by L. L. Muir
“I thank ye, Alonzo. ‘Tis a brave thing ye suggest—”
“He has but hours to live,” Wickham pointed out. “A few hours given can hardly account for the full life ye might enjoy in exchange.”
“Exchange?” The word inspired an idea and he set Catherine away from him to face Wickham alone. “I’ve done my duty.”
“Ye have, but—”
“I have earned my reward.”
“Ye have. But you cannot—”
“For my reward, I want you to heal this man.” He pointed to Alonzo. “If Soni can turn 79 ghosts back into mortals, she can heal one man of cancer, surely.”
Wickham took a menacing step forward. “Ye cannot name yer own reward. One was offered, in the beginning, and ye can choose to take it or not.”
Seoc closed the distance between them and tried to make the dark one understand. “Granting this man his health would go far to make up for all those others… All those others, on the moor, to whom I gave false hope. It would make up for my cruelty, don’t you see?”
Wickham offered a gentle smile and nodded. “Indeed, I do see. And I see this army you imagine waiting for ye in the next life.”
“Ye do?”
“Aye.” His smile broadened. “But Macbeth, they only wait to give ye praise and thanks for giving them hope—”
“False hope.”
“Nay. The hope was real. And dashing that hope was done by others, aye? Better a man have a few moments of real hope and be disappointed, than to wait in terror for what was to come. If ye had to do it over again, would ye walk away and let them die of their wounds before the bayonets reached them?”
Seoc shook his head and admitted Wickham was right. And if he was right, that meant there was nothing left to dread.
Wickham gave Alonzo an almost kind nod. “I cannot heal ye, old man.”
Alonzo nodded, but he showed no disappointment.
Seoc took Catherine into his arms. “Forgive me, lass, for loving and leaving ye. But try to dwell on the loving bit, aye?”
She nodded and forced a brave smile, every inch of her cheeks wet.
“Come,” said Wickham. “We need to make our accounting.”
“Accounting to whom?” Alonzo pushed away from the bed, forced his shoulders back, and inflated his chest carefully. “I say I’m Seoc Macbeth. Now, let’s blow this taco stand.”
Catherine moved in front of the old man and wrapped her arms around him. “You’re so brave, Grandpa. You don’t need to prove it. I know.” She straightened. “But I don’t think it’s going to work.” She turned back to Seoc and worried her lip with her teeth, obviously torn between which man she should kiss goodbye. So he made it easier. He went to her and pulled her into his arms.
“Know this, Catherine, that ye have been loved well and true by yer grandfather and myself. And though we love ye still, another will come along and recognize yer generous heart and love ye for it. Dinna chase that one away with yer mean taser, aye?”
She got up on her tiptoes and pulled his head down for a ferocious kiss. He wrapped his arms far around her and held tight, worried he stole her breath, but unable to let go just the same.
“A fine kiss, lass. I shall remember it for eternity.” It felt as if his heart was being ripped from his chest as he stepped away from her.
“And I’ll come find you. I don’t know how, but…” She dissolved into tears again and lunged forward to sob against his chest.
“Have you no shame,” Alonzo barked at Wickham. “Look what she means to him. Take me, damn you.” He took another step toward the dark man but had to stop for a fit of coughing. Catherine turned toward her grandfather, but he held out his hand to stop her.
“Done,” Wickham said, then rolled his eyes and disappeared completely. No swirl of black smoke. No fading. Just…gone.
And yet, her grandfather still stood in the center of the room, coughing.
Seoc suddenly understood. It wasn’t the old man’s body Wickham would be taking, but his spirit!
Seoc lunged just in time to catch the brave old man as he crumpled toward the floor. He wheezed and struggled for breath while Seoc carried him over to the bed, laid him down, and reached for the oxygen mask. Catherine was right behind him, fumbling with the oximeter. She dropped it on the ground, then dropped it again while she tried to fit it onto the old man’s finger. Seoc was grateful she was thus distracted when Alonzo’s spirit gave his body a final shake and freed itself.
He turned to Catherine and shook his head. She grasped the old hand and began greetin’ in the usual fit of denial that came from losing someone beloved. He held her shoulders for a long moment, then moved over to the couch to give her time to realize her grandfather was truly gone, and that the shell that remained was no more than that.
When it took her a bit longer than expected, he went back to her side and led her away, grateful when her weeping eventually subsided and she was able to breathe normally again.
She shook her head against his chest. “I can’t believe he took your place—and they let him!”
“I can hardly believe it myself. It means that this body of mine is permanent now.”
“I’m so glad.”
He had a thought that made him laugh. She insisted he explain why.
“It just occurred to me that if Alonzo took my place, then he might be meeting Bonnie Prince Charlie at this very moment. What would he do, do ye suppose?”
“Oh, I’ll tell you exactly what he’d do.” She grinned up at him. “He wouldn’t knock out his teeth or anything like that.”
“No?”
“No. But he’ll definitely talk his ear off. Can you imagine? Without a cough to slow him down?”
Seoc grinned. “I hope there is no time limit to this meeting of theirs.”
EPILOGUE
The lad left his seat again and started up the auditorium steps. Seoc could not chase after him what with his daughter, Soni, on his lap and the wee bairn in the crook of one arm. So he had to stop the boy with a stern whisper.
“Alonzo! Where do ye go?”
The lad danced a bit and glanced at the zipper on his pants. “To wash the bark off a tree, da.”
Seoc shook his head. “Ye’re mummy’s about to come through the door, aye? Do ye suppose ye can hold it?”
The lad rolled his eyes and nodded his round wee head. Just then, the professor stepped onto the stage and beamed. “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present…Dr. Macbeth.”
Seoc caught his breath and fought back tears as sweet Catherine stepped onto the platform, her blue graduation gown draped with half a dozen tassels and ribbons. His chest burst with pride. He gathered Soni close and jumped to his feet. But since his arms were occupied, he could but whoop and cheer. And he did so…with the same enthusiasm with which he’d once greeted Bonnie Prince Charlie himself.
Unfortunately, his outburst left him with two greetin’ lassies. He glanced at his son, pleased to see the lad cheering his mother as well. But sadly, Alonzo was jumping up and down in a wee puddle, self-made.
Reacting to the moment as his wife had taught him, he allowed his head to fall back and his eyes close in a prayer of thanks for all the positives in his life.
Puddle and all.
THE VERITABLE END
Next will be Adam’s story, by Cathie MacRae!
If you want to read Wickham’s insane story, What About Wickham, you can find it here.
Links for the other ghost romances can be found on the book list page.
Sign up for my newsletter at www.llmuir.weebly.com to be notified when all the ghosts get their turn. And if you care for any of Culloden’s 79, be a sport and leave a review.
The lads have a website.
www.ghostsofcullodenmoor.weebly.com
And they have a Facebook page. https://www.facebook.com/GhostsofCullodenMoor
Seriously, thank you for playing!
About the Author
L.L. Muir lives on the Utah side of the Rocky Mountai
ns with her husband and family. She appreciates funny friends, a well-fed campfire, and rocking sleepy children.
A disturbing number of dill pickles were consumed while writing MACBETH. Seriously. Little ones. Milwaukee brand.
If you like her books, be a sport and leave a review on the book’s Amazon page. You can reach her personally through her website— www.llmuir.weebly.com , or on Facebook at L.L. Muir.
Thank you for playing!
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