Chapter 19

Chapter 19

John arrived at Granny's door, unable to recall the trip from the castle to her cottage in Dunbeg, the village near Dunstaffnage castle. He shook his head and raised his hand to knock. Granny opened the door. She gave him chills when she did that.

She waved him in. "About time ye made it over here. Leaving yer wee granny to guess at all the fun ye and Marie have had."

John strode into the cottage as Granny led him to the kitchen. They always sat at the kitchen table and visited over tea. When he arrived in the kitchen, she already had set everything up. He used to be shocked when she did this, but he came to expect this from Granny these days.

He stood in the doorway and studied her for a moment. He wondered at her age. She had to be in her nineties, at least. Granny always realized when he needed to speak of the Fae. Had Morrigan, his family Fae, been in contact with Granny?

She rapped her knuckles on the table loud enough to grab his attention. "Stop yer wool-gathering and come tell me what yer adventure was."

He shrugged and crossed the kitchen.

As he sat, she poured some fresh tea. "No, I haven't seen Morrigan, and yes, I might be a little crazy." She smiled and patted his knee. "Aren't we all a little crazy, dearie?"

John smiled at her and sipped his tea.

She picked up her drink and eyed him over the rim. "Now start from the beginning and don't leave any details out. I love a good story."

John told her everything from when Marie went missing to today when he woke. How he found his parents in the past, how his father captained a ship, something he didn't know his da did.

His granny laughed and patted his knee. "Ah, John, yer father was always an expert sailor. It runs in yer blood, ye know."

John ran everything back through his mind—Marie's kidnapping, the priest who chased after a Fae stone of Iona, the trip back in time, and his parents found in the past. Marie—he never imagined his duty to the Fae stones would take such a turn, such a toll on his life, but it had. The events took a more significant toll on Marie, and he worried if their love would survive his duty to the stones. It all came down to him. He must ensure he cared for everyone at Dunstaffnage and kept them safe.

He shook his head. "Granny, I am just not sure what all this means."

She made a guttural noise in the back of her throat. "Ah, my boy, this isn't supposed to make sense. The Fae never make sense. If they do, ye run like mad away, for they are about to trick ye." She sighed. "What was he like when ye visited him?"

John smiled. He pictured his da as he had seen him in the past. The wind blew his hair as he walked down the ship's plank. He looked years younger than John ever remembered. His da had to be at least twelve years older from when he disappeared to when John found him in the past.

Granny cleared her throat loudly and raised her eyebrow at him.

John shook himself. "Granny, he was so joyful. At times, he looked like I remembered him before Ma died. So happy and full of life, if that makes sense. His body looked older but appeared years younger."

Granny smiled. "Aye, dearie. That makes perfect sense. I'm glad ye got to see him, spend time with him, with yer ma too. This was meant to be."

John sighed. Meant to be. There the phrase came again, that quote. His da used it when he confronted the priest like he knew all along what the future held.

He glanced at Granny, who sat and smiled when his gaze met hers. "That's what I am having trouble with. His resignation to his fate, his death. And how he did it for me."

Granny studied him for a moment.

He took a sip of tea. It got stuck in his mouth. He swallowed it hard, and a rock went down his throat instead.

Granny gazed out the window and spoke softly. "Ye should not feel guilt. This was his choice, his life to give. He made the bargain with the Fae." She turned and eyed him. "He tricked them good, for he gave ye life twice now."

She rapped the table, her voice harder. "Yer da gave yer true love life."

She rapped it again. "He made sure ye both would have a long life together."

She laughed loudly. "And all that damn Fae Morrigan got was a rock."

John sighed. "A Stone of Iona Granny, a powerful magic Fae stone."

Granny stared into his eyes for a moment. He sensed she searched through his mind, viewed all his thoughts, peered into his soul, and knew all the secrets he kept.

She nodded once and pointed her finger at him. "Aye, a powerful stone. One ye need to put back. Today. No more bargains with the Fae. Lucky once is enough. The next time won't be so fortunate."

John nodded but didn't seem convinced.

Granny turned toward him and took his hand in hers. "John, ye have the fortune of love. Love from yer family. Love from yer friends. But more important, yer true love loves ye deeply. Don't turn yer back on her, on yer love. True love is a gift, one that ye should cherish."

John stared at the weathered old hands that cradled his young ones. A picture flashed in his mind. His old and battered hand as he held his granddaughter's soft young hand. They sipped tea in a cottage kitchen. He blinked, and the vision vanished.

His granny patted him. "Go to Marie, tell her of the love in yer heart. I promise it will all make sense when ye do."

John nodded and rose to clear away the dishes, but Granny waved him off. "Ah, just put yer cup in the sink."

She swayed her hips as she stood and giggled. "I've got a gentleman caller coming. Got to make some more tea."

As he turned to leave, Granny hugged him. They stood there a moment, and John sensed peace. As he backed away, she winked and batted his sleeve.

****

When John returned to the castle, he sought out Colin and found him in the study. Fortunately, Colin sat alone. The kids and Bree must be out; the castle remained as quiet as a tomb. John strode in and slumped in the chair before Colin's desk. Colin glanced up from some documents he studied and set them aside.

Colin sat and looked at John for a moment. The silence seemed welcome as John had much on his mind. Colin rose, stepped to the table behind the desk, and poured two whisky glasses.

He crossed to John and handed him one. "I can tell from the look on yer face ye need this." Colin sat in the chair next to John, took a sip of whisky, and sat silently.

John sipped his whisky, held the liquor in his mouth for a minute, and savored the flavor as he swallowed. He opened his mouth to allow air in and smacked his mouth shut. As he rolled his tongue around, he relished the aftertaste.

"Ye know, the whisky in the fifteenth century doesn't taste the same."

Colin laughed. "I know it doesn't. Same for the eighteenth."

John gazed at his glass. "Same distillery, same process. Peat smoked over barley, fresh water from an icy stream, a century-old process repeated today. And it tastes different."

Colin glanced at his whisky, then at John. "Aye, John, I imagine many things look different to ye now. They did for me, too."

John sat and reflected for a moment. Different. The castle looked the same, but every job he performed since returning seemed monumental. The weight of responsibility to those around him more crucial, their faith in him more profound. Marie, their relationship, secure the day the priest took her, now left in disarray. Did she still want him as her husband? Did she still want a life with him if it meant she might be in danger from the evil Fae, her life possibly at risk again for his duty? Different—everything felt different.

John sighed. "I'm uncertain anymore."

Colin set his glass down and sat back in his chair. "How so?"

John shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe that's just it. I don't know about a lot of things."

Colin nodded. "I can understand. After I returned from the eighteenth century, it took me time to sort out all my thoughts. But I can tell ye, the one thing which kept me going was Bree." He sighed. "Just her. Knowing she stayed there. It became enough until I got the rest figured out."

John sat there and held his glass as he contemplated what Colin shared. Marie, he had Marie. Everyone kept telling him, ye have Marie, and she would be enough. Was Marie enough?

An image popped into his head. He and Marie at Ardchattan Priory as they walked the grounds. But it wasn't a memory. They were older, and their smiles were broad. Children laughed. He glanced up, and they ran ahead of him—a young boy, his spitting image, and an even younger girl with Marie's blonde hair.

Marie called out, "Kids, don't go near the loch."

The girl called back, "Okay, Ma."

He turned to Marie, and she smiled at him. The corners of her eyes creased with her smile, and her cheeks filled in more. She appeared older but held the same warm smile he grew to love. It hit him and made his breath come out in a whoosh. He loved her, and he always would.

A boy shouted, "Come on, Da. Ye promised us a picnic. One in the garden ye and Ma love." The warmest feeling washed over him, of immense pride and joy. The sensation made him think of his da and sense him near him.

He blinked, and the vision faded.

Colin stared at him intently and nodded. "Ye need to talk to Marie, John."

John blinked again, and the vision still echoed in his mind.

Colin patted his knee. "Ye need to talk to yer true love. Things will be clear. I promise, my friend."

John nodded. Colin remained right. He needed to talk to Marie, express his love, and discover her thoughts with all the changes.

Colin peered at his desk and back at John. "Ye know, my offer to live at Ardchattan Priory for ye and Marie still stands. It would mean a lot to her, especially after I read her renovation proposal. She made a damn good case."

John stared into his glass. He and Colin spoke about the priory arrangement shortly after his return to the future. The project remained Colin's idea at Bree's suggestion, her very strong suggestion. They worked on the planning, but John still needed time. He hadn't spoken to Marie about the priory project, about them. Would she still have him after all that had happened? Would she still want to be his wife?

He shook himself and needed to focus. "Aye, we will meet in the chapel today to return the Stone of Fear. She wanted to do that together, and I admit it seems fitting."

Colin nodded, his voice firm. "Aye, that damn stone needs to return to the Fae." Colin picked up his glass and drained the rest of his whisky.

John drained his and set his glass on the desk as he rose to leave.

When he reached the door, Colin said, "If ye see that damned sprite of yers, tell her we've had enough adventure for a lifetime."

John huffed a laugh. Colin didn't like his Fae, Brigid, who teased him at every given opportunity. John's Fae Morrigan wasn't so spiteful.

He smirked. "If I see either, I'll tell them ye miss them something terrible."

He quickly stepped out the door and closed it. After the door clicked closed, glass crashed against it.

Colin yelled from the other side, "Ye tell that wee gnome to go to hell."

John laughed out loud. Things were better already.