by L. L. Muir
He frowned and thumped on the door, probably scaring the girl to death. “Lippa? If ye doona come to breakfast, I will eat yer share.”
The door flew open and the ten-year-old made a fierce face and growled like an angry bear. He leaned down and growled just as loud, then kissed her on the nose. They raced to the kitchen, giggling, and left Sam to follow. When she realized her own breakfast might be in jeopardy, she put a wiggle on it.
Her food was still untouched, but Clyde glanced sideways at her bacon, so she gave him the evil eye as she took her seat at the crowded table. “As I was telling your door, Lippa… Just because we get a house with a bedroom for you doesn’t mean you have to sleep in it. You could just keep your stuff in there.”
“I don’t want stuff.”
Sam sighed. “We just want to be prepared in case you decide you want your own room one day. That’s all. And we want you to be closer to other kids your age.”
Hamish elbowed the girl. “Because Samantha and I are weary of being yer playthings.”
Sam gasped. “That’s not true.” When Lippa stared her down, she shrugged. “Okay, it’s a little true. But one of these days, you’re going to have to go be part of the world instead of just watching it on the TV.”
Roddy knocked the doll he’d adopted onto the floor and hurried to pick it up. It had taken Sam a while to understand why Lippa hadn’t been interested in the doll, when she’d offered it to her. But the girl already had two dolls, Clyde and Roddy, whom she’d been caring for. Why would she want another one?
Roddy hadn’t let go of the doll since the second day, but the dress was long gone. Like the child himself, the doll preferred to be naked. Apparently.
She leaned down to get Roddy’s attention. “Did you sleep warm enough last night?”
“Aye,” he said, then took a bit of porridge, oblivious to the fact that everyone else around the table had frozen in shock. It had been the first word to come out of his mouth since his parents had been killed by the Redcoats.
Lippa grinned, her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Roddy,” she said innocently, “what do ye call yer doll?”
He ducked his head, embarrassed. But just as they’d all given up hope that he’d answer, he said, “Dog. I call her dog.”
Hamish’s laughter boomed through the room, but instead of startling the poor boy, Roddy seemed pretty pleased with himself.
“It still rattles me,” Hamish said, “that ye were able to survive a Highland winter huddled inside Odin’s Helmet with no blankets to speak of.”
“Oh, we didnae,” said Clyde. “When it was so cold the soldiers stopped coming, we stayed in yon bothy.”
Sam shook her head. “What’s a bothy?”
“The cottage where Hamish purchased the pies. No one lives there in winter, and it’s well made. Someone left a high pile of wood behind and we stayed there snug as could be for nigh three months.”
The lines between centuries had already started to blur for the kids, so she and Hamish carefully refrained from mentioning the difference between their time and the present. But still…
She frowned across the table at the man who made her life complete. “I wonder where the old woman went in the winter.”
Clyde wiped his mouth on his napkin, still careful to keep his new pajamas clean. “What old woman?”
“The one who sent me after ye,” Hamish said, “who said there were thieves on the mountain, stealing her food.”
Clyde snorted. “The only thieves on the mountain were the three of us, and we never took anything but the firewood that was left behind. We saw no old woman there.”
While the children dressed and got ready to go look at the new house, she and Hamish washed the dishes together.
“You remember that conversation we had that first night,” she said, “about what centuries we started our day in?”
“Aye.”
“In which century do you think that old woman started her day?”
“I couldnae say. Perhaps she’ll pop her head in one morning so we might thank her for the warning—and for the pies.”
“You don’t think she’s a witch or something, do you? I mean, maybe there was a reason it’s called the Auld Witch House.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “She did have magical berries, did she not?”
“Right.”
“Ye do ken that Bertie and Rob now believe ye’re the witch from the Auld Witch House, that ye’ve come forward in time to reclaim the place. Of course, they also insisted ye’re my reincarnated sister, but I put that notion out of their minds.”
She laughed. “And just how did you do that? Maybe I am Willa.”
“I’ll tell ye what I told them, that I could never kiss my sister as I kiss ye.”
She looked out the window so he wouldn’t see her blush. “Maybe the old woman is the reincarnation of Willa. You said her berry pies looked just like the ones your sister used to make.”
A dish shattered on the floor, making her jump. Hamish stood staring at his outstretched hand with horror on his face. She grabbed a towel and moved close. “Where are you cut?” She couldn’t tell. There was no blood.
He shook his head. “My ring. My father’s ring!” He ran to the door and pushed it out of his way, forgetting all about the broken dish.
A curious Lippa appeared in the doorway.
“Everyone stay out of the kitchen,” Sam told her, “until I can clean it up, okay?” Then she ran out the door after Hamish. He’d gone to the right and she knew he was headed to the cottage. Maybe he thought he’d left the ring behind when they’d gone to check on the place.
She heard a high-pitched noise and stopped to listen. The soulful strains of a violin drifted through the trees, coming from the cottage. She felt the familiar shape in her pocket, so it couldn’t be coming from her phone. Someone was playing!
She started running again and reached the clearing just as Hamish stepped inside the little house. There was something wrong, though. The cottage looked different—older and newer at the same time. The stucco on the front didn’t look as white as usual, but it was all in one piece, like the original coating must have looked.
Cautiously, she walked to the open door, then stepped inside. Hamish stood in front of the little fireplace, but everything else in the room was primitive. A small table stood between him and the old woman who was, indeed, playing a violin. Her wrinkled gaze was fixed on him as she played, and his was fixed on her.
Sam wondered if some kind of spell had lured him there, but she wasn’t about to let anything happen to him.
Hamish lifted a hand out in front of him. “Cease, Willa. I beg ye.”
The woman stopped immediately and set the violin and bow on the table. Then she grabbed her face and pulled off her nose, which came away with a wide chunk of cheeks attached to either side of it. The gray wig came off just as easily, and a beautiful young woman with dark hair stood inside the frumpy dress, which was probably half-padding.
“Hamish,” she whispered. “Oh, Hamish.”
Sam finally exhaled, but held perfectly still, otherwise. She was an outsider now.
Hamish stepped around the table and pulled the girl into him arms. “Willa. Oh, my Willa. Why did ye not say something from the start? All this time, wasted.” He leaned back to look at her face and cupped her cheeks. “Forgive me, sister.”
“For what?”
“For being so bitter when ye never came to Culloden. I thought, when all had settled, ye might have come to shed a tear over me, to play for me one last time, aye? I was foolish, and refused to leave the battlefield, refusing to give up hope, until time made me forget what I was listening for.”
“I ken it. Yer Soncerae told me. And she gave me the chance to show ye why I couldn’t come, that I was playing for others, still living, who needed me most.”
“The bairns.”
“Aye. I helped them for a time, and with Soni’s assistance, I was able to put them into yer hands, brother. A happy ending for ye, and a we
e taste of justice for me, besides. It’s all worked out, ye see? No need for tears.” She reached up to hipe her brother’s cheeks. “And there is another who can play for ye now, aye?” She finally turned and looked at Sam. “Take close care of him and the bairns.”
“I will.”
Willa nodded, then looked back into Hamish’s eyes. “It was grand seeing Father’s ring again, but ye must take it from me now, for I must go.”
He shook his head and pulled her closer. She slipped the ring from her thumb and tucked it in the pocket of his shirt.
“I love ye well, brother.”
“And I you, sister.” He bent and kissed her forehead, and when he straightened, a bluster of wind blew a pile of leaves in through the door.
Sam moved over to them, closed her eyes, and pressed her face against Hamish’s arm until the debris stopped flying. And when she looked up again, Willa was gone and her poor husband was groping air. Thinking he might need a moment alone, she stepped back, but before she reached the doorway, he grabbed her hand, and pulled her around to face him, then slipped his arms around her.
“Listen to me, lass. It was a fine gift for Soni to allow me to see my sister one last time. But the finest gift of all is ye, my love. Whatever I did to deserve such a woman, such a life, I will never ken.” He kissed her so tenderly, she thought her heart might break. “I love ye with all my heart, Samantha MacKord Farquharson. More than ye can imagine.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered back. And if it took her the rest of her very blessed life, she would make sure he knew she loved him the most.
THE END
I hope you have enjoyed Hamish’s tale. The next installment in the Ghosts of Culloden Moor series RORY, told by Jo Jones. MacBean will also be out right away. And don’t forget that the Ghosts have their own Facebook page, too.
Be sure to follow my new releases on my Amazon, Bookbub, or Facebook pages, under L.L. Muir. You can also sign up to get my newsletters at www.llmuir.weebly.com.
Thank you for playing!
About the Author
L.L. Muir lives in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains with her husband and family. She appreciates funny friends, a well-fed campfire, and rocking sleepy children.
A disturbing amount of bridge mix was consumed while writing HAMISH.
If you like Lesli’s 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!
