IntoEternity (34 page)

She had lost him. She had lost her one true love!

Indian summer had arrived once again—her favorite time of
the year. Halloween was only a week away and Gusty wanted to make it a
memorable occasion for her guys. With the help of Mrs. McClure, her landlady, Gusty
had planned a small costume party, inviting all the neighbor children over for
games and treats.

As she walked down to the mailbox she sighed a little sadly.
She always enjoyed the long walk down the narrow country lane. The afternoon
stroll had become a ritual. Every day for the last six months she had made the
same trek and it usually gave her pleasure and peace of mind. The panorama of
the high blue mountains in the distance and the sloping green valley below her
was breathtaking. She had chosen this small community in the rolling hills of
Idaho for the sole purpose of the security and privacy she found here.

In the beginning they had both been overwhelmed by the
transition. It had been hard losing everyone they loved in less than a few
moments of a devastating nightmare. Their life in the twelfth century had come
to an abrupt end that fateful day just over a year ago.

After Duncan had pulled her beneath Imogen’s sturdy
worktable, the room caved in around them, taking one end of the table down with
it. Gusty held Duncan close and they’d waited for the death that was sure to
come but the end of the heavy wood table above them saved their lives.

When the last ominous sounds of crashing stones and creaking
timbers faded and the dust settled Gusty and Duncan had somehow survived,
unharmed, lying under one end of the table in a small space covered in bits and
pieces of debris that had fallen from it as it collapsed. They were alive but
they were still trapped, buried under tons of rubble with no chance of digging
out. Gusty had felt like weeping for the helplessness of it all but then she’d felt
the small body clinging to her, trembling, and she knew she must be strong for
Duncan.

Gusty tried her best to comfort the boy but it had been hard
to keep the hopelessness out of her voice. If anyone else had survived the
disaster, it would take days to dig them out—if anyone even attempted a rescue.
There was a good chance they would be given up for dead.

“What are we going to do, Gusty?” Duncan had asked.

He’d wanted her reassurance and she’d not been sure she
could give it. She’d mentally shrugged and let her arms drop to her sides in a
hopeless gesture. There was absolutely nothing she could have told him in that
moment that wouldn’t have been an outright lie. And Duncan was smart enough to
recognize the truth.

Then beneath her hand she had felt a familiar object and
she’d moved her fingers over it to reassure herself that she’d found something
useful. She explored the item with her fingers and had felt like shouting for
joy. Her heart had raced as she’d sifted through the small bits of rubble around
her legs until she found what she had been looking for and then she’d smiled
broadly and sent up a silent thank-you prayer for small miracles. She’d
discovered a way out—but she’d need to work a little magic. When she lifted her
hand to Duncan’s small face and felt the wet cheeks beneath her fingers she
groaned in compassion and had placed a kiss on his dusty forehead.

“Duncan, lad, I have to be totally honest with you and I
need for you to be very brave. No one is going to come and rescue us. We are
buried under too much rubble.”

“I know, Gusty, we are going to die.”

He’d spoken with little feeling and she’d feared he was
going into shock. She remembered how his small body had trembled against hers.

“Now that is something I need to talk about with you. If
there were any other way out of here, I would not even consider what I am
considering.” She’d paused as she felt him raise his head as if listening to
her intently. “There is a slim chance we can get out of here but it will mean
doing something you might find a little unusual. Do you believe in magic,
Duncan?”

“Aye,” he said but his tone had reflected his doubt.

“Good, because I have a little magic to show you.” As she
spoke she’d placed the fat candle she found in one of his hands. “Hold this and
don’t move.”

In the dark she made a couple of strikes with the flint and
steel she’d also found and in the flickering light she could see the
candlewick. On the fourth strike the flame had caught and flared, giving them a
beacon of light in their dark world, a bit of hope.

“Ooooo! Oooo, Gusty, thank you, you do know magic! I do not
like the dark!”

“Neither do I, Duncan, neither do I. But this candle will
not last long and we need to use it wisely.” She’d shifted his small body off
her lap, which had been no small task in the confining space. “We need to find
the large black book Imogen had on this table. If some of the candles fell down
here there is a good chance other things fell as well.” She’d moved small rocks
and rubble around and twisted to reach as far as she could back underneath the
collapsed part of the table. At first she’d found nothing but then her fingers had
come in contact with what had to be the book. But as much as she’d stretched
she could not get a good hold on it. She’d tried to wedge herself into the
small area so she could pull it free but she found she could not move it. She remembered
that moment of disappointment.

“I can’t quite get hold of it.”

“Let me try.”

They’d maneuvered around until Duncan managed to wedge
himself into the sloping area until he got both hands on the book.

“Can you pull me back now?”

Gusty had grasped him about the waist and slowly dragged him
back. The book came with him. But her relief had been short-lived as the candle
flickered and she realized their air supply was dangerously low.

“I do not have time to explain what I am going to do in any
detail. I need you to trust me and I will do my best to get us out of here. All
I can tell you is that magic brought me to you in the forest the first time and
now magic will save us both. I know you don’t understand what I’m trying to
tell you. But someday you will. For now you will just have to trust me and do
as I say. Okay?”

Duncan had stared at her with a wide, puzzled gaze but he’d
nodded in agreement.

She remembered the hopeful look on his face when she’d handed
him the candle. She’d been careful as she pulled the book onto her lap and
turned the pages, looking for the incantation Imogen used to take Gusty back to
the twelfth century. She’d prayed her idea would work. The candle had flickered
lower and sputtered. With flying fingers she’d searched for the words of the
spell and then she’d taken Duncan’s small, trembling hand in hers and she’d
chanted the spell she hoped would transport them to the future. The words were
barely out of her mouth when the candle had gone out, leaving them in total
darkness.

When she and Duncan had first landed in the future she was
shocked to find it was only a week or so later than when she had disappeared
into the past. She didn’t understand why but it seemed the time continuum
between the past and the present moved at different speeds. While she had spent
over a year in the twelfth century, when she and Duncan traveled back to the
twenty-first century the worm hole had spit them out close to the same date she
had started her fantastic journey.

Their crashing arrival into the future had not gone
unnoticed. They received odd looks from one pedestrian and from a woman driving
by in her car when they suddenly appeared in the middle of the sidewalk,
covered in dust, their ancient Scottish clothing tattered and torn. She had
managed to flag down a taxi to take them to her house.

When they arrived Gusty was surprised to find her car parked
in the driveway. Michael must have moved it there before he made his way to
twelfth-century Scotland. Finding the spare key under a garden stone, Gusty
pushed Duncan into their temporary sanctuary.

A knock on the front door reminded her that she again had
monetary responsibilities. She opened the door to find the taxi driver, waiting
to be paid his fare.

“Sorry. Just a minute.” She found a twenty, handed it over,
thanked him and closed the door.

They had stayed there until Gusty made arrangements with a
real estate agency to sell the property. With money from the sale and the
substantial amount of money in her bank account she and Duncan started a new
life in a new century.

Gusty had decided from the moment they materialized back in
the future that night it would be best to find a secluded area where Duncan
could adjust to this new world and his new life. But she had not needed to
worry about the young boy. He was adapting well, much better than she had
expected in fact. He liked everything about the twenty-first century—the
clothes, the food and the books and magazines with pictures.

Four months after arriving back in the twentieth century she
delivered her son, Seamus Alexander Malcolm Michael Sutherland. He had come
screaming in protest into this world after being expelled from the warm and
safe haven of his mother’s body. Gusty had been delighted when her new son was
placed in her arms for the first time but tears blinded her as she realized he
would never know his father.

Seamus seemed to take on more of his father’s
characteristics with every passing day. Gusty tried not to dwell upon those
last few moments she’d held Alexander’s hand in hers and looked into his
beloved face. Instead, she put all her energies into her infant son and young
nephew. Her two little guys… The boys were quite a handful. But she would have them
no other way, even if she needed a few minutes to herself once in a while. That
was why she enjoyed the walk to the mailbox to collect what little
correspondence they received.

Mrs. Anna McClure had volunteered to watch Duncan for an
hour or so every afternoon when she found out Gusty was a single parent, just
to give her a break. At first she had resisted the offer but when she became
heavy with her pregnancy she had accepted the extra help with pleasure. The
arrangement worked out well for both women—Gusty had someone to take care of
Duncan when she went to the local hospital to have Seamus and Anna was a single
grandmother who loved children but had none who lived very close. Gusty had been
grateful for her help, especially when she came home with the robust, squalling
boy eight months earlier. The baby took up a great deal of her time. He was
definitely his father’s son, big and loud and demanding.

Right now, Mrs. McClure was up at the house making Duncan’s
favorite cookies and listening to his stories and answering his never-ending
questions. The child had proven to be a great comfort to her, especially on her
blue days and there had been many of those. He was bright and cheerful for the
most part, and he was adjusting well to his new environment. He kept her busy
with his constant demands on her time, asking for explanations for each new
discovery.

Flipping open the squeaking mailbox door, Gusty looked
inside to find several pieces of mail awaiting her perusal. She pulled them out
and closed the box and then turned to retrace her steps back up the lane to the
farmhouse. She absently glanced through the envelopes, reading the return
addresses.
Bill,
bill,
junk
mail…what
the—?
Gusty
stopped dead in her tracks. She clutched the letter tightly as the rest of her
mail fluttered to the ground.

The plain white envelope looked like any other but the
scrawling handwriting on the front was familiar, the lettering large and bold,
flowing with elegance and power. Was it possible?
Maeve?

Her breath stilled for a moment and then she began to
hyperventilate. Surely this was a joke. She glanced around, half expecting to
find Duncan peeking out at her from behind a tree to see how she reacted to his
prank, but no…Duncan was with Mrs. McClure, back at the house, and his
penmanship had a long way to go before he could form such fancy letters… Gusty
shook her head and ripped open the envelope.

Inside was a plain white invitation, one that could be
purchased from any stationary store, with the words
You Are Cordially
Invited
printed in gold-leaf letters across the front. She lifted the flap
and read the invitation’s details. Frowning, she re-read the words. Something
seemed…odd. The language…this wasn’t English. The entire text was written in…Gaelic?
The address on the front of the envelope had been in English but the inside of
the invitation was written entirely in that old Scottish language. In essence
it translated to read:

You Are Cordially
Invited

To witness the
union of

Clan Sinclair and
Clan Mackay as

Isabelle MacKay

And

Malcolm Sinclair

Are married in a

Ceremony of
jubilation

On Saturday, the
thirty-first of October

At seven o’ clock
in the evening

Sinclair Castle

Scotland

Tears filled Gusty’s eyes and she had to wipe them away
before she read through the information again and again. Hope bloomed anew in
her heart.

I can go back! We can go back!
Bless you, Maeve
and Hagen!

Clutching the invitation to her chest, she ran up the lane
toward the house. She took the stairs two at a time and burst through the door,
calling for Duncan. He and Mrs. McClure appeared in the kitchen doorway with
worried looks on their faces. Duncan clutched his favorite food in his hand, a
peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“What is wrong, Gusty? Why are you yelling?”

“Pack your things, Duncan. We are leaving for Scotland,” she
announced as she headed up the stairs to their rooms. “Mrs. McClure, Anna, I
need to talk to you about the house. Could you make some coffee, please? I need
to get my lock box from my room. Oh God! There is so much to do. It looks as if
Duncan and Seamus and I are moving to Scotland.”