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  “You did know him, Taylor…you loved him and were torn away from the earth because of that love for him. It’s just been so long ago…some of the memories have disappeared.” Mattie tried to explain the events of the past with difficulty. “You and Quinlan have existed for such a long time…maybe there’s not enough room for every memory to survive. Maybe only the feelings could last over all these years.”

  “I don’t know,” Taylor replied, shaking her head slowly. Staring off into space with a frown, she almost seemed to slip back into a trance as she thoughtfully mused aloud. “But I do know that I have to get to Scotland. I can’t solve this mystery from here.”

  “Scotland!” Drake and Mattie exclaimed in unison. Glancing at each other with alarm, they both frowned at Taylor with concern.

  “Why Scotland?” Mattie repeated. Retrieving Taylor’s hairbrush from the bathroom countertop, she vainly attempted to smooth Taylor’s curls to sooth her friend’s raw nerves.

  “Because that’s where this all began,” Taylor replied simply, grimacing as Mattie yanked the brush through a particularly stubborn snarl.

  “Where in Scotland?” Drake asked, running his fingers self-consciously through his own unkempt spikes of hair.

  Pausing to think for a moment to be sure of her answer, Taylor bit her lower lip in concentration, struggling to retrieve the elusive facts ricocheting through her mind. “The Isle of Lewis,” she eventually answered, eyes staring vacantly out into space. “We have to go to the village of Callanish...that’s where the answers are.”

  Chapter Seven

  Taylor made one last note to Mrs. Ames, then clipped it neatly to the front of the folder. She’d prepared a printout of her itinerary; complete with phone numbers and addresses in case it was necessary for the museum to contact her while she was away. While she was away…it all sounded so simple...so innocent...as though she were going on vacation. Yet she was actually traveling to Scotland to somehow connect with the land…sort through all these demons dashing through her mind….and above all else, find this man who seemed to have some sort of connection to her very soul.

  Taylor set the folder to one side of her desk, idly fingering the power of attorney she had requested from her lawyer. This paper gave Robert and her lawyer joint responsibility over the conducting of her affairs…should her absence from the museum and her home prove to be longer then she anticipated. Taylor frowned slightly at the idea of turning everything over to Robert Dameron. But Mattie would be accompanying her to Scotland and she had only just met Drake. It would be too complicated to involve Chandler, the explanations alone could take days and Taylor felt sure he would just attempt to talk her out of leaving. No, Robert was the right choice. She trusted him completely, remembering all the thoughtful things he had done for her and her mother over the past several years. Robert might be a tad on the quirky side but she felt sure he would take care of everything in her best interest.

  Opening the center drawer, Taylor pulled the set of airline tickets from their envelope, eyeing them with trepidation. It would be a long flight. Taylor smiled wryly to herself as the gist of her words hit her with dry humor. Long flight couldn’t begin to describe the trip she was about to embark upon. Tossing the tickets into her briefcase, she placed the folder to Mrs. Ames in the center of her desk, propping it up slightly against the desk light where it could be easily found. With an air of finality, she clicked the briefcase shut, then looked around the room to ensure she wasn’t forgetting anything. Satisfied that everything was as organized as it was going to get; Taylor sighed deeply as she slowly closed the door to her office.

  Her heels clicking lightly against the highly polished tiles, Taylor made one last circuit through the deserted museum. Permanently stamping the surroundings into her memory as though sensing this was somehow the last time she would see the place. She paused at the roped off area separating the construction of the new wing from the open galleries of the museum. The heavy plastic curtains hung to minimize the powdery spread of sawdust and drywall fibers barely concealing the large bronze plaque already mounted into the marble wall.

  Squinting to make out the engraving on the placard, Taylor’s eyes filled with tears as she read the words, “In memory of Constance McKenna…ever the giver…” The new wing would be known as the McKenna Gallery, dedicated to the works of local artists struggling to make a niche in the world of fine art. Taylor quickly wiped away the tears, smiling tremulously as she thought how pleased her mother would be at giving young artists a chance.

  Taylor moved down the hallway, pausing again at a small alcove near the main entrance to the museum. Staring out regally from his position beneath the accent light was Laird Quinlan MacDara MacLeod. As Taylor looked up into the face of the painting, she smiled, slightly inclining her head in a brief nod of acknowledgement. Ever since the evening of hypnosis had uncovered the memories and emotions of Taelhar, the portrait of Laird Quinlan had seemed more at peace. It was as though the Laird knew Taylor was now too deeply enmeshed in her search for answers to abandon him now. So, Taylor had donated the large oil painting to the museum, sheepishly asking permission of the canvas before doing so. The portrait had seemed to agree…or at least had refrained from displaying another temper tantrum as it had in Drake’s shop.

  A stir across the room, interrupted Taylor’s musings. She turned to find Robert carefully steering a huge metal sculpture through the doorway, frowning as the wheels of the dolly bumped over the doorsill. Spying Taylor observing his entrance, he greeted her with an embarrassed grin. “Hi Taylor…I thought you’d already gone.”

  “I was just on my way out,” Taylor replied, ambling across the room to examine the sculpture more closely. The metal form was nearly as tall as Taylor, thick pieces of steel plating cut and shaped into an abstract head and upper body of a woman. There were no facial features but the head was bowed, as though gazing thoughtfully down at the form cradled in the woman’s arms. Gently resting against the metal arms and torso was what looked to be the body of a young child, small arms reaching up to wrap around its mother’s neck…the small cannonball of a head inclined toward the mother’s face.

  “Robert…it’s absolutely wonderful,” Taylor breathed, marveling at the smoothness of the lines and the warm burnished coloring of the finish.

  Blushing to the roots of his thinning hair, Robert slightly ducked his head and smiled. “Thanks…it’s gonna be the first piece in your mama’s room. She always seemed to like the shapes I made.”

  Nodding in agreement, Taylor gave Robert’s arm an affectionate squeeze, “She loved them Robert…and she was quite fond of you too.” Struggling to blink back the tears threatening to surface, Taylor cleared her throat as she switched to a safer subject. “I almost forgot…I know you have your own keys, but here are mine as well.” Digging through her briefcase, she finally latched onto the elusive key ring, smiling with triumph as she pulled them from the abyss.

  Eyeing her keys thoughtfully, Robert cocked his head to one side as he casually rubbed his chin. “It’s almost like you’re not coming back…that’s not true…is it?”

  Frowning at Robert’s keen observation, Taylor quickly responded. “No! Of course I’m coming back…this is my home.” But as she said the words, Taylor could feel the leaden ball of apprehension stirring within her bowels. She had studiously avoided musing about what might happen once she found Quinlan Macleod or the answer to the questions about his life. The thought of returning to her solitary orderly life alone almost frightened her. She’d grown somehow obsessed with the mystery of the handsome Scottish Laird. How could she ever return…alone…to her normal everyday schedule…after chasing this disturbing enigma clear across the seas?

  Glancing into Robert’s concerned brown eyes; Taylor couldn’t resist giving him a quick hug. “I’ll be back making a mess in the workroom again before you know it, Robert…I promise.” Her lips trembled as she smiled, swallowing hard to hold back the tears threatening to overflow.

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nbsp; Returning her affectionate hug and patting her awkwardly on the back, Robert replied, “Take care of yourself, Taylor…maybe by the time you get back, I’ll have your Mama’s gallery all set up.”

  Turning to leave, Taylor paused one last time before she pushed open the huge glass doors leading out of the museum. “Take care of this place Robert…and take care of you too,” she said, trying to ignore the intense feeling that she was seeing the museum for the very last time.

  ~*~

  White knuckling her fingers across the ends of the seat arms, Taylor felt sure she was permanently embedding her fingernails into the plastic padding of the airline seats. “God! I hate flying!” she mumbled through clenched teeth, as she risked a sidewise glance out the window. As the plane leveled off and settled into its regular pathway over the ocean, Taylor gradually relaxed her grip.

  Mattie reached over to pat her hand, a motherly look of amusement playing across her face. “You really should try that meditation chant I taught you….at least during the take-off and landings,” she instructed with a grin. At Taylor’s narrow-eyed look of disgust, her shoulders shook as she bubbled with laughter. “Oh Taylor…lighten up! This trip is so absolutely exciting.”

  Ignoring Mattie’s effervescent enthusiasm, Taylor glanced across the aisle at Drake. Apparently faring quite well, Drake had already settled back into his seat and was deeply engrossed in the music flowing through his headset.

  “What time did the ticket say we’d arrive in Inverness?” Mattie asked, digging through her carry-on bag in search of her leather bound journal and pen. Since they’d first began exploring the past of the mysterious oil painting, she’d recorded all the information they’d found into a concise diary of sorts. She was absolutely mystified at each tidbit of legend and lore they had discovered, positive that this somewhat spiritual journey was a once in a lifetime shot.

  “3:57p.m.” Taylor replied, staring out the window at the endless expanse of blue below. “I thought we might spend a day or two there, then fly British Airways to Stornoway.”

  “Stornoway?” Mattie repeated, pen pausing barely above the page of the journal. “I thought we were headed for Callanish?”

  “We are,” Taylor explained patiently. “Stornoway is the main city on the Isle of Lewis. We have to fly in there. Then we’ll either have to rent a car or take the bus the rest of the journey to Callanish.”

  “I wonder what it’s like?” Mattie breathed, closing her eyes as she imagined heather covered hills and irresistible men in kilts.

  “The photographs I downloaded off the Internet were quite beautiful…in a rather ancient rugged way,” Taylor observed. “From what I could tell, it seemed rather flat and sort of rocky…but it was quite green in spots and actually kind of lovely.” Taylor remembered the odd feeling of deja` vu she’d felt when the first photo from the Isle of Lewis had slowly appeared on her monitor. She’d never been to Scotland but she knew this place. Somehow the land seemed to be calling out to her.

  “Have you tried any of those exercises Drake suggested?” Mattie interrupted quietly.

  Frowning at Mattie’s suggestion, Taylor pressed her lips into a grim line as she replied, “No…I’m not ready for that yet.”

  But Taylor…it might help us if you could remember something about this place.” Wheedling again, Mattie closed her journal, tying a ribbon securely around the book.

  “If I have any memories of Scotland…don’t you think they’ll surface more readily once we’re standing on Scottish soil?” Taylor replied testily, shifting uneasily in the chair.

  Mattie raised her eyebrows but remained silent as she slowly shook her head. She knew that tone of voice…Taylor was scared to death but much too proud to admit it. Drake had suggested she attempt a few meditation exercises to access more of Taelhar’s memories. Any information Taylor might be able to glean from the past might help them expedite their search for Quinlan. Reaching over to squeeze her friend’s hand reassuringly, Mattie leaned toward Taylor as she suggested, “Why don’t you just close your eyes, relax…and try to catch a nap before we reach Inverness?”

  Eyeing Mattie sheepishly, Taylor leaned her head back against the headrest and replied, “I’m sorry to be so snappish, Mattie. I just don’t know what I’m getting myself into.”

  “Take a nap,” Mattie ordered in a motherly tone. “I expect you to be in a much better mood once we reach Inverness.”

  Smiling as she closed her eyes, Taylor concentrated on breathing deeply and relaxing each part of her body, one part at a time. By the time she’d reached hands and fingers on the list of items to first flex and then relax, she was dozing peacefully, her face turned slightly to the window.

  The brisk wind pulled at her cloak, threatening to tear the warm folds away from her shivering body. The stone where she sat was cold…the chill seeping through the layers of her dress. The five upright stones stood as silent sentinels, surrounding her…waiting for her wishes to become known. She could hear the lapping of nearby waves, the regular rhythm of the water caressing the shore.

  The wind was picking up, pushing harder against her back, urging her to the center of the circle. It seemed to moan as it raced between the stones…calling to her…trying to tell her the secrets of the past. Her eyes traveled to the ruined cairn, the wind was pushing her toward it. She leaned forward; eyes narrowed…head turned as she listened. She heard it again. Not the wind…but a voice…someone was calling her name. Hesitantly moving closer, Taylor pulled her cloak tighter, leaning back against the obstinate wind. The hands of the breeze were pushing her, propelling her toward the cairn.

  “Taylor…I’m here…over here lass!” The voice was Quinlan’s, carried to her upon the roaring of the wind.

  As she reached the cairn…close to the pile of large stones, she paused. The wind still gently urging her forward, Quinlan’s voice becoming stronger, Taylor reached out to lay her hand upon one of the boulders at the base of the cairn. Immediately the gale grew stronger, pushing her off balance as her hand passed through the cairn…throwing her into the abyss. Her cloak billowed about her. Her hands grabbing frantically for something to stop her fall. Her throat was paralyzed by fear…her scream trapped within her pounding chest.

  “Taylor! Wake up!” Mattie whispered loudly, reaching across the seat to firmly shake her friend. “Taylor!” she repeated, searching Taylor’s face for a sign of comprehension.

  Covering her face with both her hands, Taylor leaned forward, resting her elbows against her knees. Her heart was still pounding and she could still feel the sensation of falling as she struggled to completely dispel the dream.

  Leaning forward as well, Mattie again whispered, “Are you okay?”

  “I will be…just give me a minute,” Taylor breathed uneasily, hugging herself as she leaned her face against the cool glass of the window.

  Leaning across the aisle to lightly tap Mattie on the leg, Drake asked quietly, “Is she all right?”

  Nodding slightly, Mattie leaned closer to him and whispered, “She had another dream.”

  Brows arched in understanding, Drake nodded silently. Leaning back into his seat, he returned the headset to his ears but found it more difficult to concentrate on the strains of Bach he’d been previously enjoying. Whatever forces were at work here, they were obviously strong and were also quite intent on not being ignored. He’d noticed with some concern that Taylor’s physical appearance seemed to be becoming more haggard and drawn, the stress of the phenomena and the endless dreams eroding away at her health.

  The more information Drake had been able to find, the more he believed that Taylor actually was of the divine race Taelhar had mentioned. He smiled to himself as he allowed his imagination to soar. Tuatha Da Danann…actual beings from another world, another dimension? What mysteries might she know the answers to? What powers might she possess?

  Glancing once more across the seats, Drake was pleased to see Taylor accepting a glass of ice water from the flight attendant, her han
d only trembling slightly. He must ensure she was well taken care of…protect her like a priceless work of art. If he successfully helped her complete this quest, perhaps the powers themselves would reward him.

  Noticing Mattie’s look of concern, Drake smiled affectionately to himself. Another benefit to assisting Taylor might be finally being able to convince Mattie that a more permanent relationship between the two of them was well worth pursuing. He’d been amazed and admired her sensitivity to the spiritual world ever since that day she’d first wandered into his shop. Surely if he helped her dearest friend in the entire world, she’d feel less afraid of commitment…finally admitting her feelings openly.

  The seatbelt sign flashed, as the plane began its gradual descent, slowly circling to approach the runway. Everyone straightened in their seats, shuffling to put away magazines and papers, smoothing hair and clothes in preparation for departing the plane.

  Mattie craned her neck to look across the seats and join Taylor as she gazed out the window. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed quietly, the dark green of Scotland contrasting beautifully with the vivid blues of the distant ocean.

  Taylor closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing as the plane gently bumped to its landing. She exhaled with relief as it taxied to a stop…at least this part of the journey was over.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning dawned gray and damp, misting rain and fog hanging in the air outside the window. Stretching beneath the warm comforter, Taylor was tempted to burrow deeper into the pillows instead of emerging from her cocoon into the cool morning air. Mid-October might still be balmy in Kentucky but in the town of Inverness, Scotland; there was a definite bite to the air.

  Grabbing her robe from the foot of the bed, Taylor wrapped it tightly around her, padding over to the window for a better look at the weather. Pushing the window open slightly, she quickly slammed it shut again when a brisk breeze whooshed through her hair carrying with it the welcoming morning rain. “Well, so much for getting some fresh air,” Taylor observed wryly. Fishing out a comfortable pair of jeans and a warm sweater from her suitcase, Taylor laid the clothes across the bed and headed for the bathtub.