becoming a parent, he couldn't help but wonder what the
future had in store for Deliah and him. "Weel, laddies," he said,
perfectly imitating Lachlan's voice, "twould be fittin’ to
celebrate, aye?"
"No Scotch," Deliah said in
a small voice.
"Food," Winston
quipped.
Deliah grimaced. "I canna
stand the word, let alone be thinkin’ o' puttin’ a morsel in ma
mouth."
"Lannie and I will scrounge
up somethin’," Roan said. "Anythin’ in particular you fancyin’,
Winston?"
"Surprise me."
Roan led a reticent Lachlan
into the kitchen, where he lit a lantern positioned on the island
counter. Whistling merrily, he went to the ice box, standing off to
one side once the door was opened to permit the light to illuminate
the antique appliance's interior.
"Ah, we have eggs, part o'
the roast we had the ither night. "Cheese— Och!" He removed a bowl
and closed the door. "Bestill ma heart," Roan chortled, placing the
bowl on the table, leaning over and inhaling its contents. "Mealie
puddin’. Thought it was all gone." He lifted one of the thick
sausages, made of oatmeal, suet, onions and seasoning. "Fried,
these will banish the empty bellyaches."
Lachlan's silence caught
his notice. He looked up to see him standing on the far end of the
island counter, staring off into space.
"Lannie, wha's
wrong?"
A moment later, Lachlan's
dark eyes swerved to regard Roan forlornly. "This
knowin’."
"I don’t know wha' shook me
up mair," Roan said, chuckling. "Deliah's pregnancy, or her sayin’
ye're psychic. O' course, I can’t imagine a mon returnin’ from the
dead wi’ou' havin’ a few perks." He sobered when Lachlan remained
as still as a statue. "Lannie? Is there somethin’ you kept from
Deliah? The pregnancy can’t harm her, can it?"
"No. She, Winston and the
bairn will live a long life here."
Lachlan's monotone caused
gooseflesh to spread across Roan's arms. He approached him, almost
warily, a sinking feeling of dread in his stomach. "Then wha's
wrong?"
Sighing, Lachlan hooked one
hand on his nape. "I can see you, Laura, the lads, and Winston's
family here, but no' me and mine."
"Wha' do you mean?" Roan
released a sound caught between a choke and a laugh. "This will
always be yer home. Damn me, but you're no' still thinkin’ I want
you away from here, are you?"
"Tis no' abou' us, Roan. I
just canna see Beth, the twins and I here much longer."
"I don’t
understand."
"We don't belong here
anymair."
"Lannie, this is yer home!
I'll no' let you leave it."
"There's changes comin’. I
dinna know exactly wha', but they are in the makin’, and there's
naught we can do to avoid them."
"Go where?" Roan asked
angrily, although he was more stricken than angry at the idea of
them leaving the estate. "Let me tell you somethin’, and I want you
to listen verra carefully. Lannie, I don’t fully understand this
bond you and I share, but it damn near killed me when you passed
over. I thought the emptiness I carry for ma son was painful, but
it didn’t compare to the ache yer absence brought me. I know it
sounds daft, but I'm tellin’ you the truth.
"Winston told me you and I
are still linked, but he didn’t know why," Roan went on.
"Unfinished business, I guess, although for the life o' me, I can’t
imagine wha' mair could be between us."
Roan's throat tightened. "I
panic when I think o' you no' bein’ here. It's like a part o' me
goes wi' you."
Distressed by Roan's
declaration, Lachlan sighed wearily. "Tis guilt. Let it
go."
"Guilt abou' wha'? Aye,
there are times I feel there's somethin’ I need to tell you, but I
don’t know wha' it is. But it’s no' guilt. We've reckoned our
past."
Lachlan shrugged. "I
believe we have, too, but I've sensed guilt in you since tha' first
morn you came to this house." He smiled a little at the memory.
"You were a brazen mon, if ever I saw one. Demandin’ no' only
employment from me, but a fair wage."
Roan's tension waned and a
tenuous grin appeared on his mouth. "You scared the
future had in store for Deliah and him. "Weel, laddies," he said,
perfectly imitating Lachlan's voice, "twould be fittin’ to
celebrate, aye?"
"No Scotch," Deliah said in
a small voice.
"Food," Winston
quipped.
Deliah grimaced. "I canna
stand the word, let alone be thinkin’ o' puttin’ a morsel in ma
mouth."
"Lannie and I will scrounge
up somethin’," Roan said. "Anythin’ in particular you fancyin’,
Winston?"
"Surprise me."
Roan led a reticent Lachlan
into the kitchen, where he lit a lantern positioned on the island
counter. Whistling merrily, he went to the ice box, standing off to
one side once the door was opened to permit the light to illuminate
the antique appliance's interior.
"Ah, we have eggs, part o'
the roast we had the ither night. "Cheese— Och!" He removed a bowl
and closed the door. "Bestill ma heart," Roan chortled, placing the
bowl on the table, leaning over and inhaling its contents. "Mealie
puddin’. Thought it was all gone." He lifted one of the thick
sausages, made of oatmeal, suet, onions and seasoning. "Fried,
these will banish the empty bellyaches."
Lachlan's silence caught
his notice. He looked up to see him standing on the far end of the
island counter, staring off into space.
"Lannie, wha's
wrong?"
A moment later, Lachlan's
dark eyes swerved to regard Roan forlornly. "This
knowin’."
"I don’t know wha' shook me
up mair," Roan said, chuckling. "Deliah's pregnancy, or her sayin’
ye're psychic. O' course, I can’t imagine a mon returnin’ from the
dead wi’ou' havin’ a few perks." He sobered when Lachlan remained
as still as a statue. "Lannie? Is there somethin’ you kept from
Deliah? The pregnancy can’t harm her, can it?"
"No. She, Winston and the
bairn will live a long life here."
Lachlan's monotone caused
gooseflesh to spread across Roan's arms. He approached him, almost
warily, a sinking feeling of dread in his stomach. "Then wha's
wrong?"
Sighing, Lachlan hooked one
hand on his nape. "I can see you, Laura, the lads, and Winston's
family here, but no' me and mine."
"Wha' do you mean?" Roan
released a sound caught between a choke and a laugh. "This will
always be yer home. Damn me, but you're no' still thinkin’ I want
you away from here, are you?"
"Tis no' abou' us, Roan. I
just canna see Beth, the twins and I here much longer."
"I don’t
understand."
"We don't belong here
anymair."
"Lannie, this is yer home!
I'll no' let you leave it."
"There's changes comin’. I
dinna know exactly wha', but they are in the makin’, and there's
naught we can do to avoid them."
"Go where?" Roan asked
angrily, although he was more stricken than angry at the idea of
them leaving the estate. "Let me tell you somethin’, and I want you
to listen verra carefully. Lannie, I don’t fully understand this
bond you and I share, but it damn near killed me when you passed
over. I thought the emptiness I carry for ma son was painful, but
it didn’t compare to the ache yer absence brought me. I know it
sounds daft, but I'm tellin’ you the truth.
"Winston told me you and I
are still linked, but he didn’t know why," Roan went on.
"Unfinished business, I guess, although for the life o' me, I can’t
imagine wha' mair could be between us."
Roan's throat tightened. "I
panic when I think o' you no' bein’ here. It's like a part o' me
goes wi' you."
Distressed by Roan's
declaration, Lachlan sighed wearily. "Tis guilt. Let it
go."
"Guilt abou' wha'? Aye,
there are times I feel there's somethin’ I need to tell you, but I
don’t know wha' it is. But it’s no' guilt. We've reckoned our
past."
Lachlan shrugged. "I
believe we have, too, but I've sensed guilt in you since tha' first
morn you came to this house." He smiled a little at the memory.
"You were a brazen mon, if ever I saw one. Demandin’ no' only
employment from me, but a fair wage."
Roan's tension waned and a
tenuous grin appeared on his mouth. "You scared the
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