by A. L. Knorr
I gave him a feeble smile as Blackmouth Castle loomed, blocking out the rest of the night sky.
Two motion lights bracketed the huge set of front doors, illuminating the brass knockers, one a stag’s head and the other a boar’s head. Condensation beaded on the glossy black lacquer. I instinctively headed for these massive doors, but Jasher led me to the side of the castle instead.
Gravel crunched under our feet as we passed by dark windows and leafless hedges. Another motion light illuminated a pathway of broad stone steps leading down another level. I caught a glimpse of yard lights in the rear of the castle as a dim glow around the corner, but we stopped at a side door before I got to see the source. A whiff of roses drifted by and I guessed a window must be open nearby, allowing some room fragrance to come outside. The scent was fresh and I took a big inhale, letting some of the day’s tension drain out of my body.
I had Jasher’s letter somewhere in my bag. I’d dig it out and show him just how forgetful beer made him. When his memory was refreshed, he’d tell Bonnie and Gavin of his mistake, and he’d remember the mysterious friend he’d sent to pick me up. A huge yawn stole over me, the jaw-cracking kind my friend Saxony called a ‘cat-yawn.’
Tomorrow. I’d dig the letter out tomorrow.
Jasher opened the side entrance and gestured for me to go in ahead of him. He pulled my bag inside and closed the door. Flicking on the lights illuminated a pristinely kept hallway with clean white walls and a plaid carpet-runner. A narrow spiral staircase disappeared off to the left, and it was up these stairs Jasher heaved my luggage. At the next level up, he pushed through a doorway into another hallway lined with doors. It was chilly and painted in shades of gray, but a warm yellow light flickered from a sconce on the wall. There were too many closed doors to count. I admired paintings of horses, dogs, and highland landscapes and seascapes along the way, until Jasher tapped on a doorway as we passed it.
“I’m in here if you need me.” He stopped at the next door and opened it on darkness. The smell of old wood and artificially fragranced drawer liners drifted out. “This room’s free, but we can move you into a bigger room tomorrow if you like. I can ask Bonnie…”
I almost jumped down Jasher’s throat. “No! I mean, please don’t bother them, this room is great. It’ll do fine.” I grabbed my bag and wheeled it inside as Jasher flicked on the light.
Two single unmade beds in antique frames faced one another from opposite walls. The outer wall was stone while the side walls were papered with peach and mint colored flowers. A long set of double drawers served as bedside tables, and the only dressers in the room. A paint-chipped wardrobe against the wall opposite stood ajar, and a window with diamond-panes peeked from behind green paisley curtains. The space was both sparse and old-fashioned kitsch.
“There will be bedding in here, I think,” Jasher said in a low voice as he hooked a finger in the wardrobe’s door. He pulled out folded white sheets and set them on the bed while I pulled down a thick duvet.
A narrow door on the far side of the wardrobe caught my eye. “Is that a closet?”
“That’ll be the loo.” Jasher unfolded the sheets and set to making up one of the beds.
“There’s a bathroom?” I dumped the duvet on the other bed and went to take a peek. “Do all these rooms have their own bathrooms?”
“Quite a few. The castle got plumbed and reno’ed in the sixties.”
That explained the decor.
The bathroom was tiny and dated but sparkling clean. Pastel green porcelain and green candy-striped wallpaper greeted my eye. A pale peach shower curtain hid a box shower with a showerhead I’d be sure to bump my head on. I didn’t care. It was utterly quaint: tiny wrapped soaps on the back of the toilet, clean fluffy towels in a matching shade of peach, and toilet paper dotted with peach colored roses.
Jasher’s head appeared in the doorway. “It looks like Martha Stewart circa nineteen-sixty-five threw up in here.” He shrugged and gave a crooked smile. “They had good intentions.”
“I love it.” I turned off the light. “How many people can say they’ve stayed in a medieval castle in the highlands? Even if the bathroom had peach and green stripes?”
We finished making the bed together and I put my bag on the unmade bed and opened it, digging for my toiletries.
“See you in the morning, Georjie,” Jasher said, holding his arms open for a hug.
I stepped into them and closed my eyes, letting the relief of being finished with a long day of traveling wash over me.
“I’m up early for work,” Jasher said as he released me, “but I’ll let Ainslie, the housekeeper, know to expect you for breakfast around…eight?”
“Thanks. Will the owners be around?” The sooner I met them and cleared up how I ended up in their home without an invitation, the better I’d feel.
Jasher pinched my cheek between his knuckles. “Stop worrying. I’ll introduce you. They’ll be happy to have you, especially as you’re a Sutherland. Gavin’s a nut for the whole ancestry thing.”
My brows pinched as I followed him to the door. “What difference does my last name make?”
“You’re in the Sutherland region of Scotland, Georjie.” He chuckled at my look of surprise. “I know. I didn’t realize the Sutherlands were from Scotland either.”
“We’re not,” I replied. “We’re Irish.”
Jasher waved a brown hand and shrugged. “Gavin will be more than happy to debate with you on that. Count me out of it. I need to organize a demo, so I’ll have my hands full.”
“A demo…lition?”
He nodded.
“What’s getting destroyed?”
“I don’t know what it was. Some ruin off in the trees that hasn’t served a purpose for God knows how many centuries. Gavin wants to build a cottage in its place, a kind of honeymooners’ accommodation. You can see it tomorrow if you’d like.”
“I’d love to.” My eyes began to leak and I had another cat-yawn.
Jasher slipped out into the hall and looked back just before I closed the door. “I’m happy you came.”
I gave him a smile and went to rummage in my bag for my toothbrush and pajamas. I took a quick shower and got ready for bed, slipping between clean sheets with the deep sigh of the bone-weary. My eyes closed and my body relaxed.
After several long seconds, my eyes popped open again.
Distantly, there was the almost imperceptible sound of rhythmic drumming. Or was I imagining it?
I sat up and cocked my head, straining my ears. No, I definitely wasn’t imagining it. Someone was drumming, and if I wasn’t mistaken, there were flutes, too. Who would be making music at this time of night?
I went to the door to listen, peeking into the hall. The hallway was in gloom, the sconces now dark. Diffused moonlight threw soft shadows across the carpet and walls from the small windows at the end.
The drumming sound was no louder in the hallway, but no quieter either. It was impossible to pinpoint where it was coming from. I glanced at Jasher’s closed door, eyeing the crack at the floor. No light came from underneath. Probably already unconscious in a haze of beer-fog.
I padded down to the far end, peering through the darkness where the hall turned to the right. Another dark tunnel lined with doors, and still the drumming was no louder.
I stood there in my sleep pants and t-shirt, bare toes curling into the carpet, head cocked like a spaniel. I debated going farther down the halls in search of the source of the distant music, but I was too tired to go snooping. And what if I ran into Gavin or Bonnie or one of the staff?
Shrugging, I relegated the drumming to some insomniac in a distant suite listening to a recording and padded back to my room. It was barely audible, really. Nothing that would keep me awake. I returned to bed and burrowed under the covers like a denning animal.
Chapter 2
The sound of men’s laughter roused me from unconsciousness. I’d been dreaming I was still in Poland and thought maybe I’d wake
to find myself in one of the Novak’s luxurious beds. My eyes drifted open and I saw a mid-century dresser with the top drawer slid open. Blinking and disoriented, I sat up. The sight of my luggage, open and rifled through, brought back my memory. I was in the highlands and one of the voices outside the window was Jasher’s.
My stomach gave a grumble as though chastising me for not getting up earlier. Grabbing my phone, I looked at the screen and gaped in disbelief. It was almost noon! The soft light coming in the window was deceptive; it was so dim it seemed like early morning.
Peeking out the window revealed smudges of green through warped glass. I opened the window farther and caught a glimpse of rolling treed hills and an expanse of blue-grey on the horizon––the North Sea. The clouds were thick and the color of gunmetal. I was surprised it wasn’t raining already. The air smelled thick with ozone, rich earth and…yes, roses, unbelievably. I took a big inhale, sighing with pleasure. Scotland might be cold, but it certainly smelled lovely. It struck me as odd since it was now early March. What roses bloomed this early in the year, and this far north?
Scrambling for the shower, I hurriedly washed and dressed, throwing my long hair up in a topknot. Pulling on a pair of jeans and a plain cashmere sweater, I grabbed my running shoes and a rain slicker before finding my way to the stairwell Jasher had led me up the night before. Just before I got to the top of the stairs, I remembered that I wanted to find Jasher’s letter, and skidded to a halt. Returning to my room, I dug in my luggage for where I kept paperwork. Retrieving a thin pile of documents, I rifled through until I found it.
“Aha!” I cried victoriously. Skimming the letter, I looked for the paragraph where Jasher invited me to come stay at Blackmouth. I read it over a second, and a third time, my stomach plummeting.
How could it not be there? I had read it; I would stake my life on it. I never would have come to Scotland without being invited. Feeling poleaxed, I sat on the floor with my back against the side of my bed, staring at the letter in my lap.
I didn’t know how long I sat there like that, but when my butt began to hurt from sitting on the stone floor, I got up and tucked the letter back into my luggage. Totally bemused, I had to admit that I had misread the letter, but everything in me rebelled against it because I knew what I knew: I’d been invited. Either something very weird was going on, or I was going mad. Refusing to think too hard on that, I pushed it out of my mind. Letting my luggage drop closed, I left my room for the second time that morning, this time with a little humility in my step.
Women’s voices in conversation drifted up the stairs. I slowed my pace and swallowed, wondering if Jasher had told the castle staff that I was here. Following the sounds of chatter, I came upon a ground-level kitchen where two women bustled about and two children sat at a long wooden table. The kitchen looked like something from a movie set if the film hadn’t yet decided in which time period it was to be set.
A big iron soup vat sat over a deep stone fireplace. Copper cooking pots, pans, and utensils hung from the mantel. Dried herbs dangled from the thick beam overhead, making the room smell like rosemary and oregano. A mid-century gas stove with six burners sat opposite the fireplace, beside a squat fridge without any straight edges.
“Morning!” the more petite of the two women said as she retrieved a loaf of bread from a metal breadbox on the counter. “Sleep well?”
“Yes, thank you.” I took the last couple of steps down to the flagstone floor. “I’m Georjie. Did Jasher…”
“That he did, lass, and you’re welcome.” The taller woman had a riot of frizzy red hair and a flushed but beaming face. She wore a gray poncho and reams of scarves. “You’ll be hungry, no doubt?”
“Slept away the entire morning, you did,” chimed in the one in the frilly apron with large gray eyes and soft cheeks.
I blushed. “I’m sorry, I guess I was tired from the journey.”
The taller one flapped a hand. “Don’t mind her, Ainslie’s up at five every morning whether she’s working or not. She’s only jealous.”
“It’s true,” admitted Ainslie as she set a sandwich with trimmed crust in front of a red-headed girl. “When you get older, sleeping in like a teenager is a thing of ages past. Have a seat beside Maisie, here.”
I crossed the kitchen and made to sit beside Maisie, but she was seated at one long bench. Getting my ridiculously long legs gracefully over a bench with a narrow gap to the bottom of the table is near impossible.
“Och, she’s a tall one.” Ainslie cackled. “Take the chair, Georjie.”
The girl’s wide brown eyes followed me as I went around the table.
I smiled self-consciously at the little girl. “Nice to meet you, Maisie.”
I turned to the boy. He too had inherited the same red hair as his sister, but looked like the older one. I opened my mouth to ask his name when he stretched a hand across the table.
“Lorne.” He was as serious as death. “I understand you’re a Sutherland?” He grasped my hand firmly and gave it one pump.
I laughed at his somber expression and mature way of talking, but he didn’t laugh in return, so I bit my cheek. “That’s right.”
“We’re Sutherlands, too. On Da’s side,” Lorne went on. “We’re probably related.” His brow pinched together as though the idea was a little disconcerting.
I didn’t feel the need to go into the fact that I was planning to change my name to Sheehan––my mother’s maiden name––and just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. I didn’t think I’d get support for rejecting the last name we shared from this lot.
“I’m Bonnie,” declared the red-headed woman. “The mother with a capital ‘M.’” She ruffled Lorne’s hair. “And you’ll both be late for your afternoon classes if you don’t eat up.”
Ainslie set a sandwich in front of me and I thanked her and took a bite. I took a cup from a stack in the middle of the table and poured myself some water, wishing for coffee but too shy to ask. I already felt like an imposition.
“Coffee?” Bonnie asked.
I gave her a grateful smile and said around my bite of sandwich. “Thank you, I’d love one.”
She retrieved a stove-top espresso maker from a cupboard above the sink and I had to smile. It was identical to the one Targa had used in the trailer she and her mom lived in before it got destroyed in the storm.
Ainslie set a large roasting pan on the table and began to peel potatoes with the smooth, fast movements of someone who had been doing it since childhood. “So, you came in from Edinburgh?”
I nodded. “Last night. Again, I have to apologize for surprising you like this.”
“Don’t worry your head about it,” Bonnie said as she snagged a coffee mug from where they hung on little hooks under the cupboard. “Any Sutherland is welcome here and we’ve plenty of room. Jasher says you’re doing your last year of high school by correspondence?”
I nodded again, my mouth full of sandwich. Both Lorne and Maisie watched my every move, Lorne with the studiousness of a scientist and Maisie with her mouth hanging ajar. I winked at her and was rewarded when the corners of her mouth twitched.
“Have you always done school remotely?” Bonnie asked.
I shook my head, swallowing. “No, just this year. All my friends are abroad too, and I needed a break from my hometown.”
“Can I do school remotely?” Lorne asked in his serious way, tilting his head back to look at his mother.
“Lorne, honey. You’re eight.”
“When I’m older, of course.”
“Tell you what.” Bonnie kissed his cheek and went to rescue the espresso maker from boiling over. “Let’s have this conversation in another eight years.”
Lorne frowned. “I’m more mature than other kids.” He appeared to be making a calculation in his head, one eye squinted closed. “Let’s call it six years?”
I took another bite of my sandwich to hide my smile. I caught Ainslie laughing into her sleeve, potato peelings falling from her knife.<
br />
“We’ll see.” Bonnie poured espresso into my cup and told me to help myself if I wanted milk and sugar.
As I finished my sandwich, the kids were ushered from the kitchen, leaving me and Ainslie alone.
“She didn’t say so directly,” Ainslie said, keeping her eyes on the potato shedding its coat under her nimble grip, “but Bonnie Sinclair-Sutherland is the lady of the house.”
I swallowed my last bite of sandwich and pulled my coffee closer. “Yes, Jasher told me a little about Bonnie and Gavin.”
“Aye. Gavin, the laird, he’ll be out back with the men, including your Jasher.” Ainslie’s eyes flicked to mine and I caught the question in her gaze. I realized that this petite and energetic housemaid likely made it her business to know every little thing that went on in the castle. I didn’t miss the implication she’d made.
“Jasher and I aren’t together,” I offered.
“Ah.” Ainslie relaxed and went back to her potato. “How long do you think you’ll be staying in Blackmouth?”
It was a casual question, but the subtext felt thicker than honey on a cold day.
“I’m not sure,” I replied, slowly. “When does my welcome run out?”
“You’ll have to ask the lady,” Ainslie said, “but Blackmouth is closed to tourists until May, so…if you’re looking to make a little extra money, I could make use of a pair of hands from time to time.”
I let out a sigh of relief. So that’s what she was after. “Sure, I’d be happy to help when I’m not doing school work. I’m no pro at housework.” At home we had a cleaning service, and my meal-making skills stopped at spaghetti. “But I’m a quick study.”
I didn’t need money, but I had sprung my presence on them without warning. It wouldn’t feel right to turn down Ainslie’s request right off the hop.
She dazzled me with a smile. “Wonderful.”
I sipped my coffee but as the silence stretched out, I began to wonder whether she meant right now. Should I offer to help her peel potatoes? What I really wanted to do was go find Jasher and see the castle in the daylight. Maybe he’d have time to show me around. I got to my feet to signal my readiness to leave. Taking my empty plate over to the sink, I grabbed Maisie’s and Lorne’s plates as well. I didn’t miss Ainslie’s look of approval.
