She panted into the darkness. “I want my love, my happiness and the person who makes me laugh and cry and fight,” she whispered. “I want you Connor. I love you so much that I would happily give up all of this for you. You are what I really want and, damn it, I’m going to come back to you. Without regrets.”
Chapter 46
Five days later, Emmy leaned against the rail of the Caladonean MacBrayne, the ferry from Oban to Craignure. The December wind was biting cold but Emmy was snuggled in the depths of her warmest winter coat, scarf and gloves. It had taken a few days to prepare herself to try again, no succeed, in her return to Duart. Laying it all on the line, she had even updated her will leaving everything she had to Johns Hopkins and St Jude’s.
By her side, her largest tote was stuffed tightly. Kicking it with her toe, Emmy considered the bag. It had taken her a long time to figure out what she wanted to bring with her, assuming that what she carried would go with her as it had before. Should she bring twenty new bras and pairs of underwear? As much toilet paper as she could carry? A lifetime supply of tampons? She smiled. All those things she would just have to do without, but getting what she did want had delayed her a bit since it wasn’t something she could just carry on the plane and get through customs without questions. She’d had to wait in Oban for two days waiting for the package she had sent herself to arrive.
Her focus shifted to the coastline of Mull as Duart came into view. There it was, waiting. The wind was crisp and cold against her cheeks yet she hardly noticed. All her thoughts, her consciousness were focused on one man, lost to the past. Simply yearning. A quiver of uncertainty flashed through her. What if she failed? She was at the whim of a crazy old man who, it seemed, could only be found when he wanted to be. What if she could never find him again?
So lost in thought was she that she did not notice the pair of eyes which had been focused on her for so long. She could have been mugged and not even noticed or cared for that matter. Nothing mattered any longer. She had no will, no direction, and no desire beyond what lay before her. Soft footsteps approached from behind. If she’d been paying attention, Emmy would have noticed they were slow and shuffling.
“Lass? Lass?” The low, gruff voice had to repeat the word several times before it penetrated her consciousness. When it finally did, she jumped as though burned. Emmy turned to see and elderly gentleman at her side. Though he must have been in is late 70’s or early 80’s, he was not bent with age but rather stood straight. He was broad across the shoulders and a bit heavyset. His hair gray and he wore a beard. From the looks of his clothing and the heavy cane he held in one hand, it seemed to do quite well for himself.
“Excuse me?” She questioned a bit warily, for despite his genteel appearance, he was still a stranger approaching her on a public ferry.
The old man chuckled deeply at her obvious wariness. “Don’t be afraid, please. I don’t mean you any harm.”
“I didn’t think you did,” she replied tartly.
He laughed again at the obvious lie. He moved to stand at the rail, a few feet away, and looked out over the sound as well. His long heavy overcoat flapped in the wind. “I remember riding the ferries that came before this with great fondness. They were smaller, of course, not so crowded and no cars.”
“Yes, I remember.” she sighed.
“Do you?” he asked gently.
Emmy started realizing her mistake. “What I meant was I can certainly imagine...”
He waved her into silence. “It’s all right. I know what you meant.”
For some reason, part of her warmed to the man without warning. “You do?”
“Aye,” he smiled with a nod staring out over the waters beyond. “And you will see it again. Everything.”
He seemed so calm and reasonable that Emmy was sure he must be mad. How could he possibly know what she meant? Did he know? Could he help her? She tried to joke lightly, “Are you a fortune-teller? Can you see my future?”
He did not laugh but merely regarded her seriously for a moment before he changed the subject. “You know, my grandmother used to bring me on the ferry often for trips into Oban to get ice cream. She said it was our special time.”
“She did?”
“She did.” He chuckled again. “She was quite fond of ice cream.”
“Really, this is very interesting,” she turned away from him a bit frustrated by his cryptic conversation. “What else did your grandmother say?”
“She said to always be a gentleman.” He turned to face her. “Please allow me to introduce myself. Connor James Lachlan MacLean the Fourth, earl Strathclyde.”
“Connor Jam...”
He reached out and took her suddenly limp hand, shaking it with his large rough one. “I know,” he chuckled again. “Grandmother always said you shouldn’t number your descendants.”
Emmy met his eyes for the first time and could only stare in shock. Dark brown eyes warmed with gentleness and caring. “You know.” she whispered.
“Of course I do.”
“H-h-how?”
“You know, I have not gone about this well at all. Not as all as I had planned to.” Connor the Fourth shook his head and tsked himself. “It was the surprise, you see. Of seeing you here. I didn’t recognize you at first.”
“You know.” She stated more clearly staring at him with owl-like eyes. She laid her hand firmly on his arm and forced him to look at her. His eyes so unnerving. “Please, do not play with me here. How do you know? Connor MacLean was your grandfather?”
He returned her gaze in all seriousness. “I do not mean to toy with you. My apologies. Aye, he was my grandfather.”
“So, who was your grandmother then?”
“Why, you, of course.” He sighed and chuckled again. “That does sound a bit strange, doesn’t it? My grandmother! Ha! Strange, but true.”
Emmy’s head spun. “But how can that be?”
“As I said, you will see it all again.” He patted her hand in comfort. “You will return to Duart, bring your children and grandchildren here to the ferry...”
“Are you sure?” she interrupted suddenly frantic, clutching at his sleeve. “I’ve been so worried about it! I tried before! It didn’t work!”
Gently he put an arm around her and led her to a nearby bench. “There now, don’t cry. Of course, it will work. If not, I wouldn’t be here today. You told me stories in my youth of this day and I came to find you just as you said I must. To assure you that all would be well.”
Emmy looked up at his handsomely weathered face thinking that perhaps this was what Connor might look like at that age. Hope blossomed in her. Hoping and praying that he wasn’t just some mad, loony...well, psychic, or something. “I told you that?”
“Aye, of course it’s not something one would bandy about outside the family.” The warm chuckle was back as this new Connor patted her hand. “The shrinks would have had a field day with us, you know.”
“But, I did try to return,” she whispered hoarsely. “I couldn’t find Donell…”
“But you weren’t certain yet, were you? You didn’t know yet.”
Emmy stared at him in confusion. “I told you that? I felt like I was certain.”
“You were given a chance,” he told her. “A chance for yourself and a second chance for others. Now you have a second chance for you if you truly want it. With every fiber of your being. Nothing held back. No doubts. No reservations.”
“But I wanted to return right away more than anything. Why wasn’t Donell there then?”
“It was your doubts that caused your return, you said. You missed the things you had and the first thing you did when you got back was order a Coke.” He stared off for a moment. “One moment of doubt was all it took for it all to end. If you decide that Duart is what you really want, if you clear away all those doubt and return with no reservations then you will be there forever.”
A feeling of calm descended on her. To be with Connor forever. Nothing here in this centur
y mattered any longer, simply Connor and her life with them. “Then I will be,” she whispered at last.
“I know,” he whispered in return. “As I said, I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t. May I also add, a more beautiful grandmother one could never hope to find?”
Emmy smiled for the first time. “Nor a finer grandson.” She patted his hand. “The family...you...are doing well?”
“Of course.” His handsome MacLean eyes twinkled. “Grandmother ran our family investments until her death and then made us remember two highly useful words on her deathbed.”
“Oh? What were they?”
“Microsoft and Google.”
They both laughed out loud until Connor the Fourth stood using his cane as leverage. “The ferry will be docking soon. May I give you a ride home?”
Emmy rose to stand beside him. “I would like that very much.” She bent to pick up her heavy bag and hooked the strap on her shoulder and Connor laughed aloud. “What?”
“That bag!” he chuckled. “My whole life, I was fascinated by it and everything it held.”
“Really?”
“Aye, did I not mention that I am a doctor?”
Emmy smiled brightly. “Are you really?”
“Retired, of course, but I still deliver a baby every now and then,” he smiled as well and held out an arm for her.
Emmy took it and smiled up at him as the gangplank was lowered and the crowd of passengers went ashore. The pair moved with the flow through the terminus and out the other side. A limousine waited there and Connor gestured toward it. The driver remained in the car but Connor held the door open for her.
The ride was short but by the time they arrived, Emmy had grown anxious again. “Are you sure?”
The old man laughed aloud heartily. “I don’t remember you being so jumpy.”
“I’m not jumpy…just anxious.” She watched as Duart came into view. “Do we have a good life?” She didn’t expect to answer. In every TV show she had ever seen where a man from the future came to someone, they were never allowed to tell. Or said that it wasn’t good to know how your future turned out.
“You marriage is still one of the best I’ve ever seen. You will fight like cats and dogs sometimes but your love was always evident,” he told her. “And before you ask, obviously you will have children.”
“More than one?”
“Aye, more than one.”
“And,” she swallowed apprehensively afraid of the answer in the face of nineteenth century medicine and this grandson hadn’t mentioned knowing her Connor. “Do we have a long life together? I know I shouldn’t ask but…”
“Trying to make sure it will be worth it?” he chuckled.
“I would be worth it for one minute more,” she replied firmly.
“You will get more time than you imagined,” he assured her.
Emmy sighed happily and giggled. “God, we’re going to be a couple of old farts knocking around the castle someday, aren’t we?”
“Not you, you were always ahead of your time.” The car rolled to a halt in front of the castle and he patted her hand. “We are here.”
“Duart Castle,” she whispered staring up at the old castle.
“And still open from May until October just as you always insisted it be,” he teased.
“Well, good thing it was!”
“Indeed. Well, I guess it is time for you to go.”
“Thank you so much.”
“You helped yourself. I was only the messenger.”
“Still, I thank you. I will live a long happy life knowing what a fine future is in store for me. Especially that I shall have a grandson such as you.”
“Thank you....grandmother.” He winked one twinkling eye.
Emmy laughed with a wince. “Not quite yet, thank you.” She hugged him quickly. “Take care of yourself. I guess I’ll see you in a few years.”
With a shared nod, for no words more were necessary, Emmy got out of the limo as the chauffer held the door and pulled her bag up onto her shoulder one last time. Duart loomed before her and she closed her eyes.
“Are you sure ye know now, lassie?”
Emmy opened her eyes to find Donell in the chauffer’s uniform standing next to her. “Where have you been? I looked all over for you!” she hissed.
“The time wasn’t right, but are ye ready now?” he asked.
“I am and if you give me one moment of mystical destiny crap about it, I swear I will beat you senseless where you stand,” she threatened getting nose to nose with him.
“Not even a wee bit?” he questioned with a straight face though his eyes twinkled merrily. “I told ye I’d be around when ye were ready for me.”
“Don’t make me hurt you, Donell,” she whispered through narrowed eyes. “I will take you out, I kid you not.”
“Ye’re verra fierce, lass.”
“I am not giving up my chance this time, old man. This is it.” Her voice was solid and assured. “You said to come back when I was ready? Well, here I am.”
“No doubts? No reservations?” he confirmed.
“Just anticipation,” her eyes turned back to the castle. Anticipation and joy at the life that awaited her filled her. She could feel the pull already. Her eyes closed as she turned her face to the wind and called to him with all her heart and soul. ‘I’m coming, Connor, my love. I am coming.’
“I’m waiting, Donell,” she called in an annoyed tone.
The old man chuckled. The wind changed blowing strongly from behind her now. There was a loud rush. Then nothing. Silence.
Epilogue
Manhattan
October 28, 1956
Emmy MacLean shuffled slowly across the room with a bottle of Coke in each hand, outside the windows the bright lights of Manhattan sparkled against the dark sky. Life, her life in particular, had seen many changes from new to old and back to almost new again. Buildings and inventions that amazed others always brought a secret smile to her lips. ‘You think that was something?’ she’d think. ‘Just wait and see.’
It had been a good life, just as her grandson had told her.
When she had walked back into Duart on Christmas Eve, Connor had stared at her for a long moment in disbelief before meeting her headlong rush into his arms. He had swung her around as they had laughed and cried in each other’s arms. The joy on his face had matched her own. His devastation over her disappearance had been awful, Dory had told her later on, but the family had banded together determined to help him through it.
On her return, Connor had told she was never allowed to leave his side again and, for almost twenty years, she rarely left his side and was never out of his sight. When she worked, he came along. When he traveled, she went with him. But they had never minded. She never tired of living in his pocket and he never tired of her being there. As Connor the Fourth had predicted, they often fought, difference of opinion and such, but always loved truly.
They had traveled the world together allowing Connor’s brother and cousins to take a greater part in the family businesses that benefited them all.
They had had three sons and a daughter together, Connor, Jamie, Cam and Meagan, after Emmy’s mother. All three boys had fought bravely, despite Emmy’s arguments that they not, in World War I. They had lost Jamie to gunfire in Germany. The others had married and had families of their own. Connor, the third of his name, had stayed on Mull while Cam moved on to London and Meagan had gone on eventually with her husband to do the same. And they had had many grandchildren including Connor the Fourth whom she had always been especially close to.
Thanks to the black notebook Emmy had filled with every significant fact she could find about the early part of the twentieth-century, the family’s investments and fortunes grew. She knew just when to invest and when to withdraw. There had always been whispers about her incredible luck. They had weathered the years well. Duart had thrived and the MacLean’s had gained back nearly all the land they had lost hundreds of years before.
/> Through the years, Emmy had delivered almost 500 babies on Mull and in other areas of medicine, felt that she had saved a life or two that might have been lost before especially during the influenza epidemic in 1919. In her tote when she had returned that fateful day, she had brought her own medical bag stocked with a true stethoscope, blood pressure cuff, and other modern goodies. The rest of the bag had held hundreds of bottles of Motrin and a dozen bottles of penicillin, all that she could get away with after breaking into the medical fridge at the clinic.
The simple fever reducer had saved the lives of dozens during that year including Ian’s.
Emmy had also carried a picture of herself with her mother and a printed copy of the picture she had taken of herself and Connor in front of Duart. Dozens more in black and white had followed over the years. Her black notebook had also contained sheet music for the piano from musicals of her time, favorites she wanted to share with Connor and teach her children.
They saw every movie they could. They had read Gone With the Wind together when it was published and gone to the movie premier in Atlanta. As for the rest, Emmy had eventually learned to appreciate the oldies.
Yes, she had had a good long life, but there was still one more thing to do. She eased herself down on the couch and passed one of the Cokes to Connor who took a long drink and sighed in a gravelly voice. “I am so glad we invested in this all those years ago.”
“Me, too.” She patted his knee and leaned against his side. Connor was ninety-two years old, frail and stooped with age, but to her still the most handsome man she had ever known. His dark eyes still warmed with love when they took in her aged body, sagging skin and gray hair. Unbelievable.
But not a moment of regret, never a millisecond of wondering what might have been. She had just loved this man and been loved by him for sixty-one years and never missed a thing.
What more could a woman want?
She took a sip of her cold drink and snuggled against him as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. This would be their last trip. Tomorrow they would board their last ocean liner to Scotland (Connor had refused to ever get in an airplane). They would return to Duart and never leave again, but since there were no satellite TV’s yet, they had had to be in America for this moment.
A Laird for All Time Page 30
