at home in the snowy setting.
“Where are we going?” I asked him, when I decided my staring had begun to border on pathetic fixation. I looked away from his profile and fixed my eyes ahead.
“There, just up the way,” Callum said. I frowned, not seeing much of note, only a collection of shuttered shops and what looked like an abandoned church at the end of the street.
“But there’s nothing there,” I said as we continued toward the church. It had once been a small brick and wood affair with peeling white paint. Boards covered the windows and what looked like metal grating had been bolted over the front door.
Why would Callum be bringing me here?
“Not the church,” he said, leading us around and to the back of it. “Here.”
We stood at the iron gate of an old cemetary. I swallowed hard. Agnes had said she’d raised him, but she hadn’t mentioned what had happened to Callum’s parents…
“Lead on,” I whispered.
Whatever he was about to tell me meant something to him. He was nervous; I could tell from the set of his shoulders, and from the way he fiddled with the beanie on his head.
Callum opened the gate for us, its rusted hinges screeching in the quiet. We walked together in silence, our footfalls dampened by the fresh fall of snow now coming down around us.
“I used to come here as a child,” Callum said. “My parents are buried here.”
I said nothing, opting to touch his hand before I intertwined our fingers and gave him a gentle squeeze. Callum let out a deep breath and smiled, his gaze resting on our clasped hands for a moment before he lifted his eyes to meet mine.
I felt my heart squeeze.
Nothing else existed right now. I could see it in his face: I mattered to him, which was good news because Callum MacDougall mattered a whole damn lot to me.
Chapter Five
Callum had led me to a bench at the center of the graveyard. I’d never spent much time in a cemetery, and I was surprised to find that it was serene. The old statues and tombstones stood watch over us as we sat together, knees and sides touching.
I looked down at my gloved hands and then back up at Callum, who had gone silent a few minutes before. I wasn’t sure how long he needed for us to be quiet, but I was willing to just sit and be if that was what he needed.
His hand on my knee pulled at my attention, and I placed my hand on top of his at the look on his face.
“Are you okay?” I ventured.
He sucked on his bottom lip and shook his head. “Not sure sometimes.”
I nodded but said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
“D’ye ken what it’s like to forget who ye are?” he asked.
I let out a sigh. “All too well.”
“That’s what it felt like when I realized I couldn’t remember how my parents looked or sounded,” he said.
I couldn’t imagine what it would be like when my mother’s memory faded from me. I could hear her, even smell her in our home, and I hurt for his loss.
“My parents died when I was very young,” he told me. “I was mebbe five when they died in a car accident.”
I touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
Callum shook his head. “It’s just one of those things. Life...is like that. It doesn’t make sense, but we can’t change it. Agnes took me in when they died and she raised me like I was her own. I dinna ken what would have happened to me if she hadn’t wanted me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was a troubled lad. Prone to fits and dreams.” He blew out a sigh and said, “People said I was touched or some shite about fey folk and the moon I was born under. People in the Highlands have ideas, and things run deep here. Agnes didn’t listen to them, but they all thought she was crazy then.”
“Why would they think that?” I asked. I had seen nothing but respect from the community toward Agnes, and her bakeshop seemed to be a cornerstone of the town. I couldn’t imagine the townsfolk he described.
Though her attitude at my disbelief over the fairies had to have roots somewhere.
“She said she saw fey,” Callum told me, glaring in the direction of an angel statue a few feet away. “That she talked to them and they guided her. Gave her gifts, even. She’d been that way since she was little, said she’d rescued an injured one, a highborn one, which made them indebted to her. Highland fey are not said to be kind, but they were with her.”
“She said they were evil,” I murmured, recalling her comments the first time she’d brought them up to me.
Callum snorted and grinned. “They are, or…” He made an annoyed face. “They are if you believe in them, and I do not believe in the fey.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Then why do you have a fey lock on your door?”
“S’not mine,” he said. “It’s my family’s, and that means it stays.”
“I can see why it would be special...but what does this have to do with you exploding on me?”
“I did not—” Callum sighed and scrubbed his free hand over his face with a groan. “I did not explode on you.”
“Sure.”
“Let me finish before we end up fighting again, Del.”
I hummed, conceding the point.
“Agnes accepted me. Didn’t care if I was touched and came with a whole mess of fey on my heels. She took me in, loved me, showed me how to be a man, and she did it with the whole town talking about her. Over the years people took care to hide it more, to do it behind her back or mine, but they never stopped. And Agnes never stopped telling people the fey were real. She’s been quieter about it over the years, except to you, and when y
ou encouraged her I just...I worried she might start talking about them and bring the whole town down on her head again.”
“They love Agnes.”
“They love her now because she’s just a little off, but harmless overall. And that’s because she doesn’t go around talking about the fey on a daily basis.”
I pursed my lips. “She was worried I thought she was crazy. I had to do something, so I pretended.”
Callum’s eyes drifted shut and he cursed under his breath. “I was worried that would happen.”
“I don’t see the harm in it.”
“That’s because you don’t know what it was like,” Callum said. When I opened my mouth to respond, he held up a hand and turned toward me. “Ye didna ken what yer playing along could have set off.”
“If she’s happy, what does it matter? Agnes doesn’t care what any of them say about her, you know that.”
“But I do.” Callum fixed me with an agonized stare. “I care what they say. I love her. I’ll not have them blathers running their mouths about her.”
“That’s why people think you’re mean, isn’t it?” I asked.
It all made sense. Callum’s reputation for being short and hard to befriend wasn’t because he was prickly, as the woman in the bakeshop had put it. It was because his love for Agnes had him watching everyone with suspicion.
He shrugged. “I dinna care what people say.”
“Gee, I wonder where you learned that?” I teased, earning an eye roll from Callum, who caught me off guard when he reached out and captured my hands in his.
“I’m verra sorry,” he told me, thumbs rubbing the inside of my wrists. My breath caught and I leaned into his touch, easily following when he tugged me toward him. “Can ye forgive me, Del?”
I nodded and licked my lips. “Yes,” I whispered.
His eyes dropped to my mouth and he pulled me closer still. The snow was falling around us made it feel like we were the only two people in the world, wrapped in our quiet little bubble of hushed words and snowfall. I couldn’t see anything but Callum, and I didn’t dare look away as he leaned so close his breath warmed my lips and cheeks.
I tilted my head toward his, hands going to his chest. His eyes drifted shut again, but this time I knew he was going to kiss me.
The first brush of his lips was gentle and seeking, just a feather-light press against my mouth that made my breath hitch. The next was not so tentative, and I moaned when he slanted our mouths together and his tongue brushed over the seam of my lips. I eagerly parted my lips, and his tongue slipped against mine.
He tasted like peppermint and whiskey, a combination that made me moan with pleasure as I deepened our kiss—until he broke away from me and shook his head.
“Damn it all,” he whispered, pulling back to look at me with dazed eyes.
“What is it?” I asked with a furrowed brow.
“Not here.” Callum sighed and stood. “This isn’t a place to be kissing. Ye deserve flowers and music.” He drew me up to stand beside him.
“Oh, I do?”
Callum nodded, slipping an arm around my waist and leading me back. “Aye, and dancing too, if ye play yer cards right.”
I laughed, liking the idea of dancing with Callum. “And where might we find all of these things, so that I get more of what we were just doing?”
“The answer to that is simple. The Hogmanay celebration.”
“The one put on by town?” I asked, feeling butterflies rise in my belly at the idea of him taking me to the town’s New Year’s celebration. It was two days away, as many days as it had taken for Callum to become something far more than a landlord and potential friend.
“The very one, lass.” Callum winked at me and then stopped just inside of the iron gate we had passed through earlier. “But that depends on one thing,” he said, reaching up to toy with a lock of my hair.
“Such as?” I asked with a smile, leaning into his touch.
“I haven’t properly asked ye to accompany me,” he said, tugging the lock of hair.
I rolled my eyes. “Mm, so you haven’t. And when do you think you might fix that lapse in judgement?”
He leaned close, green eyes pulling me in. “How about now?” he whispered.
“That suits me,” I told him, reaching out a hand to steady myself when he pulled me into his arms. Once he had me settled against his chest he reached a hand up and wiped away a snowflake that had settled on my cheek.
“Will ye do me the honor of going to the celebration with me, Del?”
“Yes, absolutely.” The words tumbled from my mouth, but I didn’t care if Callum knew I was eager. It was going to be a beautiful night.
My first New Year away from home. Not even an army of fey folk could keep me from enjoying it.
Chapter Six
I stared down at the phone in my hand. Never before in my life had such a small object filled me with dread.
To be fair, it wasn’t the phone that had me nervous. It was the name flashing across the screen.
Papa.
I’d meant to call him as soon as I’d returned from my walk with Callum, but no sooner had Callum seen me to my door than the phone had started to ring. I'd mumbled a quick goodbye to Callum, who hadn’t pressed for an explanation. I knew he’d seen the name, and his sharp eyes hadn’t missed the worry on my face.
“I’ll be ‘round later if ye need to talk,” he’d said, dropping a kiss on my cheek before turning and leaving. I stared down at the phone for another ring before I answered it.
“Papa? Hello?”
“Mija?”
I felt the lump in my throat loosen at my father’s familiar voice. I’d missed hearing his voice more than I realized, and the gentle term of endearment uttered from half a world away had me blinking back tears.
“I’m sorry,” I croaked, voice cracking as I shuffled toward the couch. If I was going to have this conversation with my father, I was going to need to sit down.
And a drink, but seeing as I was already on the phone the drink would have to wait. I slumped onto the couch as my father’s sigh reached my ears.
Was he disappointed? Hurt at my sudden disappearance? Angry, even?
I swallowed hard at the last thought and reconsidered my decision to hold off on a drink.
“Don’t be sorry,” my father said, and I held my breath. “I’m sorry.”
“What?” I whispered. In all my imaginings I always thought I would be the one offering apologies. Not my father. “What do you have to be sorry for? I’m the one who left in the middle of the night.”
“I’m sorry because you felt like you had to do that, mija,” my father told me with a note of sadness in his voice. “I put too much on you. I asked you to do too much.”
“No, I wanted to help you. You didn’t ask too much of me.”
“I didn’t protect your space either,” my father countered. “I knew what your brothers and sisters were doing, and I didn’t stop it. I forgot that you might have a different dream than mine. That you could want something different from this world than I do.”
My shoulder shook as I took in a sharp breath. I hated the despondent tone in my father’s voice, but I said nothing because I needed to hear it. I needed to hear the admission that something had been wrong at home. It validated my feelings and turned my escape to Scotland into something that was understandable and wholly deserved.
“You shouldn’t have been put in the situation you were in. I know you don’t want to disappoint me, and I don’t want you to think for a second that you have. I’m so proud of you, mija. So proud.”
“Papa…” I whispered, clutching my cell phone.
“I hope you’re happy, Del. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. I hope you’re living and seeing everything you ever wanted. Are you?” my father asked. I laughed, thinking of the way Scotland had captivated me, Agnes’s warm friendship, my newfound place at the bakeshop, and the tenderness blossoming between Callum and me.
; “Yes,” I told him, “I’m very happy.”
“The people are treating you good?”
“Yes, very good. I’m glad I came.”
“Good, that’s perfect, mija. You deserve good things and good people. Not just work. I’m sorry,” he said again, making me frown.
“No more sorries,” I told him, wishing I could hug him. It seemed I had encountered the first pitfall of traveling. Phone calls were one thing, but not being able to touch those I loved stung. “How is everything over there?” I asked, steering the conversation to less painful topics.
My father chuckled. “Do you mean things or people?” he asked.
It had crossed my mind in my journey across the Atlantic that my siblings would be served their just desserts when forced to deal with my absence. “People,” I said making my father let loose an outright laugh.
“It’s been tough. They’ve all cried at least once. Inez was begging for you to come home, but I haven’t told her where you went.”
I joined my father in his laughter and slapped a hand to my knee at the image of my older brothers, John and Lee, big burly men who never cried, breaking down in tears.
And Inez had cried over me, too. It was quite a change from the harsh words she’d used to describe my life and my role in our family.
“What happened?”
“Nothing big,” Papa said with a sigh, and I could almost see him roll his eyes. “But they aren’t used to doing the hard work, so it’s got them out of sorts. We’ve been surviving on takeout since the leftovers ran out.”
I made a face. “You need to be eating veggies. Please tell me it hasn’t been all pizza.”
“While you’re away we can have a few pleasures,” my father reasoned, making me roll my eyes. “When are you coming back?”
I stilled at the question. Each new day—hell, each new hour had forced me to be present in my current situation. I hadn’t considered much beyond New Year’s and the celebration dance I would be attending with Callum.
What would I do past then? Would I stay for another month? Or more?
