Page 16 of Here in Your Arms
Rose ran a hand over the fabric. “Am I taking all your clothes?” she worried aloud.
Emmy waved her off with an easy shrug. “I’ve acquired, in two years, more than I need, actually.” She smiled as she set the clothes down beside Rose. “This place had been running so long before me that there’s little for me to do, which used to drive me nuts. And Brody—God love him—would prefer that I do absolutely nothing, that I not endanger myself in any way, that I not stoop so low as to perform menial labor.” She rolledher eyes at the last part, then smirked. “As if I hadn’t been doing that when I first came here.” She perched on the edge of a small wooden chest near the window, stretching out her legs. “Oh, and as if women of our time don’t do anything meaningful. Anyway, for the longest time, I had nothing to do. So, to stay sane, I spent half my time in the kitchen,” she added, shaking her head. “But it gives Brody fits, the mistress of his keep soiling her hands. Thus, to acquire more appropriate skills, and because I did need a wardrobe, Maud has since taught me how to sew, Agnes helped me make patterns for gowns, and Brody had sent for fabric from some merchant down near the border.”
Her tone was light, but there was something in the way she said Brody’s name, something that softened her even more. It was impossible to miss, or to overlook, the way Emmy spoke about her husband. It wasn’t just affection; it was deep, steadfast love.
Rose ran a hand over the fabric again, letting the smooth weave slip through her fingers. “Well, you’re an incomparable seamstress, I should say.”
Assuming that, same as yesterday, they would head downstairs and have some breakfast, Rose was a little surprised that Emmy seemed in no hurry to get going. Instead, Emmy bit her lip and glanced toward the window.
“What?” Rose asked warily. “You have thatI need to say something but don’t know howlook.”
Emmy winced, letting out a small laugh. She rubbed her palms and fingers down her thighs. “That obvious, huh?”
“Oh, God, what is it?” Rose asked and then held her breath.
Emmy hesitated, then took a breath. “Rose, do you... believe in reincarnation?”
Rose blinked. Of all the things she expected Emmy to say, that was not on the list. A laugh—a startled, disbelieving one—escaped her before she could stop it. But she caught herself,judging Emmy’s expression to be a wince mixed with concern. “W-why would you ask me that?”
Emmy pressed her lips together, clearly weighing her next words. “Because... well, because you look like someone.”
The way she said it made Rose’s skin prickle. She frowned. “Who?”
Emmy sighed, steeling herself. “Okay, first, just so you know—Ididn’t know the woman. I never met her. But Brody had—years ago, mind you—and he’s convinced that you are...well, at the very least, apparently you could be her twin.”
The tense Emmy had used finally registered with Rose. “Youdidn’tknow the woman. She’s...dead now?”
Emmy nodded.
“Okay... and?” Rose prompted.
Emmy made another awkward face. “She was laid to rest the day you arrived. We ah, actually were on our way from her funeral when we ran into you.”
A slow, uneasy sensation crept down Rose’s spine. However, she wasn’t sure what she should be alarmed about.
“And...? So, I resemble someone—so what?”
“Brody is...well,he’snot using the wordsresembleorlooks like,” Emmy explained. She cleared her throat. “He’s certain that youareher. Margaret.”
Margaret. Rose thought immediately of the journal she’d discovered in the archives. Of course, there were probably hundreds, maybe thousands of Margarets in this time, the name having been very common.
She tried to rationalize this newest absurdity. “Okay, sure, I might resemble someone, but—and you just mentioned reincarnation. I know nothing about that, I’m not even sure whether or not I believe in it. Honestly,” she laughed, “I haven’t given it much thought. But so what? I’m Rose, from 1978. Correct me if I’m wrong, but people aren’t brought back asthe same person—are they? I have no idea how reincarnation works.”
“Actually, neither do I,” Emmy admitted. “I don’t know why I mentioned reincarnation. Obviously, I’m not sure that’s what this is—”
“This is nothing,” Rose insisted. “Emmy, seriously. I’m barely holding it together with whatdidhappen to me—so far. Can we not... add to the mystery? I think I’ll go crazy if—”
“Of course, of course. I’m sorry—I didn’t even want to say anything but that Brody thinks...”
Something in Rose pulled tight. “Brody thinks... what?” she asked, her voice flat.
Emmy winced. “That we need to go to Druimlach.”
“Why? What is that? Druimlach?”
“It’s where the funeral was,” Emmy informed her, “where she was supposed to be wed to the MacRae chief.”
Rose gaped at her. “Oh, my God. Are you thinking I’ll have to take her place?” she asked frantically. “Or—or—”
