Sam and Evie - A Lost Highlander Novella

by Cassidy Cayman

“Leo called me,” Evelyn said. He couldn’t tell how angry she was, but she looked fairly upset about having to haul the baby out of bed to fetch him. He wobbled on the sidewalk and looked around. It felt like he’d walked for an age but he was barely a block from the restaurant. “Get in, you drunk numpty sod,” she hissed.

  Well, she was really angry if she was tossing around Britishisms like that. He pressed his lips together to keep from accidentally laughing. Nothing was funny, but she was so cute when she tried to swear like a Scot. He rolled down his window and let the cold air wash over him as she sped toward home, knowing that if he apologized it would make things worse, but hating the tense silence.

  “I’m really not that drunk,” he said as she pulled onto their lane.

  She made a sound that clearly expressed her disbelief and he rolled his eyes, wondering if he should just give up and cut his losses. He wasn’t a heavy or frequent drinker, but he had a good constitution for it, so even when he did get drunk, he sobered up quickly. He’d never once passed out or threw up from overindulging, and he always had perfect recall the next day, much to his friend’s dismay when he’d recount the daft things they did.

  “Yeah, keep trying to convince yourself,” she said under her breath. They were home and she glared at him before wrestling the car seat out of the back. He tried to take over but she hissed at him, “I don’t want you to drop him. Just get inside before you fall over. I won’t be able to drag you in, you big meathead.”

  He was momentarily outraged, but quickly realized he might be able to use her assumptions in his favor. If he could get her to feel a little bit sorry for him, then he could tell her some of the things he’d so far been too afraid to say, under the guise of being completely tanked. He almost laughed out loud at his evil plot, but just looked sad and followed her into the house.

  While waiting in the hallway as she put Magnus back in his crib, he almost fell asleep standing up. He was still a bit wasted, so his plan wasn’t a perfect one. In fact, he wondered if he should just go to bed and reassess in the morning. He reached out and steadied himself against the wall just as she came around the corner looking for him.

  “Good lord,” she said, getting under his arm and steering him toward his room.

  Yes, this was why he had waited in the hall. Sweet, sweet pity. He leaned on her more than he needed to, grateful for what remained of his whiskey haze or he would have felt like a right arse. She got him through the door and shoved him onto his bed where he lay sprawled and staring at the ceiling. This wasn’t what he had been hoping for. She jerked his shoes off and tossed them into the corner, then began to wrangle the covers out from under him.

  “Can’t you help me?” she finally asked, out of breath. “You’re like a rock hard lump of muscular dough.”

  He was going to take that as a compliment, and rolled to the side so she could pull down the covers. With a final heave, she tucked the blankets around him and frowned down at him. But it wasn’t an angry or disgusted frown. She looked infinitely sad, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. No, no, no. This wasn’t what he wanted at all. He reached out and took her hand.

  “Evelyn, I’m not really that drunk,” he admitted, imploring her with his eyes to believe him. She shook her head and kept looking at him, and it broke his heart. All he wanted was to make her stop looking so sad. “I’m sorry,” he continued, even though he knew it was probably for naught, as she wouldn’t believe a word he said now. “I—”

  Before he could continue pouring out his soul to her, she leaned over and pressed a tender kiss onto his mouth, effectively cutting off his confession that he still loved her. He felt a hot tear splash onto his face as she pulled away abruptly.

  “Don’t,” she pleaded. “Don’t say anything that’s going to hurt, that you won’t even remember in the morning.” With a look of desperation on her face, she ran her hand through his hair, then turned and fled.

  All in all, it couldn’t have gone worse, but Sam lay there staring at the ceiling, his mouth tingling from her unexpected kiss, a small beacon of hope trying to shine through the turmoil before he finally gave in to sleep.

  Chapter 6

  Evelyn got into her room and shut the door, her heart pounding so loudly she thought she’d wake the baby. It was a miracle the car ride and all the frustration radiating off of her hadn’t woken him already. She wiped away her tears and sat on the edge of the bed, focusing on steadying her breathing.

  Why had she kissed him? That was so dumb. The only thing that kept her from packing her and Magnus a bag and disappearing into the night was the reassuring thought that Sam was so drunk he couldn’t possibly remember what she’d done. He’d been about to spout some sort of inebriated nonsense and she wouldn’t have been able to bear it, and in her panic she had kissed him.

  She pressed her fingers to her lips to try to keep the feeling of Sam’s mouth there, then wiped it away, feeling even more stupid than a moment ago. If only he hadn’t looked so ruffled and vulnerable. She was a sucker for sad Sam, and he knew that. Starting to fume, she wondered if he had staged his wobbly drunken wandering to get her to pity kiss him. No, he wasn’t that diabolical, and it easily could have backfired. He was lucky she’d gotten out of bed to get him. She got back in and yanked up the covers, knowing she’d be lucky to get a couple hours of sleep before Magnus woke up.

  Sleep was a valuable commodity and since being scared awake by the midnight phone call from Leo, having to get Magnus into his carrier without waking him, then having to deal with her own momentary loss of sanity, she was so worked up she’d be lucky if she drifted off five minutes before Magnus hollered. She didn’t care how hungover Sam was in the morning, she wasn’t going to tiptoe around to let him sleep in. He could get his ass up and make her breakfast for what he put her through.

  Now her rage was back in force and she knew sleep would allude her so she reached for her romance novel, hoping to be distracted by the hijinks of the dashing Egyptian billionaire prince and the hapless American reporter Charlize Emerson-Blake who had accidentally ended up in his harem. Would she end up in his heart as well? At that very moment, Evelyn didn’t much care but she hoped it would put her to sleep.

  She must have drifted off at some point because she woke up with a start to find the light was suspiciously bright and everything was way too quiet. Magnus always woke her up before dawn and she would grope around in the dark to get him a bottle as the weak rays of early morning sunlight struggled to come in through the windows. She never turned the lights on, hoping he’d fall back to sleep for an hour or so each morning after he ate.

  Terror overtook her instantaneously and she shot to his crib, nearly blinded by fear. It was clear he wasn’t in there but she leaned over and ran her hands over the mattress, the tears already pouring down her cheeks.

  “Sam?” she yelled, rushing out of the bedroom and racing through the empty house.

  Sam’s bed was tousled and empty. In the kitchen, little things jumped out at her as if they were important, trying to tell her brain something. An eggy frying pan sat on the stove burner, a juice glass and empty bottle were in the sink. All she could focus on was that her baby was gone. Sparkling lights floated in her peripheral vision and she gripped the counter to keep from falling, her hand brushing a slip of paper with Sam’s writing on it.

  Gone to shop early for inventory. Took Mags.

  It was too much. With shaking hands she jabbed at her phone, barely able to catch her breath as it rang.

  “Did you get some good sleep?” he asked cheerily.

  “You ass!” she screeched, then began to blubber.

  She sat down on the kitchen floor and clicked off the call, embarrassed that she had gone to pieces. A second later he was ringing her back and she held the phone up to her ear.

  “The baby was gone,” she said with a huge sniffle.

  “Ah, Christ, Evelyn,” he said. “I didn’t think. I should have put the note in the crib where you’d see it right awa
y. I just wanted you to be able to sleep in for once.”

  She was grateful he didn’t think she’d overreacted. Having Magnus stolen by a mad witch had put them both through hell, and she could tell he was truly contrite for scaring her. Now that her heart was beating at a normal rate, she remembered she had kissed him the night before and flushed uncomfortably, thinking about just hanging up on him again.

  “Are you hungover?” she asked tartly. “Should I come get Mags?” He’d been staggering drunk the night before. Surely he wasn’t capable of properly watching the baby.

  “No,” he said, clearing his throat. “I, er, didn’t know I woke you when I got in. The long walk home must have sobered me up because I feel just fine now.”

  The long walk? Didn’t know he woke her? He must have been really snockered to not even remember her coming to get him. It was a miracle. All she had to do was act normal and everything would go back to the way it was. That made her heart sink for some reason, but she pushed it aside. Mags was fine, Sam didn’t remember her terrible mistake, and she had actually slept until ten in the morning.

  “If you’re sure Mags is okay,” she said.

  “He’s fine. I’ve got him propped up in his wee chair in the window display. He’s drawing people in like flies.”

  “That isn’t funny,” she said, forcing her face to stop smiling.

  “Enjoy the day off,” he assured her. “We’ll be home early. I think the lasagna is still good.”

  After she ended the call, she was overwhelmed with the possibilities ahead of her, unsure of what to do when faced with free time. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she had slept well past her usual breakfast time. A giddy sense of exhilaration washed over her as she realized she could eat at her leisure, sitting down. There was a package of bagels sitting on the counter, almost winking at her seductively. She popped one in the toaster then spread it thickly with cream cheese, opening the fridge to get some juice.

  Pushing aside the judgemental low fat yogurt with a dirty look, she reached for the strawberry jam and globbed it on top of her cream cheese smeared bagel. The amount of stress she’d just gone through had to have put her in a calorie deficit. Now that she knew Magnus was safe and she actually had some free time, there was no excuse not to make some difficult decisions. If it took a bagel or two to help her through it, so be it.

  The night before, when she’d told Piper she was going to take her up on her offer of a salary, Herb had overheard and had about gone ballistic with excitement.

  “My dear,” he’d exclaimed. “I had no idea you were looking for employment or I would have made an offer already.”

  Piper started to argue with him about poaching her, but Evelyn had shushed her, curious to see what Herb was thinking.

  It turned out that during the eight months that Piper was in time travel limbo, Evelyn had impressed him with her uncanny and previously unknown ability to manage an estate of great size. It was as if she’d done it in another life and settled back into it like it was a pair of comfy old slippers.

  And she didn’t hate doing it. It had been an amazing challenge, and she’d been all the more driven to succeed at it since Piper was as good as a sister to her. Could she forsake her academic past, give up the quiet, nerdy life she’d always imagined, holed away in a musty book-lined office in the bowels of some university?

  She felt like the worst person in the world, but she couldn’t stop hearing the imaginary ka-ching of a cash register in her head. Working for Herb would make her truly independent. She would have earned the position on her own merits, while taking a salary from Piper would always feel like pity money to her. However, if she took the job Herb had offered, it would mean moving to Inverness.

  Sam wouldn’t get to see Mags every day, probably not even every weekend, and if the thought of it gave her hives, Sam certainly wouldn’t much care for it, either. It wasn’t ideal, but her options were limited.

  There was no university for miles, no public library in Castle on Hill— she’d suggested Piper organize one with her billions and poor Sam had panicked, thinking no one would ever buy a book again— and working at the historical gallery was out. While she mostly kind of liked Padma now, being her underling was out of the question.

  Why had she squandered all her cocktail waitress money on her useless advanced degree? She should have been ruthlessly saving for the possibility of a surprise pregnancy and a move overseas. The oversight on her part was shocking.

  She could probably scrape a little extra a month churning out freelance articles, but that would be grocery money, never enough to live on, given her limited expertise in the gender studies field. Every little niche in the village was filled, she couldn’t even get a job at the pub.

  On the one hand living with Sam wasn’t the worst thing she’d endured by far. If she could keep herself from kissing him anymore— once again her skin flushed from the memory— it would be best for Magnus to be close to his father, have as normal a family as possible. She looked around the quaint kitchen, with its squeaky, old fashioned porcelain fixtures and smooth wood cabinets, its brilliant original yellow and white linoleum floor and cheerful red rag rug. She absolutely adored the house.

  On the other hand, she didn’t want to live a life that could be best described as not the worst thing she’d endured. Didn’t she deserve happiness? Didn’t Sam? What they were doing was nothing short of dysfunctional, and she wanted to kick herself for not seeing it sooner. As much as it might be the easiest thing to keep staying in this wonderful house, and for Magnus to have an every day dad, it would eventually break her heart. Of that she was certain.

  The bagel bag was empty and she felt fairly sure of her decision, as much as it weighed heavily on her shoulders. When Sam came home, she’d heat up the lasagna and tell him she was moving to Inverness.

  Chapter 7

  Sam was extremely pleased with himself after his performance on the phone with Evelyn. He even high fived Magnus’s tiny curled up fist, telling his son he deserved a BAFTA award for his smooth lies, then instantly warned the lad never to lie to his mother. Still, he needed her to feel good and confident that he didn’t remember anything about the night before. It would be just like Evelyn to pretend nothing had happened and he would use that to his advantage.

  He couldn’t keep from smiling as he hustled through the last of the inventory, foisting a good bit of it onto his overworked employee as he left early again. He promised Jeremy he would be back on his game soon, thanked him profusely and told him to order some food using money from the cash register, then left before he gave the kid a pay rise he couldn’t afford.

  During the ride home he sang to Magnus, reaching around and joggling the car seat if his eyes began to drift shut. He’d kept him awake the whole afternoon so he would go to sleep as soon as they got home, then he and Evelyn could have some alone time. He’d put in one of his ancient dvds and then make his move as soon as she got cozy on the couch.

  “Sorry, Mags, old chap, but if you want your mummy and da to stay together, you need to stay awake a wee bit longer.”

  His mood dampened slightly when he found that Evelyn had the table strewn with papers and was apparently doing some sort of complicated math. She looked up at him and blinked several times as if she weren’t sure of who she was looking at, then jumped up and took the baby. Magnus immediately started fussing.

  “Didn’t he nap?” she asked, glowering at Sam as if it was his fault.

  Which it was, he reminded himself. He recognized the sounds Magnus was making as the beginning of a major meltdown and hurriedly fixed him a bottle, which he fitfully took as if he hadn’t eaten all day.

  “I fed him,” he said before she could accuse him of not only sleep depriving their son but starving him too. “I don’t know what he’s so worked up about.”

  His own frustration level rose. He needed to get things back on track to the relaxed, hopefully romantic evening he had planned. He took the pan of lasagna out of the frid
ge, unable to stop the feeling of foreboding that passed over him, as if the meal was somehow cursed.

  “I’m taking a job,” she said abruptly and he turned to look at her, unsure why she should look so apprehensive.

  “That’s wonderful,” he said. So much of her satisfaction came from working. He knew it was hard on her not being able to get a job in the village, and she was too proud to take Piper’s money, though she certainly earned it with all the time she spent up at the castle. He never dared suggest she let him take care of expenses until Magnus was older, sure she would let him have it with a twenty minute tirade on independence and equality. “What is it?”

  The long silence should have tipped him off to something but he just stood there grinning happily for her, thinking the news would give him an excuse to suggest they celebrate.

  “I’m going to work at Herb’s firm down in Inverness,” she said. “I haven’t officially accepted the job, so I don’t know when we’d leave …” She trailed off and looked down at Magnus, the sound of him noisily finishing up his bottle echoing in the fresh silence.

  He had about ten seconds to figure out what to do with this. His face froze, his congratulatory smile now a teeth clenching mask. Move so far away? Like hell. He’d never see Mags. They’d never get back together if she was miles away, with that tosser hovering around her all the time. All his instincts urged him to leave and beat bloody Herb to a pulp or at the very least start yelling the house down.

  Her last words finally worked their way into his brain and his tense muscles slowly relaxed. She hadn’t officially accepted the job yet. All he could do was get her to change her mind, and that meant full steam ahead with his plan.

  “That’s great,” he said, glad he didn’t sound as choked as he felt.

  Her head jerked up. “It is?” she asked.

  He wanted to laugh. Magnus started squalling and twisting in her arms, a complete mess. It was exactly how Sam felt about it, but he nodded encouragingly. “We’ll make it work,” he said. “Why don’t you put him down and I’ll get the meal ready. We can watch a film while we eat.”