My house, even with my paltry three boxes of stuff was cold and dark and empty. I put a box down in the living room and went down for another and then another. Then, last, the groceries. I placed the ice cream on a barren shelf in the freezer and then sat at the counter island in front of my bags of dinner. I unwrapped a burger and took a big bite, chewed it, and then another. The paper wrapping echoed. My chewing filled my head. My thoughts raced around and around in circles, keeping all else away. Like an echo. It reminded me of being back in time when my body echoed inside myself.

For some reason I couldn’t stop thinking about Ewan’s arm across my throat as I struggled to breathe, and then his throat, cut, his body slumped to the ground. His face beaten by my husband and — I dropped my head to the cold marble counter of the kitchen island, pressed, my eyes clamped, close to hyperventilating, icy cold fear crawling up my spine — I heard a noise.

The house was lit up brightly. I couldn’t see outside at all. I slunk to the light switch and dimmed the interior so I could see the empty deck. Nothing.

Then I heard another noise, this one from inside the house. Someone was upstairs.

My heart raced. I crept along the wall to the kitchen drawer that used to have knives and pulled it open. Empty.

I backed up into the short hall to the laundry room. I might find something to use as a weapon, a can of something, or — on the counter was a heavy glass dish full of potpourri, a common scent, dubbed ‘the beach’. It didn’t smell like a beach at all, but I thought it was awesome.

I dumped the potpourri on the floor and held the bowl back ready to swing. I watched the stairs for whoever was coming down.

I stayed like that quietly waiting, terrified, for what seemed like hours. The noise happened again, it sounded like footsteps.

And then without a doubt, a door opening.

I had no phone. If I ran, I could get to the door and make a break for it. I walked stealthily, around the edge of the kitchen toward the front door, still holding the glass dish like a weapon. Feet descended the steps — “Who is it, who’s there?” — woolen skirts — I was staring dumbfounded at my mother-in-law, her cold icy gaze glaring at me from the stairs.

“Kaitlyn Campbell, I would like a word.”

“Jesus, Lady Mairead, how did you—? Where did you—?”

“I have a key. Tis my fortune that has paid for this…” She looked around distastefully. “I arrived earlier today. I am still in agony, though doing better, thank ye.”

“Oh.” I said dumbly. And put the glass dish back on the counter. My footsteps crunched across the kitchen floor through the spilled potpourri. “Um, why are you—where is Magnus, is he okay?”

She dismissed my question with a wave of her hand. “I have come tae have a word with ye, daughter.” Her words were like ice and frankly kind of scary.

My heart was still beating in my ears.

“Magnus is gone, you will nae see him again.” She ran a hand down the front of her bodice and skirt as if brushing off the bad news.

“Oh my god, is he — oh my god — I don’t—“ I grabbed hold of the counter to steady myself.

She walked down the steps to me. “You have done your work most effectively. Taking my fortune, ridding yourself of Magnus, stealing my vessel. A most effective theft, I am impressed at your brazenness.”

“That’s not — I love Magnus.” I put my hand over my mouth. My limbs were shaking.

“Och, aye, love. Interesting concept, but ye, my dear — Signed. A. Contract.” She slammed the handwritten contract I signed last summer down on the counter, right between my half-eaten Big Mac and a cardboard container with all my fries, now cold. My wedding contract.

“I will remind ye that the contract was with me and when you signed it I made myself clear. You would. Keep. Magnus. Here.”

I chewed my lip.

“Was that nae my intent? When I told ye tae marry Magnus, was that nae what I said — for ye tae keep him here?” Her voice was loud and dangerous sounding.

I nodded.

“Answer me!”

“Yes.”

She set her jaw. “Explain tae me what my intent was.” She eyed me, her brow furrowed, her glare intense.

I looked away. “For me to keep Magnus here, to give him a reason to stay, to protect him.”

“Tae protect him.” Her eyes were so hard and cruel that I couldn’t raise mine to meet them.

“I have been in hiding, and during that time I have found that my son has returned tae Scotland twice. Twice! My husband beat him. Has imprisoned him.”

“I’m sorry. I tried to keep him here, but he had reasons—“

She scoffed, malevolently. “Reasons. And now ye speak tae me of love. You came tae my time and now my nephew Ewan is dead. My son Sean is imprisoned. My brother is raising an army against my husband. There will be a war.” She banged a hand down on the wedding contract. “Explain how your marriage tae my son turned out so terribly for me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Och, aye, you don’t know.” She leveled her gaze.

“Is Magnus dead?”

“It dinna matter tae ye. Get used tae the fact that ye and Magnus arna tae be together anymore.”

“We’re married, in church. You can’t decide that we can’t be together —“ I hated the sound of my voice. I sounded like a petulant child against a pissed off parent and while true, the stakes were so much higher.

“Magnus Campbell is dead tae ye. He has been dead now for three hundred years. You have married a ghost, and if ye wants tae continue on pretending tae be married tae a ghost then tis nae matter tae me. You shall do as ye wish. But know this, Kaitlyn Campbell, ye winna see him again.”

“I — I don’t… please, this is… is he alive in the 18th century? If I could just see him, I could make this better. I’ll be better at it.”

“Give me the vessel ye stole from Magnus.” She held out her palm.

I shook my head. “No, you can’t have it. He gave it to me, and I might—“

“You have one option that ye live through. And that is tae give me the vessel. I have three weapons on my person as we speak, and I am capable of using all of them. I assume ye are unarmed, else ye winna have been yielding a fancy glass bowl earlier.”

My eyes flitted to the door and in one move she had my arm yanked behind my back and the sharp point of a knife at my throat. I tried to draw away, but she held me firm. “I want the vessel. Now.” Her breath was hot and smelly, putrid, like death, on my cheek. Tears rolled down my face. “Please don’t take it, it’s the only way I can get to him if I need to.”

“Exactly.” Her knife pressed at my pulse on my neck.

“It’s in my bag.”

She released me, shoving me against a barstool.

I dug through my purse for the vessel and placed it in her palm. “Magnus gave it to me. He made me take it. He saved my life.”

“Yes, a word of advice, cherish that memory. I have many memories of lost loves performing acts of chivalry for me. You will need something tae keep ye company as ye suffer long nights of widowhood. Or perhaps ye will get lucky and have a second marriage or a third. They are often far more complicated, but have their own merits. Mine have been verra useful tae me through the years. Now nae so much. But tis the penalty of being a woman, ye must handle the men of your life.”

“You haven’t told me if he’s alive. I need to know — I…”

She dropped the vessel into the sporran-like bag she wore at her waist. “You daena need tae know anything about him. You have forfeited your claim.“

“If he is alive he’s going to come for me. You won’t be able to stop him.”

She crossed to the sliding doors and opened them. “He has no way to get to you, and you have no way to get to him.” She stately walked across the deck and down the boardwalk.

“Stop, please!”

I would never ever see him. I would never know. I would never find out.

I ran after her, through the open sliding door, across the deck, and down the boardwalk. “Lady Mairead, please tell me what happened to Magnus. I don’t understand. I know you’re upset, but I love him. I want to protect him. If he’s alive, please let me see him.”

She stopped mid walk and stood for a half moment, then she turned fast and charged me with a knife. It was raised and aimed for my heart.

When I cowered she bore over me with her teeth bared. “You had a job, and ye dinna perform your duties.”

She stepped forward, within striking distance, forcing me to step back, concentrating my gaze on the raised knife point.

“But because I am kind, I will spare your life. Tis as my late son, Magnus, would have wished, and it does me nae harm tae allow ye tae live in this future.” She lowered the knife. “Tis easy tae allow ye tae live, because ye mean nothing.”

She turned and walked down the boardwalk to the beach, her feet echoing, thud, thud, thud. It was about seven pm; the sky had gone dark already. The January winds whipped the sea grass, my hair, Lady Mairead’s skirts.

I crumpled on the handrail. “Please!” But my words were whisked away behind me

As soon as Lady Mairead’s feet hit the sand, she began reciting numbers. Clouds rose to the heavens, coming from the north. A wind roared like a locomotive and lightning arced from the front edge. Lady Mairead faced the storm and with a boom and a flash of light she was gone.

I collapsed to the boardwalk and sobbed.