Kilts and Catnip

by Zoe Tasia

  Greg sipped his tea. “You’re a good mother, Rebecca.”

  “Thank you.”

  He sighed. “I miss having a bairn about.”

  “I am so sorry.”

  “So am I.”

  The glue was dry so I carefully peeled it up and, sure enough, the splinter came up enough for me to grasp it with tweezers and pull it out. It had to have hurt, but he didn’t make a sound. When I was done, I swabbed antibiotic gel on the wound then covered it with a band aid. I only had kid ones so it was neon green.

  “Thank you. That was kind.”

  “No prob. Splinters are horribly uncomfortable and, frankly, if that one had stayed in any longer, I think the wound would have become infected and you’d have to see a doctor.”

  “Well, thank you for saving me the trip. So, tomorrow?”

  “Let me give the Oggs a ring and see if the day is good for them.” I searched through my purse, embarrassed by the amount of junk I had to shift out, but eventually found the card. I phoned and spoke to Davina, and, after quickly consulting her family, she said tomorrow would be fine. “We’ll catch the bus out to the cave and you can go with me when I talk to this relative of the Oggs. If you’re sure you want to.”

  “Aye, I am.”

  “Mom, come here and look,” Tate called from the bedroom. “Hurry up!”

  What now? I rushed to the room with Greg following me closely. The girls were gazing out the window pointing at figures near the edge of the forest. They looked like little men. Standing next to me, they’d come up to about my knees. Their heads were red. I peered closer. The red wasn’t hair and it dripped down their backs and shoulders like paint.

  “Red Caps,” Greg said. “I must deal with this.” He turned to me. “I willna be able to stay for dinner.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll see you for—”

  But Greg had already rushed out the room.

  I followed him and was out in time to see him throw open the door and speed outside. “Well, goodbye then,” I said to the closed door.

  “They ran into the woods when they saw Mr. Gillie. He’s following them,” Jess yelled.

  I turned to go back to the room, but before I could, the girls joined me.

  “They’re all gone. What was wrong with their heads?” Tate asked.

  “I’m not sure, but now that they’re gone, let’s see to dinner.” I locked the door and felt both disappointment and relief that my guest had been called away.

  Chapter 24

  THAT NIGHT, I MADE sure to set my alarm. The last thing I wanted was for Greg to show up with me still in pajamas. In the morning, I walked the girls to the bus stop and waited with them. They were admonished to call me when they arrived and again when they reached the movie theater. I wished I had just waited to get ready after the girls left. Now, I was so nervous about it that I found myself completely ready and with plenty of time on my hands. I would have loved going out to work in the garden, but I didn’t want to get dirty. Instead, I flipped through the pages of the spell book. It was not the original. This was a copy. I wondered where the first one was.

  One of the recipes had notes in the margins. There was a change suggested and initials of the person who made the comment. I searched for more notes, in hopes of detecting who wrote the book. Based on the entries, you could tell it was written by multiple authors. The earlier entries were typed, beginning with an old manual typewriter and the last ones shifting to a newer one or perhaps even a computer because of the lack of corrections.

  There was a tap at the door.

  “Come on in,” I said as I placed a receipt as a place marker and closed the book.

  Greg cracked open the door and peeked around. He noticed the book. “What are you reading?”

  “A book Kay gave Jessie. It’s a book of potions.”

  “Oh? My wife had one.” His face fell and I wished I hadn’t had the book out when he arrived.

  “Your wife? She was...”

  “Aye, she was a witch.”

  I heard meowing. “The girls must have shut the kitten in their bedroom. I’ll be right back.” As soon as I opened the door, the kitten darted out. When I returned, the cat sat on Greg’s lap as he petted it.

  He gave the kitten one last stroke before dropping her to the floor. “I see you already have a potential familiar,” Greg said.

  “What?”

  Greg gestured toward the kitten.

  I shook my head. “Oh, the cat belongs to the girls.”

  “You all have the ability to be excellent witches with a little practice.”

  “Thank you, I think.”

  “The water bowl is running low, I see. Let me refill it.”

  While Greg took care of that, I thought about where my search for Greg’s story had taken me. So far, I’d had no luck with finding anything on a Greg Gillie in the newer papers. I thought his family would be found in the obituaries, but my search in the library came up empty. I would check the cemetery when I had the time. There was a small plot located behind the church. The tourists enjoyed visiting the site. I also made a mental note to check the paper for information about fires and accidents.

  Greg helped me into a jacket. I needed one since the cave was cooler inside than outside. While we waited for the bus, we spoke of mundane things like the weather at first. He was very interested in hearing about my life in Houston.

  “I havena been to the New World. I rarely travel.”

  “You should see it someday. Houston has a lot to offer.”

  “Perhaps—someday.” Although the bus was packed with tourists, Greg and I were able to sit together. The majority of our fellow riders seemed to be Canadians on an alumnae trip and a handful of other nationalities. When we reached our destination, Mrs. Ogg manned the front as she had when I visited. After she greeted the tourists, she came over.

  “Thank you for coming. It means a lot to the children,” Mrs. Ogg said. “After this tour, there’s a break. If you can wait until then, that would be grand.”

  “Do you know Greg? I hope you don’t mind that I brought him.”

  “Not at all.”

  Davina entered and began the museum tour. When she reached the point where the group was free to roam, she joined us. The day had been gray and chilly, even for a spring day in Scotland, let alone a summer one. The sky grew darker. “I hope it isn’t going to storm again,” I commented.

  “Aye,” Davina said distracted. “I ken of you, Mr. Gillie. How is it you are out of the forest?”

  “There might be something I need to tend to here. I live in and see to the forest, but in my duty to keep the island safe, I am allowed to roam.”

  Now that sounded almost like he was a prisoner. I started to ask him but decided to wait and talk about it on the way home.

  “If you have any thoughts of hurting my nana—” Davina said.

  “Nae, but she may be needing my help.”

  When it became evident that the group was ready to move on, Davina said, “I think it’s best if you both stay here and not go on the tour—especially considering what happened last time.”

  “We will go after the tourists leave,” Greg said.

  “Because you’ll miss the bus, we’re happy to drive you back home, so you don’t have to wait for the next one.”

  “I guess part of that will depend on how long we’re in the cave.” I hoped Blanca would show herself, and we wouldn’t need to search for her.

  “True.” Davina rounded up the group and announced that they would be entering the cave in a few moments.

  Soon enough, Fingal joined his sister and they set off. Mrs. Ogg led us to the tearoom which was redolent with the smell of fresh baked goods. Since I had been too nervous to eat earlier, my stomach emitted a loud borborygmus. “Excuse me,” I murmured, hand on the errant tummy.

  “Dinnae fash yourself. I’ll bring tea and scones to tide you over,” Mrs. Ogg said.

  True to her word, she fetched two scones and a pot of tea. Greg refus
ed his. Though I broke off small pieces and nibbled to make mine last, I eyed his with longing. To distract myself, I glanced out the window. The sky darkened and storm clouds roiled in the distance.

  “Will we meet Mr. Ogg?” I asked, hoping I hadn’t offended and wanting to take the attention off of me and my wayward appetite.

  “Aye, but he’s wary of strangers. He actually takes a lot from his mother. Davina and Fingal told us about what happened during your tour of the cave. We were very reluctant to share our personal lives with you.” She was silent for a moment then cleared her throat. “We’re private folk, but she deemed to show herself to you, so we’ve decided to be candid. We’ve long worried about her.” She took a deep breath. “You would nae guess from his looks that my husband is half goblin. You’ve seen Fingal. He looks much like his da. I think in his heart, Fingal’s da is more so goblin, though. He seems cold to some—the few who meet him. But to me he’s like a cool stream, calm and steady.” Her eyes sparkled and a soft smile graced her face.

  “You love him very much.”

  “That I do. If there’s anyone he would be likely to meet, it would be the two of you. You, Mrs. Shaw, because of your abilities, and Greg—well, because of who you are.”

  Yep, another strange thing to say. I mean, who is Greg really? As far as I knew, he was a strange man who lived in the forest like a forest ranger. Last time I checked, it didn’t have a certain stigma, like Conall and his nephew acted, nor the distinction Mrs. Ogg gave to him. I resisted the lonely scone, and Mrs. Ogg cleared it and the other dishes away to the counter. After she glanced at the utilitarian metal clock on the wall, she said, “When the children return, and the tourists leave, we can have something more substantial before you go to the cave to investigate.”

  I brushed the crumbs off the table into the palm of my hand and dusted them in the brown plastic bin in the corner. “Oh, I don’t want to trouble you.”

  “It’s the least I can do. You would be resting my husband’s heart. He worries about his mother. The rest of his siblings, decided to go and live with the goblins. When they left, they tried to find their mum to take her with them, but she wouldna show herself.”

  Mrs. Ogg returned with a cloth to wipe down the table. “I wish that there was some way for my husband to visit his brothers and sisters. He misses them, but never had any desire to move to the hill.”

  “The hill?” I wondered if it was the same one I encountered.

  “Yes, where the goblins live and the other fae.”

  “Where is it?” I asked. Lightning flashed and the lights flickered, but stayed on.

  Mrs. Ogg organized the sugar and sugar substitute packages. “The hill’s in the forest.”

  Curious. “Seems like a lot of people live there. Are they all fae or part fae?”

  Greg answered the question. “Aye, most are. It really isna a suitable place for humans to spend much time.”

  I remembered the odd effect the hill had on me. “Why not?”

  “Well, time moves differently there.” He turned to Mrs. Ogg. “I am thinking it would be better if your husband’s relatives visit him here instead of him going there. I believe I can arrange that—if his siblings are willing to come.”

  Dropping the last sugar package in the ceramic dish, Mrs. Ogg clasped her hands together. “Thank you. I didn’t know if you made exceptions.”

  “I think I’m free to in this particular case. I will find out.”

  “How will you find out?” I asked.

  “If it canna be done, I’ll know it isna allowed.”

  The man was full of weird comments. We passed the time listening to Mrs. Ogg regaling us about artifacts they had in storage until displays could be made. The rest of the tourists drifted in, and Mrs. Ogg rose to serve them. I offered to help but she shushed me and sent me back to the table.

  The small scone wasn’t enough and with lunch time approaching, my stomach gurgled to let me know. As Greg tried to smother a laugh, I shrugged. “Sorry, a dainty girl, I’m not.”

  “I like to see a woman with an appetite. Dinna worry. Unlike you, I did eat breakfast.”

  Guess he wasn’t as nervous about seeing me as I was about seeing him. That was kind of deflating.

  Finally, the tourists filed out the door. The occasional splat of a raindrop fell while the last climbed on the bus, and we told the driver we would be staying. While we were at the bus stop, Mrs. Ogg had busied herself in the kitchen. When we returned, she brought out a plate of sandwiches and bags of chips. Davina and Fingal joined us and handed out bottled water.

  “Yum. Salt and vinegar,” I said, snagging a package.

  “Eat up. There’s plenty. I ate some as I made them, so in a few, I’ll find Uisdean.”

  The siblings were quiet. I think they were nervous about the prospect of meeting their long-distant grandmother. We’d finished up the meal and were clearing the table, and Mrs. Ogg still had not returned.

  When she had swallowed the last of her water and tossed the bottle in the bin, Davina said, “I’m going to check on Mum. I’ll be right back.” Only a few moments passed before, I heard raised voices. Davina, Mrs. Ogg, and a gentleman who I assume was Mr. Ogg were arguing.

  “I’ll not come and risk her not showing herself,” Mrs. Ogg said as they entered the room.

  “But you’re a part of my life,” the gentleman insisted. He did indeed look like an older version of Fingal.

  “That I am, but not of hers.”

  “Let it go, Da. She’s right, you know,” Davina said.

  “I suppose, but I don’t have to like it.”

  Mrs. Ogg tenderly kissed her husband. “You don’t have to, love. Now go on, the lot of you. I’m going to check and see what state these have left my kitchen. Probably nothing’s put in the right place.” Mrs. Ogg bustled off to the back.

  “Greg, Becca. I’d like to introduce you to my father, Uisdean Ogg,” Davina said.

  “A pleasure to meet you.” I didn’t offer my hand.

  He seemed a bit shy now that his wife stepped away. He nodded in my direction.

  “Good day, sir,” Greg said, also getting a nod.

  “Well then, let’s go,” Davina said.

  Thunder shook the house and lightening flashed so bright in the windows that it momentarily blinded me.

  “I guess we should get the rain gear,” Fingal said, eyeing the sky.

  We wore sensible hiking boots. Though my windbreaker was waterproof and Greg wore a light poncho, neither Greg nor I had expected the downpour that seemed imminent.

  Mrs. Ogg called from the back, “I’ll fetch something for our guests and meet you at the door.”

  I accepted a mac and a hard hat with a headlamp, but Greg took the hat and nothing more. Davina and Fingal were in rain gear similar to mine. Mr. Ogg added nothing to his attire. Mrs. Ogg also gave a bag to Fingal.

  “I packed water and food. You can never be too careful in a cave. Besides, I’m sure Blanca would appreciate it.” We walked down the steps in pairs except for Mr. Ogg, who led. The wet, slippery stone steps slowed me down. Greg took my elbow and I smiled gratefully at him. We barely got inside the cave when the sky opened up. Fingal and Davina pulled backpacks from a storage unit at the cave’s entrance and split the food and water between them. The light bulbs inside flickered.

  “How do we want to do this?” I asked. “We can’t just wander around for ages, hoping she’ll notice.”

  Fingal shouldered a backpack. “I don’t think that will be necessary. She notices everything. We’ll go on the longer tour, the one that we had to skip thanks to those silly girls. If she hasn’t made herself known by the end, then she doesn’t want to communicate with us.”

  We made it to the observation point without seeing her. “I’m not surprised. She doesn’t like the lights,” Mr. Ogg said. “I can’t say that I care for them much either.”

  We paused briefly for a drink then continued past it. The cave floor sloped downward and the walls of the
cave narrowed until we could only go single file. Then the ceiling lowered until the stalagmites reduced the headroom enough that we needed to dodge them. Too busy watching our steps and heads, we didn’t speak. Caught up in admiring a stalactite, I bumped my noggin. My helmet spared me from a nasty goose egg. The light bulbs vanished at some point, but I could still see. A lone bulb gave off a sickly, yellow light at the end of the tunnel. At the dead-end, I saw a rough-edged hole flush against the back wall, so dark, I couldn’t see the bottom. “Fingal will go first and help you in,” Mr. Ogg told me. “It isn’t too far a drop.” Drop? I gulped.

  Fingal, effortlessly, in one, seamless motion, sat and hung his feet over the edge then, with a push of his hands, disappeared from sight.

  “Show off,” Davina called out. She turned to us. “The ledges are difficult to see, but they’re there. Fingal will help you with your footing. Just sit on the ledge then turn on your stomach to face me. Fingal will direct your feet to the first ledge and help you down. Come, Becca, you’re next.”

  I took a deep breath. “How do we get back up?”

  “It’s much easier to climb up because you can see where your feet go. It looks scary and people get a kick about having to kind of crawl through. This is one of the photo opportunities.”

  I sat on the edge facing the wall. Glancing back, I asked, “Uh, why doesn’t Fingal turn on some lights?”

  “Now Becca. We’d be cheating you out of the full, cave tour experience then.” The Oggs exchanged grins and I would have questioned my decision to come, except Greg nodded and a hint of a smile crossed his face.

  “I’m going to touch your legs to help you find your footing,” Fingal called out.

  Even warned, I narrowly avoided kicking out when I felt hands on my calves. Davina crouched before me. “Do you need help turning?” I shook my head. If everyone else could do it, I could.

  The lip of the opening sloped down from the wear of constant use. I carefully let myself slide and, as I did so, turned. Fingal guided my foot to the first ledge, but in my eagerness to get down, I missed the second and slipped. Jarring to a halt, I glanced down. Mortified, I realized I was practically sitting on Fingal’s shoulder.