TWENTY-NINE
Connor wiped the sweat from his brow. The leaves were changing color, the bite of autumn in the air. The bottle of water empty, he pulled another one from the cooler at his feet. Coolers were a great invention. He loved putting water or beer in one with ice, and two days later it was still cold.
“Fitz. Thought you and Tracy were headed to Florida.” He clapped his friend on the back. Fitz was dressed in slacks and a sweater vest with a bow tie, his hair neatly combed. “Your woman takes good care of you.”
“She does. We’re getting married in Florida. You’re welcome to come.”
Connor shook his head. “Nay. I have many eager to use a blade.”
“You might change your mind.” Fitz handed him a small package.
When Connor opened it, he gasped. “How?”
“It’s best if you don’t know. The passport is legitimate, as are the driver’s license and birth certificate. My gift to you.”
“I have gold to pay.”
“No. Without you, I couldn’t have escaped.” Fitz shook Connor’s hand. “I would have died in there.”
“Thank ye.” Connor pulled Fitz to him, clapping him on the back. “I will miss you both.”
“I have to go. We’re driving to Florida and Tracy is waiting.”
“Fitz?”
His friend turned, wiping his eye.
Connor placed a gold coin in his hand. He had plenty left. “A wedding gift.”
“It’s too much.”
But Connor shook his head. “’Tis rude to refuse a gift.”
“You know, I never asked, but one day, you’ll come to Florida, we’ll have a beer, look at the water, and you’ll tell me about Scotland.”
“I would like that.”
Fitz strolled away, calling out over his shoulder, “Medieval Scotland.”
So the sly old fox knew. Grinning, Connor gazed at his papers. He could go to Scotland, his homeland. Mellie would love it.
“Harrumph.”
But she did not love him. He must let her go.
As Connor put his blades away, one of the men from his class came back.
“Did ye forget something?”
The man held out a card. “I called my cousin. It’s not Scotland, but hear me out.”
Connor sat down on a bench, as did the man. Stuart was his name.
“Harry has a crumbling castle in Northern England. The place is incredibly expensive to maintain. He said you could live in the caretaker’s cottage and teach your sword and dagger classes on the estate. It would help my cousin, and you’d make a great deal of money—in fact, you could charge double or triple, and the people could stay in the intact wing of the castle. Say the word and I’ll let him know.”
’Twas a generous offer. “I will think on it.”
Stuart shook his hand. “You’ve got my card. Let me know when you decide.”
With the change of the seasons, Connor was restless. He woke to see the full moon shining down on the water. Matt, the guide, had given him a small room next to his at the fort until he found a place to live.
He walked along the fort, thinking. Why did he not go to England and make a life? Or go to Scotland and see his homeland? Settle there and start over.
Nay, he needs try one last time to go back to his own time. A baseball hat and baggy clothes would aid in his disguise. He put on his helmet and rode his motorcycle to the museum. The wife of one of his students left him for another, and he was hiding his money. He offered Connor the motorbike in exchange for classes. It went verra fast—if he could get back, he would miss the bike.
“We close in twenty minutes,” the woman at the desk said.
Connor dropped money into the box on her desk. “I willna be long.”
She told him how to get to the medieval gallery. No one else was there as he wandered from weapon to weapon, reading the stories, feeling disconnected from his old life and this time.
The case with the daggers and sword he had taken were in the center of the room. He placed his hands on the glass, and a buzzing noise sounded. The guard stuck his head in.
“You can’t touch the cases.”
Connor took a step back. “Apologies. I’ll be leaving in a few minutes.”
The guard went on his way, and Connor stood as close to the case as he could without touching it. He had three pennies left in the pocket of his jeans. He’d detoured to the mermaid fountain and made another wish before coming here.
He put the pennies on top of the case and closed his eyes. Mayhap the spirits would take pity on him.
But when he opened them, he was still standing there and a bell was sounding, followed by a voice saying the museum would close in five minutes.
Seemed neither of his wishes would come to pass. With a sigh, he left. ’Twas time to go home. If not back in time, then to Scotland in this time.