Men of Midnight Complete Collection

by Emilie Richards

  Nothing that couldn’t be changed.

  In the late afternoon Billie strolled through the hotel attic with Fiona and Mara at her side, lifting dusty items and scrutinizing them carefully. In less than a minute she had discarded three lamps and a radio that Fiona had hoped was an antique.

  Billie picked up a stack of crocheted doilies that were crumbling from age and neglect. She shook her head and relegated them to the discard pile. “I think there are enough people who’ll stand firm to keep Carlton-Jones and Surrey from having what they want.”

  Last night’s meeting had been the topic of discussion since Billie’s arrival. “I want to believe you’re right,” Fiona said.

  “She is.” Mara lifted a chipped crystal bowl from the top of a cardboard carton and handed it to Billie. “Worth a repair?”

  Billie held it up to the light. “Nope. But Martha Stewart would use it for flowers. She’d put sweet peas or drooping ferns over the chipped part.”

  “What did you mean, Billie’s right?” Fiona asked Mara. “Do you know something we don’t?”

  Billie grimaced. “She always knows something we don’t.”

  “Do I know exactly what the result of last night’s meeting will be?” Mara shrugged. “No. Do I know that we’ll raise our children here, and that life will be good?” She smiled.

  “Does that mean yes?”

  “It’s never as clear as all that. But I felt the black clouds drifting away last night, and when I awoke this morning, the village was ablaze in sunshine.”

  Billie lifted an old cribbage board from a box and ran her thumb over the holes. “Speaking of children…”

  Fiona exchanged glances with Mara.

  “I’m pregnant,” Billie said. “At least, I think I am.” She looked up, and her eyes narrowed. “Darn, you’re no fun at all. You already knew, didn’t you?”

  “I had a wee suspicion.” Mara embraced her. “So am I.”

  Billie hugged her back, the cribbage board temporarily forgotten in one hand. “Does Duncan know?”

  “Aye. I told him last night. But I told Fiona first.” Mara stretched out her arm to include Fiona in their embrace. “And it’s largely due to her, I think, that I could tell Duncan today. I think we owe the future of the village to our Fiona.”

  Fiona tried to protest, but Billie shushed her. “You were magnificent,” she said, hugging Fiona hard. “If Carlton-Jones and Surrey abandon their plans, it will be as much because of what you said as anything else.”

  “The men of midnight had a bit to do with it,” Fiona said.

  “Aye, a bit,” Mara said. “But they needed you, Fiona. We all did. And we always will.”

  Fiona thought about what she planned to do in a few minutes. She had left the meeting last night without speaking to Andrew, who had been surrounded by people. She hadn’t seen him today, either, but she knew from Duncan that Andrew had driven into Inverness early in the morning to bring Kaye Gerston home from the hospital.

  He should be home soon.

  “Can the two of you finish this without me?” She backhanded the air ineffectually.

  “You go on. Andrew needs you more than we do,” Mara said.

  Fiona met her eyes. “What else do you know?”

  “If you go to him now, you’ll find out for yourself.”

  “I thought you couldn’t see the destiny of people you loved?”

  “She doesn’t need second sight to know what’s between you and Andrew,” Billie said. “Plain old eyesight is plenty good enough.”

  * * *

  Andrew crossed the pub threshold but was blocked immediately by friends who wanted to have a word with him about last night. He had turned down half a dozen drams by the time he arrived at the bar, and he shook his head as Brian raised a bottle high. “Just water.”

  “Am I hearing you right? Water?”

  “You are, and that’s all I’ll be having from now on,” Andrew said. “Even if I have to pay for it, I will.”

  “Water, Andrew?”

  Andrew looked up to find Iain beside him. “That’s what I’m drinking, aye.”

  “Well, I’ve heard it said the stuff’s not so bad. Make mine water, too, Brian.”

  Brian grumbled under his breath.

  Andrew turned and leaned against the bar. “You can drink whatever you choose, Iain. I’ll no’ grab the glass from your hand.”

  Iain lifted the water that Brian put down in front of him. “Slainte mhah. To your health, Andrew. To the best of health forever.”

  Andrew lifted his own in response. He hadn’t looked forward to explaining his decision to stop drinking to his friends, but he should have known that Iain wouldn’t need an explanation.

  “Give me whatever you gave them,” Duncan said, crossing the room to join them.

  “It will no’ be to your liking,” Brian grumbled. He slid Duncan a glass of water from a full ten feet away.

  Duncan looked at his water, then he looked at Andrew. He gave one of his rare smiles. “I like it fine.”

  “We’re alone again,” Andrew said, and it was true. As always, the other patrons had taken tables in the far corners of the room. “I thought after last night the villagers might have determined that we’re only men. With no special power among us.”

  “Did you think that would be the result?” Iain asked. “Then you weren’t at the same meeting I attended. There was enough power in that room to light up Druidheachd for years.”

  “Aye, but we have no more power than any three men who come together for something they believe in. That’s what the people here have never understood. We’re no different from any of them. They’ve given us a name, and a reputation, but we’re only men.”

  Duncan had given similar speeches more times than Andrew could count. Now he shook his head. “I think you’re wrong.”

  “Do you?”

  “I think there’s a special significance to being born at midnight. It’s neither day nor night, one day or the next. It’s a moment that hovers alone in time, poised on the brink of change. And that’s exactly where Druidheachd has been. Poised at midnight, waiting for the next part of its history to begin. And I think that next part began last night. I just hope it unfolds the way we know it should.”

  “Fiona is no’ the only one in the Sinclair family capable of poetry.”

  Duncan watched Andrew thoughtfully. “I think Fiona turned the tide of the meeting last night.”

  Andrew couldn’t even think about what Fiona had done without feeling his throat tighten. “Aye.”

  “She’s always been my little sister. It’s been my job from the beginning to protect her.”

  “I know.”

  “I guess she proved last night that she doesn’t need my protection.”

  “That she did.”

  “I’m sorry,” Duncan said gruffly.

  Andrew didn’t have to ask what Duncan was apologizing for. He was giving Andrew a clear go-ahead. Andrew just didn’t know how to tell his friend he had no idea how he should proceed with Fiona. He cleared his throat. “I dinna know why we were born at the same moment. I’ve no notion if it was fate or coincidence or someone’s idea of a joke. I’m just glad that it happened that way.”

  Duncan clapped him on the back. “And do you suppose that now, since we may very well have served out our cosmic purpose, life will settle down for all of us? We’ll move into middle age worrying about mortgages and high blood pressure and where to take our next vacation, instead of curses and ghosts and creatures in the loch?”

  They gazed thoughtfully at each other. “Not bloody likely,” Iain said with a wry smile. And as one, the three men lifted their water glasses in silent toast.

  * * *

  “Fiona?”

  Four feet from the hotel’s front door, Fiona recognized David Gow’s cultured accent. Reluctantly she turned to wait for him to cross the lobby and join her. “I’m afraid I’m on my way out,” she apologized. “If it’s another problem with your room, you�
��d do better to speak with Nancy.”

  “It’s not a problem at all. I’m leaving town in a few minutes, and I wanted to say goodbye.”

  “Well, we’ll miss you.” She extended her hand. “I hope you found your stay…enlightening?”

  “Quite so.” He favored her with one of his thousand-watt smiles, along with the handshake. “I have something for you.” He extended a file folder.

  She took it and held it to her chest.

  “No, go on and look at it now. Please.”

  She was on her way to Andrew’s, and she really didn’t want a delay, but her curiosity got the better of her. She opened the folder and found a neatly typed article, probably his submission for the next issue of his paper. She looked up.

  “If you’d take a moment and read it, I’d be grateful.”

  She nodded reluctantly. She scanned the article at first, then she found herself backing up to read every word. When she had finished, she didn’t know what to say. “David…”

  “My farewell present.”

  “You’ve as much as admitted that you didn’t really see our creature, that it was a trick of the waves and light.”

  “Not quite. I’ve said that it could have been.”

  The article was beautifully written. Despite herself, Fiona was enormously impressed with his abilities. She had never read a more moving testament to the powers of myth and legend and one man’s desire to believe in both. No one could fault David for what he had claimed, but neither would anyone with an ounce of skepticism believe that a creature really existed in Loch Ceo. Fiona could almost hear the village’s tourist revenue trickling away.

  “You’ve gotten yourself off the hook nicely.” She looked up. “And you’ve defused the tourist bomb here. Now maybe Druidheachd has a chance of getting back to normal.”

  “More than a chance. I’m a better reporter than you might think, with better sources.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I know for a fact that the gent who was representing Carlton-Jones and Surrey at the meeting last night has recommended that they abandon this project. He doesn’t think the company has a prayer of getting all the land they need. He indicated to me that they’ve reluctantly agreed.”

  “You’re sure?”

  He smiled again. “As sure as I am that the royal family will have another crisis in the next six months.”

  “That’s as good as it gets.” She handed him the folder, and he tucked it under his arm.

  He reached for her hand and held it for a moment. “You were wonderful last night, Fiona. I’m planning to do an article on you and the Stardust books when the rest of this dies down. I hope you’ll agree.”

  “On one condition.”

  “Anything.”

  “You tell me right here and now that you never saw Andrew’s darling.”

  “I think I’m looking at Andrew’s darling.”

  “David…”

  He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. Then he released it. “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Are you afraid I’ll tell someone? I won’t. You’ve done more than anyone could have expected to make things right.”

  “I can’t tell you I never saw her, Fiona, because it’s not true. I had every intention of lying when I set out that night. I made myself as comfortable as I could and settled in to get some asleep. And in the hour just before dawn, I woke up and saw Andrew’s darling no more than twenty feet away, stretching her magnificent neck toward the stars. She turned and saw me, and for a moment she did nothing at all. Then she flipped her tail and arched her back and dove gracefully back into the water.”

  Fiona was silent, imagining that sight.

  “Do you believe me?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “I won’t say it changed my life.” His smile belied his words.

  “Thank you for telling me.”

  “You can tell Andrew, although I doubt he’ll believe it.”

  “I don’t know. Of all people, Andrew believes in miracles.”

  “I’ll be in touch in a month or so.” David opened the door for her and lifted his hand in farewell.

  Outside the sun was still shining brightly, although it was past six o’clock. Fiona crossed the village green and wound her way toward the loch. Andrew’s house was a good distance by foot, but she knew better than to hurry. She couldn’t risk a cramp, and she didn’t want to be exhausted when she arrived.

  The air smelled of summer, of wild dog roses and freshly mowed grass. The loch had its own distinct smell, a clean, elemental fragrance, like the moments just before a rainstorm. She stopped more than once to gaze out over it when the road took her close enough for a good view.

  Finally she turned off on the narrow wynd that led to Andrew’s cottage and the ones much farther beyond. She hadn’t called, because she hadn’t wanted to risk a rejection. Now she hoped that the long walk hadn’t been for nothing.

  She was relieved to see Andrew’s sedan parked beside a cluster of larch trees. His lights were on, and his windows were thrown open to the fresh breeze. From inside the house she heard Poppy’s yapping, then, more faintly, Andrew’s voice.

  “No, you’ll no’ be going out with me this time, lad. I’m in no mood for your company tonight.”

  Fiona didn’t have to calculate where Andrew might be going. He was going where he always did when he needed to think and plan. He was going out on the loch to commune with his darling.

  And she was going with him.

  She was waiting when he stepped aboard minutes later, waiting at the cruiser’s starboard side and gazing out over the water. She turned when she knew he had seen her.

  “Hello, Andrew.”

  “Fiona…”

  “Isn’t it a wonderful evening? It’s still so light.”

  “Aye.”

  “I heard you talking to Poppy. I knew you’d be coming out. May I come with you?”

  He answered by turning aside to cast off. She settled herself at the stern, and as she did, she remembered the night he had brought her out on the loch for the first time. He had told her then that there was a woman inside her, clawing her way free.

  He had been right.

  The motor rumbled, and the boat began to move away from the pier. He guided it with skill until they were free of the shore and past the only other boat in sight. Then he opened the throttle and started across the water.

  She had expected him to come and sit with her, as he had that first time. Since they were virtually alone on the loch, she doubted it was necessary to stand rigidly at the helm, but that was what he did.

  She contented herself with admiring the view. The sun was sinking slowly, and the light was growing softer. Sunset was still an hour or more away, and even then, the sky would stay light for a time. Winter days were cruelly brief and summer days unending, but nothing in Scotland was mundane or ordinary. It was a land given to excesses, a land she would be happy to live in forever.

  Time ceased to have any meaning. Tonight the loch was a blue so dark it seemed to dispense with color entirely. Except for the wake of the boat, the surface was still. She imagined Andrew’s darling somewhere far below them.

  The motor purred a softer cadence, and the boat began to slow. Fiona realized they were approaching the sheltered cove where Andrew had brought her the first time.

  They were completely alone when he turned off the motor. For a moment the silence was as loud as a roar. She got to her feet. Andrew hadn’t moved toward her, so she covered the space between them instead. “I’m glad you chose this place. It has nice memories connected to it.”

  “Aye.”

  “I don’t think anyone will be developing this cove for a long time.”

  “We can hope that’s the case.”

  “I think it will be.” She told him what David had said about Carlton-Jones and Surrey. “Druidheachd is bound to change, but it looks as if maybe it will change slowly. And now that everyone’s been alerted to what cou
ld happen, maybe there’ll be more safeguards established. That’s the next thing we have to work on.”

  “We, Fiona? Do you plan to stay here, then?”

  “I’m not going anywhere. This is my home now.”

  “Fiona…”

  She saw anguish in his eyes and something very close to guilt. She stepped forward and put a finger to his lips. “You have nothing to apologize for, Andrew. You were right about me. I was hiding from you. I guess I’ve been a little like your darling in that way. I’ve been more afraid of exposure than anything. I’ve only risked a glance or two at the real world when I was sure that no one was there to see me.”

  He took her hand. “I had no right to try to force you to be something you’re no’.”

  “You didn’t force me. You told me the truth about myself, and you told me what it was doing to you.”

  He tightened his grip. “You’ve no need to let me off so easily. I’ve regretted what I did every moment since. I want you any way I can have you.”

  “You can have me the way I am, Andrew. The scars, the fears, the insecurities. And you can have the rest, too. The better parts of me, and the best.” She stepped back, and she smiled as she unfastened the top button of her blouse. “I love you, Andrew.”

  He covered her hands. “You dinna have to do this.”

  “I want you to see who I am. It’s taken me too many years to realize that this is a body to be proud of. I survived a fire, and every scar I have is a miracle. Maybe the scars aren’t pretty, but I’m alive because of them. And I’m very, very glad I am.”

  He gathered her hands to his chest. “Then let’s go down to the cabin,” he said hoarsely.

  “No. I want you to see me here, where the light is stronger.” She pulled away from him. She was determined, and she was just discovering that she could be every bit as stubborn as her beloved Scotsman.

  She had dressed carefully for this moment, and undressing posed no difficulties. She neither sped through it nor lingered. She undressed with the same lack of fanfare that she did each night before bed. When she was finished, she stood before him, her clothes spread out at her feet.