“Ginger. Ale?” Graham scowled at the bottle as though it held poison.
Lilia ripped open one of the packets with her teeth and shook two pills out into her palm. “Here. Put these in your mouth then wash them down with this.”
Graham frowned down at the pills, then lifted a leery gaze to her.
“Just do it.” Lilia shoved the pills into his mouth and handed him the opened bottle.
Graham obediently took a swig and swallowed. He held the bottle up, glaring at it with a narrow-eyed expression as he smacked his lips. “Tha’s no’ ale.”
“Ginger ale,” Lilia stressed, doing her best to keep from laughing. The poor guy had probably never come across such a sweetly fizzy beverage before. “Sip it. It’ll help settle your stomach.”
Instead, Graham took a long draw off the bottle then thumped his chest and belched.
Lilia couldn’t help but giggle at the surprised look on his face. “It’s the carbonation. Sip it slower.”
Graham stood straighter, settling his stance as he squared his shoulders and took another deep draw from the ginger ale. “So, this elixir stops the illness caused by the wicked machine?”
“It helps.” Lilia took one of the pill packets from the paper sack and fanned it in front of him. “But these will help even more”—she scowled at the fine print on the back of the packet—“but they might make you a little sleepy.” Hopefully, he’d eventually get used to traveling in a car and get past the motion sickness. His previous pallor was already giving way to a healthy ruddiness.
Graham finished off the ginger ale then handed the empty bottle back to Lilia. Rubbing his stomach, he pulled in a deep breath. “ ’Tis much better now. I dinna feel the need to retch me insides out.”
“I’m glad.” Lilia stuffed the medication into the car’s glove box then scanned the parking garage for a recycle bin. She twisted the cap back on the ginger ale bottle and tucked it into the crook of her arm. “I’ll just get rid of this inside. I think I saw a recycle bin beside the gift shop.”
Graham arched a brow, looking at her as though she spoke in a language he didn’t understand. And he probably didn’t understand the concept of recycle bins and gift shops. Lilia wondered just how much Granny and Trulie had briefed the poor man on the ways of the twenty-first century. She waved him forward. “Come on. I’ve made Eliza wait long enough.”
Eying the massive brownstone building attached to the parking garage, Graham held out his arm for her to take. “What did ye call this place?”
Reluctantly, Lilia relented and hooked her hand through his arm, falling into step beside him. Her heart double-thumped. Maybe the twenty-first century could learn a thing or two from the past—such gallantry had become almost nonexistent. She nodded toward the bronze dedication plaque mounted beside the double glass doors. “This is a hospital and long-term-care facility.”
At Graham’s puzzled look, she hurried to explain. “In this time, whenever anyone is seriously injured or ill, they stay here at the hospital where a staff of doctors and nurses do their best to help them heal and survive.”
“And long-term-care facility?” Graham repeated the words as though reciting foreign items off a menu.
“That’s where people stay…permanently.” Lilia frowned at her own explanation, struggling to come up with the right words. “The elderly, the disabled or terminally ill stay in long-term care until they either get better…or die.” Lilia sadly shook her head. “It depends on their situation.”
“What of their families? Why do they no’ care for their own?” Graham slowed as they approached the massive sliding glass doors.
“Not everyone has a family that can provide twenty-four/seven care.” Lilia pulled him forward. “It’s complicated, Graham. I don’t know how to explain it any better.”
Graham acknowledged her attempt at explaining with a curt nod. He stepped on the oversized black sensor mat in front of the hospital doors. The wide double doors whooshed open; the light atop the door flashed a spinning red and white at their movement. Graham jumped back, his eyes widening even more as the doors shushed back to the closed position and the light stopped blinking. “What the hell kind of magic is this?”
Lilia bit the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling at Graham’s bewildered expression. Gotta be nice. After all, this was his first visit to the twenty-first century. She gently pulled him forward. “Automatic doors.” She pointed first down to the black mat then up at the tiny silver boxes fitted on either side of the door. “Motion and weight sensors in the mat and those two little—” Lilia flipped her hand, searching for the correct terminology—they’re not really cameras but what the hell do I call them? A frustrated huff escaped her as she jabbed a finger toward one of the sensors. “Those little boxes ‘see’ when someone walks up to the door and that along with your weight on the mat triggers the doors to either open or close.” There. Good Lord. Who knew explaining automatic doors could be so freakin’ complicated?
Graham’s disbelieving narrow-eyed look slid from the boxes atop the doors, down to the mat, and then back to her. “Magic?”
Sure. Why not? Lilia nodded. “Yes. Magic.” Since she was neither an electrical nor an architectural engineer, “magic” was a much easier explanation.
Gingerly easing forward, Graham stepped to the center of the mat, flinching when the doors quickly slid open. His jaw hardened into a determined line as he squared his shoulders then hurried through the doors, whipping around to watch them as they bounced shut. “Amazing,” he muttered under his breath. He stepped back on the mat, staring at the doors as they slid back open.
“Wait ’til you see the elevator.” Lilia pulled him off the mat in front of the door so they’d stop opening and closing. “Wait here while I drop this in the recycle bin.”
“Aye.” Graham nodded without looking at her, still staring down at the wide black doormat then up at the doors. He tapped his toe on the mat and made the doors open again.
Lilia rolled her eyes. What a way to keep a thirteenth-century Highlander occupied. She hurried across the smooth marble floor of the lobby, turning at the first wide hallway to access the common area housing the gift shop and vending machine alcoves.
As she lobbed the soda bottle into the recycle bin beside the door of the gift shop, a strong cheery “G’day t’ye” rang out from within the tiny store.
A young girl, dark hair pulled back in a neat ponytail tied with a bow that matched her pink volunteer’s smock, was busily flitting about the shelves, dusting them with a feather duster.
“Good day to you too,” Lilia answered, wondering where the sweet old lady had gone. Odd time of day for a shift change. Even for volunteers.
Oh well. Maybe the old lady couldn’t handle an entire shift. Lilia shrugged and hurried back to the main lobby. Graham was cautiously circling an oversized marble fountain sculpted into the shape of a huge orb with water bubbling from its center.
She waved him over to the set of steel doors at the opposite side of the room, by the small waiting area filled with uncomfortable-looking chairs and decorative urns of plastic plants. “Come on. I’ll even let you push the button.” She chuckled at the memory of fighting with Mairi and Kenna to be the one who got to push the button whenever the family happened across an elevator.
“Push the button?” Graham flexed his hands as he gave the steel doors a stern up-and-down look.
“Right there. The one with the arrow pointing up.”
Graham shoved his fisted hand against the button and held it.
Lilia patted his muscled forearm. “You don’t have to hold it down. You just push it so it lights up, then let go. The elevator will be here in a minute.”
A bell sounded and the steel doors slid open with a bang.
“Mother o’God.” Graham backed up a step. “ ’Tis a burial cairn made of steel.”
“Yeah…elevators kind of creep me out too but we won’t be in it very long.” Lilia latched on to his elbow and pull
ed.
“In it?” A look of disbelief arched Graham’s brows higher as he locked his legs and refused to move forward.
“Come on. Before someone else on another floor pushes the button and it leaves.” Lilia pulled him in the rest of the way, patting his chest as she led him to the back of the elevator. “I get to push the button this time.” She jabbed a knuckle against the “7” button then took a stance beside Graham. The doors slid closed and the elevator took off.
“Son of a bitch!” Graham splayed his hands against the wall on either side of him, lowering himself into a defensive crouch.
Lilia laid a hand atop his arm. Poor guy. She didn’t like elevators either and she knew how they worked. “It’s okay. We’re almost there.”
The elevator jerked to a stop, the bell dinged, and the doors slid open. Graham rushed out into the hall, glancing back at the elevator as though it were a beast that had just spit him out. His eyes grew even wider as he looked around and realized the elevator had transported them to a different place. His voice shaking, he drew closer to Lilia. “Where the hell are we now?”
“Seventh floor.” Lilia took up his hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Eliza’s room is down this way.” Her heart went out to him as his nostrils flared and he jerked his gaze about. “Disinfectant.” She wouldn’t add that the sickening aroma of death also filled the air.
An efficient-looking older woman dressed in bright flowery scrubs and clutching a steel clipboard to her chest met them just as they passed the nurses’ station. “Good day t’ye, Miss Sinclair. I thought ye’d already been by for yer morning visit wi’ Mistress Eliza. She didna mention ye’d not been in yet. Ye ken how she always fusses when ye stay here longer than she deems fit.”
Dear stubborn Eliza. Bound and determined that Lilia wasn’t going to waste a precious minute of life sitting at the hospital waiting for her to die. “I know. She always tries to run me off as soon as I get here.”
Lilia pulled Graham forward with an apologetic shrug. “I’m afraid we ran a bit late this morning. How is she? Has there been any change?” Even though her mind knew the odds of Eliza improving were nil, her heart couldn’t help but hope.
Compassion softened the nurse’s face as she barely shook her head. “Och, no. No change at all. But she does seem ta be restin’ a wee bit easier today. I believe the new medication is controllin’ her pain a great deal better now that we’ve put her on the timed IV and she doesna have to ask for it. She’s none too happy about it—too strong-willed for her own good, that one is. Ye must convince her ’tis no’ a sign of weakness to allow us to ease her troubles.”
Lilia swallowed hard, battling the choking knot of emotions lodged in her throat. “I’ll do my best but you know Eliza. She thinks she’s supposed to take care of everyone else—not the other way around.” She nervously hitched her purse higher on her shoulder and gently pulled Graham forward. “We’ll pop in and sit with her a bit. Even if the meds have her groggy, hopefully she’ll know we’re there.”
The nurse nodded with an understanding smile. “I’m sure she will, dearie. I’m sure she will.”
Lilia reluctantly led the way into Eliza’s room, bolstering her trembling wall of control as much as she could. It always broke her heart to see Eliza so still, so small—a faded weak shadow of the vibrant soul she’d once been.
Lilia bit her lip. Eliza seemed paler today but the nurse was right—the stubborn old woman appeared to actually be resting rather than fighting the endless pain. The deep lines of her struggle that had been etched across her drawn face were somehow softer.
Graham eased into the room beside Lilia, his movements silent and reverent in the hush of the low-lit area. He scowled at the monitors mounted around the head of the bed, his eyes narrowing at the plastic bags of liquid hanging from the IV poles and the tangle of tubes disappearing into the padded tape cuffing both of Eliza’s pale thin arms and the port embedded just below her collarbone.
He moved closer to the bed, his head tilting to one side as he peered closer at Eliza’s face. He bowed with a slight dip of his closely cropped beard, one hand fisted to the center of his chest. “ ’Tis my honor to meet ye, Mistress Eliza. Graham MacTavish at yer service.”
Lilia’s heart hitched as Eliza’s eyelids barely fluttered and twitched. Her beloved guardian, fragile and worn from her battle, was making a valiant effort to rise from the depths of her drug-induced sleep. One of her mottled hands shifted atop the coverlet, her knobby fingers trembling as she lifted them in what appeared to be a weak acknowledgment that they were there. Her thin lips moved but no sound managed to escape.
Lilia slid her hand beneath Eliza’s cold, drawn fingers, gently cupping what had become little more than skin-covered bones. “Granny sent Graham to us along with his friend Angus. Graham wanted to meet you. He’s your kin.” Her voice broke. Lilia swallowed hard and took another deep breath. She didn’t dare let the dam break and free her emotions. She had to be strong. Control had to be maintained or she’d never regain it.
Eliza finally managed to open her watery eyes and focus on Graham. Her thin lips twitched at the corners as she wheezed in a shallow breath. “ ’Tis about time ye got here.” Her whisper was weak and broken but at least finally audible.
Graham shifted closer. A sad smile lifted one corner of his moustache. His voice fell to the hushed, consoling tone usually heard in the presence of the dying or out of respect to the already dead. “Aye, my kinsman. I did tarry. But I’m here now and that’s all that matters.”
“Aye,” Eliza whispered, her eyes slowly closing. “See that ye do well.” Without lifting her hand from the pillow cradling her bruised arm or reopening her eyes, she pointed a shaking finger at him. “I’ll haunt yer arse the rest of yer days if ye hurt m’wee lass.”
Graham solemnly bowed his head in acceptance of Eliza’s verdict. “I swear t’ye that our fine lassie here will ne’er again face this world alone, milady.” Graham eased his hand to the small of Lilia’s back and gently pulled her closer. “I gi’ ye my oath, Mistress Eliza, I’ll protect this fine woman well and guard her true.”
Eliza didn’t respond but the quiet beeping of the heart monitor changed in rhythm, increasing in speed for an extended string of rapid erratic beats. The wavering green line bounced faster, additional spikes jumping across the screen. It carried on for several minutes then gently smoothed back to the weary beep with the neon line barely rippling. Eliza’s fingers twitched in Lilia’s hand, curling a bit tighter in a weak squeeze, then relaxed and went still. The old woman’s sunken chest shifted with a slow, deep inhale, then her body settled back in place as she released the breath.
Lilia held her breath, afraid to move as she stared down at Eliza’s face. The palest flush of color now washed across Eliza’s cheeks and she seemed almost serene. “What pact did you two just make?” she whispered, blinking fast and hard against the tears stinging in her eyes. I will not cry. I will not.
Graham pressed a warm, soft kiss against her temple. “That I will always be with ye.” His voice dropped to a lower whisper—a deep, lilting caress that lifted her up and held her. His soothing tone reassured her at a very basic level that all would somehow be well. “I grant ye, lass, she’ll rest easier now as she prepares for her final journey.”
Settling Lilia’s hand firmly in the crook of his arm, he gently pulled her away from the bed and turned them toward the door. “Come. Ye ken she wishes ye ta go. Leave her to her rest now that she knows ye to be safe and protected.”
Chapter 10
He jerked awake, body tensed, all senses alert. A cold sweat peppered across his brow. Graham sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, floundering to remember where the hell he was and how the hell he had gotten here.
“We’re here.” The clear, sweet voice beside him soothed him immediately.
Lilia turned to him with a smile as she twisted the wee bit of metal shoved into the odd black post that seemed to control the beast of the machi
ne and its deadly racket stilled. What in blazes had they called this thing? Au…to…mo—what-the-hell?
Graham scrubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. I canna remember a sorry thing. Son of a bitch, me mind’s wrapped in wool.
Bumping the door open with her shoulder, Lilia fixed him with an apologetic look. “Sorry. I was afraid those pills might knock you on your ass. Your body isn’t used to stuff like that.” She yanked open the second door on her side of the beast and retrieved a great black bag out from behind her seat. “But at least you didn’t puke.”
“I’ll have ye ken, no’ a damn thing knocked me on me arse. I chose to sit in this godforsaken bit of sorcery because ye said that center place was too far to reach on foot from the hospital.” Damned if his mouth didna feel dry as dust and as crusty as week-old horse dung. He yanked up on the silver handle and shoved open the door. The sooner he was shed of this wickedness, the better. He unfolded his way out of the cramped belly of the beast, turned, then kicked the door shut. ’Twas a damn bit of sorriness when folk set aside the pleasure of owning a good horse to trek about in such twisted bits of metal that would be better put t’use in the makin’ of shields and swords.
“This way—come on.” Lilia stood waiting at the grassy edge of the gravel lot beside a fence that looked like endless lengths of chain mail stretched between evenly spaced, headless spears. Her inviting smile curled a bit higher with just enough wickedness to make his mouth water. He was truly damned and he’d already come t’love every aspect of it. He’d never be able to resist this woman nor—he had firmly decided—would he ever wish t’try.
“Come on. We’ll see if Alberti has any workout clothes in the shop that’ll fit you. Then you can play too.” Lilia pulled open one side of the double glass doors leading into a great gray metal building that was damn nigh big enough to hold not only the grand twenty-horse stable back at MacKenna Keep but the paddock and bailey as well.
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