by B. J. Scott
“I think so.” Alex brought a hand to his brow. “I have a gash on my head, but it appears to have stopped bleeding. My ribs are sore, but other than a few bumps and bruises, I’m okay.” He studied her for a moment. “Are you a nurse or EMT?”
“I’m a healer,” she whispered softly, then pointed to a triage area that was set up on the outskirts of the crash site. “If you’ll go over there, someone will take care of you.”
“A healer? Is that some fancy way of saying you are with the Emergency Evac Unit?”
“I dinna know what you mean. But it isna wise for you to stay here,” she whispered, then held out her hand. “Come.”
Alex took a step and stumbled, grateful when the woman grasped his upper arm to steady him. “I guess I’m not as stable on my feet as I’d thought. I hate to ask, but do you think you might help me over to the medical area?”
She lifted his right arm and draped it across her shoulder, then slid her left arm around his waist. “Lean on me.” She took a couple of steps and paused. “Are you well enough to continue?”
“Yep. And I appreciate your help.” Alex tightened his grasp on her shoulder and hobbled toward the paramedic station. When they arrived, she eased him onto a chair.
“Wait here. Someone will assist you in a few minutes and tell you where to go.” She patted his hand.
This time when she touched him, a strange spark of energy radiated from her fingertips. Soothing warmth crept up his arm, his pulse quickened, and he suddenly found it hard to breathe. When she lowered the hood of her cloak and smiled at him, his heart did a quick flip. She was not only stunning, but there was something familiar about her that he could not put his finger on. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear they’d met before. But that was impossible. He’d never been here before. “I’m Alex Innes.” He offered his hand to her. “I never caught your name.”
“Innes, you say?” She frowned, then turned to leave. “I must be away.”
“Wait.” He stood and cupped her shoulder. “You can’t just go without at least telling me who you are. Maybe when this is all over I could take you out to dinner as a show of my appreciation for your help.”
She shrugged out of his grasp and faced him. “Out to dinner? I have no idea what you’re havering about.” A puzzled expression crossed her face as she backed away.
“Name your favorite restaurant and I’ll take you there. I want to say thanks.” Alex lied. While he honestly was appreciative, he couldn’t shake the feeling he knew this woman. And if not, he’d really like a chance to get acquainted.
She shook her head and raised the hood of her cloak. “There is no need for you to thank me.” She plodded through the snow toward the plane, then paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Ciara Dunmore,” she said, then disappeared into the darkness.
Chapter Two
Alex shivered and wrapped his arms around his waist, trying to conserve a bit of warmth. He hoped Ciara might return, but his wish went unanswered. After waiting at least fifteen minutes for someone to come and tend to his injuries, he decided to make his way to the terminal instead. There were other passengers who needed attention far more than he did, and if he sat here much longer, he might freeze to death—an ironic turn of events, given he’d just walked away from a plane crash.
He rose to a wobbly stance, braced his aching ribs with his forearm, and sucked in a slow, deep breath. The terminal lights flickered in the distance and if he managed to remain focused and upright, Alex was confident he could make it there on his own.
Snow continued to fall, the drifts getting deeper by the minute, making it difficult to walk. But the thought of a warm place to sit and a piping hot cup of coffee kept him motivated. He trudged onward. As the door of the terminal came into view, he quickened his pace.
Alex staggered into the airport lobby, relieved he’d made it there under his own steam. He clung to the doorframe, taking a moment to catch his breath, the warmth of being indoors enveloping him. When he recognized a large group of passengers from the ill-fated flight standing off to one side, his heart leapt with joy. He was thrilled to see so many people had survived, but couldn’t help wondering why there were no emergency personnel tending to the injured, no blankets, no coffee, nothing to offer them comfort.
“Please get in the line, sir,” a woman holding a clipboard said as she came up behind him.
“I beg your pardon?” Alex whipped around, uncertain if he’d heard her correctly. It stood to reason the airline would have some sort of protocol in place in the event of a crash, and he wanted to cooperate in any way he could. But after their near brush with death, he was shocked to learn that rather than seeing to their needs, the airport staff were asking the survivors to wait in a line.
“You need to join the other, sir. With so many souls involved, we must do this in a calm and efficient manner.” She pointed to the group. “Your information will be taken in turn. We appreciate your patience.”
When Alex noticed the elderly couple who’d been seated next to him on the plane, standing near the front of the line, he heaved a sigh of relief. He was happy to learn they too had survived and wanted to go to them. “If you’ll excuse me, there are some people I need to speak to.” He started toward Angus and his wife, but the woman scooted in front of him.
“I’m sorry, sir, but you must wait your turn. Once you’ve been processed, you’ll be free tomove on,” she said sternly.
Stunned by the woman’s lack of empathy, he tamped down the urge to tell her what he thought of her insensitive attitude. He was usually easy going and cooperative in the face of an emergency, but he was tired, cold, and in need of medical attention. Above all that, he had to let his mother know he was alive and put her mind at ease. Patience was not his strong suit right now, but he did his best to keep his frustration under control.
“I know you’re just doing your job, and I’m sure you have rules to follow after a crash. However—” he began, but paused mid-sentence when he thought he saw Ciara walk by the window. He immediately turned and darted for the door, hoping to talk to her.
“You canna leave, sir. You must wait to be processed. A large man wearing the uniform of a security guard blocked the doorway. “Return to your place line.”
“Please get out of my way. I have to talk to someone. It’s important.” Alex pointed out the window. “She just walked by and if I hurry I might be able to catch her.”
Frowning, the guard crossed his arms over his chest and widened his stance. “That’s an open field, not to mention a restricted area. There are no unauthorized personnel allowed out there. You need to go and wait with the others.”
Anger tugged at Alex’s gut. He was a passenger not a prisoner. If he didn’t catch Ciara now, he might never have another chance. But it was obvious the guard wasn’t going to budge from the doorway. Instead of trying to reason with the man, Alex moved to the window, peering into the darkness. There was no sign of Ciara and the snow outside was unmarred by footprints. He shook his head and dragged his fingers through his hair. He’d have sworn he saw her. But, perhaps it had been wishful thinking and not real after all. Maybe none of this was real and he’d wake up in his Manhattan apartment to find out he’d been dreaming.
“Is there a problem?” the woman tending to the line asked.
“Yes. I met a young woman on the runway right after the crash and was almost certain I saw her again a few minutes ago. She said her name was Ciara Dunmore. Do you know where I can find her?”
The woman studied her clipboard, then glanced up at Alex and shrugged. “I see no one by that name. Was she a passenger?”
“I believe she was with the emergency rescue team.” Alex replied.
The woman placed her hand on his forearm. “This list is only for the passengers. I’m afraid I canna help you find the lass you seek. Please wait here and we’ll process your information as quickly as possible. After which, you can be on your way.”
“What about my luggage and access to a
phone?” Alex began to pace. “Everything I brought with me was in the baggage compartment of the plane, or what’s left of it. And my mother will be beside herself with worry when she hears about the crash. I need to get in touch with her, but I lost my cell phone when I climbed out of the wreckage.”
“Please try to remain calm. Those things will all be addressed in a timely manner, Mr. Innes. As I said, if you will just be patient, everything will be taken care of.”
Alex glared at the woman. “How do you know who I am? I never told you my name.”
“Why it is right here.” She showed him the clipboard, placed her finger on his name, and read aloud. “Alexander Innes, seat 35 row G.
“That may be my name and where I was seated, but I need to talk to someone who can answer my questions and address my concerns.” Frustrated, Alex stepped away from the others.
“Please, Mr. Innes, you must wait your turn.”
Alex threw his hands in the air and marched toward a man he spotted in a booth near the arrival and departure desk. He had to get in touch with his mother immediately. And if he needed to buy new clothes and personal items, so be it. “You, there. I need some assistance.” He waved at the man as he approached the rental car kiosk.
“What can I do for you, sir?”
Alex sucked in a deep breath as he read the man’s nametag. “I need a phone and a car, Mr. MacDonald.” He planted his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Please.”
“I’m afraid that willna be possible. The phone service is down because of the storm and I couldna possibly give you a car.” He pointed to the lineup. “If you wait your turn, someone will see to all your needs.”
“I wish people would stop saying that.” Alex counted to ten then addressed the clerk again. “I need to get in touch with my mother in Connecticut and let her know I’m alive. My father died recently and I’m all the family she has left. The news of the crash could kill her. I’m also expected in Burghead this evening. My secretary made arrangements for a vehicle to be ready and waiting upon my arrival at least two weeks before I left New York.”
“I understand that, sir. But the storm has closed many of the roads between here and Burghead,” MacDonald replied. “Perhaps you would like to speak to my manager.”
“I don’t want to speak to your boss. I want a car.” Alex pointed to his name on a list of rentals. “It says there that a blue, 2015, Ford SUV has been reserved in my name, and has already been charged to my credit card. Is it in the parking lot?”
MacDonald offered a hesitant nod. “Aye, but—”
Alex didn’t give MacDonald a chance to finish. He rounded the counter and snatched the set of keys assigned to the designated vehicle from a rack on the wall, and hurried toward the door. If no one could help him find a phone, he’d find one himself. Even if he had to leave the airport to do so. “You have my name, information, a copy of my driver’s license, and the payment has been made. If you have any other questions contact Ms. Leona Miller in the Archeology Department at State University in New York. She’ll see that any further costs are covered. I’ll return the SUV in three weeks, before I depart for the States.”
When Alex opened the door of the terminal, he was greeted by a blast of cold air. He buttoned his jacket, turned up the collar, and tucked his hands into his pockets before heading toward the rental lot. Locating the SUV was easy, given there were only five vehicles left and four were compact cars. Wasting no time, he jammed the keys into the lock, opened the door, and climbed inside.
He winced when he fastened the seatbelt across his chest, his ribs still tender. Once he’d checked in at the dig site in Burghead and called to reassure his mother he was alive, he’d stop by the emergency room and have them checked, along with the gash on his forehead.
After programming his destination into the GPS of the SUV, he pulled out of the lot and followed the instructions. Driving on the opposite side of the road proved to be a challenge at first, but one he was determined to master.
Several miles down the road, he began to regret his decision to leave the airport before the storm ended. Whiteout conditions made visibility next to nil and a strong north wind made steering difficult. If not for the vehicle’s four-wheel drive, he’d have been stranded in one of the many drifts covering the road before he got far from the terminal’s parking lot.
Alex tightened his grip on the steering wheel and squinted, trying to see through the snow and to remain on the highway. “Concentrate,” he muttered, but was forced to swerve when he saw an old woman standing on the road in front of him.
Hitting a patch of black ice, the SUV skidded and did a complete circle before coming to rest in a huge snow bank. He threw the gearshift into reverse and tried to back up, but his wheels spun and vehicle didn’t move. He cursed and tried again, but to no avail. Could his luck get any worse?
Resigned to his fate—he was not going anywhere until morning—he climbed out of the SUV and slammed the door. The old woman came to mind. What was she doing in the road, and was she injured or safe? He surveyed the area, but his search for the woman came up empty. Perhaps he’d hit his head harder than he realized during the plane crash and had imagined the whole thing. He touched his brow, surprised when he felt no cut or bump.
Frigid wind cut through him like a knife, stealing his breath. His toes were numb and his ears, hands, and face were nearly frozen. Dressed in light clothing, he suspected he’d die of hypothermia before a tow truck could come for him. The roads were deserted, so the likelihood of getting picked up by a passing motorist was slim-to-none. He set out on foot, hoping to find a croft and Good Samaritan who might grant him sanctuary.
“This night isna fit for man nor beast,” a woman said.
Alex spun around, looking in all directions, but saw no one. “Who’s out there? Show yourself.”
An old woman dressed in a long dark cloak stepped out of the shadows. “You dinna have to shout. A simple request will suffice.”
Alex jumped. “You startled me. What in the hell are you doing out wandering the woods in the middle of a blizzard? Better yet, why were you standing on the road? You could have been killed and so could I.”
“I was in no danger,” she replied simply. “You on-the-other-hand, must get out of this inclement weather or you will catch your death of cold and perish. I’d suggest you go back from whence you came.” She turned to leave.
“That would be easier said than done.” He didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm in his tone. “After swerving to miss you, I buried my SUV in a snow bank. I’m not going anywhere until morning when I can get a tow truck to pull me out.”
“I have a croft not far from here. If you wish, you may wait out the storm there. But when the sun rises, it would be best if you returned to your home across the ocean.”
The old woman headed into the woods, but Alex darted in front of her, blocking the way. “How did you know I came from America?”
“Is that what they call it?” She shrugged. “One only needs to listen to the way you speak to know you are na from Scotland. If you wish to get out of the cold, clear the way and you may accompany me. If na, I will go on without you. The choice is yours.”
She stared at him with such intensity, the hairs on the back of his neck bristled. He didn’t know what to make of the woman or if he could trust her, but she was right about one thing. If he didn’t get out of the cold, he’d not make it until tomorrow. He stepped aside. “Lead the way.”
They traveled a short distance in silence, arriving at a small hut nestled in the woods. “You live way out here, alone?”
“Dinna sound so surprised. I may have seen many summers, but I am quite capable of fending for myself.” She shoved open the door and entered. “No one dares bother me.”
Alex followed, a welcome waft of warm air, scented with a hint of peat enveloping him. He moved to the hearth and held his hands over the flames. “Ah, that feels wonderful.”
“Perhaps you would like to take off your boo
ts. You’re dripping water all over the floor,” she scolded.
“Sorry.” Alex retuned to the door and kicked off his boots. He glanced around the croft—a simple, one-room dwelling that looked more like a throwback to the twelfth century than a modern day house.
“Are you hungry?” The old woman hunched over a caldron, stirring the contents. “I have some broth simmering. It will warm you from the inside out.” She filled a wooden bowl and handed it to him, along with what looked like a slice of bread. “I made the bannock this morning and there is honey in the crock on the table. You look like you could use a hearty meal.”
“Thanks. It smells great.” Alex placed his bowl on the table, then pulled up a stool and sat. He dunked the bannock in the steaming liquid before popping it into his mouth. “You don’t have many modern amenities. I guess it would be useless to ask if you have a phone.”
She grinned at Alex, revealing a crooked set of teeth. “I have what I need.”
“A phone?” Alex asked.
She shook her head. “I dinna know what you are talking about, but what you see is what I have. There are some pelts on the shelf by the hearth and you are welcome to make a pallet on the floor. In the morning, I expect you to return to your home in this America you spoke of.”
“I won’t be going home right away. I’m an archeologist and am here to examine some ancient artifacts and the bull stones that were unearthed at the old Pict fort in Burghead earlier this summer.”
The old woman narrowed her gaze and wagged a boney finger at him. “One shouldna disturb the past or meddle in things that are na your affairs. I insist you leave Scotland on the morrow and dinna return.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but I have no intention of leaving before my work here is done.”
The woman placed a mug containing a pungent smelling liquid in front of him. “Drink this tea. It will help you sleep.”
He sniffed the brew and screwed up his nose. “What’s in this?” He shoved the drink across the table. “I think I’ll pass.”