It made no sense at all.

From her vantage point on the riverbank, Jordan had been able to see both ends of the bridge, and thanks to the large arches beneath, she would have seen if anyone had climbed off the far side and gone up the river. While she’d been climbing up the bank and running to the bridge, they might have tried to run away, but would have been busted before they could get out of sight.

The really silly part was that there was no reason for anyone to run anywhere. Kerry told her he was leaving, that he wouldn’t tell her where he was going, only that it was over. If a car had come to get him, she couldn’t have followed. She couldn’t have followed a boat, a bicycle, or anything else. So why sneak away?

And again, even if there had been a reason to sneak away, they couldn’t have done it without her catching them.

Clearly, Kerry and his buddy wanted her to believe that they’d disappeared into the mist. They’d made sure she wouldn’t think there was another alternative.

So why would they do that?

“Kerry!” Please answer. Please answer. Please be teasing me…

She leaned over the side of the bridge and hollered again. She even looked for footprints in the rain-soaked riverbanks but found nothing but her own deep, size-nines when she came back again.

They couldn’t have gone off either end of the bridge without her seeing. They didn’t go off the side.

She even scoured the top of it looking for possible trap doors or hiding places. And just in case it was some sort of Candid Camera deal, she stomped off down the road, in the opposite direction of town, and kept on going. She’d gone a good half mile before she’d burnt off enough frustration to come back again. And when she did, she came up slowly through a cluster of trees and just watched the bridge for a little while, camera on and ready.

Jordan chided herself for going so far, knowing the men could have snuck away while she was gone. Then she chided herself again for being paranoid.

What did it matter, in the end, why the men did what they did, however they’d done it? She should have just gone back to her rental and licked her wounds. Now she was just exhausted and hostile.

As she crossed the bridge one last time, headed back to Brechin, she held her breath and listened, hoping that somehow, she’d walked right past him. He’d reach out and take her hand and tell her he’d changed his mind…

She was still waiting when she reached the Bridgend Bar. Catherine unlocked the door and disappeared inside, then the open sign flashed.

May as well. No one to go back to. If she had to spend the afternoon alone in that apartment once more, with the smell of fried ham and blacksmith in the air, she’d cry the rest of the day away. Of course she wanted to be alone, but bartenders didn’t count, did they?

Besides, Catherine might know something.

~ ~ ~

Jordan nursed her Coke while she told the whole story to Catherine. She hadn’t intended to, of course. She’d only wanted to tell the part about Kerry disappearing on the bridge, and does that maybe happen often in Brechin, someone disappearing in the mist? And if so, do they ever come back?

But after a half hour of trying to sound rational, the story was out there, on the bar, waiting for Catherine’s analysis of it.

The woman flipped a bar towel over her shoulder and leaned her elbow on the counter. “Ye ken what I think?”

“What?”

“I think The Blacksmith of Brechin returned from the battlefield at last. Only, maybe he didn’t know he was dead, aye? And maybe this fellow on the bridge was the devil himself, come to catch him off hallowed ground.”

Jordan watched Catherine for a long time, waiting for the woman to break. But ultimately, she had to admit the bartender’s wife totally believed Kerry had been a ghost.

“And what did he say? That he didnae have anything to pay with? Not even his life?” She nodded violently. “Because he’d already lost it.”

“I’m pretty sure,” Jordan said, “that the devil can’t get his hands on honorable men. And Kerry is an honorable man.”

Catherine puckered her lips and made a face. “Maybe ye’re right about that. But he still might have been a ghostie. How else do ye explain him leaving with the mist, eh? Either that, or the wee folk could have taken him.” She went back to moving bottles and polishing the mirror behind them.

Jordan had one more detail she hadn’t intended to reveal, and she bit her lips together for a minute trying to decide whether that detail might change the other woman’s opinion. Eventually, after a shot of rum added to her drink, she decided it wouldn’t do any harm. She’d be leaving in the morning anyway, and if the town of Brechin laughed about Kerry and her for a good long time, it wouldn’t matter to her.

Catherine replaced the bottles, turned back to the bar, and narrowed her eyes. “What is it, lass?”

“Kerry said something else.”

“Aye?” Catherine was all ears again.

“In the beginning, I wanted to keep our relationship professional, you know? I didn’t want to get personal.”

“Heaven kens why ye’d want such a thing, but go on.”

“He said, since I didn’t want to get too attached, I should just think of him as a man from …Brigadoon…”

Catherine slapped her with the folded end of her towel. “There ye are, then. Ye should have said so.” Then she frowned. “But I thought it was only the one day.”

Jordan explained the joke behind version 2.0.

Finally, Catherine shouldered her towel again, leaned against the back wall, and folded her arms over her stomach. “I think that no matter what sort of magic it was that brought the man to Brechin, we ken he disappeared with the mist. We ken he shares the name and the very face of The Blacksmith. And we ken he cannot come back again. The only thing left is to decide…whether ye believe or no.”

Do ye believe or no? The words repeated in Jordan’s head for the next twenty-four hours, until she was finally seated on the airplane waiting to take off for New York. Until, at last, there was enough hustle and bustle to keep her distracted.

Though she’d requested a window seat, she’d been bumped to the middle, and she waited with dread to see who would end up sitting in the seats beside her. Someone too chatty? Too quiet? She didn’t know which would be worse. Maybe a woman with a baby would keep her entertained and help her forget about Scotland for a little while.

Although, it would be a long trip with a baby…

A woman twice her age came down the aisle staring at the numbers above the seats. She stopped at Jordan’s row and smiled, then pointed to the window seat. Jordan stepped into the aisle to let the woman in and realized there was another woman that looked just like the first…