The Charm Stone

by Donna Kauffman

  Yeah, she thought morosely. She couldn't wait.

  Thoughts of Bagan and the things he'd told her popped into her head, as they had off and on since he'd popped back out of her life. For good this time, she was certain. The pain was still fresh, but the anger had faded. She'd meant what she said, too, about them both probably being better off ending it sooner rather than later. Then there was the guilt. She hadn't quite managed to work her way past that yet. Because, no matter what Bagan's cryptic remarks had meant, she did feel as if she'd failed Connal.

  She sighed and climbed out of the truck when it stopped at the ferry landing, then turned and looked back at Ruirisay. The misty spray of the ocean cast the small row of buildings in an almost dreamlike glow. She did love this place and the people in it. They'd become like family to her and she couldn't imagine not seeing them every day, listening to their stories, offering their advice, asked for or not. She realized then that part of her sadness in leaving was the knowledge that Connal had been right. They were all happy enough here, but the truth was, the island would die when they did. And after that, who was going to be left to see to the future of Glenmuir?

  She stood stock-still as the answer flooded her brain. No. But her heart was already picking up speed, then it began to pound in earnest as the answer refused to be ignored. “No. You're insane even to think it,” she told herself.

  “Miss?”

  She jerked around to find the driver looking at her. “The ferryman says it's okay to board.”

  “Okay, yes, right. Just a minute.” She turned back toward town, forgetting all about him as her mind raced on with her solution.

  Her insane, foolish, reckless, and quite terrifying solution.

  “Maybe it was Destiny that brought me here,” she whispered, hardly daring to give voice to the idea. She stared hard past Ruirisay, to the castle she knew lay beyond it on the western shore. “Maybe Bagan was right and the stone's promise wasn't the bairn,” she said, picturing Connal as he'd been that first time, striding up the beach to claim his stone, and her. “Maybe the promise was just me.”

  “Miss?”

  “A second, just a second,” she said, waving him off. She felt a bit dizzy, but the feeling welling up inside her, along with the fear and adrenaline… was joy.

  She spun back around, jumping on that feeling, latching on to it with both hands-and her whole heart-and refusing to let go, even in the face of the terror that came screaming in behind it. The stone had promised love, and she did love Connal. Just as she loved the legacy he was to leave behind. Glenmuir.

  “I won't be taking the ferry today,” she blurted out, before she lost her nerve. Or any other day. She hoped.

  The truck driver looked nonplussed, but the ferryman just waved him on. “I've got a schedule to keep,” he said. “Are you coming or no’?”

  “No,” she said, letting the grin split her face. Dear God, what was she doing? “Wait,” she called out, racing after the truck.

  “Well, which is it going to be, lassie?” the ferryman said, a touch of exasperation in his voice.

  “I just need to get my stuff. Off the truck.”

  The driver and the ferryman exchanged looks, then with a shrug the driver got her stuff off and even helped her carry it back to the dock.

  “Thanks!”

  “Dinna thank me,” the driver said with a smile. “Yer the one who has to get this stuff back to town.”

  “I'll be fine,” she said, knowing that at the moment, her gear was the least of her problems. The enormity of her decision was still sinking in. But she clung to the joy she felt… and ignored the fact that she hadn't a single clue how she was going to pull it off.

  She waved at the driver as the ferry cast off, then turned and faced the island. Her island.

  “I'm here to save you,” she said, then hugged herself before laughing out loud. She felt lighter in her heart than she'd ever expected to feel again. It was the right thing to do, no matter how paralyzing the decision felt at the moment.

  She shaded her eyes and glanced heavenward. “I'm fulfilling the promise of the stone, Connal. And your promise to your people. Because they're my people, too.”

  She looked down at the stuff piled by the dock and decided it wouldn't hurt anything to let it sit until she could borrow Bidda's car and come retrieve it. Wish me luck, she thought, then said, “Ready or not, Glenmuir, here I come.”

  She was halfway to town when she was forced to admit that she wasn't going to be able to save the island single-handedly. By the time she reached Maeve's, the beginning of a plan had formed in her mind. She needed help. And she knew just whom to call. After all, they were a team, and had been all her life.

  She pushed into the store, surprising Maeve with a wave and a cheery hello.

  “Is something wrong with the ferry?”

  “Not that I'm aware of. Can I use your phone? I'll cover the charges.”

  “Wha-? Why, certainly.” She bustled in the back and came out with her portable. “Here ye are. What is happenin’, Josie? Ye look like the proverbial cat with a fat canary tucked in its belly.”

  “I'll tell you after I make this call. Go round everyone up for me, okay?”

  Maeve looked at her curiously, then nodded and waved her off to make her call. “They're all right next door.” She bustled off as Josie connected with the overseas operator.

  Then the phone was ringing and a voice was on the other end.

  “Dad?” she said breathlessly. After taking in and expelling a deep breath, she took her first step. “I have a proposition for you.”

  Chapter 22

  Are you guys coming?” Josie was all but bounc ing on the balls of her feet. It had been two weeks since she'd placed the call to her father. It amazed even her just how much had been accomplished in such a short period of time. But then, she should have known never to underestimate Griff when he was set to do something.

  And he'd taken her suggestion to think about moving his business here and run with it at a shocking speed.

  “Come on, the ferry will be here any minute.”

  Maeve looked to Roddy. “We don't want to intrude.”

  “He'll be up here soon enough,” Roddy agreed, then smiled. “And after that you'll be lucky to have a minute alone with him for the next six months.”

  Josie grinned. “You're probably right. Okay, then, I'm off.” She dashed to the door. That's all it seemed she did these days, dash, dash, dash. When she wasn't on the phone getting information on obtaining proper permits and business licenses, she was scouring the island for possible places for her dad to set up shop. They'd need a place for the designing and shaping, and probably a separate building or location for the glassing. She had a short list of places all ready for him to inspect. Of course, on Glenmuir, the list wasn't going to be that long anyway.

  She also wanted to look for a place for herself. Gregor was making noises about staying on in Mull indefinitely, but she didn't know for sure yet. There'd be time for that later.

  She spun around at the door and ran back to hug Maeve and kiss Roddy on the cheek. They both blushed, but the pleasure sparkling from their eyes told the real story.

  “Thank you both for all you've done to help me. I couldn't have done it without your support.”

  Maeve patted her arm. “We think what you're doing is wonderful.” She looked at Roddy. “I know the boys were skeptical at first, but once they knew Griff was behind the idea one hundred percent—”

  “Hey now, I was behind the idea,” Roddy cut in. “We were in a rut here, Josie, thinking our way of life was the only way, but ye brought a spark of life back to the island and we know now what we were missing. I just didn't see how it was all going to work.” He winked at Josie. “Didn't account for that Yankee ingenuity.”

  “You mean hardheadedness,” Josie shot back. “You know, everyone told my dad when he left Hawaii for the East Coast that he'd be out of business inside six months. I guess they don't understand that he's n
ot in it for the profit. He loves what he does. He just needed the space to do it without all the industry pressure.”

  “Well, he'll have plenty of that here,” Dougal said, strolling in from the pub next door.

  “Exactly.” Josie beamed.

  “And ye say he's already got some lads lined up to come take a look-see with him?”

  “Freddie Granger and Tuck Sopponi. They won't be coming till the next ferry over, though. Trust me, they'll fit right in here.” She'd known Freddie since she was twelve and Tuck had been her dad's glassman since the move to Parker's Inlet. Freddie was about the same age as Griff, but Tuck was younger, with a wife and two little boys. She was nervous about him picking up and moving over here because of her wild idea to relocate Griffs Guns, but bringing new blood-young blood-to the island was the whole point.

  “He won't be able to run the whole shop with only those two, will he?” Dougal asked.

  Josie turned a considering eye toward him. “You thinking about coming out of retirement? Because I imagine you and my dad might be able to come to some sort of agreement.” She knew she'd said the right thing when a shrewd look entered his eyes. “In fact, he'll need someone to help him set up ads on the mainland, maybe the Internet too, for other help.”

  “Doesn't Margaery have a cousin or something that does employment work?” Roddy asked Maeve.

  “I think you're right.” She looked to Josie. “I'll ring her up and ask. Now, you'd better hurry off or you'll miss the boat.”

  “Right!” Josie did dash this time. She took Bidda's car rather than the bike, in case Griff hadn't rented one of his own.

  She parked at the dock and watched the ferry heading in. It was still a good ten minutes out. Which gave her ten minutes of nothing to do but think. She'd tried not to do much of that, other than as it pertained to putting her plan into action. But now that it looked like it was going to happen, she couldn't help but think about Connal.

  Did he know what she was doing? Did he approve? She realized it might not be exactly what he had in mind, and that moving one business here was not going to single-handedly change the prosperity of the island. But she'd had long talks with her father and even longer ones with the residents of Glenmuir.

  They had all agreed they wanted change, that while they didn't want the peacefulness to change overly much, they were saddened by the fact that there were no young families here any longer and accepted the reality that if they didn't do something about that, the island life they and their ancestors had built over hundreds of years would die out. Josie saw Griffs Guns as exactly the kind of jump start Glenmuir needed. A small increase in capital, a slow growth of new islanders, and perhaps, down the line, other small businesses, and the families needed to grow them.

  “It's a start, Connal,” she whispered. “Some will be Yanks, some Scots, and some are even MacNeils.” She sighed, feeling the familiar tug of loss in her heart. All of this still hadn't come close to replacing her need for him and would likely never fill that hole completely. But she felt closer to him somehow. “I hope you're at peace,” she whispered, “wherever you are.” She gripped the handle as the ferry neared, then added, “I miss you. I wish you were here to do this with me.”

  Then, before fresh tears could spring to life, something she'd managed to avoid this far, she jumped out of the car and walked closer to the water's edge.

  She saw three men standing on the prow of the ship, above the unloading area. One stood apart from the others. Had Tuck and Freddie made it after all? she wondered.

  But as the boat neared, she could see that one man was Griff, and if she was not mistaken, that was in fact Freddie standing next to him. But the other man…

  The ferry drew closer and her heart slowly came to a stop. She was hallucinating. Her talk with Connal in the car had produced some kind of momentary psychotic wish fulfillment. Because she could swear that was Connal, standing on the prow of the ferry.

  She blinked, squinted, shaded her eyes. It was still him. His hair was pulled back, and he wore what looked like khakis and a polo shirt instead of a kilt and laced-up linen shirt. But it was definitely Connal MacNeil.

  “Or someone who looks just like him,” she murmured, standing there in a form of suspended animation. She was simply unable to believe what she was seeing, unwilling to allow even one glimmer of hope to spring to life inside her chest. For she knew she'd never withstand having it snuffed out again.

  Then they disappeared from the prow as the boat docked and moments later there was her father, swallowing her up in a huge bear hug. “Look who I brought with me” Griff was saying, stepping back to allow Freddie in to hug her.

  “We've missed you,” he said, giving her a peck on the cheek.

  “Me-me, too,” she answered, trying to give her father and Freddie her full attention, but unable to keep from darting looks past their shoulders.

  Griff noticed and looked behind him, shifting slightly… and suddenly there he stood. Right there. Not ten feet away.

  Josie couldn't breathe, much less speak.

  “Have you met?” Griff asked, looking confused. “We met this chap on the boat, with his friend. Says he's come to claim some land left to him by his ancestors.” He stuck his hand out and said, “What was your name again, son, I'm sorry.”

  But the man only had eyes for Josie. Eyes she'd seen every night in her dreams.

  “Connal,” he murmured, almost distractedly, his gaze focused so intently on her. “Connal MacNeil.” His voice almost brought her to her knees.

  “Everyone calls me Griff,” her father said, shaking Connal's hand, before turning to Josie. “This is my daughter, Josie Griffin.”

  She opened her mouth, but no words would come out. The whole scene was so surreal she was certain she was dreaming the entire episode. And she didn't want to do anything that might jar her out of it. Because right now it felt very damn real and that was all that mattered.

  Griff looked at Josie, then back at Connal. Josie had no idea what he thought of the two of them standing there, looking thunderstruck, but couldn't seem to make herself care at the moment.

  Griff finally winked and nudged Freddie. “Well, I think we should just make ourselves scarce here, huh?”

  “What?” Freddie asked, also staring with great interest at the two of them. “Oh, yeah.” He winked back at Griff. “Right, right. Come on, I'll help you with the car.”

  The two of them disappeared back onto the ferry, leaving her here with…

  “You look just like him,” she finally choked out. Because in the span of the last five seconds, she'd finally figured it out. The gods were giving her a gift, for what she was doing for Glenmuir. They were giving her Connal's great-great-great…whatever. Well, no matter how simply looking at him made her body ache, he wasn't her Connal. “I'm sorry to keep staring, it's just that—”

  Then he took a step forward. “Josie.”

  She stilled again, her breath caught in her throat. No man said her name that way, except for one. “Connal?” she whispered. “Is this really you?”

  “You were, perhaps, expecting someone else?” His eyes were searching hers, his expression almost fierce despite the forced humor in his tone.

  “I thought… my father said you were here to see land belonging to your ancestors.”

  “Aye, that is true. It has been in the possession of the MacNeils for centuries longer than I've been alive.” He stepped closer still. “Or dead.”

  “But—” Her heart began thundering then, until she thought it would simply burst from her chest. Yet, despite the overwhelming urge to fling herself at him, cling to him until forcibly removed from his arms… she stepped back, though putting even an inch more space between them took every scrap of control she had. “How? And… why?”

  “It was you who did it,” he said, dead earnest now. “Your commitment to me. To our future.”

  “Our—” Her voice was shaking badly now. “Our future?”

  He nodded. “The g
ods told me that I had naught to prove to them, only to myself. I didna understand, thinking that by proof they meant to prove my faith in the stone. Once I had, I could only think that the stone's promise was an heir.”

  “Bagan said—”

  “He was right. What I had to prove was that I could give my heart, that the faith I needed to find was faith in myself, faith in valuing that which only I could give.”

  Finally, as if he couldn't stand apart from her for a moment longer, he reached out to touch her. She shuddered hard, her legs shaking with need.

  “My love.” He pulled her into his arms and it was the place she so badly wanted to be, the place she'd never dreamed she'd be again, that she went willingly, shattered heart be damned.

  She touched his face, ran trembling fingertips over his lips. “It really is you, isn't it? You're really here.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “I do love you, Connal. I didn't get a chance to tell you before, but I did. I do.”

  His eyes blazed with passion, with life, with promises not yet made. “That was where I failed ye truly,” he said, touching her face now, tracing her own lips. “I had come to realize that my heart was yours, but I thought I needed to secure yours first before declaring myself. I thought I'd have more time to figure it all out—”

  “Time.” Her heart skipped one beat, then two. “Are you-? How long-?”

  He pulled her arms around him and tilted her head back. “As long as ye'll have me.”

  “But the bargain—”

  He kissed her, as if he couldn't wait another moment, another breath. And took what little breath she had away. There was all the passion she remembered, and something more she'd never felt before.

  “The gods were very angry to have the promise of the stone tossed back to sea. But you showed them the promise had been fulfilled.” He stroked her face. “What you've done, your love for me, for Glenmuir… fulfilled the stone's promise. And the gods realized I'd fulfilled my own.”

  “The gods—”

  “Allowed me to ask for one thing.” He looked into her eyes, life as she'd never seen it sparking in his own. “I asked for life, with you.”