“Don’t worry that he’ll go hungry,” Matt said with a laugh. “His pockets were bulging with pancakes. Come on, let’s see if your housekeepers have taught Winter anything about cooking. I’ve been in a state of semi-starvation since I married her.” Matt headed for the house. “That’s the one thing I still can’t get used to in this modern time. It seems that as society evolved, women started cooking less, in favor of sticking their noses in men’s affairs.”
“Speaking of which,” Kenzie said, “do ye remember how Mama used to churn butter?”
“I never paid much attention. Why?”
“I’ve got to find a churn once I buy a milk cow, and teach Eve to make butter. I believe she’s quite interested in the process and can’t wait to try it.”
Chapter Ten
Over the next week life settled into a routine for the human inhabitants of An Tèarmann, while its animal population started growing out of control. Kenzie bought a milk cow from a dairy farm over in Oak Harbor, and everyone in town was still talking about how he’d led the cow right down Route One and through the center of Midnight Bay to bring it home. When Eve had asked why he hadn’t had the farmer trailer the poor thing, Kenzie had looked at her strangely and said it was a mere ten-mile walk.
Two piglets had appeared a couple of days later, along with four goats—one of which had the cutest little kid Eve had ever seen, while the other three were about to give birth any second. The day after that, two dozen laying hens and a pair of monstrous geese were exploring the dooryard when she and Mabel had arrived home from work.
The geese had immediately claimed the area surrounding the rusted old hay baler next to the driveway, and the first time Eve walked to the road to check the mail, she’d been chased back to the house by the honking monsters. When she’d complained to Kenzie, he’d placed a stick by the door and told her and Mabel that it was only a matter of establishing a pecking order—preferably with the humans on the upper end of the scale. Then he’d given Eve a wink, and suggested she try some of her fancy self-defense moves on them.
Two puppies of indiscernible lineage had arrived the day after the geese. Eve fell instantly in love with them, but she quickly learned they were outside dogs. They rarely even came near the house, too busy shadowing Kenzie’s every step. Eve had assumed they’d be camping out with him, but they slept in the barn. Father Daar had explained that Kenzie was training them to guard the livestock.
An Tèarmann was fast becoming old MacDonald’s farm.
And Eve started to see a golden opportunity in the animals, with all the milk and eggs accumulating in their fridge.
But the four dozen baby chicks she found in a box under the kitchen woodstove were a bit much. For such little balls of fluff, their constant collective peeping was loud enough to drive a person to drink!
“Kenzie claims they have to stay in the house,” Father Daar said, sitting at the table and watching Mabel fix supper. “They’re only two days old, and we have to keep them warm.” He shook his head. “In the old days we left that chore up to the hens, but it seems everyone has to do things the hard way now. I went with Kenzie to the post office to pick them up this morning. Can you imagine, flying chickens halfway across the country? What is this world coming to?”
“Armageddon is just around the corner, Father,” Mabel said with a laugh, dumping several cans of corn into a pot.
Eve set the chick she was holding back in the box with the others, then slid the box back under the woodstove. “I’m going to talk to Kenzie,” she said, rinsing her hands at the sink. She grabbed the stick by the door. “He can set up a heat lamp for them in the barn.”
“Good luck,” Daar cackled as she walked outside.
Eve stood on the porch and looked around for Kenzie. She noticed that Curaidh wasn’t in his paddock, which meant the stallion must be in his stall, which meant that she wasn’t going in the barn.
She looked toward the road, the quickest way to Kenzie’s campsite, and decided she wasn’t up to battling the demon geese, either. So she sat down on the top step and waited for Kenzie to come to her.
It had been almost a week since their date, and he hadn’t asked her out again. In fact, he acted as if their date hadn’t even happened.
The night Winter had stayed with them—Matt choosing to sleep under the stars with his brother—Eve had subtly tried to get her to talk about Kenzie. That had turned out to be an exercise in futility, as Winter was as tight-lipped as Father Daar when it came to talking about their families.
Eve had a whole new appreciation for the word clan, having decided that Scotts were a close-knit, closemouthed, mysterious people.
Kenzie came out of the barn carrying a large plank of wood under one arm and a thick post and long tool over the opposite shoulder, the puppies energetically dogging his heels. Eve propped her chin in her hands with a sigh, and watched him stride toward the road. Contrary to Maddy’s claim that she acted like a prude, Eve liked sex very much. And during her four years in college, more than one frog had told her that she was very good at it.
Too bad Kenzie would never know what he was missing.
Eve straightened when he suddenly stopped and looked at her. “I want to talk to you,” she said, standing up.
“Then come along,” he said, heading for the road again. “You can help me and talk at the same time.”
Eve ran down the stairs and quickly fell into step behind him, figuring he was a better goose deterrent than her stick. The puppies started going after her heels instead of his, sending her stumbling into Kenzie’s back.
Without even breaking stride, he said something in a language she didn’t recognize, and the two pups immediately fell into step beside him.
“What did you say to them?”
“I told them to heel, in Gaelic.”
She rushed to catch up, eyeing the geese standing beside the baler as quiet as church mice, not even daring to honk their disapproval at the small parade marching by them. Apparently Kenzie had established his place in the farm’s pecking order.
Eve wondered which slot she occupied.
“You’re teaching the dogs Gaelic? I thought it was a dead language.”
“It’s still spoken in parts of Scotland and Ireland.”
He set down the board, the post, and the posthole digger beside the mailbox, then apparently commanded the pups to have a nap, because they flopped down on the grass and immediately closed their eyes.
Kenzie walked across the road. “Come tell me where ye think I should set the sign,” he said, turning to face the driveway.
Eve walked over and stood beside him, seeing now that the board—painted a rich, dark green—had the words AN TÈARMANN carved into it, the gold leaf lettering glistening in the late afternoon sun.
“Maybe there?” she suggested, pointing to the opposite side of the driveway entrance. “That way it will stand out coming down the road. Did you make the sign?” she asked, walking over to lean it up against a tree to study it.
The name was set to the left, and there was a branch of a strange-looking tree carved into it, running across the bottom. A carved and painted bird was perched on the end of the branch, taking up the entire right side of the sign.
“A man named Talking Tom made it.” He picked up the double-handled posthole digger. “He’s…a relative of mine and Matt’s.”
“Talking Tom?”
“Tom used to live in an old cabin on Pine Lake, and he was in the habit of talking to himself when he walked the woods so that the bears would know he was coming.”
“Why would he want the bears to know? Wouldn’t that attract them?”
“Surprising a bear can have unpleasant consequences.”
“The detail is amazing,” she said, fingering the bird. “Is this a hawk?”
He drove the posthole digger into the earth on the opposite side of the driveway. “It’s a red-tailed hawk.”
“Why a hawk for An Tèarmann?” She picked up the long post and carr
ied it over to him. “Why not a draft horse?”
“Because Tom knew I’m partial to red-tailed hawks. Set down the post; this will take me a few minutes. The hole has to be deep enough that the frost doesn’t lift it. So what is it you wish to talk to me about?” he asked, dumping the dirt, then driving the two-bladed shovel into the ground again.
“To begin with, the chicks can’t stay in the house, especially in the kitchen. It’s unsanitary. And they never shut up. Why not set up a heat lamp for them in the barn?”
He drove the hinged shovels into the ground again. “I’ll move them to one of the sheds once the nights grow warmer.”
“Why not put them in the barn until then?”
He stopped digging. “Because between their dander and what they kick up from scratching their bedding, they make a dust that’s not good for the horses to breathe.”
Eve raised an eyebrow. “But it’s okay for us to breathe?”
He started digging again. “I’ll get you a heat lamp, and you can move them into the room behind the kitchen.”
The back room was better than the kitchen, but still unacceptable. “The shelves don’t have doors, and our pots and pans will get dusty.”
“Give them a quick wash before ye use them, then.”
Eve took a deep breath, reminding herself that she had to pick her battles. “The fridge is so full of jugs of milk, there’s hardly any room for food. What am I supposed to do with ten gallons of raw milk?”
He stopped again and frowned at her. “Ye drink it and cook with it.”
“Four people can’t possibly drink that much milk. And it’s unpasteurized, and unsafe to drink.”
He stopped digging. “Unsafe how?”
“Bacteria grows in milk that isn’t heated to a hundred and something degrees.”
“I grew up on what you’re calling raw milk,” he said, shoving the blades into the ground a bit more forcefully. “Why don’t you go to the library and find a book that explains how to make butter, and tomorrow I will buy a churn. What ye don’t use, we’ll feed to the piglets.”
Eve inched closer. “I have a better idea. How about if, in exchange for my helping you tend the animals, you give me the surplus milk and eggs?”
He stopped digging again. “For what?”
“I’ve already researched making butter and goat’s cheese, and I want to expand our business by selling baked goods. Mom makes wonderful bread and pastries, and I’ve been experimenting making herbal cheeses. We can also sell the eggs we don’t eat. Mom’s actually excited about the idea. She even suggested that Maddy’s mom could bake pies for us to sell, too.”
Kenzie eyed her for several seconds, then drove the spades into the ground again. “You may have what we don’t need for our own use, but I’ll continue taking care of the animals. I don’t want ye working near Curaidh if I’m not around.” He stopped again. “Is there anything else?”
Eve could barely restrain herself from jumping with joy. She had just gotten a new business off the ground without investing a penny! And she didn’t even have to milk the cow and goats! Was she brilliant, or what?
“Eve? Is there anything else?” Kenzie repeated, looking at her strangely.
Eve realized she was grinning like the village idiot. But the something else she wanted to talk to him about wiped her grin away.
“What is it, Eve?”
“It’s about Mom.” She glanced toward the house. “You know how she’s started taking walks every morning? Well, I don’t know if her mind’s getting worse, but she…she’s been…”
“Just spit it out, lass.”
“She’s invented an imaginary friend,” Eve blurted. “Either there’s a vagrant camping on your property, or Mom goes for walks every morning and talks to someone who doesn’t exist.”
He started digging again.
Eve balled her hands into fists. “Don’t you dare dismiss this as my overreacting. She’s referred to a guy named William several times in the past week, saying he said this or that about something. Then she suddenly catches herself and tries to laugh it off, saying it must be something she read or that an old childhood friend had told her.”
Kenzie drove the blades into the ground beside the hole and walked over to her. “I’m not dismissing your concern. I know it’s hard to watch someone ye love leave ye bit by bit every day. But wish as you might that it isn’t so, you can’t stop Mabel’s illness from progressing. There’s great peace in accepting what is, Eve—and when ye quit fighting it, ye just might discover it’s not nearly as tragic as you thought. Ye can be thankful this illness isn’t physically painful for her; Mabel is bursting with life.”
“She talks to someone who doesn’t exist!” Eve fought the tears welling up. “She ordered some book, and I think it’s for him. She truly believes William is real!”
“Okay, then,” he said gently. “Tell me what you would like me to do.”
“I want you to look around your property, and make sure William isn’t some real man who she’s meeting.”
“I will do that. But if he isn’t, then ye have to consider that he might simply be someone Mabel can confide her worries to every morning.” He cocked his head. “Did ye not have imaginary friends growing up?”
“When I was four, not seventy-four.”
“Aye,” he said with a crooked grin. “I remember how Matt and I made ourselves wooden swords, because we had a whole army of invading trees to battle. We still have the scars from where they fought back.”
Eve took a calming breath. Put that way, William didn’t sound so bad. “One of Mom’s doctors told me she might regress into her childhood, since those memories are so ingrained. Maybe as a child she had a make-believe friend she called William.” She wiped her eyes, feeling foolish. “But you’ll still check your property?”
“I will do it tonight.” He picked up the post and dropped it in the hole, pushed some dirt around it, then stopped to look at her again. “And maybe you could try playing along whenever Mabel mentions William? If he’s that important to her, wouldn’t you prefer she share her friendship rather than feel she has to keep it a secret?”
A lump the size of her heart suddenly rose in Eve’s throat. He was right, of course. All week—heck, for the last two months—she’d been so determined to keep her mother sane, she had actually been driving a wedge between them. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and Eve spun away and ran toward the yard.
Within seconds Kenzie’s arms came around her, stopping her in her tracks. He held her facing away from him, and bent to whisper in her ear. “Go to the ocean, Eve. Sit at the water’s edge and feel its strength. Your world is not coming to an end, though it may seem like it is. It’s merely changing, and you must find the strength to change with it.”
“And if I can’t? She’s all I have.”
“Nay, that’s not true. Whether ye want us or not, you have me and Daar. And ye have your good friend Maddy to see you through this. You also have the power of the entire universe at your command, if you would just open yourself to it. Go sit with the waves, and let their powerful energy wash through you. Stay as long as ye need,” he said, opening his arms. “We’ll keep your supper warming on the stove.”
Eve ran toward the path leading to the ocean, barely able to see the ground because of her tears. Dammit, she didn’t want anyone to help her through this—because she didn’t want it to be true!
“Land sakes, the wind has picked up!” Ruthie rushed into Bishop’s Hearth and Home, wrestling the door closed behind her. “The weatherman said it was going to be sunny for the next three days, but those dark clouds blowing in say differently. Oh, what are you reading?”
Eve closed her book so Ruthie could see the cover. “A romance novel that Maddy gave me.”
“Oh, I love historicals,” Ruthie said. She set the package she was carrying on the counter so she could pick up the book. “Especially Scottish romances.” She flipped it over to see the picture on the back, and sighed. “I think
I was born in the wrong time. What I wouldn’t give to meet a real live highland warrior.” She looked at Eve, her eyes twinkling. “And you’re living with one, aren’t you? Kenzie Gregor came in my store two days ago, and he could have stepped right out of these pages. That man is hot.”
“Ruthie Graham, he’s young enough to be your son!”
“I’m old, Evangeline, not dead. And I’ll have you know that most of my romance customers are over sixty.”
“That’s because everyone in Midnight Bay is over sixty.”
“So tell me,” Ruthie whispered, leaning on the counter. “Is he as good as the hero in that romance novel?”
“Good?”
“In bed,” Ruthie clarified. “Did you go weak in the knees the first time he kissed you? It’s a wonder you can even stay awake here all day; I bet he keeps you up all night making love!”
Eve nearly fell off her stool. Ruthie was always saying outrageous things, but this was a whole new side to the woman.
“We’re not a couple, Ruthie.”
“Your mother can’t stop talking about how wonderful he is. And after Alma Fogg said she saw the two of you having dinner at Rhapsody last Saturday night, the pool the grange women have going sent your odds soaring eight-to-one over Susan Wakely.”
“They’re placing bets? But we’re not living together! Kenzie is camping out down by the ocean. Mom and I are just keeping house for him and the old priest. Trust me, there is nothing romantic going on between us.”
“Are you crazy, Evangeline, or just plain dumb?” Ruthie asked, her eyebrows rising into her hairline. She slapped her hand on the counter. “Then get something going! And you better be quick about it, before Susan gets her claws into him and she moves into that house and kicks you and Mabel out on your duffs. So start batting those beautiful blue eyes of yours, woman, before you lose him!”
“My God, you’re serious.”
Moonlight Warrior Page 11