The next day was fair, and Andrea was awake and dressed early. She had found a selection of clothing in the large chest, including a long tunic dress of a beautiful red berry hue and long woolen stockings to match. A deep blue cloak would keep her warm in the early sea breeze and a pair of black leather slippers would protect her feet. They were not very practical, but perhaps women of a certain class were not expected to walk far. They were so different from her multipurpose sneakers she used to pound the streets of New York.
Andrea had to wait to be released from her bondage. She expected Helena, but when she heard the key in the lock and the door opened, she was half relieved to see the young nun from the day before with the beautiful smile. Silently, she brought in a tray containing bread, cheese, and a goblet of ale, laying it out on the bed before bowing her head and leaving the room.
As the footsteps died away down the corridor, Andrea realized that the door had been left unlocked. She was free to venture out on her own at last. Tying the bread and cheese into the large white square of material that had covered the food, she slipped silently out of the door and down the corridor to the outside door and was away.
Never had fresh air smelled so sweet, the rosemary and lavender from the garden filling the dewy air with their soft scents. It was the smell of freedom. Following a little worn path across the grass, she made her way down to the shore overlooking Mull. No ferry this time, just a few old fishing boats and the heathery purples of the distant hill of Ben More. The view was breathtaking and just the right thing to clear her head. Choosing a sheltered and secluded spot beneath a clump of apple trees, she spread her cloak across the ground to sit and eat her breakfast.
Today she would make a plan to get home. She just needed to think, to try and recall some of Grandma Betty’s words. She would convince Alex that all was well, and she would take away his worries. If that meant lying with him, then so be it; she did not want a man’s death on her conscience, whatever time or place. She had done much worse in her time and not necessarily for a noble end. There was something about Alex that drew her to him, and he seemed to be a good man. They were rare.
The sun was rising high, and the bread and cheese tasted good out in the open air. Leaning her back against the tree trunk, she closed her eyes against the warmth, still tired after her disturbed night.
“Andra.”
The voice was soft and low, and at first she wondered if she had really heard it, or if it was just the water lapping against the rocks.
“Andra!”
This time she opened her eyes to see Alex standing in front of her.
“Andra, I came out looking for you. Helena said you had gone walking?”
Helena’s prying eyes saw everything. Perhaps she had instructed the younger girl to leave the door open to see what she would do?
“I needed the fresh air and decided to eat my meal down here. It’s such a beautiful day.”
Alex sat next down next to her and the pair was silent for a few moments before Alex broke the peace.
“Andra, about last night, I—”
She interrupted before he could finish
“I said too much, Alex. I was just tired. I feel much better today.”
Picking up one of her small hands, he cradled it softly in his own much larger hands, looking her fully in the face.
“I believe you, Andra, all you said last night. I do not know how it can be true, but I believe it and I need to know more.”
His face was so trusting, yet she didn’t know where to start.
“Tell me about Andra, my Andra.”
For the next half an hour, Andrea told Alex all she knew about her grandma’s experience on the island in 1956, which was pretty patchy and scant at best. But the she told him about her marriage to Grandpa Joe, her children and grandchildren, and her happy and long life.
Her heart ached to watch his face as she talked about the woman he loved so much and her other life without him.
“And she is still well?”
Andrea had purposely left out the details of Betty’s recent death—it seemed too cruel and heartless—but she had to be honest.
“She died a few weeks ago, she was 93 years old.”
His eyes misted over as he looked across the water to the shoreline.
“I’m so sorry, Alex.”
Smiling softly, he squeezed her hand. “It is a lot to take in, to believe, but if I think my dearest one has had a good life, then I can be happy for her. From the way I look at it, if what you say is true, then she still has all of her life to live, long after I am dead. It seems that life is renewed, whether we are reborn from our ancestors or...”
Alex stopped short with a catch in his throat, and Andrea squeezed his hand for him to continue.
“Go on.”
His lips wavered and his eyes shone in the morning light. “I was just going to say that we live on in our children.” And with that, a giant sobbing sound rose from his throat as he struggled to maintain his composure, and a few heavy tears rolled from his eyes which he quickly brushed away.
“It is of no consequence.”
“You lost a son. That must have been a difficult time.”
Alex hung his head and deeply breathed in the morning air.
“It was only ten days ago that it happened. Everything had been going so well. Andra was blooming, and then suddenly she became very sick and the child was born too soon. He was perfect in every way. Andra held on to him and wouldn’t let the little body out of her arms. Her grief was almost too much to bear. So was mine, but I had to be strong. We named him after me and buried him in the grounds of the little chapel. Andra got weaker and weaker and refused to eat and eventually lay unconscious. We thought she would die, and after a long and sleepless night, I headed for the Abbey to pray for her soul, not expecting her to live, and that was when I saw you.”
Andra remembered the grave of Alexhander MacDonald; it was where she had stood that first morning, just before she found herself part of this strange experience. The death of the child had been significant.
“Maybe Andra did die, and that was the trigger for Grandma Betty to return back to her own time?”
“But what brought her here in the first place? She was found like you in the graveyard of St. Oran. Anyway, Andra did not die, not exactly, and you seem to have taken her place?”
Andrea looked at Alex. A picture was forming, but the significance still wasn’t clear.
“The ancient rune seems to have played a part, but now Helena has that.”
Reaching into his pocket, Alex brought out the small, pale stone. “I have it now. Here, take it back.”
Shaking her head, Andrea refused the offering.
“I think it’s safer with you, Alex. I have nowhere to hide it in my room, and Helena will find it.”
“Surely you are not afraid of my sister?”
His blue eyes were honest and open. She did not trust Helena, but she did not know why. Call it a hunch, but it was nothing she could verbalize, especially not to such a loyal brother.
“I just think it would be safer if you kept it for now.”
“But you do want to return to your own time?” His voice was sad.
Reaching across to him, she laid her hand softly on his. Of course she needed to return to her own time, but it would be hard to leave him. It was a tender act, and she could feel her fingers tremble with emotion. His hand brushed her arm, so delicately that it was hard to imagine those strong hands fighting and killing in battle.
Her heart began to beat wildly, and it was as if she had always loved him. Part of her had always known it, deep inside. Bringing his face towards her, his lips lightly touched hers. A ripple of electricity passed through her at his touch, as the soft, full lips met hers. She had never felt so heady.
The weight of his body pushed her against the ground, and she felt helpless against his passion, not wanting it any other way. His kisses became more fervent, his mouth hard against hers as their lips slipped together in passion.
His hands moved up her body, finding her small, pert breasts and started to fondle them gently. Never had she abandoned herself so freely to passion. She moaned gently, arching her back towards him, feeling his hardness pushing against her.
The sound of voices approaching brought their lovemaking to a sharp halt. Alex sat up quickly, his face flushed and his breathing heavy.
“Tonight is my last night before I ride away. I must come to you.”
“Yes.” Her voice was weak with longing.
“Come, we will visit the grave together.”
Taking her hand and pulling her up, he fixed the cloak around her and proceeded to brush away the pieces of twig and grass. He was so attentive, so chivalrous, so unlike the men she had met in her life so far. Steve wouldn’t have even contemplated sitting on the grass in case he ruined his designer jeans.
It was quiet in the graveyard and the pair held each other close for support. The headstone had yet to be carved, and in its place as a temporary measure was a small wooden cross.
The grave was so small and so simple that Andrea felt a wealth of grief overcome her. She, too, had wanted children and if she wasn’t careful, time would run out for her. Steve had made it clear that he didn’t want any children, and she thought she had been happy with that decision, his decision. Now she realized how deeply she longed for a child, to feel a new life warm inside her.
Alex removed the stone from his pocket and held it out to her. They were at the place where it had all started, and it could be her passage home. He gently pressed the rune into her hand as he tenderly kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes and waited. Nothing happened, and she was half relieved. As much as she wanted to return to her own time, she had unfinished business with this man, this kind and unselfish man.