Chapter Nineteen
Morning came with a round of fog, and I sighed. I wouldn’t be climbing hills in my back brace, but I did wonder if I would ever see Dun Eistean under the sun in the twenty-first century.
Dylan arrived, reassuring me that the fog would clear within a few hours.
“It will be bonny, you will see. Of course, you’ve seen the island at a different time, haven’t you?”
I nodded. I stared at the road ahead, straining to see the steel bridge where the gate had once stood. We pulled into the parking area before I could see the bridge.
Rather than have Dylan tote my backpack around, I left it at the MacIvers so that all he had to carry was his own pack before helping me from the car. I followed him to the edge of the bridge, familiar fear rising as I heard waves crashing on the rocks below.
“The tide is in,” he said, turning to look at me as I paused.
“I had almost forgotten I’m afraid of heights,” I said. I strained to see across the bridge. The gate no longer stood there—only a ringed mound remained of the stone walls guarding most of the island.
Dylan reached for my hand. “The bridge is sturdy.”
“I know. It’s a combination of a lot of things.”
“I understand,” he said, leading me across.
I stopped at the opposite end of the bridge and reached out a hand as if I could touch Torq’s face, as if he did indeed wait for me there.
“I would let you linger here for a while, but after losing you to the fog last time, I am reluctant.”
Dylan tugged at my hand, and I left my imagined gate guard and walked with him across the tabletop and around to the side of the keep. Even now, the fog seemed to be lifting as the sun tried to break through. I heard the sound of the waves, and I longed to look down on the beach below, where I knew the Highlanders had bathed, where the birlinns had been stored. But that would have to wait for better visibility.
We approached the tables where Debra stood talking to a few other people. She turned when she saw us.
“Cyn!” she said, coming toward me. I winced as she hugged me, and she dropped her hands.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think. Dylan said he was bringing you back. Welcome back! How are you feeling?”
The other students and several faculty members watched and listened. As usual, I was the center of attention again...in an unwanted way.
“So what’s on then?” Dylan said to everyone, intuitively shepherding them away.
“I’m fine, thank you,” I said. I still wasn’t clear what Dylan had told Debra about me, but I was about to find out.
“I’m so sorry that you broke your back,” she said. “Dylan wasn’t very clear though. Where did you disappear to for those days? And how did you end up in sixteenth-century traditional dress? The clothing looked quite authentic. Really, only a historical costumer would have known how to fashion such a bodice.”
“What?” I stalled.
“What happened to you?”
I braced a hand on one of the tables for support as I faced her. Wisps of fog floated around us, providing me a bit of masking. I really wanted her to leave me alone. I just wanted to feel Torq’s presence, and the practicalities of answering twenty-first century questions was interfering in my illusion...or delusion.
“Well, it’s hard to explain,” I said. “I could say that I fell through time. But other than that, I really can’t explain. I appreciate your concern though. Thank you.”
Debra opened and closed her mouth, and as I had hoped, she let it go. What else could she do?
“Oh! Well, if you can’t talk about it, I guess you can’t.”
I put a hand to the small of my back, as if that prevented me from speaking. My injury was coming in handy.
Her eyes dropped to my gesture.
“Are you in pain? I should stop bothering you.”
“It hurts,” I said with a nod.
Dylan appeared in the mist.
“Well, let’s get you settled then, Cyn, shall we?” He retrieved a stool from under the table and pulled it out for me. “Will this work?”
“Yes,” I said.
Debra looked at us uncertainly. “Well, I guess I’ll just head over to where we left off yesterday.”
“Good idea, Debra,” Dylan said. “I’ll check in shortly.”
Debra left, throwing us a backward glance, and disappeared around toward the front of the keep.
“You didn’t tell her much, did you?” I whispered.
“No, I didn’t. I didn’t know what to say. Although I knew what had happened to you and tried to cover it up, I wasn’t sure what else to say. In time, the authorities would have come looking for you, I think.”
“Maybe,” I said. “If anyone at home had missed me.”
Dylan tsked but didn’t add to the conversation. He bent down to look under the table, where most of the researchers’ personal belongings were stored, including their backpacks.
“Is the material that needs to be catalogued and stored under there? I can’t really bend, but if you set it out on the table, I can do the job.”
“Material?” he repeated, picking up his pack.
“Artifacts?”
“Oh, aye! Artifacts. Yes, they are under here. I’ll just pull those out.”
He set his backpack down and retrieved several boxes, resealable polyethylene bags, clipboard, pen and other items necessary for cataloguing.
“We won’t clean the artifacts here but will send them down to the university to be cleaned in the lab.”
“Yes, of course.”
I surveyed the materials before me. Most of the artifacts were bits of pottery. Nothing looked particularly familiar.
Dylan picked up his backpack, stared at it and set it down again.
“Are you hiding more muffins in there?” I said with a faint smile. “I thought we ate them all!”
Dylan chuckled, then his face sobered. He chewed on his lip thoughtfully.
“How is your back?”
“Stiff,” I said. “I couldn’t whirl back through time, that’s for sure.” I had meant to laugh but found no humor in my comment.
“No, of course not,” Dylan said, shifting from foot to foot restlessly.
“Do you think you could help me get down to the beach later when the fog burns off?” I asked. “I know you’re busy, but...”
“The beach below, where they stored the birlinns?”
“Yes, there was a path. It’s pretty steep, but—” I shook my head. “No, never mind! It’s too much trouble.”
“No, I would be happy to, Cyn. I’ll leave you to work now. I brought a thermos of tea if you would like some.” He bent down and retrieved it from his pack before stowing the pack under the table.
“Thank you! I am a bit chilled this morning.”
“See you later!” he said.
I spent the next few hours concentrating on bits of clay pottery and wondering if Ann had held one pot or Mistress Glick another or if another bit had been handled by John or...Torq. My redheaded Scot was never far from my mind. If I had ever wanted to forget about Torq, about the loss I felt, I should not have returned to Dun Eistean. But I didn’t want to forget about him. I felt closer to him on the island than anywhere else, and I catalogued the artifacts with loving affection.
Other students and faculty stopped by the table to dig into their own bags or packs for refreshments or personal comfort items. Most paused to examine the artifacts spread out before me and to chat briefly about the cataloguing. Thankfully, no one else asked me about my mysterious disappearance or reappearance, though I caught some sideways glances. I did a lot of pretending that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, and when I placed my hand on the small of my back, everyone let me do it.
Dylan returned about noon. The fog had burned off, and the sun shone cheerily down on the emerald-green grass tabletop that was Dun Eistean. Although I had seen pictures of present-day Dun Eistean, I had not actually been able to see the tidal sea stack clearly before.
Where the keep once stood fourteen feet high, only a large mound remained, and I knew painfully well that the remnants of the keep were buried in that mound. I scanned the tabletop for the other mounds, knowing them to be the boathouse, crofts, a kiln and the wall surrounding two-thirds of the island. I didn’t feel compelled to share that information since archaeologists had already documented those discoveries and findings. Their deductions had been correct.
“Are you ready?” Dylan asked. He picked up his backpack and shouldered it.
“I am. I appreciate you taking the time to do this. Are you sure you don’t have muffins in there?” I chuckled, nodding at his pack.
“I never said that I didn’t,” he said with a smile
Debra approached.
“Are you two going somewhere?”
Dylan threw me a hasty look. I think that was the first time I wondered if he thought of me as something more than just a friend. I hurried to answer.
“Dylan was going to help me go down to the beach. Do you want to come?”
Of course, I didn’t really want more people down on the beach while I wallowed in my memories of Torq, but I wasn’t about to come between Dylan and Debra. I wondered if he saw himself as my savior, my knight in shining armor. He might very well have been, except for Torq.
“The beach?” She turned to look at Dylan, who looked down at the ground.
I frowned at him. “Yes, the beach.”
“No, I don’t think so. Thanks! I need to run back to the house where I’m staying and change my jeans. These are wet and miserable.”
I looked down at her muddy knees, a typical state of affairs for diggers.
“See you later then,” Dylan said.
“Okay.” Debra, turning away, paused. “Hey! You sent that dagger down to the university, didn’t you?”
I froze. No one that morning had mentioned the dagger. Leave it to Debra. I stopped breathing for wanting the dagger, until the pounding in my ears reminded me to take a breath.
Dylan frowned. “Yes,” he said briefly.
I barely noted his abrupt reply to Debra, so lost was I in a wave of grief.
“Okay. I was just wondering.”
She left, never knowing what havoc she had wreaked with the acceptance I had struggled with that morning.
I braced a hand on the table.
“The dagger,” I murmured.
“I’m sorry,” Dylan said. “Let’s go down to the beach and try to cheer you up.”
I nodded and followed him toward the edge of the tabletop. My heart started racing as I stopped abruptly at the edge of the cliff.
“Oh man! I did not remember how steep this was!”
“Remember?” Dylan said, pausing with me.
“Yes, it’s a memory.”
“It must have been a good one,” he said with a faint smile.
“Very.” I said no more.
“We’ll go slow.” He took my hand and started to lead me down the rocky path, which had changed little over the years. Fortunately, the tide had receded, and the beach was exposed, appearing much as it had.
“Dylan,” I began, following his steps carefully.
“Aye?”
I supposed climbing down a rocky cliffside path wasn’t the best way to introduce a complicated subject.
“You know that I consider you a good friend, right? I couldn’t have managed without your help and support.”
“Thank you,” he said, looking over his shoulder toward me.
“So...” I searched for words.
“So?”
“You’re not misunderstanding anything, are you?”
“Misunderstanding what?” He looked over his shoulder again, a twinkle in his eyes that I barely caught as I watched my step.
“How I feel about you?”
“And how do you feel about me, Mistress Dunnon?”
His use of the old-fashioned title took me by surprise. For a moment, I saw John’s face. We neared the bottom of the path, and I held my response for a moment.
“There!” he said as we reached the pebbled beach. “We made it!”
“I think going up is much harder!” I said with a half smile.
“So?”
“So like I said, I value your friendship and support, and if there is anything I can do for you, please let me know. But that’s all it is. Friendship.”
His smile broadened.
“I know that, Cyn. I was only teasing. I am seeing Debra.”
I tried walking on the pebbles toward the shoreline, but the ground was too uneven. I reached out, and Dylan took my hand.
“Well, if you’re seeing Debra, why were you so abrupt with her?”
“I didn’t mean to be. Perhaps in time, I will explain it to her.”
“Explain what?”
“The time travel.”
He led me to a spot just out of reach of the surf and eased me down to a sitting position on the beach. I sat more erect than most people would on the beach, I suppose, but it was all I could do.
“Really? You’re going to tell her? Don’t I have a say in that?”
I looked down the beach at the boulder behind which the men had bathed. As in my dream, I visualized Torq walking toward me with water streaming down his bare chest.
“I might do,” Dylan said. He set his pack down between us and unzipped it.
“Look, Dylan. Let’s not break muffins together until we agree on why you need to tell Debra about me. This is my secret. I know you’re in on it, but it is my secret. I’m not ready to share it with the world. I will probably never want to share this knowledge.”
Dylan bent over and peeked into his pack.
“Dylan? Are you listening to me? This is important!”
“You might think this is as well.” He didn’t look up at me.
“What?”
“Look.”
I tried to bend forward but couldn’t.
“I can’t. Is this about muffins? Can you just give me one and promise me that you won’t tell anyone about me?”
“If you want a muffin, you’re welcome to one, but you’ll have to move something aside.”
He lifted the bag and tipped it toward me so that I could see inside. The sun caught the glint of shining silver.