Interloper at Glencoe Read online

  Nick turned to her. “Would you care for some juice? Orange juice?”

  She nodded, not trusting her voice just then, and Mr. Mouliné poured some juice into a tall glass cup for her.

  “Ice?” he asked.

  Beth opened her mouth to decline, but Nick wouldn’t let her reply. “Brits don’t usually take ice, Dad.”

  When Mr. Mouliné looked to her for confirmation, Beth only shook her head. Best to let Nick decide what to say. Mr. Mouliné handed her the glass cup, and she drank. It was tasty, sweet and cold. Exactly what she needed right then.

  Mrs. Mouliné went away, saying something about checking on dinner, and her husband followed. More than likely to discuss their guest. Darlene flopped down onto a well-cushioned chair and drew her bare feet onto it to curl up, and Nick guided Beth to a seat on a deep sofa piled with enormous pillows. She was afraid to lean back onto them, for it was certain she would disappear into their depths.

  Darlene said, “Okay. Let me get this straight here. You met, what, three or four days ago?”

  “Weeks.”

  “Days. You didn’t know her last Sunday, big brother. I would have seen it. You’re a horribly unskilled liar, and I can see you’ve got her written all over you now, which you most certainly did not before.” The sister grinned in Beth’s direction, who felt the words skitter across her soul. Written all over him? What could that mean? Darlene continued, “And you brought her into the lioness’s den? What’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?” Nick poured himself something dark and filled with bubbles, and Beth guessed it was the drink he called “cola.” She also liked the cola, but was happy with her juice.

  “You’re obviously not trying to impress her, or you wouldn’t have brought her here. More than likely you’ll scare her off with this stunt.” She finally addressed Beth. “I mean, Beth, this is way above and beyond. You could run away right now and save yourself, you know. He shouldn’t put you through this.”

  Beth looked over at Nick, wondering what Darlene meant. “I love him.”

  Darlene gave a surprised smile. “Really?”

  “Darlene, it’s not like that.”

  “What, she doesn’t love you and she’s lying? You didn’t, like, hire her so Dad would get off your back, did you?”

  “No. She’s telling the truth.” He leaned close to his sister’s chair and said in a low, intense hiss, “And you know what? I love her back. So, deal.”

  Darlene spread her palms. “Hey. I’m dealing. I’m a little puzzled, but what the heck.”

  Beth looked to Nick, who seemed at a loss for what to say. She also wished there were some way to tell his sister the truth, but there were no words for it. None that wouldn’t seem like madness, in any case. But then something came to her.

  She said slowly, “I think...” A glance at Nick, begging him to let her proceed, then she continued, “I think what he means is that it’s nearly as if we’d known each other in another... time. As if we’d met in a different, oh, life perhaps, and knowing him today is naught but continuing something very... old.”

  Nick was smiling now, and nodding. “Yeah. Like that. Like we’re—”

  “Soul mates?” Darlene seemed to like the idea and wiggled in her seat. “That is so cool!”

  “Yeah.” Nick’s voice went soft. “Soul mates.”

  “And that’s what she meant when she said she found you in a faerie ring? That it was magical?”

  “Aye.” Beth looked over at Nick. “The wee folk brought him to me. They were terribly kind to me that day.”

  Nick said nothing, but his eyes as he gazed at her were alive with things she knew he couldn’t say in front of his sister. But he didn’t need to, for there was truth in what she’d said, and in what Darlene had said.

  Darlene giggled. “That is so romantic!”

  “Yeah, well, we’re hoping it’ll work out.” Nick kept his eyes on Beth, until she had to look away. She didn’t know what he meant, and only knew this was not the time or place to discuss the future since they couldn’t speak of the past. Their past being so terribly distant.

  The supper was delicious, though Beth wished for more practice with the fork before coming here. The lasagna turned out to be a baked dish, with layers of various things, including something soft and wheaten. She wondered if this was a form of the pasta Nick had described to her yesterday, but hesitated to ask and risk saying something idiotic once more. The dish also had a great deal of cheese and ground meat, and was run all through with something thick and red, resembling the ketchup she’d tried before, only thicker and not as vinegary. And, of course, small black slices she took to be olives. Nick’s favorite. Fascinated by the gooey pile of food, she picked at it to see what else she might find. What of that “bacteria” Nick spoke of? Her attention focused on her food as she examined it to see if she could find out what that might look like.

  “Dear,” said Nick’s mother, “what is your friend looking for? Does she have an allergy of some sort you didn’t tell me about?” Her leathery face wrinkled in a frown and her painted lips pursed.

  Beth looked up and started to say she was only looking for the bacteria, but Nick leapt in to interrupt her.

  “Yes, Mom. She’s allergic to onions.” He gave Beth the barest shake of his head, so she didn’t correct him and only listened. “If she eats onions she throws up.”

  “Well, there are no onions in here, but I do use onion powder. Is onion powder okay?”

  “Powder is fine. I’m sorry I forgot to mention the allergy before we came.”

  “It’s all right. You know I don’t like to use onions because your father doesn’t care for them.”

  “Onions are vile things,” Beth offered, knowing these rich people must surely think it also. “The taste is too sharp, and ye waste away on them. I much prefer food that will keep a body hearty and hale.”

  “Yes, I can see you do.”

  Looking at Mrs. Mouliné, Beth was puzzled at how such a well-kept wife could be so terribly thin, then realized her rudeness. “I apologize. I did not mean to bring up your illness.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I can see—”

  “Beth.” Nick sighed and shook his head, and she wondered what had gone wrong this time. He said to his mother, “Beth recently had a friend die of anorexia. I’m afraid she’s a little too...” he glanced over at Beth, “...focused on the subject these days, and assumes everyone who is thin has it.”

  “I see.”

  Beth offered, “I apologize.” Then she fell silent. Anorexia? A malady she’d never heard of, and she hoped it wasn’t catching. Particularly it being so deadly.

  After an awkward silence at the table, the conversation picked up again, slowly, clumsily, like a calf learning to stand. Beth listened carefully to the talk of Nick’s family as they chattered about things that didn’t involve her, but nevertheless interested her very much. She learned more and more about Nick as his father teased him about his unimpressive social life.

  As they spoke, exchanging banter back and forth, a picture formed of the life Nick’s father expected him to lead. Mr. Mouliné teased his son about a lack of former girlfriends and spoke of “getting laid,” which Beth gathered meant sex, and it was plain that men in this time were expected to associate with many women before marrying. Even to have sex with each of them and then move along to the next woman. And Nick’s father appeared to feel his son had not been with enough women to suit him. As they spoke, her heart clenched. What she’d seen in that glass box—the TV—her second day in Nick’s chambers was true. Disappointment choked her, and the future dimmed.

  It was her preference to be quiet and keep her ears open, but at a lull Nick’s mother addressed her again. “So, Beth, tell us about your family.”

  Beth glanced at Nick, and they both knew she had to make the reply herself. She swallowed the bite in her mouth and said, “They’ve all died, I’m afraid. My mother passed on when I was very young, and
my father and my brother... have since expired.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Mrs. Mouliné didn’t sound terribly sorry, but Beth ascribed her lack of feeling to her impoverished upbringing. The woman continued, “I imagine it must make it easier for you to pull up stakes and move six or seven thousand miles away, though.”

  Seven thousand miles? Beth looked over at Nick, who said, “I think it took a lot of courage to come here by herself.”

  “Have you ever been to the States before?”

  “Here?” Beth had to guess what “the States” meant. “No. This is my first visit.”

  “Visit? I thought you’d moved here.”

  Nick hurried to say, “Well, I for one hope she will renew her visa and stay forever.”

  Beth threw him a look, and wondered if he truly meant for her to stay. Whatever a “visa” might be. She took another bite of her lasagna. This talk was becoming more confusing each moment.

  The mother said, “No reply to that, Beth?”

  “To what?”

  “Do you intend to stay?”

  Beth looked over at Nick again, and said, “I must go where fate takes me.” Her voice faded as she truly realized her insecure position. She and Nick had not spoken of the future since that day in Glencoe, and now even less was certain.

  “Indeed. As messed up as immigration is these days, who knows if you’ll even be able to stay?” Her voice had that edge to it again, and Beth wondered what had irritated her so. “I suppose it’s fortunate for her she has struck up such a friendship with you so soon after her arrival.”

  Then Beth looked over at Nick, and found him irritated as well. He’d sat back in his chair and was peering at his mother with narrowed eyes. The muscles in his jaw stood out in knots, and his mouth was pressed closed so a white line appeared around it.

  When he spoke, his voice was more angry than she’d ever heard it, even in his exchanges with Gòrdan. Flat, and deadly cold. “Maybe her fate is to be married to me.”

  That brought a silence and a stillness to the table so complete, Beth was afraid to look at anyone but Nick. Her heart leapt in her chest like a dying fish, and she looked into his eyes to see if he meant what he said. But he was frowning at his mother, thinking only of his irritation toward that woman, and there was no hope of knowing what was truly in his heart regarding herself.

  The mother said, “Nicholas, you can’t be serious.”

  “I’m thirty-two years old, Mom, and I think it would be best if you not try to tell me when I’m serious and when I’m not.”

  “I think it’s cool,” said Darlene, a look of mischief on her face.

  Mr. Mouliné offered, “What does the young lady think about this? Have the two of you even talked about it?”

  They all looked at Beth, who found herself unable to make her clumsy tongue work. She saw in Nick’s father’s eyes he could tell she was as surprised as they, and he was skeptical about what she might say. A bluff would surely fail. Heat rose to her face, and it was all she could do to not start crying. Finally she managed to assemble a reply. “We’ve... not discussed marriage.” There was a sinking feeling as she realized she was ashamed to admit it. That Nick hadn’t even hinted at it until now, and just then she didn’t trust him for his anger. He was a man, after all, and most men were prideful. Surely his talk was only to assert himself and had little to do with actually wanting to marry. She guessed he was more interested in forcing a response from his mother than in having herself for a wife.

  “I should hope not.” The mother was not being very graceful, betraying once again her impoverished manners.

  There was yet another long silence, as Nick and his mother stared each other down. Then Nick looked around the table. “I think it’s time for us to go now.”

  “Don’t leave on my account, Nicholas.” The tone of Mrs. Mouliné’s voice, however, suggested he should do that very thing. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

  “No, I’ve got to get Beth home, and then I’ve got work to finish that I brought home on Friday.”

  “If you’ve had it since Friday, perhaps planning ahead would have been the thing to do.” His mother’s tone was clipped. Angry.

  “Perhaps.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it on the table. “Come on, Beth. Let’s go.”

  She obeyed, mimicking him with her own napkin, and stood from the table. “Thank you for the meal, Mrs. Mouliné. It was most tasty.”

  “It was nice to meet you, Beth.” Again, Nick’s mother’s voice belied her words, and Beth had the impression the woman would rather have had her eyes burned out with a hot poker. Nobody rose with them, and nobody tried to talk them into staying. Nick’s father poked at the food on his plate with is fork, his head down, saying nothing. There were murmurs of goodbye between Nick and Darlene, then he and Beth left the dining room and the house.

  He took her hand as they walked to the car in silence, and didn’t speak until she was buckled in and they were moving away down the road. Finally he said, “She makes me crazy.”

  “Alert me once your sanity has returned, if you please.” Her lips pressed together, she stared at her hands clenched together in her lap.

  “Huh?” He glanced over at her once or twice, then sighed and his shoulders sagged. “Oh. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you there, I guess.”

  “I would guess it, also.” The world outside the car sped past as quickly as ever, but she paid no mind. All she could think of just then was that he’d not meant what he’d said about marriage. And that meant he never would. The terrors of this world he’d brought her to crowded in on her: the noise, the smells, the terrifying magic. To face them without Nick would be more than she could bear. “Please take me home.”

  “That’s where we’re going.”

  She raised her head to look over at him. “No, Nick. My home. Return me to Glencoe.”

  He gaped at her for a moment, then was forced to return his attention to the road ahead. “Glencoe? What do you want to go to Scotland for? There’s probably nothing there you would recognize.”

  “No, I mean return me to my own home. Take me back to my family.”

  His voice went soft. “Why? I mean, I’m sorry about what just happened with my mother. I had no idea she would act that way.”

  “Your mother is unimportant.”

  “You’re right, she’s not important. We don’t need her permission for anything. It’s not like where you come from. We can get married, and there’s nothing she can say about it.”

  Beth opened her mouth to reply, but nothing would come out. She was forced to clear her throat to say, “I would prefer it if you wouldnae toss such words around so lightly.”

  “What words?”

  “Married. Others as well, but that word in particular.”

  “You don’t want to marry me?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “Not ‘of course.’ You don’t have to. Not here.”

  “What else would I do here? I no longer have a family of any sort.” Saying it out loud was as if someone had punched her in the belly, and she couldn’t breathe. When she tried, a sob shook her and she bent to stare at her hands again. Nick was silent as he drove.

  Finally she was able to speak, and she said, “As you said, my father and brother have been gone these past three centuries. All my aunts, uncles and cousins. Everyone I’ve ever known in my life. All gone.” Her voice trailed off, and then there was silence again.

  Nick drove some more, then said quietly, “That’s the only reason you would want to marry me?”

  She looked up. “No. I would marry you if we were still in Glencoe.”

  “Because...?”

  “Because we could be happy there.”

  “And we can’t be happy here?”

  “A Neacail, what is it you’re asking me? Or are ye even asking at all? Am I to be used for the sake of an argument with your mother? Do you speak of marriage only to know my heart so it can be used
to your advantage?”

  “I’m not Gòrdan.”

  “Indeed you are not, and thank God for that. But you say things too lightly. You speak as if my life werenae in your hands.”

  “It’s not.”

  “It is!” Beth’s throat began to tighten again, and she swallowed hard. “I cannae live on my own. I willnae.”

  “Then marry me.”

  “Very well.”

  “Don’t say it because you think you have to. I don’t want to take you prisoner.”

  “I do have to. And I am all the more fortunate for loving you, for it will make the tasks of keeping your house and bearing your children joyful to me.”

  They came to a stop at a crossroads signal, and Nick looked over at her. “Then you’ll marry me because you love me?”

  “Aye.”

  He thought about that for a moment, then said, “Cool.”

  “Aye, cool.” Beth watched the crossing traffic.

  “I guess we’re engaged, then.”

  “Indeed.”

  There was another moment of watching the cross-traffic, then he said, “Should we turn around and go back to tell my parents?”

  “Nae.”

  “I agree.”

  The light changed to green, and with a grin Nick urged the car forward.

  Chapter 14

  Nick thought his entire life was clicking into place, and it felt good. He was going to marry Beth. The prospect was heady. Marriage. Whenever he looked at her, and knew she would be with him for the rest of his life, his heart lifted. Sometimes it caught in his throat and he didn’t dare speak because he knew his voice would fail. At work his mind wandered, and he often found himself staring at his computer monitor without seeing it. Instead he was with Beth. Saw her smile, heard her voice, knew how she felt inside. Wondered how she felt about things. He hoped she was happy.

  The practical aspects of their future began to come clear to him, plans began to form, and he realized there was much she would need to become part of this century. A birth certificate first. As much as he hated to break the law, he would have to take Jerry up on his offer of help in the area of obtaining papers. Unfortunately, the law fell short on proper avenues for immigration of time travelers. They could probably get a real birth certificate without a great deal of trouble. The name on it wouldn’t matter, for she would be a Mouliné soon after, and California law wasn’t fussy about names in any case. Once she learned to drive and had a license, her I.D. would say “Elizabeth Mouliné” and that would be her name. The thought made him smile. Beth Mouliné. She was his responsibility now, and that meant she would be safe.