by Jo Jones
World War II vet. Mac rolled the words around in his head. He knew he should be able to ken what they meant, or how long ago ninety-five was, but so much that should be familiar to him wasna. He’d begun to fear his memories wouldna return.
“I grew up here,” Brie continued. “Well, summers, anyway. My father worked for the forest service and was gone a lot, so most of the time it was just my mother and me.” She picked at the bit of soup left in her bowl, then set it aside. “She died when I was eleven, leaving my dad to care for me.” She shrugged. “I learned to get by on my own pretty early.”
Mac wished he could wipe away the look of melancholy that stole the glow from her face.
“He sent me to boarding-school during the winter and brought me here in the summer.” She stared at the windows, even though ’twas dark out now, and all she could see was their reflection. “I lived for summer, every year thinking this would be the year he’d take an interest in me, but…” She shrugged and twisted the narrow gold band on her little finger.
“Your da dinna spend any time with ye?” he asked, trying to imagine a child left to manage on their own. A sudden flash of a dirty little boy, digging in a wooden crate of garbage for something to eat, filled his mind.
“Oh, he did, when it suited him,” Brie answered, shattering the image. “He taught me how to work on mechanical things, like a generator, or the ATV. The summer after my mom died, I learned how to use a chain saw and a splitter to keep the cabin in firewood. But most importantly, I learned how to not be afraid of the dark when he didn’t come home for days.”
“Sounds like ’twas a lonely childhood.”
She shrugged. “I had Sam. He was Gus’s predecessor, in the early years. And then, when my dad drank himself into an early grave, I went off to college and the rest, as they say, is ‘history’.”
Brie rose and began to clear the table. “That’s enough ‘poor-me’ for one evening. Let’s talk about you.”
“How? I dinna ken anything tae tell ye.” The limitations imposed on him closed in and he had to consciously keep his frustration from showing in his voice. “I wish I could share a lifetime of memories wi’ ye, Brie. But I canna conjure a single one.”
“I’m sorry, Mac. My heart breaks that you can’t. I’m praying your memory comes back quickly. But maybe there could be a hidden gift in the time before they do.” She set the dishes back down and sat beside him on the bench. “I’ve been thinking about this all afternoon. Right now, before your memory returns, you have the enviable opportunity to design your future from a blank slate. Think of it. You currently have no history and no predetermined future. You get to really identify what matters to you. Do you know how few people get such a chance?”
“I dinna ken yer full meaning.”
“Okay.” She said cautiously, “Let’s look at it another way. Say we boil your existence down to…. I don’t know, several days, a week, maybe. If you could do anything in the world you wanted to do, but only had that narrow window of time to do it, what would matter so much—be so important, that you’d choose it, over anything else?”
A wave of something passed through him. No’ dizziness, but just as unnerving. Had he heard that same notion before? Where? From whom?
Brie picked up the dishes again and walked to the sink. “I’m actually kind of jealous of the opportunity to discover something so significant. Who wouldn’t want a do-over for at least some part of their life? I know I would.”
CHAPTER SIX
Brie’s question turned over in Alistair’s mind. What would he choose? He folded his arms to hide his clenched fists as he strode to the windows, staring at something he couldna see. Everything beyond them was hidden in the dark, like the life he’d lived, locked now, behind a wall he found impossible to penetrate.
How could a man choose his deepest desires from a place of such emptiness? Especially, when he dinna even ken who he was. Had the life he couldna remember turned him into the man standing here now, or did he stand here despite the life he’d led? Was it no’ a man’s experiences that taught him to value certain things?
Och! ’Twas all making his head throb.
Suddenly, Gus was at his side, growling low, his attention on something beyond the windows.
“Gus! Stop.” Brie called from the kitchen. “No squirrels tonight. Go lay down.”
Gus whined and took another look at the window, but obeyed, stopping to lick Mac’s hand and receive a pat on the head before curling in front of the fire.
Brie shook her head and sighed. “He has this thing for squirrels. There’s probably one on the deck. Or a raccoon, or any of a few dozen other forest creatures.
“Aye,” Mac grinned, noting Gus’s gloomy posture. “I ken the anticipation of a good hunt, myself.”
Where had that thought come from?
Stunned, his gaze flew to Brie’s who had a surprised, but pleased look on her face. “You remembered something. That’s great, Mac!” she grinned. “And very encouraging. Does that memory prompt any others?”
’Twas more a feeling than a memory, but the more he concentrated, the further the notion escaped him. “Nae.” He shook his head, trying to mask his disappointment.
“Maybe you just need a little more time.” Brie assured him, folding the towel she’d used to dry the dishes, laid it aside, and lit one of the gas lights over her worktable. “I’ll go turn off the generator. I won’t be long.”
“I’ll go w’ye,” Mac blurted out. “If ye dinna mind, that is.” He suddenly needed some fresh air and open space. “I’ll just get my boots.”
As soon as he moved toward the door, Gus was on his heels.
“I’m sorry, Gus.” Brie held up her hand. “But you’re staying inside. I just got you bathed and I’m not anxious to repeat the process again, tonight.”
Brie exchanged a smile with Mac when the dog plodded back to the fireplace, laid down with his muzzle stretched over his paws, and blinked his disappointment with woeful, brown eyes.
“Poor baby,” Brie murmured. “We’ll be right back.”
She picked up a black object with a handle and closed the cabin door behind them. Before Mac finished putting on his last boot, the thing glowed bright enough to light up a wide area around them.
’Twas a sorcerer’s box! “What is that?”
“This?” She held it up. “Surely, you’ve seen an LED lantern, before? They’re so much better than an ordinary flashlight, don’t you think?”
“Aye,” he muttered understanding little of what she said. “ ’Tis grand, indeed.”
Had he truly seen such a marvel? What other wondrous things were buried in his memory?
“We built the generator-shed a good distance from the cabin, so we didn’t have to listen to the noise,” Brie explained as they left the deck. “Are you feeling steady enough to walk a hundred feet or so, and back?”
Mac breathed deep, pulling the cool air into his lungs, hoping that would help clear his head. He could almost feel the tension leave his shoulders. For some reason, he felt at home among the grass and trees with the heavens spread out above him. He even felt akin to the muddy earth. “Aye, lass. I’m feelin’ much steadier, now.”
“Just watch where you step,” she cautioned. “This ground’s a little uneven.”
His hand brushed hers as they walked. He longed to capture it, feel the warmth of her fin—
“Look, Mac!” Brie stopped, held the lantern out and studied the ground in front of them. “Someone’s been here! These aren’t all my tracks.”
Mac crouched close to the ground. Pressed into the mud amid scattered pine needles, fallen leaves and animal tracks, were several partial footprints. ’Twas only a heel here, or a toeprint there, but enough to see that the shallow, narrow ones—Brie’s—had partially dried. The wider, deeper prints looked freshly made.
“Have ye neighbors, lass?” Mac stood, alert for any movement or unusual noises.
“
No. Not for miles. No one comes here except for the occasional curious weekender, determined to find the end of the road. But it’s not the weekend, and besides, if we can’t get out, they can’t get in.”
He heard her suck in her breath.
“Unless…”
Mac noted the uneasy tone in Brie’s voice and moved closer, hoping to impart at least a small sense of protection. “Unless, what, lass?”
“I think we’ll leave the generator running tonight,” Brie suggested, peering into the darkness. “But I want to double-check the lock on the shed, while we’re out here.”
“What is it, Brie?” Mac pressed. “Do ye ken whose prints these are?”
“Not exactly. Let’s finish up out here, and I’ll explain to you inside.”
~ ~ ~
While Mac stayed on the deck to remove his boots, Brie closed the blinds and made sure the other door and windows were locked, thinking of all the times her father had sneered at her childish notion of a boogie-man hiding in the dark.
Though she’d never allowed herself to give in to fanciful fears, she was deeply grateful for Mac’s presence. He’d accompanied her to the shed, tested the lock and made sure everything was secure. The only way into the shed now, without a key, were the narrow, screened, ventilation slits, high in the rafters. Not even a lizard could get through those.
Maybe Gus’s bark had scared off whoever it was. Or perhaps whoever trespassed had been frightened away when she and Mac first stepped out onto the deck. Or, she considered, still feeling a little anxious, the prowler hadn’t been scared off at all, and was out there now, watching and waiting.
She shivered, grateful when Mac came inside and locked the door behind him. For the first time, she regretted not putting flood lights on the outside of the cabin. It had always seemed like such a frivolous expense. She’d lived here every summer of her life, and never needed anything like that.
Not until the Mountain Man started prowling around people’s cabins, helping himself to whatever he wanted.
Enough! She had no intention of participating in the paranoia running rampant on the mountain. At least the strange tracks laid to rest the notion that Mac could be the Mountain-Man. Mac not only didn’t have the opportunity to make those prints, his feet were far too big. And the sole of Mac’s boot didn’t match the heel print that looked like it came from a hiking boot.
Mac dropped to one knee when Gus greeted him at the door. Mac’s deep laugh rumbled in his chest as he ruffled Gus’s coat and endured an enthusiastic succession of sloppy licks. Their affection was clearly mutual.
Gus had believed in Mac all along, and though Brie’s instincts had, as well, her head had urged caution. They’d both grown far too fond of Mac for such a short time. For some reason, his presence both stirred and soothed her, disrupting her carefully constructed world.
She and Gus had made their way alone for a long time now, and she wasn’t looking for anything else. But somehow, Mac had slipped in so seamlessly, it felt as though he’d always belonged with them.
Stop it, Brie, she scolded, escaping into the kitchen to brew some tea. Mac would be leaving soon. For all she knew, he was married with two-point-five perfect children, a picket fence, and a mini-van with little people stickers in the back window. He probably even had the requisite cocker-spaniel.
She slapped the box of tea on the counter and banged the cupboard door shut. Why did she care? She had what she wanted right here. Gus. A career she loved. This cabin to spend her summers in; peaceful and safe. Or, at least it had been, before tonight.
Where are the blasted lemons?
She rummaged through the fridge and finally gave up. She didn’t need a lemon. She didn’t even want tea. What then? She got a pan out to make hot chocolate, then changed her mind and tossed it back, banging it against the others.
“Brie?” Mac came up behind her, close enough she could feel the warmth from his body. “Is it what ye saw outside that upsets ye so?”
He touched her arms, gently stroking them from elbow to shoulder. She knew it was merely a gesture meant to comfort her, but she leaned against him, anyway. Just for a minute, she told herself. “I don’t know. I just—” She shook her head. “I guess I’m upset that whoever was out there shook my confidence a little. I’ve fought hard to banish my fears, from clear back in my childhood when my father told me how foolish they were.”
Mac’s arms came around her, tucking her inside his embrace. He dipped his head, so his mouth brushed her ear. “Ye ken I’d protect ye, do ye no’ lass?”
She turned in his arms, pressing her palms to his chest to keep herself from giving in to wanting to be held. Accepting the comfort he offered would only make his leaving harder.
“You’re not free to say that, Mac. Besides, nothing was damaged or broken into, so I’m sure I’m just being foolish.”
He stared hard, into her eyes. “Ye’re no foolish, Brie. But ye’re right. I dinna ken who or what waits for me, nae where I’m tae go from here. And ’tis wrong tae say in so short a time, but I’ve…” He seemed to check himself and rethink what he’d been going to say. “ ’Twill always be my strong desire tae see ye safe and happy.”
She nodded, knowing that was all he could give her. He spoke from a temporary void between two worlds he couldn’t remember. The quiet in the storm they were experiencing couldn’t last and no matter what she thought she’d begun to feel for Mac, she’d be crazy to set herself up for another loss. Eventually, he’d remember where he truly belonged. And to whom.
When she began to pull away, he smoothed a hand over her hair, down her spine to her lower back. She could feel the span of each finger as he pulled her into a tight embrace. Despite her resolve, she gave in, just for a moment, closed her eyes, and surrendered to what she couldn’t have.
She had no idea how long it had been since she’d allowed herself to lean on anyone, physically or emotionally, but the sense of respite washing over her frightened her. She suddenly felt pathetic and a little angry at how badly she’d needed it.
“I’m okay, Mac.” She leaned back, determined not to let her weakness show. She’d lost control. She couldn’t remember feeling so tired. Tomorrow, she’d be better. Stronger. Able to stand on her own, again. “Really. I’m fine.” She began to push away, but he held her a moment longer, studying her face with arresting, intuitive eyes.
“Aye lass,” he whispered. “Verra fine, indeed.” He placed a gentle kiss to her forehead, released her, and touched her elbow. “Come, sit wi’ me, and if ye’re up to it, ye can tell me why those tracks had the power to shake yer confidence, so.”
He guided her to the sofa, and she sank into the soft cushions, suddenly so weary she could hardly keep her eyes open. When Mac sat beside her, and slipped an arm around her, she let her head rest against his shoulder. She’d fight all her weaknesses tomorrow. Right now, it was just too much work.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Alistair…
Mac stirred, had Brie said something?
Alistair…
“Aye?” he answered, coming fully awake. The woman’s soft, lilting voice echoed in his mind.
’Twas so familiar! But he couldna put a face with it. He closed his eyes and tried to sink back into the dream to recapture the memory. ’Twas there, just out of reach…then gone.
He groaned, then grimaced, not meaning to put a voice to his frustration and wake Brie, as he had Gus, who blinked sleepily from his spot near Mac’s feet.
“Mmmm,” Brie moaned, shoved her hair away from her face and blinked her surprise. “Oh, my gosh, I can’t believe I feel asleep! What time is it?”
Mac looked at the fire. It hadna burned down far. They’d both dozed, but no’ for long. “Still evening. Ye only dozed a wee while.”
She shifted, but thankfully, dinna pull out of his arms. “It feels like I did more than doze. However long it lasted, I slept really hard.” A startled look crossed her face. “I didn’t sn
ore, did I?”
Mac laughed. “If ye did, ’twas while I slept, as well.”
“Oh, good.” She sighed and settled against his chest again.
He wished he could have a thousand night’s like this, with Brie warm and relaxed in his arms. He couldna get enough of her scent, her smile, her quiet strength.
“Mac?”
Aye, lass?”
“What do you—”
“Soncerae!”
“What…?” Confusion shadowed Brie’s face.
“ ’Tis whose voice I heard in my dream!” he replied, bursting with excitement. “I couldna remember the name that went with the pretty voice. ’Tis Soncerae!” He could barely contain his exhilaration and relief. “Her name popped into my head of its own accord! ’Tis a very good sign, is it no’?”
Brie sat up and smiled, but he noticed the sparkle was no’ quite as bright as before. “Yes. Of course. That’s…wonderful, Mac. Is she…That’s a beautiful name. Soncerae,” she repeated hesitantly. “Who is she?”
A bit of his delight dimmed as he searched for the answer. “I dinna ken,” he finally replied. “But, I knew her voice, when it came tae me. ’Tis unusually lovely. Like a chime. And now I’ve a name tae go wi’ it. But I canna remember a face or who she might be. Perhaps ’twill come tae me, sudden and surprising, like her name.”
Brie studied him for a moment. “I hope so, Mac. I truly want that for you.”
“Thank ye, lass.” Though she still sat beside him, ’twas as if she’d drifted away. Mayhap she had. Somehow, with just a name, his forgotten life had taken form, and wedged its way between them.
Soncerae. Who could she be? Someone important? Wife? Daughter? Sister? Friend? An enemy, even? His dreams had certainly been full of those. He tried to get some sense of how he felt about her. What connection they might have had. But he felt nothing at all, save the pleasing lilt of her voice. What should he feel about her?
A wide assortment of emotions swirled inside him. Excitement. Curiosity. Anticipation. But ’twas a trickle of dread, as well. He’d known he’d have to set aside his growing feelings for Brie, but he dinna expect to regret it so.
