by L. L. Muir
He glanced back once, to see if anyone followed, then told her they were safe.
“Sorry,” she said. “I just don’t want to share you.” They strolled on toward the river. “Just what did you mean when you said they’ll find you? These people who are coming to pick you up… You have a GPS in your sporran?”
He laughed. “Something like that, aye.”
“You are some kind of uber rich guy, aren’t you?”
“I am decidedly not. If I’d had a penny to my name, I would not have imposed upon ye to buy drinks last eve. I swear it.”
“But you’re important enough someone’s going to come collect you?”
“Important? Not in the least.”
Her eyes widened. “Tell me no one is coming to haul you off to jail? That totally explains why you wouldn’t need money. But…”
He could see the wheels of her thoughts churning furiously as she sought an explanation, and what he’d dreaded most stared him in the face. The lass wanted the truth, after all. The notion of Brigadoon was no longer sufficient. But he couldn’t see how the truth would make anything easier for her.
“I am no criminal, Jordan. Just as I am not married. I am an honorable man and ye must simply leave it at that.”
“Where will you go from here? Just tell me that. Will you stay in Scotland?”
“I will physically remain in Scotland. Here, in the Highlands.”
“Oh.” She pressed on her stomach as if his non-specific answer had dealt her a blow there.
Since he could tell her no more than he had, he sought to lighten the mood. It would not do to sit and sulk for the rest of their time together. Not a minute should be wasted.
“And I shall expect ye to return here, to Brechin, in a hundred years’ time, when the mist will roll back, and I will be free to walk the bridge with ye again.”
“Right.” She forced a smile, but it did not linger.
They strode past the bar, which was still closed. As they reached the bridge, she suddenly balked.
“I feel like, if we cross it, you’ll disappear.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The lass pointed at the South Esk below. “Let’s go down to the riverbank.” Kerry followed willingly, for he, too, felt as if stepping upon the bridge might signal the end.
Half an hour passed without either of them speaking. By mutual, silent consent, they maintained the distance of a meter or two. Jordan tossed rocks into the water while he sat on the ground and took in all the vibrant colors he’d been blind to all those years on the moor. The low, still-green grasses covering the riverbank, surrounded by dark pink heather, would have been the perfect spot for a picnic blanket, even on an October day.
“I regret we didnae think to pack our picnic,” he said, “but I believe breakfast will last me. How do ye fare, love?”
She barely glanced his way. “I don’t think any stores are open on Sunday, but we’ve still got a few rubbery eggs at the house.” She laughed and gathered more pebbles to throw into the water. But they both knew—surely she knew—he wouldn’t be going back.
He got to his feet. “Come here, Jordan.”
She dumped her cache of rocks into the water, brushed her hands together, then came to stand before him. Since she had difficulty looking anywhere but his stomach, he put his hands to the sides of her face to encourage her to lift her eyes. The smoothness of her skin distracted him, as did her lips, but there was much to say, and he feared little time left to say it.
“I love ye, lass. As sure as ye’re standing here, I love ye. Remember that.”
She shrugged. “Then why can’t you say where you’re going?”
“Believe me, it will be an easier thing for ye to believe I’ve returned to Brigadoon. I wish ye could trust me on this.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m a why kind of girl. Why would it be easier? Because the truth is just too horrible? Then I start wondering what horrible secrets you might be keeping.”
The ground might as well have rent in twain between their feet. Without moving a muscle, she retreated from him. No matter what had passed between them, he was asking for more trust than she could give.
Unfortunately, the truth was a chasm that couldn’t, shouldn’t be crossed. He knew full well that the powers that brought him back to life and returned him to Brechin involved secrets that were not his to share. His duty was to appreciate the time he’d been given. To prove himself honorable, which he believed he’d done in some small way. To move on to the next life when it was over.
“I will not lie to ye to allay yer fears, Jordan. I love no other and will love no other. My heart was only meant to be given once, and it is yers. I would give anything required to stay with ye for the remainder of yer life, if ye wished it. But I have nothing with which to pay such a price. Nothing to barter. Only gratitude that ye wanted my photograph enough to chase me down for it. If all we’d had together was the hour ye owed me, I would have thanked God for it, broken heart and all. And now, it would break my heart yet again if ye regretted our time together, such as it’s been.”
He opened his arms to her and held his breath. She moved into them eagerly and wrapped her own arms around his middle. He lifted her chin once again and kissed her forehead, her eyes, her cheekbones.
“Still a very poor aim, Kerry Mather.” She lifted her lips and puckered, lest he not understand her meaning. He corrected his mistake immediately.
~ ~ ~
Absently, Jordan noticed when Kerry ended the kiss. She hoped when he realized her eyes were still shut, he’d kiss her again, but he didn’t. He made a little noise in his throat and she looked up at him, wondering what was wrong. Wide-eyed, he stared up at the bridge, so she looked too.
White mist had moved down the hillside, headed their way.
“Wow. The clouds are low today. Maybe we’ll get lucky and the roads will be washed out.”
Kerry turned back to her then, his expression full of pity. “Those arenae clouds, love.”
She looked again. Mist poured onto the bridge like a cloud with a breeze behind it. Standing above the biggest arch was another guy dressed like a Highlander, though she hadn’t noticed him at first. His shirt was white with a thick sash of blue tartan crossing his body from shoulder to waist. His hair was even longer and darker than Kerry’s, and even from a distance, he looked like an incredibly dangerous man.
“A friend of yours?”
Kerry stared at her, studying her, watching for something.
“What’s wrong?” She glanced at the bridge again. “I’m such an idiot. He’s here to get you, isn’t he?” She grabbed his clothes and held on. “But he’s early, right? You haven’t had two whole days. He’s early!”
Kerry shrugged, but it didn’t loosen her grip. “I must away, love. Time to pay the piper.” He took a step backward and she went with him.
“Don’t go. Please. Just tell me where you’re going. I’ll find a way to come back to Scotland. Just tell me where to look for you. Kerry, please!”
He shook his head and gently pulled the fabric out of her hands, then held those hands tight. “One last kiss. That is all we will have.”
She flung her arms around his neck and pulled him as close as she could, hoping that the man on the bridge would take pity and leave Kerry with her. When their lips met, she kissed him so hard she knew she was bruising his lips, but she wanted to make a mark. To mark him as hers.
Kerry ended the kiss and pulled her against him so tight she could hardly breathe, but she wasn’t about to push him away. Sadly, he went willingly, putting his hands on her hips and pushing her back, holding her at arm’s length.
“Fare thee well, Jordan Lennox. Remember that somewhere, in the Highland mist, is a Scotsman that will love ye ‘til yer dying breath and beyond. Will ye remember?”
She tried to reach him again, but he held her back.
“Nay. Stay here, love. Watch from here. Perhaps ye’ll understand better that way.” With a lunge that felt like a
kick in her stomach, he hurried up the riverbank and turned back. “Promise me ye’ll remember.”
She couldn’t speak, but she whispered. “Forever.” It was a sappy thing to say, but it was the sappiest moment of her life and she didn’t want any regrets. He really was leaving her, for good. And she’d never be able to find him again.
He walked to the end of the bridge like a man walking to his own execution. Once he was on it, though, he moved naturally. Whoever had come for him was someone he knew, and when Kerry reached him, the man shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder. The guy even had the nerve to wave at her.
Kerry looked at the ground while the man spoke, then he turned and looked Jordan’s way. He stepped to the side of the bridge and blew her a kiss as the mist billowed up and swallowed his friend behind him. She’d barely had time to blow one back before the mist poured over Kerry, too, and spilled off the stone wall to the water below.
Jordan turned quickly to watch the far end of the bridge, for a glimpse of the two men leaving, wondering how in the hell she could follow him if she didn’t have a car. The mist had already dissipated there, however, and though she watched for a long time, she never saw them walk off the bridge.
The mist blew itself out like a giant block of dry ice had finally melted. And the Highlanders were gone. She hurried up the riverbank and ran to the stone wall, expecting to see Kerry and the other guy crouching like idiots, playing some kind of joke on her. But the entire length of the bridge was clear.
She ran to the far side and looked over, but she found nothing but shadows. The riverbanks, a hundred yards away, were undisturbed. Even if they’d started running when the mist hit, they couldn’t have gotten that far. If there had been a boat, she would have seen it through the arches.
What in the hell is going on here?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It made no sense at all.
From her vantage point on the riverbank, Jordan had been able to see both ends of the bridge, and thanks to the large arches beneath, she would have seen if anyone had climbed off the far side and gone up the river. While she’d been climbing up the bank and running to the bridge, they might have tried to run away, but would have been busted before they could get out of sight.
The really silly part was that there was no reason for anyone to run anywhere. Kerry told her he was leaving, that he wouldn’t tell her where he was going, only that it was over. If a car had come to get him, she couldn’t have followed. She couldn’t have followed a boat, a bicycle, or anything else. So why sneak away?
And again, even if there had been a reason to sneak away, they couldn’t have done it without her catching them.
Clearly, Kerry and his buddy wanted her to believe that they’d disappeared into the mist. They’d made sure she wouldn’t think there was another alternative.
So why would they do that?
“Kerry!” Please answer. Please answer. Please be teasing me…
She leaned over the side of the bridge and hollered again. She even looked for footprints in the rain-soaked riverbanks but found nothing but her own deep, size-nines when she came back again.
They couldn’t have gone off either end of the bridge without her seeing. They didn’t go off the side.
She even scoured the top of it looking for possible trap doors or hiding places. And just in case it was some sort of Candid Camera deal, she stomped off down the road, in the opposite direction of town, and kept on going. She’d gone a good half mile before she’d burnt off enough frustration to come back again. And when she did, she came up slowly through a cluster of trees and just watched the bridge for a little while, camera on and ready.
Jordan chided herself for going so far, knowing the men could have snuck away while she was gone. Then she chided herself again for being paranoid.
What did it matter, in the end, why the men did what they did, however they’d done it? She should have just gone back to her rental and licked her wounds. Now she was just exhausted and hostile.
As she crossed the bridge one last time, headed back to Brechin, she held her breath and listened, hoping that somehow, she’d walked right past him. He’d reach out and take her hand and tell her he’d changed his mind…
She was still waiting when she reached the Bridgend Bar. Catherine unlocked the door and disappeared inside, then the open sign flashed.
May as well. No one to go back to. If she had to spend the afternoon alone in that apartment once more, with the smell of fried ham and blacksmith in the air, she’d cry the rest of the day away. Of course she wanted to be alone, but bartenders didn’t count, did they?
Besides, Catherine might know something.
~ ~ ~
Jordan nursed her Coke while she told the whole story to Catherine. She hadn’t intended to, of course. She’d only wanted to tell the part about Kerry disappearing on the bridge, and does that maybe happen often in Brechin, someone disappearing in the mist? And if so, do they ever come back?
But after a half hour of trying to sound rational, the story was out there, on the bar, waiting for Catherine’s analysis of it.
The woman flipped a bar towel over her shoulder and leaned her elbow on the counter. “Ye ken what I think?”
“What?”
“I think The Blacksmith of Brechin returned from the battlefield at last. Only, maybe he didn’t know he was dead, aye? And maybe this fellow on the bridge was the devil himself, come to catch him off hallowed ground.”
Jordan watched Catherine for a long time, waiting for the woman to break. But ultimately, she had to admit the bartender’s wife totally believed Kerry had been a ghost.
“And what did he say? That he didnae have anything to pay with? Not even his life?” She nodded violently. “Because he’d already lost it.”
“I’m pretty sure,” Jordan said, “that the devil can’t get his hands on honorable men. And Kerry is an honorable man.”
Catherine puckered her lips and made a face. “Maybe ye’re right about that. But he still might have been a ghostie. How else do ye explain him leaving with the mist, eh? Either that, or the wee folk could have taken him.” She went back to moving bottles and polishing the mirror behind them.
Jordan had one more detail she hadn’t intended to reveal, and she bit her lips together for a minute trying to decide whether that detail might change the other woman’s opinion. Eventually, after a shot of rum added to her drink, she decided it wouldn’t do any harm. She’d be leaving in the morning anyway, and if the town of Brechin laughed about Kerry and her for a good long time, it wouldn’t matter to her.
Catherine replaced the bottles, turned back to the bar, and narrowed her eyes. “What is it, lass?”
“Kerry said something else.”
“Aye?” Catherine was all ears again.
“In the beginning, I wanted to keep our relationship professional, you know? I didn’t want to get personal.”
“Heaven kens why ye’d want such a thing, but go on.”
“He said, since I didn’t want to get too attached, I should just think of him as a man from …Brigadoon…”
Catherine slapped her with the folded end of her towel. “There ye are, then. Ye should have said so.” Then she frowned. “But I thought it was only the one day.”
Jordan explained the joke behind version 2.0.
Finally, Catherine shouldered her towel again, leaned against the back wall, and folded her arms over her stomach. “I think that no matter what sort of magic it was that brought the man to Brechin, we ken he disappeared with the mist. We ken he shares the name and the very face of The Blacksmith. And we ken he cannot come back again. The only thing left is to decide…whether ye believe or no.”
Do ye believe or no? The words repeated in Jordan’s head for the next twenty-four hours, until she was finally seated on the airplane waiting to take off for New York. Until, at last, there was enough hustle and bustle to keep her distracted.
Though she’d requested a window seat, she
’d been bumped to the middle, and she waited with dread to see who would end up sitting in the seats beside her. Someone too chatty? Too quiet? She didn’t know which would be worse. Maybe a woman with a baby would keep her entertained and help her forget about Scotland for a little while.
Although, it would be a long trip with a baby…
A woman twice her age came down the aisle staring at the numbers above the seats. She stopped at Jordan’s row and smiled, then pointed to the window seat. Jordan stepped into the aisle to let the woman in and realized there was another woman that looked just like the first…
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“I’ve got the aisle,” the second twin said.
Jordan smiled. “If you two want to sit together, I’m happy to—”
“No, dear. She needs the window or she’ll get sick. I like the aisle. Closer to the restroom.”
Jordan tried not to imagine either sister having trouble on their long flight and hoped for the best. Thankfully, neither woman asked her what she’d been doing in Scotland. And even though they were a little on the quiet side, they kept her entertained with their fussing.
One turned the air on and aimed the little nozzle toward her face. The other one shivered, pulled a small plaid blanket from her bag, and used it to cover her arms and chest. For the first little while, each sister seemed to do the opposite of the other.
When the drink cart came along, however, everything changed. They wanted the same drink, the same snack. They both asked for earphones and a pillow. They turned on their little televisions at the same time and flipped through the options. Eventually, the one on the left landed on a movie and started it.
The one on Jordan’s right was watching exactly the same movie, but about two seconds ahead.
