Page 40 of Death at a Scottish Halloween

She sat down in one of the leather chairs in front of my desk. “There was a lot of burning of witches back in the day,” she grimaced. “Many of the women were innocent and nothing but healers. It was said there were no more witches in Scotland, but the lore is they went into hiding. Now we make reparations to all of our Celtic ancestors. There are some songs and old prayers, and then we write our blessings for the harvest, or whatever you want blessed, and put it into fire.”

“That actually sounds very Sea Isle.”

She grinned. “It’s not a bonfire like our other holidays. It’s a small cauldron of boiling water, and we use special paper that melts in the water. It’s supposed to be cathartic for the community and heal our wounds. That’s what the old doc would say.”

“Well, he seemed to be a good man, so who am I to argue? Besides I enjoy the fact that our little town has so many traditions. I never celebrated the holidays and now we do them all.”

This town loved to celebrate and like my predecessor, I found it to be a healthy way to bring everyone together. Even though it seemed like we had a different holiday nearly every week. At the very least, one a month. But the whole community was involved, and it was one of the many reasons I loved my new town.

We were finished with patients by three. I changed clothes and checked in with Abigail.

“Do you want to come with me to talk with Flora?”

“I have a test tomorrow. Do you mind if I stay here and study? We’ll meet you behind the library for the event. If that’s OK?”

“Of course, it’s fine. Will Tommy be all right with everything going on tonight?”

She nodded. “He likes the old language and songs. Though, as usual, we’ll stay on the outside of the crowd.”

“I’ll be right there with you.” Tommy and I felt the same way about crowds.

I would have taken some food to Flora, but Mrs. Beatty would have seen that as an affront. She kept her guests well fed and comfortable. I did make a run to Lulu’s to find something for little Elsie. They were displaced in a strange place, and I wanted to provide some comfort.

I remembered when my dad died. I hadn’t really understood what was happening, only that I would never see him again. My mom left not long after, and my grandmother, who was perfection in human form, took over.

Lulu was my friend Angie’s aunt and had a lovely shop with gifts for all ages. She also carried amazing clothing from all decades. The shop and Lulu, who usually dressed in clothing from the sixties or seventies, never disappointed.

“Emilia, how are you, doll?” she said when I walked into the store. Today she was head to toe in a sky-blue pantsuit, with eyeshadow to match and her hair in a sixties’ beehive.

“I’m great, and how is that wrist feeling?”

“You made me bionic, and it’s better than ever.”

She’d broken it roller blading last spring. It took a few pins, but she healed quickly.

“Good to hear.”

“What do you need today? I have some beautiful party dresses. Angie told me you needed one for this weekend. I heard you’re going with the Constable—again.”

Nothing was a secret in this town. “I’d forgotten about that. And I will be back tomorrow to shop for a dress. Today I need gifts for a grieving widow and her sweet little daughter.”

“Oh, I heard about that. Poor dears. I have exactly what you need. Come here, luv.”

I followed her further into the shop. It was full of art, gifts, and so many wonderful things.

“For the wee one, how about one of our fairies? This one oversees dreams. There is a little book that goes with it.”

The doll had braided red hair and the sweetest painted face. She wore a rainbow dress with the worddreamsacross the top of it. The whole thing was adorable and perfect.

“I don’t know how you do it, but this is exactly what I need.”

“Now, for the widow, something handmade. Here is a small little piece done by Margie Hobbs.”

Mrs. Hobbs owned the local sewing and yarn shop. She had a funny little dog, Fred, who was always running off. She had a deft hand when it came to crafts.

The needle point had a saying framed by flowers. It was the size of my hand, and read:A heart filled with love never forgets. It was a bit more personal than I’d been planning, but it was appropriate. It was obvious Flora loved her husband.

“Can you wrap them each for me?”