A Heartbeat Back to the Highlands Read online

  A Heartbeat Back to the Highlands

  Deborah Stigall

  Smashwords Edition

  COPYRIGHT 2008 © by DEBORAH R. STIGALL

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved

  ISBN 978-0-557-01373-9

  Discover other titles by Deborah Stigall at Smashwords.com:

  Seven Moons Back to the Highlands

  Awakening Her Soul to Destiny

  Twice Upon a Soul

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Ronan! Today? Is today the day we die?”

  Dagun’s shout swept across the deck of the ship, carried away by the wind and the driving rain. He’d been thru many a storm during his life at sea but this one was a bit too harsh for his liking. The deck pitched wildly with the crashing waves, throwing the men about as though they were naught but a wee bairn’s doll. He wrapped his arms in the rigging to keep from slamming against the sides of the ship…or worse…to keep from being claimed by the sea.

  “Bheara willna’ harm us. She’s but tossing us about for a bit of fun.” Ronan easily stood at the wheel, his feet spread and balanced as though the ship was but a gently rocking cradle.

  “Aye…I’m glad ye’re so sure of the Sea Goddess and her moods,” Dagun sputtered as another salty blast knocked him off his feet.

  Ronan’s smile flashed into the driving rain, his face raised into the lashing wind. Gripping the wheel, his pulse quickened with each swell and heave of the sea, his rumbling laughter heard over the howl of the gale. His soul sang as he watched the thunderous clouds stirring like a cook pot close to overflowing. He was completely at home in the arms of the untamable ocean, infinitely trusting in his beloved Sea Goddess Bheara.

  Ronan believed completely in the mystical ways of the Goddess and the powerful energies flowing thru his world. He had been conceived in the dream plane….his mother a powerful twenty-first century witch, his father a time traveling Scottish laird. Ronan’s name had been chosen by the Goddess Brid herself….for his destiny was to have dominion over the sea and all the creatures in it. A wee storm stirred up by Bheara for her own amusement was tonic to his very being.

  “Douse canvas! She can’t take much more o’this wind!” Dagun roared against the maelstrom, eyeing the creaking mast straining against the force of the gale. If they didn’t get the sails dropped quickly, the mast would surely snap, dragging them all to the unforgiving depths below.

  Shaking his head, Ronan laughed as he watched his terrified crewmen staggering across the deck. Each of them glancing fearfully up into the sky, praying they’d see home one more time before they died.

  “Bheara! Enough! Ye’ve toyed with them enough! Leave off and move on to pester some other poor unsuspecting mortals.”

  No sooner had the words left his lips then the winds and the rain immediately ceased and the sun peered thru the dissipating clouds. A rich golden voice floated across on the breeze, barely whispering against the water. “My beautiful Ronan, ye know I was having but a bit of fun wi’ye.”

  “I know, my Goddess, and ye know how I love the storms.” Ronan smiled up into the whitening clouds, his coal black hair lifting in the wind as the Goddess’ presence filled the air. “But I’m afraid the fury that sparks my blood tends to drain the very marrow from my crew’s bones.”

  A crashing wave washed over the railing, the white sparkling crest of the sea forming into the shapely figure of a striking woman. Her white hair flowed around her sensuous curves, pooling around her feet. Her ivory skin glistened in the sunlight, iridescent by droplets of sea water. She was clad in silken cloth the hues of the sea, blues and greens that changed with every move she made. When Bheara chose to take human form, she ensured that the form she chose was breath-taking.

  Resting a tender hand to his weathered cheek, Bheara smiled into Ronan’s eyes. “My sweet Ronan, I love ye and will always see ye safe. I know that no one loves my seas like ye do. ‘Tis such a pity that ye’re but a wee mortal. Ye’d make such a fine God.”

  Covering her hand with his own, Ronan chose his words carefully. “Bheara, ye know I honor ye and the seas will always sing to my soul. But as ye say….I am a mere mortal.”

  Her stormy blue eyes narrowing with his words, Bheara smiled as she leaned forward to brush her lips across his forehead. “Ye’re a wise little mortal as well! Ye choose your words carefully. Have ye been talking to Brid again or has your wee brother, the fox been giving ye lessons?”

  Ducking his head, Ronan glanced up thru his thick lashes, his deep green eyes sparkling with mischief. “As I said, my Cailleach Bheur, I will honor ye…to my very grave.”

  Her laughter bubbling like water pouring from an urn, Bheara ran her fingers possessively thru Ronan’s dark hair. “My dear sweet Ronan. What more could a Goddess ask for? When I look into your heart, I see a soul so pure. Ye will always have my protection.”

  Bowing his head, Ronan reverently closed his eyes. “I thank ye, my Goddess.”

  The next wave washed back over the deck as Bheara returned to her realm. Ronan’s crew shook their heads, collectively heaving a sigh of relief. With the Goddess no longer in their midst, they felt better about repairing the damage done by the storm.

  They’d heard rumors of their captain when first they’d signed on…of his mystical powers and his dominion over the sea. But none of them had really believed it until they’d witnessed his easy relationship with the Sea Goddess and the immediate abatement of the ruthless storm. A superstitious lot, they glanced at each other in unspoken agreement. Perhaps Ronan MacKay was the safest captain to sail under after all.

  *******

  “Mama, I still can’t see him.”

  The fidgeting young girl pouted as she stared into the imageless mirror leaning against the energy blackened stone wall. The cold obsidian surface showed neither reflections of the room beyond or the visions the young apprentice was seeking. Why did the Mirrors of Time always obey her mother’s commands but they were oft times deaf to her requests?

  “Aveline, how many times do I have to tell you that you have to concentrate….and that whining won’t get you anywhere?”

  The striking dark haired woman leaning against the work table briefly glanced up from the words she was penning into the book. Smoothing her gown over her narrow waist, she sighed as she straightened from her task. What had she been thinking by trying to update a complicated text while young Aveline was once again dabbling in her mystical lessons?

  Setting her quill aside, Rachel moved to stand behind her daughter where she stood staring forlornly at the blank surface of the mirror. Smoothing the young girl’s reddish blonde curls behind her ears, she patiently prodded Aveline’s memory.

  “Okay…now…remember what we said. You’ve got to clearly picture Ronan and call out to him. Then you’ll be able to see where he is and what he’s up to.”

  “Mama, are you sure? He’s never been gone this long before?...and there’ve been so many storms this winter…what if something’s happened to him. I hate it when he’s out to sea. What if he’s not all right?”

  “Aveline! I will not tolerate such talk!” Rachel’s voice thundered thru the room, shaking the jars of herbs lining the shelves until they risked rattling off into the floor. Whenever Rachel’s emotions were stirred, her powers tended to amplify everything she did.

  “I would know if something ill had befallen my son. I know that he’s safe. But as soon as the thoughtless rascal decides to bring his hide home, I’ll have a
piece of it for his causing me all this worry! Mark my words!”

  Waving her hand at the mirror farthest to the right, Rachel intoned under her breath as she stared unblinking into its ebony depths, “Ronan MacKay…show me your place….show me your ship….show me your face. Show your mother where you roam….don’t make me come and bring you home!”

  At her mother’s incantation, Aveline’s shoulders trembled with stifled giggles. Usually, she was the one who was in trouble with her mother since she was the last MacKay offspring left at home. The youngest of four siblings and the only girl, Aveline just knew she was the one who had the worst of luck when it came to which MacKay child got away with breaking the most rules.

  Immediately, her brother’s handsome face appeared in the mirror in response to her mother’s call. Rachel’s powers were never questioned by anyone or anything. Ronan’s black hair was whipping in the wind, strands loosened from his braid by what looked to be a brisk breeze filling the sails behind him.

  His dark green eyes were narrowed as he looked out to the horizon, his broad smile lop-sided by the one dimple in his tanned right cheek. Rachel smiled as she recognized how much like his father Ronan looked. There was definitely Viking blood running in those veins. It was obvious by the sheer massive size of her men. Caelan stood well over six and half feet tall and his three sons were his equal. But where Caelan was blonde, his second son Ronan was dark haired like his mother.

  “Where are you, Son?”

  “I will be home soon, Mother….I promise ye.”

  “You promised me that three moons ago, Boy. Where are you?”

  “Mother….It’s not important where we are.”

  “Don’t make me bring you home. Where are you?”

  “Now…Mother…”

  “Aveline misses her brother.”

  “What about Latharn and Faolan?”

  “Ronan, she sees them regularly and knows them to be safe. Unlike you. She hates it when you’re gone this long. Don’t make me bring you home.”

  “Yes, Mother. We’ll set course for Scotland on the morrow.”

  “You’re a good son.”

  “I love ye, Mother.”

  “And I love you, Son.”

  *******

  Harley stacked the dinner trays onto the trolley noticing that once again, Mrs. Neeley hadn’t eaten a thing. That poor little old woman was going to waste away to nothing if she didn’t start taking in some food soon.

  “There’s got to be something we can do to entice her to eat.”

  Rosa glanced up from the charts where she was recording everything the residents had eaten.

  “Harley, if you can figure out a way to get that little sweetheart to eat, then you truly are the miracle worker that everyone says you are.”

  Biting her lower lip, Harley bent over the tray. Lifting the lid, she wrinkled her nose to gingerly sniff at the contents of the plate. Shrugging her shoulders, she stuck her little finger into the pudding and touched it to the tip of her tongue. Repressing a shudder, Harley made a face as she quickly put the cover back on the plate.

  “Well….I’ve had worse…but then again….I’ve definitely had better….how many diet restrictions is she under?”

  Rosa flipped to Mrs. Neeley’s chart, frowning as she tapped the ink pen against the board. “Hmmm….well…no salt…no sugar…no fat….poor thing….looks like we might as well be feeding her cardboard.”

  “She’s ninety-six years old! The woman ought to be able to eat whatever she wants to for Heaven’s sake! Who in the world wants to live forever?” Harley shook her head as she pushed the trolley full of dirty dishes into the kitchen and began loading the industrial sized dishwasher. If she lived to be ninety-six years old, she was going to eat whatever she wanted….they could all just be hanged!

  “You better not let Dr. Langerson hear you talking like that!” Rosa followed Harley into the kitchen pushing the chart cart ahead of her. “These little old folks are a gold mine and he wants to keep them alive and kicking as long as possible.”

  “I want to keep them alive and kicking too but geez! There is such a thing as quality of life. If living on a case of pills, eating tasteless food and rooming in a sterile lonely environment is your idea of living….then hand me a gun and make sure it’s loaded!”

  “Harley! What a thing to say!” Rosa scolded as she left the kitchen, heading down the hallway to start handing out the afternoon meds.

  Harley flipped her long dark pony tail behind her shoulder as she slammed the door shut on the dishwasher and started it with a spin of the knob. She didn’t care what Rosa said. What was the sense in living to some ripe old age….if all you were going to do was be miserable?

  Rinsing her hands, she dried them off and tossed the towel to the counter. Jerking open the refrigerator door, she studied the contents to see if there might be something inside that would tempt Mrs. Neeley’s palate. Closing the door in disappointment, Harley moved on to the freezer, pawing her way thru the frozen vegetables in hopes of finding some sort of treat.

  “Aha! This should do it. I know she’ll love one of these.”

  Rosa’s granddaughter had been to visit and was a big fan of orange sherbet popsicles. One of them was still in the freezer. It wasn’t sugar free. It wasn’t fat free. It was totally illegal. It was perfect.

  “Okay….now….let’s put this in a bowl and then we’ll be good to go.” Pulling a small bowl from the cabinet and a spoon from the drawer, Harley softened the sherbet off of the stick while she made her way to Mrs. Neeley’s room. She wanted to give Mrs. Neeley enough time to enjoy her treat before Rosa made her way there with the afternoon meds.

  “Hi Mrs. Neeley…now I know you’ve already had lunch but I’ve brought you a special treat that I think you’ll really like…..but it’s a secret. Can you keep a secret?” Harley set the bowl down on the bed table in front of Mrs. Neeley and gently enclosed the spoon in the elderly lady’s hand.

  “Harley…a secret? But why? You know I’m not much hungry…nothing tastes good anymore.” Mrs. Neeley stared down into the bowl, her hand trembling as she barely attempted to grasp the spoon.

  “Mrs. Neeley, if you’ll just try one bite for me, please. Just one bite. It’s not the usual glop that’s on your diet. I promise.” Harley glanced at the door that she’d left barely cracked, she knew Rosa would be there soon. She was three rooms up and was very efficient when it came to handing out the pills.

  With a deep sigh, Mrs. Neeley barely dipped the tip of the spoon into the melting sherbet. Touching the tip of it to her tongue, she licked her lips, staring up at Harley in amazement.

  “Why Harley, that tastes fine.” Dipping the spoon again, she took a bigger bite, and soon was shoveling the sherbet into her mouth with gusto.

  “What is going on in here?” Rosa stood at the door tapping her foot, with Mrs. Neeley’s chart in one hand and her meds in the other.

  “You just leave her alone, Rosa!” Mrs. Neeley waived her spoon at Rosa as she nodded in Harley’s direction.

  “What have you got there, Mrs. Neeley?” Rosa nodded at Harley as she sauntered closer to the bed. Rubbing her nose, she tried to hide her smile as Mrs. Neeley curled one arm around the now empty bowl in a childish attempt to hide it.

  “I have an empty bowl. I must’ve forgotten to put it on my lunch tray when I gave it to Harley earlier.” Mrs. Neeley smiled as she came up with the innocent lie, winking at Harley as she slid the spoon underneath her bedspread.

  “I’ll take it for you, Mrs. Neeley and here, let me straighten your sheets.” Harley grinned as she recovered the spoon from the bedclothes, patting the little old lady on the shoulder.

  “See if you can get me some more of that fine ice cream!” Mrs. Neeley whispered as Harley adjusted the pillow behind her shoulders.

  “I’ll do my best.” Harley whispered back.

  Following Harley from the room, Rosa fell in step beside her. “What are you feeding that little old lady?”


  “Your granddaughter’s sherbet. By the way, you need to buy some more.” Grinning, Harley grabbed her coat off the hook, waiving as she headed out the door.

  *******

  The moonlight glistened on the rippling waves as the river rolled beneath the summer breeze. Harley stretched her bare toes in the grass on the riverbank as she watched the Mississippi lapping against the shore. She loved living at the river’s edge. Her camper wasn’t much but it was hers and her job at the nursing home enabled her to live on her own. She’d found out the hard way that it was impossible to depend on anyone but herself.

  Maybe she should get a second job so that she wouldn’t have as much time like this….time to think about what could’ve been….about what almost was. If she had a second job, then she’d be so exhausted, she would only eat, sleep and work. She should really look into that. She’d be better off.

  While she was at work, surrounded by all of those caring, cantankerous old people, she was fine. It was when she left, when she was home alone….that was when it happened. When it all came crashing in. All the memories….all the “if only’s”. It’s when she was alone with nothing but time on her hands that everything turned sour.

  If only….she’d never met Scott. If only….she’d never trusted Scott. If only…she’d never agreed to marry Scott. If only she’d never walked into that back room at church the day she was supposed to get married to find Sue on her knees in front of Scott with his pants down. Those “if only’s” would make you crazy every time.

  Sitting up a little straighter, Harley inhaled deeply as she stared out farther across the water. “If I could float out to the ocean and never come back. Be as free as a piece of driftwood on a rolling wave….now that would solve all my problems.”

  Moving closer to the water’s edge, she somehow felt better as she listened to the rhythmic lapping of the water against the shore. She felt as though the ancient movement of the sea called to her, the ebb and flow of the tides. She felt as though she could feel the call of the ocean working its way up the mighty Mississippi, echoing clear to the shores of her Kentucky home.