by Zoe Tasia
“The horse isna a horse, of course. Any Scot would recognize it as a trickster dunnie,” he retorted.
I shook my head. “Who are you?”
He took a step away. “That doesna concern you.”
“Wait. It does.” I grabbed his muscled bicep. He turned toward me again. “Who are you?” I repeated.
Once more, he ignored my question. “Something about you is stirring up the Wee Folk.” He ran a hand through his locks then clasped my shoulders and pulled me close, staring into my eyes. “I think the better question is who are you?”
I tried to ignore the sudden zing of desire that coursed through me. “My family and I are vacationing here. We’re staying in Mrs. Grant’s cottage.” Perhaps if I was upfront with him, he would also be so with me.
“That tells me where you are. It doesna tell me who you are.”
“‘Give me your name, horse-master, and I shall give you mine.’” The quote came to mind and popped out. I giggled.
He didn’t even smile. “I am the Keeper of the Forest. I keep all safe.”
He offered his hand to me. I hesitantly took it and shook.
Peculiar. “Nice to meet you.”
His handshake was strong, but he took care not to squeeze my hand too hard. “Go home. This isna a good place for you, ma’am.”
“I think it’s a fine place for me, sir. We’re only staying a few months. I think we can stay out of your hair if our presence bothers you so,” I retorted. How dare he tell me I have to leave?
“I wouldna want you or yours coming to harm.”
“Is that a threat?” Suddenly, I was aware of how quiet it was. Even the birds stopped twittering.
“No. The forest is dangerous. Most who live here know what precautions to take. You dinna.”
“Feel free to explain what I should be doing then.”
“You are a stranger and shouldna be here. I have no time to explain our ways to a Sassenach.”
“I am not a Sasquatch!”
He looked completely baffled—almost as baffled as I felt. “You are a strange lass.”
A red squirrel chattered and rustled a beech tree limb overhead. I watched it scurry toward the trunk and, in that tiny instance when I looked away, he vanished. I harrumphed and stomped back to the farm.
Mr. Samms carried a shovel with something gray balanced on the blade. As I drew closer, I recognized it as a large rat. Focused upon his steps, he didn’t notice me until I neared.
He started. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.” He nodded at the shovel. “Cats keep the population down but leave the gruesome evidence behind at times. I hoped to dispose of it before you and your daughters returned.”
“I’ve been brought gifts by my cats in the past, though thankfully, only small mice.” The corpse was bloodless and the only damage appeared to be a bite on its abdomen—a large one. “The girls and Gavin are still out. I returned early.” I quickly told him of my mishap.
“Well then—the missus is in the cottage. She’ll be wanting you to join her for tea, hoping to get any updates about the American shows she watches. Just knock on the door, but go on in.”
I followed his instructions.
Mrs. Samms made tea while we waited for the girls. I told her I wasn’t ready for a long horse ride, allowing her to think I was tender in the seat—which I was.
“You have two bonny lasses. How old are they?” Mrs. Samms asked.
“Jessie’s fifteen. Tate’s eleven.”
“Goodness, she’s a wee one. I wouldna guessed her more than seven.”
“She’s small for her age. She was premature.”
Forty-five minutes later, the horses clomped back. Taking my lukewarm tea, I rushed out to meet them at the stables with Mrs. and Mr. Samms trailing me.
“How was the ride?” I asked, but from the matching grins the girls sported, it was obviously a big success.
“Wonderful!” Tate prattled on about the ride as Jessie helped Gavin with the horses. From his expression, I thought the attraction was mutual—something I would need to watch carefully. I was fine with a summer flirt, but a summer full-on romance was another story. As far as I knew, Jess had never dated anyone.
“Did Honey make it back, Da?” Gavin asked.
“Is Honey gone?” Mr. Samms stepped out to a fenced in paddock and whistled sharply. A raw-umber-colored horse nickered and trotted to meet him. “Honey’s here, Gavin. I moved her from the stables yesterday.”
“But, Da, I saddled Honey for Mrs. Shaw an hour ago.”
“Not possible, son. I pried a stone from her hoof last afternoon when the Trask twins rode her and Bunny. She would be lame if you had.”
“I took her from this stall.” Gavin pointed to the far left-hand one. We gathered around. It was swept clean with no straw or horse droppings. “But, Da—Honey was here! There was hay and an oat bag—”
“Well, never mind that, Gavin. All is well, right?” Mr. Samms led us back outside with haste.
“But, Da—”
Mr. Samms gave Gavin a warning look. “We will speak of the mistake later.”
Mrs. Samms gave the girls cookies and Ribena, a blackcurrant-flavored drink. Jessie sat with us, looking at Gavin from beneath her lashes when she thought no one noticed. Tate took her large plate of biscuits outside. When she returned, I saw she had finished all twelve of them. It wasn’t like her to consume so many. I hoped that it was just the results of Mrs. Samms’s cooking.
The girls and I said our goodbyes, thanking the Samms’s for their hospitality and walked back to the cottage. I slapped together three tuna and salad cream sandwiches, potato chips, and carrots with cukes. The cat was fed most of the remaining tuna.
A shed in back contained outdoor games. I helped Jessie set up croquet, and we played three games, each winning one. The cat cleaned itself and watched from a safe distance after one ball sailed too close.
“Where’s Kiera?” Tate asked as we put up the mallets and balls.
At some point during the last game, the cat vanished.
“Kiera, here kitty-kitty,” Jessie yelled.
“She probably went back home,” I reassured the anxious girls.
“But what if it gets late, and she’s alone in the dark?” Tate asked, her brow furrowed with worry.
“I think that cat is plenty large and savvy enough to take care of herself, sweetie. Come inside and help me decide what to fix for dinner.”
When we walked around to the front of the cottage, we saw a middle-aged lady sitting on the porch. Her long, dark hair was pulled up in a ponytail. She wore faded, torn jeans and a tee shirt with Shiny printed on it over a spaceship.
“Hello?”
Our visitor jumped to her feet. “Hi. I’m your nearest neighbor. I’m Kay, Kay Sheey. Conall McNeil mentioned a family was renting the cottage.” She stood too close to me, encroaching on my personal space, and held out her hand. I shook it. “You may want to watch out for that one.” She winked at me. “I think he fancies you.” She focused on Tate and frowned. “Is everything okay? Your youngest looks a bit peaked.”
I studied Tate. She did look wan. She stifled a yawn. “Well, I think so,” I said. “We had a mishap last night. Oh, and the girls are fretting over a neighborhood cat. I’m Becca Shaw. These are my daughters, Jessie and Tate. Come in. Give me a few to pop some fish sticks in the oven, and I’ll put the kettle on.”
One thing I figured out soon was that Scots never refused a cuppa.
The girls declined tea and went to their room. Tate wanted to draw the horses and Jessie claimed she would begin a summer reading assignment. I was sure she would be fantasizing about the friendly, cute Gavin. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner too. It’s not gourmet, but we have plenty,” I said, wishing I had something better to offer. I had no idea why I was so friendly. Usually, I was more reticent.
“I’d love that. Thank you. Tomorrow eve, you must come to my cottage so I can repay you with a meal. I enjoy cooking for others and
rarely have an opportunity to indulge.”
At dinner, Jessie scarfed her food and went back to her room. Tate dawdled. Kay and I finished eating and stepped out to enjoy the evening air. To my surprise, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Do you mind?” she asked.
“Feel free.” For several minutes, we sat and enjoyed the sunset. The scent of cloves wafted. I smiled. “That brings back memories.”
Kay winked. “Don’t tell me. Smoked them to cover up the smell of marijuana?”
“I won’t tell,” I said and chuckled. “Sorry, it just reminds me of a song on this show I and the girls watched,” I explained.
“A musical episode in a series about vampires.” Kay shook her head. “Who would have guessed it would work so well?”
Amazed she recognized it, I nodded. “Unless I’m at a convention, I don’t usually run into people who have watched the show.”
“Always nice to see a strong lass on the telly. Too often they’re victims.” She took another drag off her cigarette and turned away to exhale the smoke.
“True.” I nodded. “It’s nice to see good role models on television. I didn’t have very many growing up, and, since my husband’s gone, I’ve been forced out of my comfort zone many times. My girls will be much more independent and confident.”
Kay nodded. “Are you liking the island so far?”
“So far it’s been exciting.”
“Really? Our quiet, wee village? What happened?”
“Well, Tate got lost in the woods, and then I did, too, when I went to search for her. Luckily, a man found her and brought her to me. My daughter, Jessie lit the fire pit, and I managed to find my way back to the cottage.” She nodded encouragingly. She’s not bored to tears yet? I wondered. “Then we visited Samms Farm,” I continued. “My ego’s bruised thanks to a horseback riding incident—or, in my case, horseback falling. I have a decent seat for a novice, usually, but the horse got away from me. I met the same man again. He has dark hair and wore a kilt.” I tried to think of a way to say he was knee-weakening gorgeous without sounding like a fool.
Kay wore peculiar expression on her face. “A dark-haired man in the forest?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. Though I think I’m the only one who has had a conversation with him in quite a long time. I’ve been to the grocer, and he seems to know everyone well, except for this man. He cautioned me against even talking to him.”
Kay flapped a hand at me. “Oh, he may seem out of sorts, but you’re safe with him as long as you steer clear of the forest.”
That’s the second time I’ve been warned off the woods. “Why’s that?”
“He lost his family and still mourns,” Kay answered, mistaking the question.
“That’s so sad. I understand. Poor man. I’m from Houston. I moved to Scotland a year ago—after my husband died.”
Kay flicked ashes from the end of her cigarette. “I’m sorry for your loss.” After a pause, she asked, “What do you do?”
“I teach at the American school in Aberdeen.” A cool breeze ruffled my hair and I rubbed my arms. “How about you?”
“I make a living through my hobbies—knitting, repurposing items. If you’re interested, they’re sold at the Thistle Gift Shop.” Kay exhaled. A heart-shaped smoke ring hovered before her, then drifted out of sight. Before I could comment, she continued.
“I’m surprised you were able to rent this cottage. You’re the first person to stay in it since Mrs. Grant moved away, other than her relatives.”
“She lives not far from Aberdeen. I drove up to see her, and she seemed happy to have a tenant.”
“She read your tea leaves?”
“Yes, how did you know?”
My eyes met hers and she shrugged. “I would have been surprised if she hadn’t. She’s a hedge witch and consults with tarot cards and tea leaves before making any important decisions.”
“That sounds rather...” I struggled for the right word.
“Silly? It did give you a vacation,” Kay pointed out.
“True.”
Kay put her cigarette out in the dirt and stood. “Well, I’ve overstayed my invitation. I’ll come over tomorrow at seven, and we can walk to my place.”
“You don’t need to do that. Just give me the address.” I pushed up off the step and took a step toward the door to get a pen and paper.
She chuckled. “There’s no street address. I get my mail from the post office. Most find my directions difficult to follow, so I find it works much better if I collect my visitors rather than wait for them to find their way to me.”
I grinned. “Okay, I look forward to it.”
“So do I.”
Chapter 3
THE NEXT MORNING, I had a hard time waking Tate. I felt her forehead, but she didn’t have a fever. “Tate, if you aren’t feeling better by noon, I’m taking you to the clinic.”
“I don’t wanna go,” she moaned, but rolled out of bed.
Jess and I had already eaten a breakfast of Weetabix. I set a bowl, cereal, and milk in front of Tate while Jessie and I checked the back garden. It was terribly overgrown, but some herbs and plants remained.
We picked some mint, and I made a note to shop for a book to help identify the flora. I usually had good luck with gardening. Perhaps I could get this one back into shape.
Jessie ran ahead of me. I rounded the corner of the house in time to see her open the door and call out, “Tate, we found mint in the back, and—” She screamed.
I ran inside.
“What’s wrong?” I asked Jessie as I looked around.
Nothing seemed out of order. Jessie, stood, her back against the wall and her hand to her mouth, staring at Tate. Tate sat at the table in front of an empty cereal bowl. The bottle of milk was half empty, and when I picked up the box of cereal, it was much lighter.
“There was this thing sitting with Tate, Mom,” Jessie said.
“What sort of thing?”
Jessie was a very matter-of-fact girl and not subject to flights of fancy. Perhaps some animal found a way into the cottage when we left?
“It was small and gray and I could see through it. It sat on Tate’s lap, and when Tate took a bite of cereal, the thing would lap at the spoon and eat the cereal before Tate could.”
Surely, if anything had been there, I had followed close enough behind that I would have seen it. “Where did it go then, Jessie?”
“I don’t know. I turned to call you and when I turned back, it had vanished.” A meow came from the open doorway. The cat reappeared and padded to Tate, then jumped on the table.
“Now, now, you get down from there.” I shooed it.
The cat circled the bowl. As it did, the fur rose on its back, and it hissed. I rushed forward and clapped my hands at it.
“Mom, be nice to Kiera!” Jess said.
Tate remained still and glassy-eyed.
“She hissed at your sister, Jess.”
“I don’t think she did. I think she smells that thing that was here earlier. Kiera doesn’t like it much either.”
Before I could reply, the phone rang. It rang several times before I remembered where I plugged it in the night before.
I scooped it up and said, “Hello?”
“Hello, Rebecca? Its Conall, Conall McNeil.”
“Oh, hello, Mr. McNeil.” I couldn’t help but remember Kay’s remark and was uneasy. I hoped he wasn’t going to ask me on a date.
“Please, just call me Conall. This Friday there’s a ceilidh celebrating my aunt’s birthday at the church hall. I was wondering if you would like to go—and your two girls, of course. Sorry ’tis late notice. I rang you earlier, but you didn’t answer. I’m not one for leaving messages.”
I had gone to a ceilidh in Aberdeen with some of the other teachers from the school. I spent most of the night nursing a glass of wine and watching the others dance. It had been too soon after my husband’s death for me to enjoy myself. “It’s very nice of you to think of u
s, but your aunt doesn’t even know me.”
“Everyone in the village is invited. Please say you’ll come. It will give you an opportunity to meet the rest of the people here.” He was so earnest, and at least, it wasn’t a date.
I sighed. It would be a good opportunity and, hopefully, the girls could meet more of the kids there. “Thank you. We would love to come. What time should we arrive?”
“Dinner will be served at six-thirty p.m. I’ll pass on your RSVP to my cousin who arranged it. I would be happy to walk you over.”
Conall McNeil was attractive in that rough-around-the -edges way and had been very helpful, but I didn’t want to encourage him. “I’m sure I can find the church, Conall. The girls and I will be fine. Thanks again.”
“Oh.” He sounded crestfallen. “Well then, if I don’t see you at the grocery beforehand, I’ll see you at the party. Goodbye.”
I found myself saying goodbye to the dial tone. “Looks like we’re going to a party this Friday.”
Tate perked up. “Party?”
“Oh, is it Mrs. Nivens’s birthday party?” Jessie asked. “Gavin mentioned it yesterday.” She busied herself with putting up the breakfast things and clearing the table. Something she’d never do before without much prodding and reminding.
“I didn’t catch the name, but I can’t imagine there’s another party the same night.”
“Gavin asked if I was going. He said everyone was, and I should go too.”
Jessie glowed. Drats. She must really like Gavin. I didn’t want her to get too attached. We would be leaving in the fall. “We’ll go. What do you think of Gavin?” I asked, fishing.
She shrugged and looked anywhere but at me. “Oh, he’s nice.”
“Hmmm. So, you’d be okay if we just ditched this because I’m not sure I want to go. Kinda tired.”
“Mo—om!” She said it in that two-syllable you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me way. “C’mon! It will be fun, and I’m so bored and—Mom, you can be such a—”
“Don’t say it, Jess.” I smiled, though.
“Mo—om!”
Two of them, and it’s still morning. I’m surpassing myself.
Throwing up my hands, I said, “Don’t blame me. If you’re that obvious, anyone will figure it out.”