Needed By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Forever Book 5)

by Rebecca Preston

  “It’s okay,” she kept saying, over and over as he wept. “It’s okay to be sad, Eamon. It’s okay.”

  Finally, the tears began to abate. He was sniffling, and she kept wiping his face with the now rather soggy edge of his bedsheet, not sure what else to use. Helen knew that they were at a crucial point, here — that in this moment of vulnerability, Eamon had the potential to take a big step forward with his grieving process. But it was up to him — she couldn’t make him say or do anything he didn’t want to. So she kept dabbing the tears away, using the gesture to express her care for him, her support — to let him know she was there for him, if he wanted her to be.

  “I miss her,” he said finally, in a tiny voice she’d never heard from him before. And abruptly, she felt her own eyes filling up with tears. “I miss my mam.”

  “I know, love,” she said softly, hearing her own voice shake. “I miss my mother too.”

  He peered up at her, clearly shocked by the revelation that someone else had lost a parent. “Where’s your mam?” It was clear from the look on his face that it hadn’t occurred to him until just now that adults had parents. It would have been comical, if it wasn’t so sad.

  She wiped her own tears away, smiling a little.

  “My mother died when I was younger, Eamon. A little older than you, maybe, but still young. It was hard.”

  “Did she drown?” He was peering up at her, clearly vitally interested in what she had to say — more interested than he ever had been in what she’d told him, now she thought about it. This was an important moment for them. She took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to phrase this.

  “No. She got very, very sick. So sick that even Maggie wouldn’t have been able to cure her. She didn’t do anything wrong, it wasn’t her fault… but still, watching her get sicker and sicker made me very, very sad. And when she died… it was strange, sometimes I almost felt like I was angry with her. Angry with her, for getting sick and leaving. That didn’t make any sense, but I felt it, anyway.” She looked at him sideways, realizing from the wide-eyed look on his face that she and he had that particular set of emotions in common. She took a deep breath. It felt oddly — healing, to talk about her mother like this. There was a lot she hadn’t come to terms with in her own life regarding her mother’s loss. Meeting Eamon had been what she needed to show her that… and now, she hoped that her own experiences could help him with his own grief.

  “What about your dad?” Eamon asked suddenly.

  She reflected on that for a moment, smiling a little. “I think I was angry at him, too. He was so busy all the time… with Mom sick, he had to work all day to take care of us. He was doing his best for us, but I didn’t understand that he had to be far away from me sometimes to look after me. I just felt like he didn’t care, that if he really cared he’d be there with me. But people show love in different ways.”

  “Was he sad? About your mam?”

  “He was very sad,” she said softly. “He was sad the whole time she was sick, and for a long, long time after she died. For a while, he had to send us away to live with our aunt. She looked after us — she made sure we had food and a warm place to sleep — but…” She sighed, not wanting to get into her troubled childhood too deeply with Eamon. She wanted to keep things straightforward — stick to the similarities between them instead of getting sidetracked with differences. “And now… now I’m super far away from my whole family.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes,” she said simply. “They’re so far away that I can never see them again, ever. I’m all alone, and even though it makes me incredibly sad that they’re gone, I’m still grateful for the memories I had with them. Do you remember your mam?”

  He nodded, his tiny face serious. “We walked on the beach. She made me my toys.”

  She nodded, smiling. “Those are lovely memories to have. And they’ll always be with you… which means she’ll always be with you, Eamon. And she’ll always be with your da, too.”

  A shadow crossed Eamon’s face at that. “I’m mad at him,” he said truculently. “He yelled at me. He made me go to my room. He won’t let me go where I want — won’t even let me go on the beach where I went with Mam. He wants me to forget her. Forget her like he’s forgotten her.”

  “Oh, Eamon.” She sighed. “He’s doing his best, okay? He hasn’t forgotten her, and he doesn’t want you to forget her. He’s just… he’s so scared of losing you too, little man. I know that’s hard to understand, but he’s doing all this because he wants to keep you safe. Do you ever get angry when you’re scared?”

  Eamon hesitated. This might be a little too much emotional intelligence to ask of a four-year-old, she thought with a wince… but the little boy was clearly giving the issue some serious though. At least he’s calm, she thought with a smile. She rose to her feet, extending her hand to him.

  “Why don’t we go and get a cup of water?”

  “Da said to stay in my room,” he said warily.

  “That’s good of you, to do what he said,” she said softly. “But I think we can grab a cup of water.”

  He gave her something approaching a smile… but she could tell he was still troubled. There was a lot of anger in him — misdirected grief, mostly — and it seemed to be focused on his father at the moment. That made sense, she supposed. There weren’t many other people in his life to direct it toward. In a way, she thought with a smile, it was almost a good thing that he’d gotten so angry with her. It meant that she was providing another outlet for his anger — taking some of the load off Niall. It would be better still if he could find healthier coping mechanisms for those feelings in the first place, but after all, he was only four years old.

  Baby steps.

  Chapter 51

  They were sharing some water when Niall came home. She could tell the minute he strode through the door that he was frustrated. His shoulders were tense, and his head was low and when he saw Eamon and Helen sitting at the table together, a stormy look came over his face that she recognized, strangely, from seeing it on the face of his son. He took a few steps across the room toward them and she felt Eamon tense up beside her, lifting his chin defiantly as he locked eyes with his father.

  “What’s he doing out of his room?” Niall demanded, not taking his eyes off his son. She didn’t like the tone in his voice — low and ugly, the kind of tone that suggested a storm was brewing and just about to break. Eamon looked indignant.

  “She said! She said I could have some water! Helen said I didn’t have to —”

  “It’s okay, Eamon,” Helen cut him off, trying to sound soothing — trying to diffuse the situation. But Eamon was already crying, hiccupping with anger and frustration at his father’s unjust anger. Helen fought her own anger with Niall. He’s had a long day, she told herself — but how dare he just storm in here and damage the fragile peace she’d built with Eamon? They were doing so well — they’d had such a good conversation about their parents, she was finally feeling like she was getting to the bottom of his anger issues… and now Niall came home and stormed through like a bull in a china shop, destroying everything she’d tried to build?

  “Get into your room right now,” Niall growled.

  Eamon howled with rage, drumming his fists on the table, lapsing straight back into the tantrum that Helen had worked so hard to avoid. And that only seemed to confirm Niall’s worst suspicions. Grunting in annoyance, he stormed across the room, grabbed Eamon roughly and carried him bodily into his bedroom, howling all the while. She saw him deposit the boy unceremoniously on his bed then turn and stride to the door, shutting it hard behind him before Eamon could run out. She heard the little boy pounding with his fists on the door, howling, his voice muffled but not completely shut out by the heavy wooden door. Sadness and anger ripped through her, and she rose to her feet, glaring at Niall.

  “You’ve done a lot of damage there,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. “He and I were talking — we were finally figuring out
—”

  “I’d thank you not to undermine me in front of my son,” Niall said flatly, glaring at her.

  She reeled at the tone in his voice, the coldness in his demeanour, and crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly fighting with her own rising anger. “Undermine you, is it?”

  “Aye. That’s right. He’s my son — I’ll decide how he’s punished, and for how long.”

  “I see. Never mind that we were having an important conversation about his mother, and about his feelings about her loss,” Helen snapped. “Never mind that he was finally opening up to me. No, you just come crashing in here, asserting your authority —”

  “I’m not doing this with you. He’s my son. I make the decisions about his care. End of —”

  “He had a nightmare, Niall! He was in that room screaming and crying! Have you forgotten that he’s four years old? There are monsters stalking his home! People are dying! He’s having bad dreams — was I supposed to leave him locked up in there just because you’ve decided that that’s what’s best? I’m not heartless, Niall!”

  “Oh, and I am, is that it?”

  She gritted her teeth. “Listen. You’re not the only one who’s going through a lot right now. You’re not the only one who feels lost and powerless —”

  “Enough,” he snapped.

  “Fine!” she exploded, finally coming to the end of her rope. The look on her face must have surprised him — he recoiled a little, clearly shocked. “I’m going up to the castle to get some rest, seeing as you’ve decided to be like this. Get some rest yourself, you’re clearly overtired. When you’re in less of a childish mood, maybe we can revisit this conversation.”

  She stormed across the room, too angry to even think of remaining in the spare room she’d been using. She’d go to Anna, find a spare room at the castle for the night, deal with this in the morning. Niall was fuming behind her, clearly stung by her comment about his childish mood — and the clear parallel she was drawing between his anger and his son’s tantrums. Good, she thought savagely as she stormed out of the door. Maybe he’d get some sympathy for his son’s feelings… and some perspective on his own childish actions. Either way, she wasn’t dealing with it. Not tonight. He slammed the door shut hard behind her and she shut her eyes for a moment, so full of anger that it almost spilled out of her in tears. But she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

  The sun was setting, and she felt a prickle of fear disturb her righteous fury. There were Kelpies about… she walked quicker, staying on the side of the docks that was furthest from the water, just in case. It wouldn’t do to get eaten by a Kelpie and have her last words to Niall be so unkind… she bit her lip, feeling a pang of regret. If she went back and apologized… no, she thought fiercely. Absolutely not. He was in the wrong here, well and truly. He could come and find her and apologize — she’d give him the night to get his head straight, and then they’d have a talk. What would Elena say about her impulse to apologize? No — she deserved a man who didn’t treat her so poorly. If she let him get away with it now, she’d be teaching him that he could behave that way. She had to be strong.

  Still, she didn’t feel very strong when she reached Anna’s chambers. The woman embraced her, a worried look in her eyes when she saw Helen’s expression.

  “What’s the matter, sweetie?”

  “Oh, nothing,” she said irritably, waving a hand. “Just — tension are high down there, you know. Had a bit of an argument with Niall.”

  “Sorry to hear it,” Anna said softly, drawing her inside. “Do you want to talk about it? I think I have some wine stashed around here somewhere…”

  Helen sighed with relief, giving Anna the most grateful look she could muster. “Please. That sounds absolutely life-saving.”

  They sat together in the corner of Anna’s quarters, by a window that overlooked the Loch. Donal, it seemed, was still down in the village, coordinating curfews and guard patrols in the wake of the most recent intensification of the Kelpie threat.

  “We’re never too far from disaster here,” Anna said softly, gazing down over the water. “It’s one thing after another, truly. Some peace in between, which makes it all worthwhile, but overall…”

  “I’m looking forward to learning about the peace in between,” Helen said with a heavy sigh, taking a deep sip of her wine. “It’s enough to make me want to go home.”

  “Do you miss it?” Anna asked, tilting her head to the side. “Are you rethinking your happy-to-be-here position?”

  “A little,” she admitted, spreading her hands forlornly. “I mean… it’s so dangerous here. I’m well out of my depth with… with all of it. With the Kelpies, with the Fae, with Eamon, with Niall… I can’t do any of this. I was kidding myself to think I could.” She took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut as tears threatened to fall — Anna reached out to touch her shoulder in comfort, but she didn’t speak, clearly sensing that she needed to vent these feelings. She half-laughed, half-sobbed, reaching up with shaking hands to push her hair out of her face. “Do you think if I asked them very, very nicely, the Sidhe would put me back in the twenty-first century?”

  Anna sighed. There was a grave look on her face… something unsettling about that, Helen thought, frowning a little. She’d only been half serious about wanting to go home… but the more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea. Home was simple. She understood home. She could go back to her career… go back to her work… see her family again… God, it would be good to talk to her father about all this…

  “There’s something you don’t understand about the Sidhe,” Anna said softly, and Helen was stilled by the note of regret in her voice. “Something we all had to figure out, bit by bit. Something that Maggie told me, years ago.”

  “What’s that?” she said, blinking.

  “The Sidhe… they saved your life by bringing you here.”

  A flash of how it had felt to crash her car … she nodded, remembering. “Of course. But they could — they could put me back on the riverbank, surely.”

  Anna sighed. “It doesn’t work like that. Maggie’s explained it to me… we stayed up late talking about it one night, and I still don’t fully understand it. But it seems… your fate is bound up with the time you’re in. Your fate, back in the twenty-first century, was to die in that car wreck, Helen. Just as mine was to be shot by that man… just as Elena’s was to die falling through that staircase… just as Nancy’s was to drown in an underwater cave-in in North Carolina. That’s what was set to happen to us, Helen. There’s very little anyone can do about that.”

  “But the Sidhe did,” she said slowly, not understanding. “They intervened. They snatched us out of those situations and brought us here.”

  “And just doing that took a tremendous amount of magic. And here, we can live. Our fates here are different — our lives, our deaths can be different. I’m hoping to die at ninety, surrounded by grandchildren,” Anna said with a hint of a smile. “But if I went back to the twenty-first century… that would be the fate that was waiting for me. A man with a gun. And it’s the same for you, Helen. I’m sorry. There’s no way of going home.”

  She took a deep breath, taking this in. “I — I guess I hadn’t realized how much I was… relying on the idea that it might still be possible to get home,” she said softly. There was a long silence as they sipped their wine, Anna giving her time and space to process the grim news. Then something occurred to her. “Wait. Niall said something this morning about — about me wanting to stay with him of my own free will. Does he know about this?”

  “Aye, he does,” Anna said, nodding. “He came to speak to me about it not long after you arrived, in fact.”

  She sighed, her mind racing. “That fool of a man. What was he trying to prove? He wants me to stay — here, in Scotland, of my own free will? I can’t. I can’t choose it if I don’t have a choice.” She took a deep breath, shaking her head. Anna squeezed her hand.

  “He wants you to choose him,”
she said softly. “That’s all. He wants you to want him because you want him — not because you don’t have any other options.”

  “Of course I have other options,” she said irritably. “I’ve been alone all my life. I can be alone in Scotland just as well as I was alone in West Virginia. But I don’t want to be anymore. I want to be with him — not because I don’t want to be alone, but because I prefer being with him.”

  “Then you should tell him that,” Anna said simply.

  “Not until I’ve got about four apologies for his conduct this afternoon,” she said darkly.

  Anna laughed, taking another sip of her wine.

  “Absolutely. But if it helps… it sounds like in his own strange way, he was trying to be respectful. That doesn’t excuse his conduct today, of course,” Anna added sharply. “But… I’d talk to him, if I were you. I have a lot of time for Niall Grant. He’s a good man. If he works at it, he might even deserve a woman like you,” she added with a twinkle in her eyes.

  Helen sighed. Anna was right — she needed to go back down and talk to Niall about all this. Maybe he’d have had time to calm down, to get his head on straight. Maybe they could finally figure out what they meant to each other — and start to plan a future together.

  “Thanks, Anna,” she said firmly. “I think I know what I need to do.”

  Chapter 52

  They finished the wine, talking and laughing a little more about inconsequential things as they did. She’d had vague intentions of going straight down and giving Niall a piece of her mind, but she found herself lingering in Anna’s company… and once she had had a few glasses of wine, she knew that it was inadvisable to try to have any serious conversations until she’d sobered up a little. So they stayed in, giggling and laughing, sharing stories of the old world they’d both come from… and that they’d both left behind. Anna confided in her that she still missed it sometimes, no matter how much she loved her life and her family here. There were certain things about home that you would always miss, it seemed. It felt good to talk about it in depth — almost like a funeral, a kind of memorial for the good times associated with home. She found herself weeping tears of sadness as well of tears of laughter, the wine easing any stress she might have felt about seeming so vulnerable in front of Anna.