Page 84 of A Scot on the Rocks

“Morag would tell ye she has no time for such foolishness, then walk up here before sunrise when no one was about to see her.”

“Grandma was the same.” Olivia sat back on her heels. “She wouldn’t let anyone turn the pub sign around on a Friday. Said it brought bad luck. The one time I argued with her, she made me scrub the brass rail until she could see her face in it.”

“Did ye turn the sign?”

“Never again.”

Jamie laughed. It made her miss home and her grandmother with a sudden, uncomfortable force. She could imagine her planted behind the bar in a flowered blouse, arguing with a customer who thought the free bowl of peanuts entitled him to a second one, then slipping a sandwich to a man who’d come in with only enough money for coffee. Olivia missed the comfortable racket of that room and the knowledge that Grandma would be somewhere in it, keeping track of everyone even while pretending she had better things to do.

Footsteps came up the path behind them. A woman Olivia recognized as Kirsty MacLeod appeared with a small pail, her son Robbie beside her. The boy wore a knitted cap pulled over his ears. He managed a shy smile when Jamie greeted him, but a cough interrupted it, rough enough to make Kirsty pause and steady his shoulder.

“Is he all right?” Olivia asked.

“He had a fever a while back,” Jamie said. “Frightened everybody. He’s better now, though this cough’s a nuisance.”

Kirsty gave him a tired smile. “Morag came yesterday and told me what she’d do. Mrs. Fraser’s been to see him as well. We’re fetching some water, and then he’s going straight home to rest.”

Robbie looked indignant at that, which might have been more convincing if he hadn’t immediately leaned against his mother’s skirts. Olivia stepped aside to let Kirsty reach the pool.

“Will the ghost come if I get sick again?” Robbie asked Jamie, eyeing the hill below.

“The ghost’s a busy fellow,” Jamie said, crouching until they were eye to eye.

Robbie considered that, then smiled despite himself. Jamie produced a small wrapped sweet from his coat and handed it over with instructions to keep it until his mother said he could have it. Kirsty thanked him, then took Robbie’s hand and led him carefully back down the path.

Olivia watched them go. She knew children could get seriously ill anywhere, but the fear on Kirsty’s face stayed with her. It made her think of Grandma sitting by her bed when she was little, placing a cool cloth across her forehead and refusing to leave even when Olivia insisted she wasn’t tired. Her grandmother had always been capable of making a room feel safe, even when she couldn’t fix what was wrong.

Jamie followed her gaze. “Kirsty’s a good mother. Mrs. Fraser knows her business. Robbie’s got the whole glen looking out for him.”

“I can see that.” Olivia brushed damp grit from her hands. “It’s good that nobody has to manage everything alone.”

“That’s what neighbors are for.” He lifted a bucket, then paused. “Ye’ve gone quiet again.”

“I was thinking about home.”

She stood and looked past the rowan toward the far hills. “I keep remembering ordinary things. Her telling me to get my feet off the chairs, or making me eat breakfast before she let me leave the pub. She used to complain when I borrowed her good towels, but she’d always put a clean one aside for me.”

Jamie leaned a shoulder against the rock and waited.

“Sometimes I miss her so much I’m angry with myself for enjoying anything here.” Olivia looked down at her muddy hem. “Which is ridiculous, I know. Being miserable wouldn’t put me any nearer to Boston.”

“Nay.” He glanced down the hillside. “But it’s no sin to laugh where ye are, even when ye long for somewhere else.”

She looked at him. He’d said it simply, and she wondered how many people he’d lost.

They started downhill with their buckets. At the narrow crossing, Jamie stepped onto the first stone and offered his hand. Halfway across she misjudged her step, and Jamie caught her at the waist before she could land in the icy water. The bucket struck his shin and splashed cold water over his boots.

“Easy lass, ye almost fell in. Can ye swim?” he asked.

“I learned when I was little.”

He helped her onto the bank, though for a moment his hand remained at her waist and her palm rested against his coat. The humor faded from his face as he looked at her. She became acutely aware of the warmth of his hand through her gown and of the fact that he hadn’t released her. He was close enough she could see flecks of gold in his green eyes and bits of gold in his brown hair.

A moment later, he let go, almost reluctantly, as though he was reminding himself to.

They followed the track in silence until Dunarraidh appeared between the hills. Olivia was trying to think of a way to tell Jamie she wasn’t really a widow without admitting she was from the future, when he spoke.

“Do ye still mean to return to Boston?”