Page 30 of Wild Scottish Rose

“Well, Gran? Is that the truth of it then? You were magick, and now, so am I? Where would you have left something for me to discover?”

The garden shed was the first image that popped in my head, and my gut said to follow that instinct. It was where Gran had spent all her time, and subsequently, I also spent most of my time. Hence the state of my house. I sighed as I glanced over the piles of clutter, reminding myself that I would need to tidy before the cleaners came through, and poured my coffee in a thermos and grabbed a scone to go. I wasn’t much of a breakfast person, and I’d nibble at the scone through the morning until hunger pulled me away from my work and I remembered that, yes, I loved food, and then I’d devour a hearty lunch. More often than not, it was a chopped salad and some type of vegetable soup made from whatever I’d harvested that week, along with a thick crust of bread that I’d wheedled Catriona up atMacAlpine to bake for me. Lia had hired her on to bake mouth-watering scones, and in exchange for select herbs and produce, Catriona had also agreed to make a few extras for me each week. The woman was a genius baker, and I built my meals around whatever she offered up each week.

The sun was just making her appearance known, fighting desperately with the moody grey clouds that hovered at the horizon, and the wind that whistled down the hills that shrouded Loch Mirren held the promise of encroaching winter. A naturally early riser, I loved this time of morning when the world was at a standstill, only the birds awake to keep me company as I walked the rows of my garden. I stopped to check my squash, pleased to see that I had enough butternut and delicata to take to market tomorrow.

“Watch it, lass.”

I jumped, almost dropping my thermos on Gnorman, and he glared at me, hands on his hips.

“Och! Gnorman, you can’t just pop out of nowhere. Despite your big attitude, you’re quite small. I don’t want to step on you.”

“Small?” Gnorman flexed his arms, the tattoos on his biceps rippling. “I’ve never had any complaints.”

“Seriously? You sound like one of the guys I dated in Glasgow.” I couldn’t help but glance toward the cottage in the distance, where the curtains were still drawn closed, and picked up my pace. While I had told Owen that I talked to my plants, I didn’t need my muttering to a gnome statue be the first thing he hears the morning after we kissed. Gnorman trottedafter me.

“Sounds like a good man. It’s a shame you couldn’t keep him.”

At that, I whirled, shaking my thermos at the wee gnome.

“Couldn’t keep him? I didn’twanthim, you bloody eejit.”

“That’s what all the lasses who can’t keep a man say.” Gnorman shrugged, as though he had any clue about my dating history. Or did he? Had he been following me for far longer than I’d realized? The creep factor just went up.

“How long have you been following me? Were you with me in Glasgow?” I briefly pictured Gnorman jumping on a train, a hobo stick with a satchel over his shoulder. Narrowing my eyes at his leather vest and tattoos, I amended that picture to him on a wee motorcycle, his red pointy hat and long mustache streaming behind him. Damn it, but it was a cute image even if he was a deeply annoying gnome.

“Nae. You weren’t mine then.”

“What does that even mean?” I said, exasperated as we rounded the corner of the greenhouse to where the entrance to the attached garden shed was located. I pulled up short at the rows of hedgehogs waiting patiently in formation. Well, most of them were in formation. Eugene, once again in the back, seemed to have been distracted by a beetle.

“Go on then, show her,” Gnorman barked, and the hedgies stiffened, before fanning out in a V shaped formation and racing into the garden in synchronized rows. Except for Eugene, that is. He still stalked the beetle at theedge of the garden, completely unaware that his brethren had departed. Gnorman sighed.

“For flowerpot’s sake.Eugene!”

Eugene jumped, his back hunching, and he turned slowly, his lopsided grin disappearing when he saw the other hedgehogs had left.

“Can’t you follow orders just once?” Gnorman continued, stalking closer to Eugene, and I frowned.

“That’s enough, G.”

“It’s Gnorman.” The gnome swung on me, distracted, while Eugene cowered awaiting Gnorman’s wrath. “And if he doesn’t learn, then I have to send him away. His life is better here. In this garden? With me? I can keep him safe. Heneedsto learn.”

My perception shifted a bit, as I realized that Gnorman wasn’t entirely being a little twit toward Eugene, but even so, I was feeling fiercely protective of Eugene. It reminded me of my days back in school when I couldn’t quite keep up with everyone else and my grades had suffered for it. Lifting my chin, I pointed at the hedgie.

“Can I pick him up?” I asked, and Eugene sidled closer, giving Gnorman a wide berth. I took that as an agreement from the wee hedgie, and bent, laying my hand flat on the ground. Eugene saw his out, and raced for it, tripping over his feet at the last moment and splaying into my palm.

A hedgie after my own heart.

Charmed, I picked him up and cradled him close, happy to see the smile back on his wee face. “You’re looking a little shoogly there, lad.”

“You can’t coddle him,” Gnorman said.

“We all learn differently, G. Screaming at him clearly isn’t doing much. I’m going to take Eugene inside with me, if he doesn’t mind?” The wee hedgie vibrated with excitement in my hand, so I took that as agreement. I had no idea how to feed or care for a hedgehog, but if I left the door of the shed open a crack, surely he could waddle in and out of the greenhouse at his own will. For now, I was feeling the need to nurture the cutie, and he could keep me company while I had my coffee and dug through the closet in the shed.

Cradling Eugene in one hand while Gnorman grumbled behind me, I unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. Eugene turned, burrowing his face into my arm, and I remembered that hedgehogs were nocturnal animals.

“Do the lights bother you, buddy? I’ll find a good spot for you.”

Placing my thermos on the table, I crossed to the sink to fill a small bowl with water in case Eugene was thirsty. His head popped up, and he scented the air, and scrambled so fast that I almost dropped him on the floor. Instead, he landed on the counter and made a beeline for a small bowl of fresh cherry tomatoes I’d picked the day before.

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