He explained as succinctly as he could. “I can no’ get her face from my mind,” he said, after he’d told his story. “I have to know if she made it, if she’s going to be all right.”
The man patted his shoulder. “I just came on duty. I’ll check the records and see what I can find.”
Andrew felt such a rush of gratitude, he couldn’t speak. He nodded.
“Wait outside,” the man said. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
Andrew went to wait with Fiona. He was encouraged for the first time. He strode out to tell her that they would know something soon, but Fiona wasn’t there.
* * *
“She’s so tiny. You’re sure this is the right child?”
The nurse standing beside Fiona nodded solemnly. She was a young woman, not much older than Fiona, with a plain, sturdy face dominated by compassionate blue eyes. “Aye. This is the one that was brought in from the accident your friend described. We think she’s not more than three.”
Fiona stared through the glass at the dark hair spread across the white pillowcase, the pale heart-shaped face. There were tubes and machines and monitors. A nurse bent over the bed and adjusted the IV. “What are her chances?”
“Fair, I think. The moment she’s out of recovery they’ll take her up to the unit where you were waiting. She survived the surgery, and the burns aren’t as extensive as your friend feared. Sometimes these injuries appear to be worse than they are.”
“And sometimes they’re worse than they appear.”
“Her name is Hume, we think. The car was registered to a Robert Hume in Woodstock, England. The police are trying to trace her relatives now.”
“The poor baby.”
The nurse was silent for a moment. “I’ve seen far worse cases walk out of here and go on to lead normal lives.”
“I was one of the ones who didn’t walk out of here,” Fiona said.
“Pardon?”
“I was a patient in this hospital when I was three. In the burn unit. And it was a long time before I walked.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea. Actually, I thought you were an American. From the accent.”
“I was born in Scotland. After I was burned, I went to the States for rehabilitation. My mother was an American, and she insisted. I…I haven’t been back until now.”
“Then I’d say you have a natural bond with Miss Hume.”
“I guess I do.” Fiona wished she could go to the sleeping child and comfort her. She would need much comfort in the days to follow, and the people who could have offered it were dead.
“We have to go now. I really shouldn’t have brought you up here. It’s against all the rules.”
Fiona summoned her dwindling resources to smile her appreciation. The nurse was the same one who had recommended that she and Andrew go directly to the burn unit for information. She had found Fiona there and reported that the child was in recovery after emergency surgery. She had offered to take Fiona to peek through the window in the door, but only if they went immediately. There had been no time to wait for Andrew to return.
Now they walked down the hall together and waited for the elevator that would take Fiona back upstairs to find Andrew. “Will they let us visit her, do you think? When she’s able to have visitors? We’re not family, but Andrew saved her life, and I…”
“I’ll speak to her doctor. I’ll tell him you were here and ask him to make a note in her chart.”
The elevator door opened, and Fiona stepped inside. “You’ve been so kind.”
“I feel so sorry for her, the poor wee dearie. If those were her parents in the car, then she’ll be so alone through this. It seemed that since you were so concerned…”
“I appreciate it. Andrew will, too.” She waved goodbye as the elevator closed its doors.
Andrew was pacing the sixth floor waiting room when she arrived.
“Are you all right?” He pushed his hair off his forehead, a useless gesture that was completely endearing.
“I’m just fine, and I think your friend is going to be, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just saw her. I’m sorry you weren’t with us, but there wasn’t time to find you.” She explained what had happened.
“She’s in fair condition?”
“I think that was an educated guess. I’m not sure they’re issuing any evaluations yet. But the nurse felt she has a good chance. She’s burned over thirty to forty percent of her body, not all third degree. There was some internal bleeding. They had to do surgery, but it turned out to be relatively minor. The nurse couldn’t be more specific than that. It was a miracle she told me that much.”
Andrew sat down and rested his head in his hands. Fiona sat beside him. She focused on his hands, which looked swollen now, which they hadn’t earlier. “Andrew, we’re going to stop by the emergency room, or whatever you call it here, and get them to treat your hands. You’re risking infection.”
“You think she’s going to be all right?”
“I think so. And she’s being well cared for. They’re searching for relatives now. They’ve traced the car to a Robert Hume in England.”
He looked up. “There was a moment, just after I got her out, when I wondered if I’d done the right thing to try and save her. Did I do the right thing, Fiona? Now, with everything she has to go through, all the pain and sadness, did I do the right thing?”
She knew why he asked her. The answer was a gift that only she, or someone who had gone through the same terrible experiences, could give him. She had survived a fire, too. Had she wished sometimes that she hadn’t? Did she wish it now, when she looked back at everything that was behind her?
“You did the right thing.” She took a deep breath. She had said the words because they were the ones he most needed to hear. But they were true. She realized it with a new and profound relief. “You did the right thing, Andrew. And someday she’ll be as happy as I am to be alive and to have a full life ahead of her.”
His eyes glistened. He nodded.
Her heart turned over slowly. In that moment he was as vulnerable as she had been all the days of her life. She guessed that much of what he’d felt today was new to him. He was a strong man, a good man. But today he had needed strength. Her strength.
“Thanks,” he said. His voice was husky.
“I think I’m ready to face Druidheachd.”
“I think you’re more than ready.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. His lips were warm, and the intimacy, the rare feeling of being cherished and accepted, was a streak of sunshine through her exhausted body.
“Let’s go home, Andrew,” she said, when he moved away.
“Aye, Fiona. Let’s go home.”
CHAPTER 3
The old gray stone building was not a prison. It was the first home Fiona had known as a child, the village hotel and pub that had been run for generations by her ancestors. The Sinclair Hotel was the rink where she had skated in wool socks across slate floors, the sanctuary where she had been wrapped snugly in the love of her family.
Until the night when the fires of hell had nearly consumed her.
“You were so young, no more than a wee girlie. Does it seem familiar?”
Fiona stared at the hotel from the passenger seat of Andrew’s car. “I don’t know what I remember or just what I’ve been told over the years.”
“You were happy here. Always smiling, laughing. And dancing. I would sing, and you would dance.”
“You remember that? You were only a little boy yourself.”
“Aye, I remember.”
She switched her gaze to Andrew. “Did you carry me on your shoulders?”
“Aye. Have you been told that?”
“No.”
A smile peeked through the layers of exhaustion on his face. The smile seemed natural; the haggard lines of fatigue did not. “You would kick, and I would tell you to stop. Then you would pat my hair and tell me you were sorry. Just when I believed you
’d learned your lesson, the exact moment I relaxed, you would kick me again.”
“It seems a little late for an apology.” She smiled, too.
“Let’s go inside. Duncan and Mara will be waiting.”
“You’ll come, too?”
“Aye. There’s nowt you can do to stop me.” He opened his door and came around to open hers.
Fiona wasn’t sure that she wanted Andrew to stay. He needed rest. The strain of the accident and its aftermath was clear, and she knew that his hands throbbed, although he hadn’t complained. He had submitted to having his hands dressed and bandaged at the hospital, but he hadn’t taken the painkillers issued to him, because he had needed a clear head to drive the rest of the way home. She wondered, too, if on some dark, unconscious level he welcomed the pain as his punishment for not rescuing the Hume child sooner.
There was a selfish reason for wanting him to leave, as well as one for wanting him to stay. Fiona was filled with pride, if not with courage, and she did not want Andrew to witness how difficult it would be for her to walk through the hotel’s front door for the first time in twenty-two years.
Then there was the part of her that wanted to lean on him, the part that yearned to have him beside her. The part that was willing to sacrifice all her considerable pride for the strength and comfort of his presence.
He opened her door, and she knew the moment had come. He held out his hand. She took it gently, and her own hand was swallowed and cradled. “Duncan and Mara have made changes in the place,” he said. “Mara appreciates everything old, and Dunc wants all the old swept away and replaced. Between them, they’ve struck a balance. It’s cleaner, brighter. More welcoming. But it’s still the same hotel.”
Old. Auld. Something wept inside Fiona. Andrew’s accent, thicker and more musical even than Mara’s, connected with wisps of memory inside her. It was the sound of home, denied to her for twenty-two years. The sound of love and acceptance and the life that had been cruelly taken from her. She stood and looked up at him. Her throat was tight, and her heart swelled against her rib cage until it had no room to beat.
“You have only to walk through the front door,” he said. “And it will be better.”
She nodded. Denying her fear was futile. The blood had drained from her cheeks, and the hand enclosed in his was shaking.
They walked up a cobblestone path, past shrubs just on the verge of bloom. A sweet fragrance teased the air, and she saw rows of purple hyacinths outlining the border that circled the hotel.
“Aunt Fiona!” The door flew open, a massive wooden door that had creaked and groaned for centuries, and a child flew toward them. “Aunt Fiona!”
Andrew dropped her hand just in time for Fiona to fling open her arms. April fell into them. “Aunt Fiona!”
Fiona clasped her niece and held on for dear life. “You’ve grown. I can’t believe it. You’ve grown again, and I just saw you.”
“It’s been months!”
“Too long.”
“Welcome home, Fiona.”
Fiona looked up and saw her brother standing in the doorway. For a moment there were only the two of them.
I’m back, Duncan, but I don’t want to be here.
I know you don’t, Fiona. I didn’t expect you ever to find the courage to come home, but I’m glad you did.
She responded to the welcome he’d issued out loud. “Thank you,” she said. She wanted to say more, but the words wouldn’t come. His serious gray eyes didn’t change as he smiled at her.
“Fiona.” Mara pushed past her husband. Her blond hair fanned out behind her as she descended the steps. She seemed to float, as if she somehow had transcended the earth at her feet. Mara and Duncan had been married at Christmastime. Fiona had liked her new sister-in-law on sight. Mara was a large part of the reason she had come back to Scotland.
Fiona held out her arms, and they enveloped each other in warm hugs. Then Duncan was beside her, hugging her, too. She rested in the arc of his arms for a moment, Duncan, who had been the only true constant in a childhood gone berserk.
“Come on up to our apartment,” he said. “We’ll skip a tour for now. Mara will put on the kettle, and you can put your feet up. Then we’ll have supper. I made linguine with clam sauce. Your favorite.”
“You were always the best cook in our family.”
“Andrew?” Duncan said. “We’re expecting you, too. We’ve set a place for you.”
“I dinna think so. I’ve—”
“Andrew, please come,” Fiona said. She took a step toward him. Just one uncertain step. She extended her hand. “It will do you good. Please?”
He seemed torn and suddenly—terribly—alone. She took another step toward him. “Duncan really can cook. I promise.”
He smiled at her. “Aye, I’ll come.”
“Goody!” April said. She flung herself at Andrew, and he caught her and swung her to his shoulders.
Fiona saw him grow paler, as if the little girl was the weight of the world. She knew the hands that had caught April must throb unmercifully, but when April was settled, he patted her legs. “Let’s go, Springtime. You tell me where.”
“Tell Uncle Andrew to take you straight to our apartment,” Duncan said. “He’s in no shape for a gallop through the hotel.”
Fiona watched Andrew duck as he carried April through the doorway. She frowned and followed close behind, worried that he had taken on too much. She could almost feel the torment in his hands, the strain of every screaming muscle.
She was inside the hotel, walking beside Duncan and Mara through the reception area, before she realized that she was home. Finally and irrevocably home again.
* * *
The linguine was perfect, the sauce pungent with Mara’s own herbs and mushrooms coaxed from the woods near the mountain cottage she had built with her own hands. April had made dessert, an apple cake studded with walnuts and raisins and topped with fresh, sweet cream.
Duncan and Mara’s apartment was comfortable and homey, an airy, contemporary space carved from eighteenth century stone. The walls were cream-colored, the furniture light oak and beech. Muted abstract art adorned the walls, and tulips in hand-thrown pottery adorned the tables and shelves. April’s toys nestled in corners and peeked from colorful chests. There was no attempt to hide the fact that a child lived here and was very much loved.
“You’ll have more, Andrew?” Mara asked, as she passed the platter of apple cake in his direction.
Fiona watched Andrew from under her lashes. He had eaten little and spoken less. Her contribution to the dinner conversation had been even slighter. Duncan and Mara had covered their silences, and April had filled in cheerfully when no one else could think of anything to say.
“I could no’ eat another bite, even though it is the best cake in the world,” Andrew said, looking straight at April.
“Then you’ll have some coffee?”
“I think I’d better be getting home to my dog.” Andrew set his napkin on the table. “I left Poppy with a neighbor, and Mrs. Kent’ll be ready to feed him to my darling if I dinna get home soon.”
“You can’t go,” Duncan said. “Iain and Billie are on their way. At least stay until you’ve seen them.”
“Your darling?” Fiona looked up at him. “Have I missed something, Andrew? Has the last man of midnight fallen?”
“Fallen?”
She had noticed his eyes before—she couldn’t imagine how anyone would fail to notice them. They were a changeable hazel, nearly brown at times, but the green of a tropical sea when his emotions were aroused. Now they sparkled like sunlight on calm water, filled with the humor that she imagined was usually just under the surface.
“Yes, fallen,” she repeated. “Married. Have you gotten married, too, Andrew?”
“Oh aye. I’ve been married since I was old enough to sit beside the loch and stare o’er the horizon.”
Fiona had seldom been teased. Her life had been a serious business. Now she found that A
ndrew’s teasing left a warm tingle inside her, as well as a trail of confusion. “I’m obviously the only person here who doesn’t know what you mean.”
“Andrew’s darling is our resident loch monster,” Duncan said. “I don’t know why he’s dragging this out.”
She faced her brother and saw that his eyes weren’t sparkling at all. He was staring at his childhood friend, the man who was closer to him than a brother, and Duncan’s eyes were even more serious than usual.
“Fiona can take a bit of teasing,” Andrew said.
“I suspect that Fiona’s had a very rough day.”
“Fiona is sitting right here and can speak for herself.” Fiona said the words with a forced smile. “Fiona’s a very big girl.” She turned back to Andrew. “Tell me about this darling of yours.”
“I dinna see why. You know the stories. I told you all about my darling when you were a bairn.”
Not so far away, in a lake so deep…
“You were the one.” She breathed the words. She leaned toward him. “You were the one who told me the stories about the water dragon?”
“I dinna know if I was the only one.”
“All these years…I’ve wondered.”
“It was the only way to keep you quiet. You were fair troublesome, Fiona, as apt to skreich as to tug at my hair.”
“I didn’t use the same stories, did I? The Stardust stories aren’t the same—”
He shook his head decisively. “No’ at all the same. I’m afraid my darling lives alone. I only wish she had so many friends.”
“You’ve seen…your darling?”
He grinned. “No’ a bit of her. No’ a peek. No’ a fin.”
“But he will,” April said. She got up from the table and circled it to climb up in Andrew’s lap. He lifted her and set her in place as naturally as if she were his own child. “Uncle Andrew will see his darling,” she continued. “Just once. That’s all anybody’s allowed. Right?”
“That’s correct. One peek to a customer.”
“Andrew has an imagination to rival yours, Fiona,” Duncan said. “And he’s not at all shy about sharing it with April.”
Men of Midnight Complete Collection Page 53