Page 17 of Madly Deeply

"A holiday," Lorraine added. "Somewhere warm."

Callum's laugh held little humor. "I havenae taken a proper holiday since university. Wouldn't know where to start."

"We were thinking somewhere specific." Loretta's eyes gleamed. "Have you ever considered America?"

"America?" He stared at them.

"Arizona, to be precise."

"Arizona," he repeated flatly. "That’s halfway ‘round the world. All desert and cattle ranches and..." He trailed off, remembering one of Gran's magazines. “Far too hot. Heat stress is a problem over ninety degrees Fahrenheit.”

“For you or your sheep?”

“For sheep.”

They both laughed, then one found her tongue. “No one said anything about taking your herd with you.”

“Ah, right. Right.”

"The desert has its own kind of magic," Lorraine said. "Its own way of making a person see things differently."

"And sometimes," Loretta added, "what you're looking for is looking for you too."

Callum lifted the frog cup, studying his distorted reflection in the tea's surface. "I'm not looking for anything."

"Of course not, dear." Lorraine patted his arm. "But it might find you anyway."

He took a sip of tea, and studied the dark remnants in the bottom of his cup. For a fraction of a second, he could have sworn he saw something there—the smile of a woman with black curls. But that was ridiculous.

Wasn't it?

The sisters watched him with knowing smiles, as if they knew what he’d imagined.

Again, he sighed and surrendered. "Tell me more about Arizona."

CHAPTER NINE

The Black Isle Bar hummed with Friday night energy, but the real warmth came from the huddle of friends who had come to say farewell to Alexandra. Fairy lights strung across dark wooden beams cast a gentle glow over their large party, though no one was calling it that.

"Just a wee gatherin’," Duncan promised, when he'd arranged it.

Alex sat in the corner of a worn leather booth, tucked between Bronagh and Meg, while their husbands fetched another round. Everyone treated her with kid gloves in honor of her widowed state, but later, their attention turned celebratory when word spread wildly that she carried Spreag’s child.

An excellent excuse for another round…for everyone but her.

"I still can't believe you're leaving tomorrow.” Wren nursed a coke across the table from her. "Though I suppose Arizona weather is better for the wee one."

The mention of her pregnancy brought fresh tears to several eyes. Alex had lost count of how many times she'd been huggedsince she’d arrived, how many hands had reached to touch her still-flat belly as if bestowing blessings.

"She's glowing already," someone said loudly nearby, and Spreag gave her a wink. He stood at the edge of the booth enjoying the sight of so many friends who had once been fellow ghosts.

More friends arrived—more former ghosts with their wives, though only the original six knew about Spreag's continued presence. The Black Isle grew crowded as people pulled up chairs, shared stories of their own first pregnancies, many of which were ongoing.

"Remember when Shug tried to change his first diaper?" Wren’s eyes danced. "Poor Maddox. Took the man four tries and four nappies. Before he was done, Maddy was asleep with his wee arse in the air."

"Ach, well,” Shug picked up his drink and toasted himself. "The bairn survived, didn't he?"

"Thus far.” Wyndham laughed.

---