Restoring Time

by Jenn Lees

  “Yes.” Siobhan did a double take. “What are you asking me—?”

  “Are ye pregnant?”

  “W—what? No, my period’s a bit late but—why?”

  Rory shuffled his shoulders a little, then swallowed. “Micah, who grew up around women, says you look like you have morning sickness, which does nae always happen just of a morning, ken?”

  Siobhan stood immobile, her mouth dropping open. She thought of all she was feeling—the intense emotions and crying over nothing, the tiredness, the nausea, and the fact she had just admitted to Rory—that her period was late.

  “Ooh! I just may be,” she said. A flutter hit her belly—not nausea—followed by a calm understanding.

  “You just may be?” Rory rasped. “When we have nae even had sex yet?”

  She slid her gaze back to Rory’s face. His eyes were wide with hurt and sharp ice hit her chest.

  “Rory! You’re the father. You and I, in the future, certainly had sex.” She clenched her hands by her sides. “Don’t you trust me?” she whispered hoarsely.

  Rory blinked and jutted his jaw. “But how could you be...already?”

  “I don’t know.” She lifted her shoulders a fraction. “It must have accelerated somehow when I travelled back. Rory,” she made him look into her eyes, “you’re the father. There is no one else. Are you accusing me of being unfaithful? Do you really think I’d—?” Her throat closed, choking on his implied accusation.

  He stood back from her, dragging the air through his nostrils, like a raging wind in the otherwise silent night.

  “I won’t plead for you to believe me, Rory Campbell. The other day at Lloyd’s, as we passed those prostitutes who wolf-whistled at you, you asked if I trusted you. I assumed you were asking if I trusted that you had been faithful to me.”

  “Aye.” He deep voice filled the night.

  “Aye. Well. You need to believe me when I say that you are the only man I have had a sexual encounter with in at least the past two years, so if I am pregnant, it is you who has fathered this child.”

  Rory’s nostrils flared. Then he hung his head, shoulders drooping.

  “Och, I’m just trying to understand.” He lifted his head and looked her in the eye. “I hate myself for havin’ asked you. But it must be the only explanation. The time travel...’n havin’ morning sickness and that within a couple of days o’...you know?” He tilted his head to the side and in the moonlight his dimples showed faintly.

  “Having fantastic sex with you, Rory Campbell.” The ice was melting.

  Time travel makes life so confusing. But she’d waited so long and wouldn’t wait any longer for Rory—in this time.

  “It was fant—?”

  She moved closer, lifting her lips to his, and as he received them, she kissed his mouth harder, slipping her hands up around his muscled neck and through the soft hair at the base of his skull.

  Rory tugged her to himself, holding her hard against him. He moaned and released her, ripping off her coat and then his. He threw them on the ground behind her then eased her down onto the makeshift bed, the thick coats retaining their body heat warming her naked back. Rory flung off his trousers. She unzipped hers and he helped her slide them down to her boots, where they snagged. He dragged her boots from her feet, his face broadening with a grin and Siobhan’s stomach danced with her laughter. Then he lay on top of her—lean, warm and firm, and kissed her quickly. Lifting his head back, he stared into her face, his eyes dark and earnest in the moonlight. Then his soft, moist lips encompassed hers and journeyed to her neck, stirring sensations which flew across her skin and burrowed deep inside her. His strong arms held her tighter as she ran her fingers along the length of his bare back, taught muscles rippled beneath her fingertips and a shudder ran through him.

  Then she curled her legs around him, and drew him in.

  Chapter 24

  Culloden Moor

  Siobhan walked back to the camp with Rory, his arm tight around her waist—keeping her close to his side. Micah’s band had secured the tarps to the trees beside the bothy; their belongings were now strewn underneath the makeshift tents. A campfire burned a healthy glow against the bothy’s sandstone wall.

  “There’s jerky and I’ll prepare bannocks.” Micah rustled in a saddlebag and brought out a cast-iron pan.

  A woodpile sat next to the bothy and Xian rolled some logs over for seating around the campfire. Micah handed out jerky and soon hot bannocks followed. After they’d eaten, Micah’s men bid them all goodnight and went to their bedrolls while Xian remained sitting on a log by the fire with Micah.

  “You’ve eaten tonight.” Rory moved his log-stool nearer to Siobhan and put his arm around her, the firelight glinting in his eyes. “That’s good. Got your appetite back.”

  “Micah’s bannocks are first class.” She lifted her mug of tea in salute. “You should’ve been a chef, Micah.”

  “Thank you, Mrs Campbell. It means the world to me you like my cooking.” A genuine smile lit Micah’s face as he sat on a log opposite them.

  “Please, call me Siobhan.”

  “Don’t make it easier for him to suck up to you, Siobhan,” Rory said, his lips next to her cheek. “He’s trying everything he can to get into my good-books, ye ken.”

  “Isn’t he already?”

  Rory’s mouth drew in at one side.

  “Well?” Micah asked.

  “He’s after ma wee sister.” Rory ignored Micah. “You know that?”

  “Yes, I know that, Rory.” Siobhan raised her eyebrows. She had been to the future where Micah and Cèilidh were married.

  “I think I’ll go sleep. All this food needs digesting,” she said to Rory, then mouthed talk and flicked her gaze across to Micah and back as she made herself comfortable in her bedroll under the tarp. The conversation from the fire-circle drifted over.

  “Tell me about your mother,” Micah was sitting opposite Rory, his face side-on to Siobhan. “There’s lots of stories about her, but what was she really like?”

  “Really?” From the other side of the fire, Rory’s face was half-lit by the flames now dying down to embers. “You really want tae know?”

  “Man, your parents were legends. Of course, I wanna know.”

  Rory gazed into the fire, his eyes softening. “My mother loved me. Loved all of us. I wasn’t as close to her as I would have liked, but my parents were busy with the running of the Community. She was smart, brave and sensible with lots of ideas and skills. Like, instead of being consumed by the difficulties, she thought of the good things to work on. Not just the practical things but the beautiful things, such as art and music. She made me, and ma brothers and sisters, learn an instrument, ken? Some of us were better than others. I’d rather ride ma horse than play a tin whistle.” He snorted a laugh.

  “You miss her, man,” Micah said.

  Rory lifted his head, eyes glistening in the firelight.

  “I get it. I miss my mum too.” Micah looked at the ground. “She was the only one who really loved me, no matter what. She loved me because I was hers. Not because I was good at cooking, or horse riding. Or sneaking things from the stores.” Micah chuckled, then his expression turned sober. “Unconditional love, that’s what they call it, and she did it.”

  “What about your father, the King of Fife?”

  Micah stared at the flames for some moments, the lines around his eyes grew deeper.

  “He likes me, but...unconditional love...” He shook his head, his dreads falling over his shoulders. “He knows nothin’ about. I’d do anything to make him love me like that.” Micah spoke the last words so softly Siobhan could barely hear them.

  Siobhan’s chest tightened a little and her eyes prickled as she thought about how her father had loved her always. She snuggled deeper into her bedroll.

  “Your dad, man, he was awesome.” Micah broke the brief silence. “We came across him once, when we were out poachin’, a long time ago.”

  Rory grasped his mu
g, and Xian remained quietly listening to Rory and Micah’s conversation.

  “We thought we were goners when he caught us,” Micah continued. “He was a giant. I thought I was tall, but...” Micah mimicked someone taller standing in front of himself. “He looked mean, but he took pity on us. We must’ve seemed hungry, ken? Well, we were.”

  Coals popped and sparks flew into the night sky.

  “You must miss him too.” Micah looked over at Rory for a second, then his gaze returned to the flames. “I would, if I had a man like him for a father.”

  Rory’s shoulders lowered a fraction. “Aye, I do. He wasn’t just my father. He was my best friend.” Rory’s voice caught a little. “He taught me how to ride. Gave me Boy. Taught me to survive in the wild. How to handle a firearm. How to hunt. How to...kill. How to defend mysel’ and no’ kill a man. How to tell right from wrong. Whether a person is lying or no’.” Rory’s hands tensed around his mug, his knuckles white. “He showed me what loving a woman can mean and how much a man must love her, to claim he truly does.” He flicked a glance to Siobhan then. Tears welled in his lower lids, threatening to spill.

  Siobhan’s throat constricted at Rory’s comments, then she let out a quiet, slow sigh at Rory opening up at last.

  “Aye, he was a great man.” Micah’s dreads fell across his face.

  Rory took a deep breath in and fiddled with the mug, having now loosened his grip on it.

  “There’s going to be a famine,” he said into the flames.

  Siobhan grasped the covers of her bedroll. Why had he chosen that topic to change the course of the conversation?

  Xian leaned forward, until now hidden from Siobhan’s view by Rory’s form, revealing his expression reflecting her own thoughts.

  Surely Rory wouldn’t disclose the existence of the Time Machine to Micah?

  “What?” Micah’s face scrunched as he lifted his head. He pulled his hair behind him and, slipping a leather thong off his wrist, he tied his dreadlocks back. “How’d ye ken that, like?”

  “I have visions.” Rory looked over to Micah. “They’ve come true.”

  “Wow! Man, like really?”

  “Aye.”

  “That’s awesome. What of?”

  “I knew when the Government convoy was coming to our Community.”

  “Like, you saw it?” Micah leaned his elbows on his knees, threatening to topple into the campfire.

  Rory nodded.

  “Wow. Ye ken that odd lot who are led by that old professor, Webster? His woman, Dierdra, would love to ken all this. She reads fortunes.”

  “Oh, aye.” Rory frowned.

  “She read mine once. Said my woman would belong to an important family.” Micah stared straight at Rory.

  Rory scratched his upper lip. “Anyway, we need to prepare for this famine. We need—”

  “What causes it?” Micah interrupted.

  “A volcanic eruption.” Rory’s eyes glinted and in the firelight his hair blazed ginger.

  “What!” Micah turned to Xian. “You’re not actin’ surprised. Ye ken all this?”

  Xian nodded.

  “We’ve gotta tell my dad—”

  “No, we don’t.” Rory held his up hand. “Your father has enough goods stored. He’ll be okay.”

  “But he needs to store more. You said it would be a famine.”

  “What will you tell him? Rory-the-seer predicts a sky full o’ volcanic ash? Think he’s goin’ tae believe you? You’ll just make me oot tae be a fool.”

  “But—”

  “Dinnae.” Rory’s tone was firm with a hint of violence, then his shoulders relaxed. “You’ll abide by what I’m askin’ you if you want tae see my sister.”

  “You black-mailin’ me to silence?”

  “Aye.”

  “You afraid you’ll look stupid?”

  Rory’s face hardened for a second.

  “Man, ye are.” Micah let out a soft laugh. “Okay, your secret’s safe with me. But people need to prepare.”

  “And they will.”

  “When’s this gonna happen?”

  “Not sure of a date. Visions dinnae come with a calendar, aye? I just ken it will be soon and we must plant more, grow more, increase our livestock and store more food and let the other Communities know to increase their yields and store all they can.”

  “My men can help. After all, it’s gonna be my family too. Isn’t it?”

  The corner of Rory’s mouth curled upwards. “Aye, I suppose.”

  “Wha hoo!” Micah’s face beamed true happiness.

  Rory glanced over to Siobhan; his expression thoughtful. Her mouth tightened. It seemed he’d made his decision about this man based on her knowledge of the future. Only time would tell if that future was the one now awaiting them.

  Chapter 25

  The Invercharing Community, 2061

  A grating, with a final metallic screech, accompanied the opening of the huge gate to the Invercharing Community Compound, and home. Kendra stood in the centre of the forecourt with her hands on her hips; her long, thick, dark plait hung over her front.

  “Took the long way around, did you, boss?” Kendra squinted against the midmorning sun.

  “Och, the horses were almost as tired as we were. I could nae push them.” Rory slid his leg over Boy and landed to help Siobhan down from the saddle. If he were to be truthful, Siobhan’s nausea had prevented anything faster than a walk. The worst of their travel hazards were behind them, and the only one champing at the bit to get home had been Micah—who now jumped off his horse, threw the reins to one of his crew, and ran inside.

  “What did I miss?” Rory spoke over his shoulder to Kendra while he unloaded Siobhan’s bags from the packhorse.

  “A baby.” Kendra picked up a bag in each hand.

  “How did you—? Oh, Callum and Mandy! What did they have?”

  “A boy, brother,” Callum shouted from the entranceway of the main building and strode toward him. They met in a bear hug.

  “Well done,” Rory said into his twin’s ear. “Can’t wait to meet him.”

  “Is Mandy well?” Siobhan asked from behind them.

  “Aye, she’s braw. Welcome home, Siobhan.” Callum embraced her. “We’re so glad you’re here at last.”

  “Aye, we all are,” Kendra said. “Never seen such a moping—”

  “That’s enough,” Rory interrupted, heat burning his cheeks. “I did nae miss this abuse, that’s for certain.”

  He picked up the bags and indicated with a flick of his head toward the main door. “Come, Siobhan, we can settle you in. Then I—we—must meet with the Chief Council.”

  A tired smile barely lifted the corner of Siobhan’s mouth. He’d get used to the we soon enough and he needed her brains at this meeting.

  “I’ll call the Council together, then?” George said from the doorway.

  “Aye, George. Thank you.”

  “Wonderful to have you here, Siobhan,” George said as Rory walked past. “And not just for Rory’s sake.”

  AFTER SOME TEA AND sourdough bread, which they ate in their quarters, Rory and Siobhan entered the room of the farmhouse used for Chief Council sessions. Dr Farquhar sat at the top of the makeshift long table, his jowls hanging below his chin. Rory recalled that his mother had said he was a doctor of the old-school type, from the days when a doctor’s word was law and people regarded them like gods. Dr Farquhar had learned that it wouldn’t be so on this Council, and he’d been a vital resource in the formative years of the Community. He was an elderly man, but retirement was an unknown in the Community.

  Aunty Bec, who sat next to Dr Farquhar, was a testament to that. Both she and Uncle Brendan were now in their late seventies and still as active as they could manage. George Stobbart sat beside them, straight-backed and broad-shouldered in his mid-sixties. Mr Grant, who’d also joined the Community in its early days, sat opposite him.

  “Angela would be present if the allure of real government hadn’t magnetise
d her to the Government Bunker,” Rory said to those gathered. Uncle Brendan cocked a brow. Rory clenched his jaw and a twinge of muscle spasm shot up to his temple.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Christine snuck in the door. Her blonde hair hung in a ponytail over her plain home-spun top and wisps of hair had come out of its tie. She would’ve had a busy morning attending to the unwell of the Community.

  “Thank you, everyone, for leaving your duties and meeting at such short notice,” Rory began. “I’m hoping you will be happy with Siobhan’s presence here with us at this Council meeting.”

  Heads nodded around the table, but not all the faces held an amicable expression. Rory’s forehead tightened.

  “What has the Government been up to, son?” Dr Farquhar’s jowls wobbled with each word.

  “The Scottish Government is serious about meeting with leaders of the various groups of us out here.” Rory remained standing behind the chair assigned to him. “They want to be effective again.”

  “Would that be other Communities, or any others who dinnae live underground?” Mr Grant asked.

  “It means anyone willing to pull together to build Scotland once more, Mr Grant,” Siobhan said.

  “Hmph,” Mr Grant replied. “What will they want from us? Will they lord it over us, or can we ever be equals?” His hands resting on the table clutched tight to a pencil and paper. “What if we don’t want to change our way of running this Community?”

  “What about our resources?” Dr Farquhar leaned on the table. “They may take our fighting men and women for their own defence force.”

  “These are all points for discussion and negotiation, gentlemen.” Siobhan pushed a stray hair behind her ear. “No one will make you do anything. You won’t lose your autonomy.” Siobhan’s face was pale and dark circles showed under her eyes.

  Rory pulled her chair out and indicated for her to sit. Maybe he should’ve insisted they rest and then meet later on in the day, but they had so little time to prepare for such a significant event.