Page 12 of Highlander Unraveled
“How about ye sit down and I’ll make the tea.” Mrs. MacDonald scooted past me, patting my shoulder as she went.
I nodded, slumping into a wooden kitchen table chair and settling the pocket book Mrs. Lamb gave me onto the tabletop. I’d yet to look inside, but guessed there was money. Why else would she insist I take it?
I should have offered to give Mrs. MacDonald money for gas. She’d volunteered the eight hour round trip, but she shouldn’t have to pay for it. I opened the purse to find a wallet with several hundred pound bills in it.
Ohmygod…
If there was such a thing as a fairy godmother—which I wouldn’t be surprised to find out given there was such a thing as time travel—then Mrs. Lamb was she.
“Let me give you money for gas,” I said.
“No need, dearie.” Mrs. MacDonald was busy heating up water in the electric kettle, and sticking tea bags into two black coffee cups.
“Please, let me.” I tugged out a bill and held it out to her.
“Nay, dear. I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right.” She opened and closed a few drawers, finding a spoon, and then cleared her throat. “There is fresh cream in the refrigerator.”
“Oh?”
“Aye. Someone has been here recently.”
I nodded. “Likely my friends.” I had no way of knowing whether or not they’d been gone as long as their neighbor accused. She could be senile. Sometimes years passed when a person time traveled, other times minutes. “I’ll check the expiration date.”
“Already did. Doesn’t expire for another week.”
“Oh, good.” My voice trailed off. All I could think about was Logan and Saor. Nothing as stupid as cream for my tea.
“Where is your son?”
It was as if she’d read my thoughts. I bit my lip. Was I so obvious? I leaned back further in the chair, praying I could just sink into the wood and end up back in 1544. “He is with his father,” I managed to answer.
“That man?” She winged a brow, her frown deepening her wrinkles. “Steven?”
I shook my head. “No. Not him.”
“Ah.” She didn’t ask any more questions. That one sound seeming to bring her to her own conclusions and I let her think whatever it was she wanted. What did I care what she thought about me, or whether or not her judgments would ruin a reputation that I cared nothing for? I didn’t belong here. I wasn’t going to stay. Her conclusions, and anyone else’s, mattered little to me.
As we sipped our tea in silence, an opened bag of shortbread cookies on the table, two missing from Mrs. MacDonald, none from me, the sun started to set, shrouding the kitchen in shadows.
My limbs buzzed with nerves and I realized I didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight.
Mrs. MacDonald stood up to turn on a dim light over the table.
“Mrs. MacDonald…” I set my teacup down. “Do you want to stay the night? I’d hate for you to drive all the way back to Drumnadrochit in the dark.”
Her smile was filled with relief. “Oh, thank ye. That would be nice.”
I glanced up at the ceiling, not sure what the bedroom situation was. There had to be at least two with both sisters having lived here.
“I’ll fix ye some supper. Ye look as though ye could use a hot meal.”
I nodded. “Do you mind if I go and lay down? I’m so tired.”
“Go on. I’ll wake ye when it’s time to eat.”
I stood up from the table, and walked heavily toward the stairs, exhaustion leaping from my limbs. I grabbed the railing, and it felt like I used more of my upper body to hoist myself up the stairs than my legs.
Upstairs, I found three bedrooms. Each one with beds made. Two were clearly the bedrooms of Moira and Shona, and the third was a guest room. I figured Mrs. MacDonald could take the guest room and I’d take Shona’s room. According to their story, Shona hadn’t been home for years, but her bedroom looked like she’d just left that morning. Not a spec of dust.
