Page 17 of Cottage in the Mist
“If there is, then I don’t remember it,” Lily answered. “I’m afraid everything went a bit hazy after I hit my head.” Actually it had gone the way of Alice down the rabbit hole, but she wasn’t about to admit that. “So how do you know Valerie?” she asked, trying to shift the conversation away from the talk of last night.
Mrs. Abernathy held her gaze for a moment more, and then smiled. “Actually I met her through your mother.”
“You knew my mother?” Lily wondered why Valerie hadn’t mentioned the fact. But then decided that if she’d known, she might not have wanted to come. Ghosts of the past and all that.
“Aye. And your father, too,” Mrs. Abernathy was saying. “They stayed here once, a long time ago. Just after they were married. Long before you were born.” She sat back, taking a sip of her tea. “They were lovely people, your parents.”
“Yes, they were. I’m glad you had the chance to know them. But then where does Valerie come into it?” She frowned, trying to put it all together.
“Well, actually she came to stay not long after that. On your mother’s recommendation. It was just after her first divorce.” Valerie had been married three times. None of them keepers, as she was fond of saying. “I think she needed a friend, and frankly, so did I. Anyway, we bonded over red wine and old American movies.”
“And you’ve kept in touch all these years.”
“Aye. She’s been here a few more times. And I met her in New York one fall. My grand adventure, Jamie calls it.” Mrs. Abernathy smiled, her eyes softening with the memory. “I canna tell you how sorry I was to hear about your parents. But I was glad when you decided to come here. Duncreag is a magical place. You can feel it in the air. If there’s anywhere that can soothe your soul, it’s here.”
“And are Katherine and Iain in residence?” Lily asked, wondering idly what a Scottish laird would look like.
“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Abernathy asked, her brows drawing together as she frowned.
“Valerie said that the new laird was moving in. Something about an inheritance?”
“Well,” Mrs. Abernathy said, tilting her head to one side quizzically, “that much is surely true. But the new laird’s name is Jeffrey. Jeffrey St. Claire. ’Tis him and his wife Elaine who’ve come to live here.”
Lily frowned. “I’m sorry. Clearly I’ve gotten the names wrong. I must have misunderstood.” She mentally chided herself for the mistake. Katherine and Iain were the names that Bram had given her. And Bram wasn’t real. Which meant, of course, that his Katherine and Iain never existed either.
Again Mrs. Abernathy seemed to be searching her face and Lily struggled not to blurt it all out. It would be so nice to confide in someone. But she was fairly certain that even in the Highlands, a woman spouting tales of disappearing cottages and dark, rugged strangers would result in a call to the nearest psych ward.
“Ach, well, that’s easy enough to do.” Mrs. Abernathy smiled, but there was still something Lily couldn’t quite put a name to reflected in her eyes. “Especially after all that you’ve been through. Jeffrey and Elaine have gone out for the day. They should be back later this evening.”
“Are you certain that I won’t be intruding? I mean, Val said they’d only just arrived. They might not want a stranger in their home. Is there another inn somewhere close by?” She actually hated the idea of leaving, but she equally hated the idea of imposing where she wasn’t wanted.
“They were delighted to know you were coming. After all, they’re only a wee bit older than you. And I expect they’ll be happy to have someone their own age about. Mr. Abernathy and I aren’t exactly spring chickens.”
Lily was fairly certain Agnes Abernathy could keep up with the springiest of spring chickens. “Well, I’ll look forward to meeting them, then. And I am happy to be here.”
And surprisingly, she realized, she spoke the truth. Despite everything, she was glad she’d come. Glad that she’d wrecked her car. Because if she hadn’t, she’d never have found the cottage. And even if it had been a figment of her imagination, she had no regrets.
Bram Macgillivray was more than worth losing a little bit of her sanity. And the memory of their night together—real or imagined—was something she’d always cherish.
Smothering a yawn, Lily pulled her attention back to her hostess. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m a bit more tired than I realized.”
“And me going on like a chatterbox,” Mrs. Abernathy said. “Let me show you to your room. What you need is a good sleep. Everything will be clearer in the morning. You’ll see.”
Lily was too tired to ask how Mrs. Abernathy knew there were things that needed to be cleared up. As she followed the older woman up the stairs to her room, she had the crazy thought that maybe Mrs. Abernathy already knew about the cottage.
About Bram.
Although that was hardly possible.
Still, this was the Highlands. And as Mrs. Abernathy had said—there was magic in the air.
“Is she here?” Bram asked, striding into the small room where Katherine was hanging dried herbs.
“Is who here?” Katherine asked as she tied a piece of twine around a bunch of dried leaves. Rosemary, if he was smelling right. His mother had kept a room much like this one, ready with the herbs and poultices she needed to heal various ailments.
“Lily.” Bram tried but failed to keep the impatience from his voice. “She said she was coming to see you. And when I couldn’t find her this morning, I’d hoped to find her here.”
Katherine frowned. “I’m not acquainted with anyone by that name. And as far as I know, no one has arrived today. I think with all the concern over your situation, Fergus would have told me if they had.”
