Cottage in the Mist Page 11

  "And at least we did manage to confirm that Bram existed," Elaine soothed.

  "Yeah. Over five hundred years ago." What remained of Lily's spontaneous burst of happiness evaporated. She knew she sounded defensive, which was inexcusable when she considered that her new friends were driving across the Highlands on her behalf. But it seemed like such a lost cause. She was chasing a man long dead.

  How was that any better than accepting Justin when in her heart she'd known he wasn't the one? She'd settled because she'd wanted so much to find what her parents had had. To be loved exclusively. Above all else. What a laugh. Justin hadn't loved her. He'd loved her money. She'd just been too blind to see. Hungry for attention. Desperate for love.

  And wasn't that what she was doing now? Pretending that what had happened with Bram was something more than it was? She laughed, the sound harsh in the quiet of the car.

  "Sometimes you just have to believe," Mrs. Abernathy said, again reading her mind. "Have a little faith."

  "Easy to say when you have Mr. Abernathy. I don't seem to be quite as adept at making good choices." Lily's fingers closed on the cool silver of the ring her mother had given her father, her heart swelling with guilt and grief.

  "Justin was a fool," Elaine said.

  "Maybe. But even if that's true, I was as big of one. I believed he loved me."

  "Sometimes the heart sees only what it wants to see." As usual, Mrs. Abernathy hit the nail on the head.

  "So what's to say I'm not doing the same now? Chasing a dream. Even more so than with Justin? At least he's alive and breathing in my own time."

  "I don't think love has boundaries." Elaine shrugged. "You can't discount what's happened to you because of the past. Maybe all of it had to happen in order for any of it to be possible." She smiled.

  "You mean that each event led to the other? I can certainly see my parents' death and the subsequent discovery of their poverty sparking Justin's defection, but how does any of that feed into my traveling through time?"

  "Maybe your heart had to be open to the idea. Or maybe you just needed to come here, and the tragedies at home set the wheels in motion."

  "But that would mean…" She trailed off. This was territory they'd already covered. And no amount of guilt was going to bring her parents back.

  "They'd have wanted you to be happy," Mrs. Abernathy reminded her.

  Lily sighed. "I know. And I'm sorry. You've both been so kind. And here I am complaining."

  "Not at all," Elaine said. "You're confused. Your emotions are raw and you've been through hell. I'd be shocked if you weren't a little bit on edge. And when you add to the mix the fact that you've fallen for a man who lives in another time, well, I'd say it's enough to make anyone a little cranky."

  "And don't forget, we've been through this before," Mrs. Abernathy added.

  "With Katherine." Again Lily felt embarrassed. They'd both lost someone dear to them. Even if, in some other timeframe, Katherine was indeed alive and well. And loved. The last words echoed through her mind.

  "Look, I know we implied that Katherine never doubted." Elaine glanced in her direction, then focused again on the road in front of them. "And on the whole, that's true. She never really wavered. But that doesn't mean there weren't moments. Eight years is a long time to wait for someone who might not even have been real."

  "But she did wait."

  "Yes, but not passively. At least not at the end. She fought for what she wanted. What she believed in her heart was right. And it was worth it in the end. All the hell that they went through. It was worth it."

  "So you're saying I have to fight? But fight for what?"

  "I don't know. For Bram, maybe. Or for the idea of him. And I'm saying that it's all right to have doubts. Just don't let them take over what you know in your heart is true." She touched her chest to underscore the words. "We all have doubts, you know. I never believed for a minute that Jeff and I would find our way together. We were too locked into the way things had always been. But it was Katherine leaving that pulled us together. That made us see how much we really cared about each other."

  "Sometimes the answers are right in front of us." Mrs. Abernathy nodded. "But we have to open our eyes to see them."

  "Well, I can't really argue with any of that, I suppose. So I guess we'll just have to keep looking."

  "Never give up." Mrs. Abernathy nodded. "That's always been my motto."

  They drove on in comfortable silence. Lily leaned back against the worn leather seat staring out the car window. There was a rough majesty about the Scottish countryside, broom and gorse mixing together across the rocky foothills of the mountains in a wild mix of yellow blooms, green undergrowth, and the milky gray of lichen-spattered chunks of stone jutting up through the coarse vegetation.

  They were heading for Dunbrae. Or what was left of it. She shivered, not certain if it was with anticipation or worry. Both probably. Odds were she'd learn nothing new. But it was important somehow to see the tower for herself. To see Bram's home. To reach for him there across the years.

  Elaine and Mrs. Abernathy were right. She simply had to trust herself—trust her heart. Maybe she was chasing moonbeams. But then again maybe she wasn't. And if the latter were true—if, like Katherine St. Claire, she'd somehow managed to cross the boundaries of time, and if the reason was because her soul was somehow linked with Bram's—then she had to believe. Had to have faith.

  Her hand closed around the wedding ring. It had most definitely traveled through the years, as Val had said, from one happy ending to another—blessing those who loved with their whole hearts.

  It was her ring now.

  Her journey. Hers and Bram's.

  In truth, she had no choice but to believe.

  *****

  The track leading to the ruins of Dunbrae was almost invisible. In fact, despite the vicar's helpful map, they'd passed the turn-off twice. It was only on the third try that Lily spied the faint markings between two ancient rowan trees, their narrow green leaves cradling creamy white blossoms.

  "I see it," she cried. "Or at least I think I do. There. Between the trees." She pointed at the shadow of a rutted road running between a rock wall and an open field.

  Behind the wall, the meadow was dotted with sheep. On the open side, the terrain was wilder, overgrown, and to Lily's mind somehow wrong. Her inner eye was quick to create cottages and outbuildings. Smoke in chimneys, livestock in pens. And everywhere people.

  For a moment her heart swelled, joy singing through her veins as if at long last she'd come home. And then it was all gone. Nothing more than a figment of imagination or the wisp of a memory. Discomfited, Lily shifted on the seat as Elaine steered the little car down the half-hidden lane.

  "Are you all right?" Mrs. Abernathy asked from the back, her eyes, as always, seeing everything.

  "As much as I can be, I suppose," Lily replied, turning to smile at the older woman. "For a moment I let myself get carried away. I thought I saw a village."

  "There would have been one here," Mrs. Abernathy assured them. "There was always such around a tower. People who depended on the laird for safety when danger came calling. In peaceful times they'd have built their wee stone cottages, and their lives would have sprawled out across fields such as these."

  "But there's nothing here now." Lily shook her head, turning back to the overgrown meadow, watching as it was obscured from view by a small forest.

  "Aye, but you see with more than just your eyes."

  "You mean I'm crazy." Lily couldn't help herself. The words spilled out of her, even as her mind sought to recapture the image of the village.

  "She means you have the sight," Elaine said matter-of-factly. "And if I'd a pound for every time I wished for the same as a child, I'd be a rich woman today, and Duncreag would have the new roofing it's so badly needing." She reached out to pat Lily's hand. "Almost there."

  They drove slowly, the road now shrouded in the trees, their ancient branches dropping overhead to
form a canopy of dappled green. The track, what there was of it, rose sharply now, climbing up the side of the mountain, sharp protrusions of rock visible beneath the gnarled trunks of the trees.

  Then suddenly they rounded a bend and broke free, the sunlight almost blinding after the gloom. Elaine pulled the car to a stop and Lily blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust.

  And then there it was. Dunbrae. Bram's home.

  Or what was left of it.

  What had clearly been a tower once was now not much more than a great pile of stone. Perhaps two stories remained, most of that dilapidated and clearly unstable. The center was filled with rubble from what had most likely been upper stories. Broom grew amidst the fallen stone. And a rhododendron's waxy leaves and purple flowers hid what had once been stairs.

  For a moment the world seemed to shift, the tower taking on clean lines and powerful proportions, a crisp banner waving from the parapet. Huge wooden doors at the top of the stairs marked the entrance. And inside, Lily knew there would be a welcoming fire. She could almost smell the smoke.

  Again her heart swelled with joy. She reached for the car door handle, but before she could wrench it open, the image faded, the jumble of stone heartbreaking in its neglect. She pulled herself from the car, oblivious to her friends, and walked across the grass to the fallen tower. In the sunlight the fallen stones glittered silver and when she reached out to lay her hand across one, it was warm to the touch.

  Like a living thing.

  She shook her head, wondering when she'd become so fanciful. Probably when she'd slept with a man dead five hundred years, a little voice whispered. She shivered. Eyes closed, she listened for the heartbeat of the place, her mind searching again for images. Memories. But there was nothing except the whistling wind and a soul-deep feeling of loss.

  She shifted, opening her eyes, and reached to touch another stone, this one long and thin, like a threshold or a window sill. It was also warm to the touch, worn smooth by time. And she smiled, a vivid feeling of peace descending. An image flashed. An intricately carved table. Wooden trenchers and jeweled goblets. A massive stone fireplace, the flames flickering and bright. Above the mantel, a crest of some kind. Weapons fanned in a semi-circle above it.

  She'd known this place. Known it intimately. She'd lived here. Slept here. Loved here. She was as certain of the fact as she was of breathing. And yet it was impossible.

  "Are you seeing anything?" Elaine asked, the words jerking Lily from her reverie.

  "The great room, I think." She blinked at the tower rubble. "I only saw it for a second. Like the village below. But it was beautiful. And as familiar to me as my house in Greenwich. But that's impossible. There clearly hasn't been a working tower here for a very long time. And even if there were, I've never been here before in my life."

  "This life at least," Mrs. Abernathy said, hands on hips as she surveyed the ruin. "It almost looks to me as if there were two towers here. See?" She pointed to the place where Lily was standing. "That seems to be the main ruin. Or at least the one in the best shape. But over here—" She walked across the fallen stones to another lower mound, this one almost completely covered with broom. "—there's clearly another building. Or at least there was one."

  "An outbuilding of some kind?" Elaine suggested, as she and Lily made their way over to Mrs. Abernathy.

  "No telling. At least not without a little help." She smiled, turning her attention to Lily.

  "It's not like I can just call it up," Lily protested. Although even as she spoke the words, she leaned down to touch the pile of debris.

  This time it was as if a hand had jerked her into the dark. One minute she was standing amidst the ruins of Dunbrae and the next she was surrounded by blackness.

  She sucked in a breath, turning her head, straining into the dark. The smell of smoke was thick here. But where before, with the image of the great room, it had brought pleasure, here it was oppressive. Frightening even. Her eyes watered, and somewhere below her she could hear the clanking of metal against metal.

  A candle flamed in the darkness.

  "He comes." The voice was low, grating. A shiver ran up her spine.

  She turned toward the light and the sound, but nothing was visible except the flame, and the shadowy shape of a hand and an arm.

  "Who?" she asked, the words a whisper. "Who comes?"

  The clanking sounds drew closer. Swords, her mind whispered. Someone was fighting. She looked down, recognizing plank flooring. Between the gaps she could see flames flickering below. She jerked her head up, recognizing now that flames also wreathed the doorway and licked at the floorboards and walls.

  As if on cue, a figure burst through the doorway, calling her name.

  "Bram," Lily cried, trying to run to him, but as before, in her dream of the men in the pass below Duncreag, she couldn't move. It was as if she were bound in place.

  "God's blood, what have you done?" Bram bellowed, his pain and anger carrying across the space between them.

  Lily jerked as if she'd been hit, but then saw that his gaze was on someone else, someone beyond her.

  "Naught but what you deserve," the voice replied as, still cloaked in shadow, he took a step closer to Lily.

  Bram's eyes narrowed, and he lunged forward as a second and third shadow detached themselves from the dark. It was a trap.

  "Go back," she screamed, knowing he couldn't possibly hear her.

  His head jerked, his shoulders tightening with rage. "I'll no' leave you."

  The men circled him now, their swords glinting as the flames continued to spread. The entire room was ablaze, the acrid smell filling her lungs, choking her.

  For a single moment, Bram hesitated, his eyes entreating, his words lost in the cacophony of swords as the men advanced.

  She opened her mouth to scream another warning, but it was too late; the men were upon him. She struggled, fighting against bonds, real or imagined. And then suddenly the room exploded in flames, the floor beneath her collapsing.

  One minute Bram was there… and then he was gone. For a moment, the flames seemed to engulf her and then everything was a soft velvet black.

  "Lily." The voice was insistent. But she fought against it. She couldn't give in. She needed to get back. To find Bram. "Lily, please, wake up."

  It was the note of concern that made her open her eyes. That and the hopeless feeling that whatever had occurred, it had happened long ago, and nothing she could do would make it change.

  "Oh, thank God." Elaine's worried face swam into view. "I thought we'd lost you."

  "Here, have some of this," Mrs. Abernathy said as Elaine helped Lily to sit up. Lily took the offered cup and sipped the hot tea, almost sputtering as she swallowed. The brew was liberally laced with whisky. Mrs. Abernathy screwed the lid back on the thermos. "A little fortification." She shrugged, her eyes narrowed with worry. "It'll do you good."

  Lily shook her head, the last vestiges of her lethargy wearing off. The clearing was exactly as she'd left it. Tumbles of stone and overgrown masonry. The remnants, no doubt, of that long-ago fire. Her heart clenched with the agony of the memory.

  Bram.

  "Did you see him, then?" Elaine asked. "Bram."

  Lily hadn't realized she'd spoken the name out loud. Her eyes met her friend's worried gaze. "Yes. He was here. Or rather, I was there. I don't know." She shook her head in confusion and then, sucking in a deep breath, took another sip of tea, letting the heat of the whisky warm her. "Everything was burning."

  "What was burning?" Mrs. Abernathy asked. "The tower?" She shot a gaze over the rubble, eyes sharpening.

  "I think so." Lily ran a hand through her hair, still shaking off the vestiges of what she'd seen. "It was too dark to see anything for certain. Except for Bram. They had him cornered. There were so many of them."

  "Were you there?" Elaine frowned. "I mean, could Bram—could anybody—see you?"

  "I don't know." She shook her head, trying to remember. "I don't think so. It w
as like before on the ridge. I couldn't move. Couldn't make a sound. I was just stuck there—watching." Except that for a moment, in the end, it had almost seemed as if… she shook her head. If he'd seen her, he'd have reacted more strongly than he had. "No. I don't think I was really there. Not in a corporeal sense, anyway." She shivered, taking another sip of her tea.

  "Maybe it was a flashback," Elaine suggested.

  "Now, that's stating the obvious," Mrs. Abernathy said, lifting her eyebrows.

  "I mean, maybe it has already happened. Both in this time and in the past. Didn't you say that Bram's tower"—Elaine waved a hand, the gesture encompassing the rubble—"was attacked? Maybe that's what you saw."

  "But it was so awful." Lily pulled in a trembling breath. "They had him surrounded."

  "Yes, but then he escaped." Mrs. Abernathy slid a comforting arm around her. "And found you. Elaine's right. It must have been the attack Bram spoke of. Did you see enough to know who was behind it?"

  Lily shook her head. "As I said, it was too dark to see any faces. I heard a voice. But it was hardly more than a whisper. And he didn't say anything much at all. Just that Bram was coming." She closed her eyes as the anguish of her vision swam through her head again.

  "Well, whoever it was, I doubt we'll find more answers here," Elaine said.

  As if to test the theory, Lily reached out and touched a fallen stone. It was cool to the touch, a crust of lichen covering one side. She stroked it as though urging something more, but there was nothing except the wind in the trees and the chattering of crows.

  "Aye," Mrs. Abernathy agreed, her eyes moving from Lily to the sky. "And it'll be dark soon. We'd best head back."

  Lily nodded and pushed to her feet, letting her gaze wash across the ruins of Dunbrae. There had been happiness here. She recognized it deep in her heart. But there'd also been pain. Bram's pain. She shuddered as she again saw the flames rising, saw the floor beneath her collapsing. If her friends were right, Bram had escaped. He'd lived.