Kilty Pack One

by Amy Vansant

  And one of these men has tricked me.

  “You brought me here so I couldn’t scream at you,” she said, glowering at Sean.

  He grimaced, confirming her suspicion.

  Catriona smacked the table top with the tip of her fingers. “I knew it. You’re trying to keep me from making a scene.”

  The occupants of several nearby tables turned to look at her.

  “If his plan is tae keep ye quiet, it isnae workin’,” said Broch.

  Catriona flashed the other diners an apologetic smile and stared at her napkin.

  This can’t be a good sign. Sean didn’t trust her to take the revelation of his and Broch’s secrets like an adult. The news was that bad.

  While her emotions ping-ponged inside of her breast, Broch sat between them, calm and happy. Though he was the visitor, she felt like the third wheel.

  “Would you like some bread?” said a waiter, arriving with a basket in his hand.

  “Aye, ah’m starving, taa.” Brochan took the basket from the man’s hand and set it down in front of him. He nodded to the others. “They’d lik’ some tae, aye?”

  The waiter stared down at him before turning to Catriona and Sean. “Would, uh, you each like a basket of bread?”

  Catriona closed her eyes and shook her head. “We’re fine, thank you.”

  Broch glanced at her, chewing. “Are ye sure? The breid ‘tis delicious. Ah think there’s a wee bit of honey in it.”

  Catriona turned her attention back to Sean, nodding her head towards Broch. “Just so you know, I believe that he’s from eighteenth-century Scotland. I wasn’t sure at first, what with his sophisticated manners and all, but I made the leap.”

  Broch stopped chewing and stared at her.

  “Ah ken Sassenach, lassie.”

  “You know sasquatch?” Catriona looked at Sean. “Is that what you brought me here to tell me?”

  Sean rolled his eyes. “He said he speaks English.”

  “Oh sure. That totally sounded like English.”

  “He means he knows when you’re mocking him.” Sean nodded to Broch’s personal basket and leaned in to speak in a whisper. “The waiter is supposed to give you one piece of bread from the basket. It wasn’t all for you.”

  Broch shot Catriona a look. “Howfur am ah suppose tae ken whit breid is mines if ye dinnae tell me?”

  He pushed the basket into the middle of the table and sat back, arms folded across his chest, his lips drawn into a knot.

  “He’s got a point. You can’t set him up to fail,” said Sean.

  Catriona sighed. Sean was taking Broch’s side.

  She put her hands on the table and leaned forward to lock gazes with Sean. “Fine. Sorry. Now spit out your whole sordid story. The one you should have told me a long time ago. I promise not to make a scene.”

  “Ah wouldnae believe her,” mumbled Broch.

  Sean seemed to brace himself to speak. “Sweetheart—”

  “Don’t sweetheart me,” said Catriona.

  Broch pointed at Catriona. “Ha. See? Ah tellt ye. She’s angry as a cat in a loch.”

  Sean flashed Broch a warning look and began again. “Cat, do you remember anything about the day I found you?”

  Catriona sat back in her chair and shook her head. “Not a lot. You’ve always told me that I was adopted and I think I created the memory of living in an orphanage out of scenes from Annie. But now...I think I have a memory of you cutting off a man’s arm with a sword? I didn’t think it was a real memory until recently, when it came to my attention that catching you sword fighting maybe wasn’t as odd as I once thought.”

  Sean perked. “Right. That’s right. The man you were with shot a client of mine and Luther.”

  “I can’t picture what happened after you hit him with the sword...” She waggled a finger from him to Broch and back again. “Am I right to assume he was a time-traveler like you two? Did he jump through time after being injured?”

  “Yes. He was in a bad way when he jumped—but he might have found help on the other side—”

  “Where did ye pat yer cloth?” said a loud whisper in Catriona’s ear. Broch had leaned towards her, holding his napkin wadded in his hand.

  She glared at him. “It goes in your lap.”

  He winked. “Aye. Ah thought as much. Ta.”

  “Do you mind? We’re trying to have a serious conversation here.”

  “Aye, sorry.”

  Broch leaned back and, catching a stare from a woman at a nearby table, smiled and tipped an invisible cap to her. She giggled and turned away.

  Catriona returned her attention to Sean. “So that’s why you kept me? Why you hid me from the police? Because the man who had me was one of you?”

  He nodded.

  “Who was that man?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And if he lived—does that mean he’ll come looking for me again?”

  “It’s possible.”

  Catriona swallowed, frightened to ask her next question. “Do you think he was my father?”

  Sean released a breath, his shoulders falling. “I don’t know. But, it’s certainly possible.”

  “You’re full of information.”

  “That’s half the reason I never talked to you about this before. I don’t know much.”

  “So if that man jumped through time after you wounded him, and he was my father, that means I’m a time jumper or whatever you call yourselves?”

  Sean sighed. “There are other reasons why I think that.”

  “Like what?”

  “As a kid you used to...hop sometimes.”

  “What do you mean, hop?”

  “I’d put you in bed and tuck you in and then I’d go back out to my chair—”

  “And?”

  “And you’d already be out there, sitting in your little chair, waiting for me.”

  Broch snorted a laugh. “That’s adorable.”

  Catriona turned on him. “What are you laughing at? You’re in the same boat as me.”

  He scowled. “Ah’m nae.”

  “You are. You came here and you don’t even know how.”

  Broch grunted.

  Catriona rubbed her eye with the palm of her hand. “I don’t understand any of this. I don’t hop now. If what you say is true, why can’t I do it now?”

  Sean shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t hop around either. Maybe it’s a kid thing.”

  “I’m starting to wonder who isn’t a time traveler. At the very least, we seem to be drawn to each other.” Catriona recalled reading in Sean’s journal how his wife—presumably Broch’s mother—had been murdered and a thought occurred to her. “Do you think your wife is alive? Maybe she jumped, too?”

  Sean shook his head. “Brochan’s mother wasn’t one of us.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I buried her, for one.”

  “Oh.” She looked at Broch. “Maybe that’s why Broch doesn’t remember anything from his past and you do. Because he’s half human?”

  Sean barked a laugh, causing heads to turn. He sobered and cleared his throat, leaning across the table to speak more softly to Catriona.

  “You think I’m not human?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “It’s not like you’re normal. Who knows?”

  Sean put his hand on hers. “Cat, we’re human.”

  “But how do you explain what you do?”

  “I can’t. I think we’re just not as rooted as other people.”

  “And that’s it? We can travel through time? We don’t fly or have super strength or anything?”

  Sean chuckled. “No. From what I can tell we don’t have superpowers other than a pathological need to help people in trouble.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. I didn’t become a studio fixer by accident. I think trouble is attracted to us, and we’re better at dealing with it than most.”

  Catriona sighed. “I’d rather be able to fly.”

  Sean sighe
d. “Well, for what it is worth, you’ve got your memory.”

  “What about my memory?”

  “The way you picture things so clearly. I think it’s an offshoot of your time traveling abilities. I think we can mentally hop into the past to peek at what we’re trying to remember.”

  “You mean I’m literally jumping back to the time I saw whatever it is I’m trying to remember?”

  “Yes. In a fashion. I’m able to do it as well. Your ability is stronger than mine, though. I think of it as peeking through time’s curtain.”

  Catriona arched an eyebrow. “Peeking through time’s curtain? My, that’s poetic.”

  “Thank you.”

  She hooked a thumb toward Broch. “How do you explain him not even remembering where he came from?”

  Sean considered Broch. “He’s young?”

  Catriona set her jaw and stared into Sean’s eyes. “There—I just pictured my kitchen in my head. Did I disappear? Did I flicker?”

  Sean shook his head. “I don’t think it happens like that—”

  She raised her hands in frustration. “Then how does it happen?”

  “I don’t have all the answers. It’s not like I had a meeting with the time-traveling king and he told me how this works. My best guess is that time isn’t as linear as people think and we’re able to exploit that. Einstein was on to something, there. It would help if you read a book on String Theory—”

  Catriona dropped her forehead to the table. She remained that way until she heard Broch’s voice, soft and soothing.

  “Dae ye want some breid?”

  She turned her head sideways to see him. He peered back at her from inches away.

  “No, thank you, Broch. I don’t think breid will make me feel any better right now.”

  He nodded and leaned back. Glancing at the basket he’d pushed to the back of the table, he again leaned forward to whisper to her.

  “Kin ye git me some, then?”

  Ignoring him, she sat up and pointed at Sean. “All those trips.”

  “What?”

  Heads turned. She winced and tried again to find a more controlled tone. “All those trips you’ve taken. You always refused to take me. They weren’t for work, were they? You were time traveling?”

  “No—they were normal work trips. I told you, I can’t just hop back in time, kill Hitler, and then show up in time for dinner.”

  Catriona suffered a rising frustration. “How could you not have told me? You told him a couple days after he showed up. Why—”

  Sean took her hand. “This isn’t the life I wanted for you, Cat. I wanted to spare you the danger. I hoped by helping me with my studio work you’d satisfy the urge.”

  “Satisfy what urge?”

  “I told you. We’re drawn to help people. I thought if you helped the studio you wouldn’t be pulled to do other work. Work I couldn’t control.”

  “But—” Catriona’s phone buzzed. Sean’s came to life a second later.

  “Amber Crane,” said Sean, reading his caller ID.

  “Her husband,” said Catriona, checking her own.

  Sean stood. “See? Trouble even finds us at dinner.”

  They left Broch at the table and wandered outside.

  Catriona answered as she walked. “Owen? What’s wrong?”

  The man on the other end of the line shouted back at her. “Someone’s taken my son! They took Toby!”

  She jerked the phone away from her ear to avoid hearing loss. “Easy, Owen, calm down. I can barely understand you. Is that Amber in the background?”

  She heard him take a deep breath. “Yes. She called Sean.”

  “I’m with Sean now. You’re sure Toby’s been taken? Remember Amber left him with her mother that one time—”

  “No—this is different.”

  “Have you called the police?”

  “Amber wanted to but I wasn’t sure—”

  “Call them. And we’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  Catriona disconnected and saw Sean was still on the phone. She returned to their table and caught the eye of the waiter.

  “I’m so sorry, but there’s been an emergency and we need to leave. Can you bring me the check for the drinks?”

  “And the lava cake,” said the waiter.

  “And the what?”

  The waiter peered down his nose at Broch and Catriona saw the Highlander’s lips were covered by a dark smear.

  “Someone helped himself to the dessert tray,” said the waiter.

  “Telltale,” muttered Broch.

  Catriona followed the waiter’s attention to a tray sitting against the wall behind Broch. On it, sat an empty plate amongst the dessert examples.

  “You ate the cake off the dessert tray?” she asked Broch.

  “Ah only took one lik’ Sean said, nae the whole tray.”

  She handed the waiter her credit card. “Bill me for the drinks and the lava cake.”

  The waiter sniffed and with one last sideward glance at Broch, strode away.

  Broch watched him go, his eyes narrowing.

  “That’s not a buffet,” whispered Catriona.

  He pulled his attention away from the retreating server. “Buffet? That’s French. It tasted French. T’was a wee dry, though.”

  “It’s a sample dessert. It’s probably been sitting on that tray for a week.”

  Broch’s lip curled. “Och.”

  Catriona took a deep breath and made a conscious effort not to expend her agitation with Sean on the Highlander. He didn’t know any better. And the cake had looked good. She’d eyed it herself once or twice.

  “It’s okay. We’ll teach you all this fancy stuff later. For now, we’ve got to go.”

  The waiter returned and Catriona signed for the bill. Broch rose to his full height. He scowled at the waiter, whose eyes now danced everywhere but in the direction of the Scotsman.

  When Catriona finished signing, the waiter snatched the receipt from her and scurried off.

  “Aye, ye run, wee man,” said Broch.

  The other diners’ heads swiveled, gazes dropping to Broch’s kilt, and Catriona grabbed his wrist, tugging him toward the door.

  Chapter Ten

  Catriona, Broch and Sean arrived at Owen Crane’s house to find they’d beaten the police. The Cranes had recently separated, with rumors of infidelities on both sides. Owen’s wife, Amber, had once been one of Parasol Picture’s top earners, a breakout star in the college comedy Frat Brat. She’d worked less as it became more difficult to believe her in the role of a sexy college student. A tragic collagen lip injection blunder that left her duck-faced for months hadn’t helped.

  Amber and Owen stood at the end of the driveway waving them forward as they piled from the car. Amber ran forward and threw her arms around Sean as he approached.

  “They took Toby,” she wailed.

  “Who took him?” asked Sean, offering her a quick squeeze and then peeling away.

  “I don’t know.” She noticed Broch in his kilt and wiped her eyes. “You brought an actor with you?”

  “He works for me,” said Sean.

  Amber’s face pinched as she appeared to ponder what working for Sean had to do with kilts. After a moment, she bobbed one shoulder as if to admit defeat.

  Sean touched her arm. “Show me where you last saw Toby.”

  She nodded and glared at her husband before heading for the stairs. “This is his fault.”

  Owen followed. “Don’t start. Now is not the time to start this crap.”

  They mounted the stairs and entered the home Owen had rented after his separation. Inside, Owen found a spot in the middle of the living room. Hands out at his sides, as if he were preparing to catch a medicine ball, he pivoted toward each location as he listed them.

  “Okay. I was in the shower. Toby was out here watching TV.”

  “You were alone?” asked Sean.

  Owen nodded. Amber arched an eyebrow and huffed.

  Catriona wandered
around the room, listening as Sean questioned Owen. She walked to the back of the house and peered through the sliding doors.

  A pool.

  She pointed to it through the glass. “You checked the, uh...”

  Eyes swiveled toward her.

  “First place I looked,” said Owen.

  Amber nodded. “And the first place I looked when he called me.”

  Catriona walked outside as Sean continued his interview with Owen. Broch followed. She wandered once around the pool and touched a towel crumpled on a chair. It was wet. The grout lines between the tiles were also wet near the stairs that led into the pool.

  “Did you step into the water?” she asked Broch.

  He shook his head. “Na. It’s tempting though. Ah lik’ Sean’s pool.”

  Catriona returned to the towel and pinched the edge of it to lift it. Something dropped from it and rolled away toward Broch’s toes.

  “Whit’s that?”

  “Don’t touch—”

  Her warning came too late. He bent and picked up the small, white object before Catriona could stop him.

  Broch’s eyes grew wide, like a child caught in the act of something naughty. He held the item out to her. “Sorry.”

  “Remind me to explain fingerprints to you,” she said, holding out her open palm.

  He dropped the object into it and she rolled it around her hand.

  “Whit is it?” he asked.

  “Wireless ear bud. You put them in your ears and you listen to music.”

  “Na...really?”

  She nodded.

  Retracing her steps toward the house, Catriona found a small puddle outside the sliding door that she’d missed on the way out.

  She slid open the door and reentered the house with Broch on her heels.

  “Did you go swimming this morning?” she asked.

  Owen turned to her and put his hand on his chest. “Me? No.”

  “What about Toby?”

  “He’s not allowed in there without me.”

  “There’s a wet towel out there and a puddle by the stairs.”

  Amber’s head snapped toward her estranged husband. “Was Toby in the pool without you?”

  “No.” Owen scratched his head, his face twisted in what looked like confusion. “Oh, you know what? I think I did take a quick dip. Early. I was thinking that was yesterday but it was this morning.”

  “You lost an ear bud,” said Catriona, holding it out to him.