Immortal of My Dreams

by Alexis McNeil

  “Do you think about dad a lot?” I said changing the subject. I didn’t want to talk about me.

  “Every waking moment,” she said quietly. “When I close my eyes to fall asleep, I leave this world for a while and have your dad back in my arms.” I glanced over at my mom. She stared out over the firth with glossy eyes. “Sweetie, promise me something. I know this might sound crazy since you’re only sixteen, but…promise me you won’t settle for just any man you stumble upon. Hold out until you find the one that was made just for you. Your life will be that much richer.”

  “Was dad made for you?”

  “Yes.” A smile crept across her lips. “I knew the moment I saw him. The summer vacation to Scotland was the best trip I ever took. He offered to share a taxi into Dornoch from the airport. My friends and I weren’t even heading to Dornoch, but after seeing the handsome Scot who readily offered to share his cab, I convinced them to go. That day, I knew I’d marry him. I traveled half-way across the world and found my soul mate.” I smiled, looking at my mom’s face light up as she spoke about my dad. I knew from that moment, I couldn’t make the promise my mom wanted so badly from me, instead, I promised myself I’d never fall in love.

  “You’ll leave tomorrow morning at 6:45. Call and let me know when you decide to come home and I’ll make sure you get a ticket. Take as long as you need.”

  I stared at the picture for a moment longer until it dawned on me Cassie talked to me. Closing up the photo box, I shifted toward her. “Cassie, what about the magazine? Who will write my article for club hot spots?”

  “Oh, I got it covered. I’m going to let Samantha put in her relationship advice column. She’s been begging me to get into print for a few months now. Don’t worry; New York, Close Up will get by without you. Remember; take as long as you need, a week, two weeks, catch my drift? Get some R&R.”

  “I will, but I don’t think I’ll stay longer than a week, there are too many sad memories in Scotland.”

  Cassie reached out with her hand and patted my knee. “It will get easier.”

  I let out a long sigh. “So, I guess I should pack. Do you want to help? We can order pizza for dinner?”

  “You’re asking if I want to help dress you. Jillian Elspeth Murray, you know fashion is my forte!”

  * * * * *

  “I’m stuffed!” Cassie said unbuttoning the top button on her jeans. We both lounged on the couch with Walter in-between us purring and my two bags of luggage waiting by the door. “I should probably get going since you need to get up early. It’s already ten-thirty.”

  “Thanks for everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re a great friend.”

  Cassie hugged me. “Have a safe trip and remember to call me when you get situated. I’ll pick Walter up after work tomorrow and bring him back to my place.” Cassie collected her things and headed for the door. “Oh, and don’t forget, try to have happy thoughts too.” I nodded and gave her another big hug.

  I shut the door, slid the deadbolt, and cast a glance down at Walter who studied me with big gray cat eyes. “Don’t worry Walter; I’ll be home before you know it. There’s no one in Scotland for me anymore.”

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER TWO

  As the taxi grew closer and closer to Dornoch my stomach nervously twitched. I wiped my clammy hands on my jeans and took slow, deep breaths. I’d pass the spot any minute. I closed my eyes, willing the memory away. Maybe, if I didn’t see the spot, the curve in the road, the massive oak tree, I’d forget. The horrible day from my past rushed back no matter how hard I tried to fight it off.

  Sirens and lights flashed in front of my grandparent’s house in the light evening sky. I recalled the unusually warm summer and the night sky which never grew darker than a vivid shade of gray. I dropped my red bicycle to the ground in the front yard, ran up the steps, and hustled through the open door. I pushed my way through policemen and abruptly stopped. My mother and gram hunched on the couch holding each other. My mother cried hysterically while tears ran down my gram’s face as she consoled my mom.

  “W-what happened?” I asked taking two steps closer. My mother tore away from my gram and kneeled in front of me grabbing my arms. Through her sobbing, she tried to tell me what happened.

  “Your dad…and grandda…Oh God!” Her hands flew to her mouth.”

  I swallowed. “Mom, tell me, where are they?”

  “Ye’re grandda and da,” my gram cut in, “were in a car accident. Ye’re grandda was driving when he had a heart attack. They ran off the road at Firth’s Bend and hit a tree.” My gram wiped her eyes. “They’re gone lass.” I stood motionless as my gram wrapped her arms around me and my mother sobbed at my feet stooped over.

  That night, I couldn’t sleep. My gram tried to give me sleeping pills, but I refused, rather choosing to embrace the excruciating pain. The glowing gray sky illuminated my room through the window. I crept out of bed and walked down the creaky hallway to the room where my mom and dad always slept when we visited. Slowly, I opened the door and tiptoed over to the large, oak bed. Carefully pulling back the covers, I slipped in. Instantly, my mom rolled over and drew me in, holding me tightly in her embrace.

  “It’s not fair, Jillian,” my mom said in a hoarse voice. “You’re only sixteen. Your dad should be here for you.”

  “He should be here for you too, mom,” I whispered. A sob racked her body. I vowed to be strong for her. It’s what my dad and grandda would want. I wouldn’t let her or anyone see me cry. I smoothed my mom’s hair and crooned soft words until she ceased weeping and drifted off to sleep. I cried in silence as tears fell from my eyes.

  I pulled up to my gram’s small, stone house early the next morning, or this morning. The time change always made me confused the first day here. All I knew was that I moved like a zombie who desperately needed to brush her teeth. I got out of the taxi and the front door opened before my foot reached the first stone step.

  “Och, Jillian lass,” Gerdie said rushing out the door and crushing me to her ample chest. “I’m so verra sorry, lass. I ken how close ye and ye’re gram were.” Gerdie wiped at her eyes and sniffed. “Come in, come in!”

  I followed Gerdie into the foyer. “It’s good to see you, Gerdie,” I said smiling. I began to tear up as I gazed into her glossy blue eyes and plump freckled face. She appeared the same every year, except now gray streaked her fire red hair which she fashioned in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. “I’m sorry for your loss too. You know, you were more than a housekeeper to my gram. She talked about you as one of her closest friends.”

  Gerdie began to tear-up again and she fanned her hands in front of her eyes to dry them. She closed the door behind me as I piled my bags in the foyer. “Lassie, come in ta the kitchen and take a load off. I want ta hear aboot everything ye’ve been doing. How’s the job of ye’res? Och, and tell me lass, are ye still with the handsome fellow ye met last Christmas?” She proceeded down the dark paneled hallway to the kitchen throwing questions over her shoulder along the way. “I’ll get ye a wee bit o’ tea while I whip us up some breakfast. We’ll discuss ye’re gram’s arrangements when ye’re ready.”

  The kitchen’s low exposed wood beam ceiling looked the same year after year and the huge stone fireplace hadn’t changed except for more blackening of the hearth. The pea green cabinets displayed a few more marks and scratches from wear and tear and the stone floor lay slightly uneven in certain places. I smiled at the memories of me tripping over them long ago when I used to run through the kitchen raising havoc as a kid. The open window above the sink let in a cool breeze, blowing in from Dornoch Firth.

  “Ha’ a seat, lass,” Gerdie said setting a cup of tea on the worn, wooden kitchen table. I watched her as she turned and went about preparing breakfast. She chatted about this and that as mixing bowls and pans clanked and the aroma of crumpets and sausage filled the air. Her round cheeks turned pink from the heat over the old pot belly stove. She placed two plates filled with
food on the table. “Eat up lass. Ye’re too skinny!”

  “I’m going to be three hundred pounds when I leave here,” I said after swallowing a heavenly bite of light, fluffy crumpet. “This tastes delicious.”

  “Ye just wait and see what I ha’ planned for dinner,” she said grinning. “I hope ye still like me famous hotchpotch.”

  I smiled. “I still love your hotchpotch.” It felt so right to be here. I thought I’d have a panic attack when I walked into this house, but oddly, I felt at peace. This is where I needed to be.

  “Jilly,” Gerdie asked quietly, “ha’ ye spoken ta ye’re mother’s family?”

  “No. They’ve never called me since my mom died and I never call them. We have a nice arrangement,” I said bitterly. My mom’s parents had never forgiven their daughter for marrying someone they didn’t approve of. My dad didn’t have an education past high school. He became a local fisherman with his dad, my grandda, and enjoyed a simple life. My mom’s father was a wealthy businessman and my mom’s mother believed in galas and socializing with the rich wives of politicians. Needless to say, they weren’t happy when my mom capped eyes on my dad.

  Gerdie’s lips tightened and she stared down at her empty plate. “Lass, would ye like ta take a nap or freshen up?”

  “A nap sounds nice. I should try and catch up on some sleep. I’m all messed up from the flight. Thanks again, Gerdie.”

  “Yell if ye need anything, lass,” Gerdie said as I left the kitchen.

  I wandered back down the paneled hallway, came to the small two story foyer, and loaded my arms full with my luggage. I climbed the curved staircase upstairs and headed down the second floor hallway to my dad’s old bedroom. Out of all the neat little rooms in the house, I deemed my dad’s room my favorite.

  I sat down on the small bed with his worn plaid comforter and remembered when I was little how he would tell me stories about his old toys and tales of Scotland. He ended the night time routine with tucking me into his old childhood bed and telling me about the Loch Ness monster, my favorite story.

  After unpacking, taking a long hot shower, putting sweats and a baggy t-shirt on, I slipped in-between the fresh, crisp sheets and fell into a deep peaceful sleep.

  Abruptly, I woke up panicking for a moment, forgetting where I was. A cool breeze blowing in from the firth hit my face and I breathed in deeply letting the fresh air clear my head. Suddenly, two quick knocks rat-a-tap-tapped against the closed bedroom door.

  “Are ye awake, Jilly?” Gerdie asked opening the door an inch.

  “Yeah, come in,” I said in a raspy voice.

  “Dinner’s ready, lass,” Gerdie said walking over and closing the open window.

  “What time is it?”

  “’Tis half-past five. Ye ken Jilly, ye’re allowed ta waste the day away,” Gerdie said with a smirk.

  “I can’t believe I slept all day. It seems like I just closed my eyes.”

  Gerdie moved over and sat at the end of the bed resting her hand on my foot over the covers. “I’m glad ye came, lass. Ye dinna belong in New York. Ye ha’ Scots blood running through ye’re fine bones. Ye should stay here. Scotland suits ye.”

  “Living here would be wonderful, but it’s not practical. I still have my job to get back to—“

  “Keep the idea in ye’re mind lass. Mull the thought o’er and then make a decision. Come, let’s go eat.” Gerdie lightly squeezed my foot and headed toward the door leaving me imagining of a home here in Dornoch. Living in this peaceful town would make my world paradise, but then again, memories of my family would slap me in the face at every turn. Having a life here, might be too painful to endure.

  * * * * *

  After a delicious dinner, Gerdie pulled me into the living room. A dark hunter green paint covered the living room walls and tons of Scottish antiques sat on bookshelves, tables, hung on the walls and filled every nook and cranny. History from Scotland radiated and filled the small room to bursting.

  My grandda time-stakingly traced his roots back to the Murray clan that once roamed and ruled the area north of Dornoch. He collected artifacts and inherited pieces passed down to him from his ancestors and other people of Scotland’s past.

  All humor from the lighthearted dinner vanished from Gerdie’s face. She lightly touched the Murray Clan antiques displayed around the room and her fingers glided across the hilt of my great, great, great, grandda’s broadsword, which leaned against the mantle. “When this sword eventually landed in ye’re grandda’s hands he beamed with excitement. I remember he waved the shiny blade o’er his head and lunged like a Scottish warrior going in ta battle.” Gerdie raised her hand to her throat and blushed. “Verra convincin’ he was. He made ye’re da—-a feisty lad at the time--laugh and laugh,” she said staring into a past I couldn’t see.

  “I remember the stories my grandda recounted about his antiques,” I whispered. “I miss him so much.”

  “Me too, lass. I wanted ta tell ye aboot the arrangements I started making for ye’re gram—“

  I shook my head. “Gerdie, I don’t think I can help with arranging anything. It’s taking every ounce of me to not fall apart. If I…If I had to talk to people about my gram….”

  “Dinna ye worry, lass. I’ll take care o’ everything. I think a small ceremony is best.” I nodded staring off into the brightly burning fireplace. “Och, Jillian, I almost forgot. Mr. Dunn, ye’re gram’s solicitor wants ta speak with ye in the morn. He’ll be by around ten.”

  * * * * *

  “First, let me say how sorry I am, Miss Murray,” Mr. Dunn said scratching his bald head. He blinked a few times and adjusted his perfectly round glasses. “Your grandma was one of the nicest ladies I knew, always had a smile on her face.”

  “Thank you.” I cleared my throat. “So do I need to sign something or….”

  “Oh, goodness me, I nearly forgot why I was here. Yes, you will need to sign some papers. As you know, you being…you being the only heir, everything of your grandma’s is yours.”

  I nodded and chewed on my bottom lip. How much longer would this take? The last thing I wanted to think about was going through my grandparent’s stuff. I didn’t think I’d ever be prepared for that. Mr. Dunn paused and wiped the beads of sweat away from his forehead with a handkerchief. He placed a short stubby finger in-between his neck and shirt collar, loosening his tie. “The papers all look good, except, there is one small ‘bump’ you might say in the process.”

  “What sort of ‘bump’?” I asked warily.

  He hesitated a moment before continuing. “Your grandma owes back taxes on the house.”

  “How much does she owe?”

  “T-twenty thousand pounds,” he said avoiding my gaze as his plump cheeks turned bright pink.

  “Twenty thous—that’s almost forty-thousand American dollars! I don’t have that kind of money. What’s going to happen?”

  “Well, if you can’t find the money, the house will turn over to the government. I’m sorry.”

  Gerdie poked her head around the living room door frame. “How much time does she ha’ ta collect the monies?”

  “Two weeks.”

  My mouth dropped open. I shook my head. “There’s no way I’ll be able to come up with that. I don’t even think I’d be able to get a loan for that amount of money.” I would not lose this house. I’d find a way to keep it. I had to.

  “Lass,” Gerdie said as she sat down on the couch next to me, “maybe we could sell some o’ the antiques?”

  I sucked in a deep breath. “How? Every artifact here carries a meaningful story. How do you expect me to part with anything? Looking around, I don’t see one heirloom I could give up.”

  “Och, ye havna seen the attic, lass. There are boxes and boxes o’ antiques ye’re grandda stuffed up there. We’re sure ta find something!”

  I blew out a defeated sigh and nodded. “All right, we’ll go through every box in the attic if we have to.”

  Mr. Dunn stood up. “Best o
f luck to you in your hunt, Miss Murray. I’ll call in two days. That should be enough time to know either way.” I reclined back against the couch cushions closing my eyes to the immense throbbing in my head, while Gerdie showed Mr. Dunn to the door.

  “Weel, we should get started I think,” Gerdie said walking back into the living room. I followed her up to the attic to start our search for valuable antiques. I wasn’t sure what I expected to find, but when we reached the top of the old stairs, I couldn’t believe my eyes. No wonder Gerdie wasn’t worried about coming up with such a large amount of money. A small fortune hid in my grandparent’s attic. I never realized how big a collection my grandda had.

  I walked down the small aisle in-between stacks of dusty boxes running my fingers across old baskets, mirrors, wood chests, broadswords, dirks, piles of tartans, and a huge roll top desk with intricate carvings on the sides and legs.

  “Ye think we’ll find some things ta sell?” Gerdie asked trying to hide her smile.

  “Why didn’t you tell me my grandda stored all this…history up here?”

  “I thought ye should see for yerself, plus ye didna seem interested.”

  “Of course I’m interested. I loved hearing my grandda talk about his treasures.”

  “And here I thought ye were just humoring him.”

  “I don’t know where to begin looking,” I said glancing around the cramped room.

  “Ye’re lucky then, because ye’re grandda labeled everything. When it came ta record keeping, he grew quite meticulous. If ye look on the sides o’ the boxes ye’ll see a number. He logged all the numbers in a journal, crammed in that old roll-top,” she said pointing to the desk at the far end of the attic. “He wrote down every box, what the box contained, and a brief history or knowledge o’ the items inside.”