Interloper at Glencoe Page 24

  They made love like that, quickly for the risk of discovery, and heatedly for the same reason. His face pressed against her neck and his elbows trembled beneath his weight and his effort. She clung to his shoulders. The car rocked, and though the lights of a passerby came around the curve in the road, they did not stop. There was only a chuckle and a moan from Nick, and his lifted his head to kiss her. Then he pressed his mouth to her forehead and spoke low like a prayer of his love for her.

  In the heat of it, Beth found herself shouting to the trees and the stars for joy.

  Chapter 15

  The next day, at the little shop on the corner near Nick’s apartment, Beth found Karen hard at work behind the cash register at the little shop down the street. She bought one of those frozen drinks—a red one because they tasted the sweetest—and said, “How are your children today, Karen?”

  The shopkeeper was stocking the shelves behind her counter with long boxes of what she said were “cigarettes.” Beth had once asked what they were, but didn’t think she understood the explanation. The idea of breathing in smoke on purpose was far too strange. “They’re fine. My boy was a little sick this morning, but I made him go to school anyway. He wasn’t that sick, I don’t think. And he sometimes fakes it to get out of school.”

  Beth couldn’t imagine anyone trying to get out of going to school, but didn’t say so. There were a great many things about this place she still didn’t understand, and so accepted that school might be a thing to be avoided here. “And your daughter?”

  “Oh, she loves school. She should; she’s always the teacher’s pet. Comes home with nothing but A’s and B’s. She’s as smart as a whip. That one’s gonna rule the world, I’ll tell ya.”

  A customer came to the register with a jug of soda and a cluster of beer cans, and Beth stepped aside so Karen could register the purchase and take his money.

  Then once the transaction was accomplished and Karen had returned to her stocking, Beth said, “Your husband must be very proud of her.” Beth wondered at the value of a man whose wife had to work a job, but also knew not everyone who was so poor was a bad person. Calum and his sons, certainly, but not everyone.

  But Karen gave a dry, bitter laugh. “What husband? My man took off right after the boy was born. I was still nursing that kid when the old man just up and left. Gone. Sonofabitch went to shack up with the girlfriend he’d been banging while I was pregnant. Said the kids were too noisy for him. And they smelled.”

  Shock washed over Beth. Noisy? For a moment she couldn’t think of anything to say, for the idea was too boggling. Finally she said, “How could he just leave? Were you not married to him?”

  “Oh, yeah. We were married all right. He filed, and I couldn’t afford a lawyer, so my support is pretty much diddly. That is, when he pays it, which is only when the state threatens to throw him in jail for it.”

  “He does not care to support his own children?”

  Karen stopped what she was doing and looked at Beth. “Don’t sound so surprised. I mean, what color is the sky on your planet? Most men will get out of paying support if they can.”

  “Most men?”

  “Sure. You gotta keep on top of them, or they’ll just leave you behind. And the kids, too.”

  “Your husband doesnae love his children?”

  “Ex-husband. And I’m sure I couldn’t tell you. Probably not. He doesn’t visit. Never sends presents, not even at Christmas. He’s still living with that tramp, and she freaks out whenever he so much as talks to one of us.”

  “And most men are like this?” Horror grew.

  “Sure. You mean they aren’t where you come from?”

  Beth knew there were some who would behave in such a manner. But those who did were held in such low esteem that no man of honor would ever do it. And certainly no father would even consider letting his daughter marry a man with such a reputation. That was why Gòrdan had needed to invent an excuse to break their handfasting, otherwise he would never have obtained permission to marry his new wife. Particularly not in the church, on which the woman had insisted.

  “What reason did he give to divorce you? Did he invent a lie?”

  “What for? He didn’t need a reason. He just filed, and that was it. Said he just couldn’t stand living with me any more. That’s the way it always is.”

  “Always?”

  Karen nodded.

  “Everyone who marries now gets divorced?”

  “Pretty much. Shoot, I don’t know anyone who stays married. I got a sister who’s done it five times. Got four kids, they’re all on welfare ’cause none of her husbands will pay up.”

  Beth was speechless, a dim humming in her head. Softly, she said, “Do you think it is acceptable for this to happen?” This was what she’d seen in those TV stories, but over the past weeks had convinced herself they were only stories. Now she was no longer certain.

  “Hell, no. I think they should all be thrown in jail. But the DA won’t do it because, they say, it never does any good to throw the deadbeats in jail ’cause they can’t make any money there. Which, I guess, is true. but that doesn’t help my sister. Those men won’t keep jobs, except they get paid under the table. The state can’t attach that stuff, so my sister is pretty much screwed.”

  “No, I mean, do you think it’s acceptable to leave your family without good reason?”

  Karen made a face. “Well, it hurts. But if he doesn’t want to be around then I don’t want him around, either.”

  “He should want to be there. He should want to do his duty to his family.”

  “I’m sure my ex doesn’t look at it that way. He only cares what’s happening inside his own skin and never really gave a damn about anyone else.”

  “Then why did you marry him?”

  “Right, like there’s anyone out there any different. They’re all like that. They stay as long as they’re having fun. You marry them because you think you can keep them laughing, but life ain’t like that. As soon as things get tough, they run off.”

  “Cowards.”

  “Every last one of them. And they’ll fool you. They’ll let you think they’re all Prince Charming and stuff, then walk away. I’m better off without him. So long as he keeps his job and pays his support.”

  Beth’s drink was melting, and the hand holding it was very, very cold. She shifted it to her other hand, but didn’t drink. She thought of Nick, and her mind went over the things he’d said to her these past months. Had he been fooling her like the other men of this time? Would he stay? Or would she one day be left behind by another husband, and this time with a child and no father to take her in?

  Karen said, “Are you all right? You look a little sick.”

  Beth took a deep breath and only nodded.

  “I don’t know, girl, you look awful.”

  Another nod. “Aye, I’m feeling a mite wan. Perhaps I’ll go home and lie down.”

  “You take care of yourself.”

  Beth returned to Nick’s apartment and lay on the sofa until her stomach quit its rolling.

  That evening she couldn’t bring herself to broach to Nick the subject of her discussion with Karen. As much as she wanted to ask, she was terrified of how he might reply. It was too frightening to even think of life without him, and if she angered him now she couldn’t predict how he might react. So she pretended all would be well. They would be married, and he would honor his vows. So she smiled and carried on as she always did, and enjoyed the evening in his company.

  During those weeks, nights with Nick were pleasant, listening to the music disks he’d bought of bagpipes, drums and whistles, the performances never changing, always exactly the same each time they listened. Beneath the music she and Nick read to each other or talked. He told her about the birth certificate she would need, the driving license, the banking card that would be like his. A banking card. She would be able to spend his money without having to ask for it. The thought was exhilarating. She’d heard of women in the cities of
her own time operating their husbands’ businesses, but Nick claimed women actually controlled money here. Owned it legally, even when it was earned by their husbands. Nick also tried to tell her that once they were married she would have half ownership in everything that was his.

  “Half ownership? Why?” It was late, and he’d been reading to her quite a while before the subject of finances arose. She lay in her usual spot, between his thighs and with her head resting on his chest.

  “Because in marriage people share equally.”

  “Of course, they do. But I’m certain I dinnae care who owns what. You’re saying I will have half ownership of everything? The furnishings, the car, the clothing?”

  “Aye.”

  “But I have full use of those things even now.”

  “Sure, but—”

  “As I had full use of my father’s house and belongings.”

  “It’s to protect women in case of divorce.”

  A chill skittered down her spine. “Divorce?”

  “A long time ago it used to be that when people got divorced the wife ended up with nothing from the marriage.”

  “What of her dowry?”

  “Nobody has a dowry any more.”

  “Naught from her father? The sons get it all?”

  “Get what all?”

  “Inheritance. Do the fathers of the husband and wife not stake their children?”

  “No.” Nick sounded puzzled.

  “How can a couple begin a life without dowry or inheritance?”

  “They just... do.”

  “Och.” It was astonishing. Terrifying.

  For a moment Nick made a humming noise as if searching for what to say, then he said, “If you’re worried about us, don’t be. I have a healthy savings account. We’ll be all right.”

  “But your father is so wealthy. Why can he not make it so ye dinnae have to work where you do? I know you’re not overly fond of that job.”

  Nick stuttered, blew out his cheeks, then said, “He’s not as wealthy as you seem to think he is. He’ll be able to retire, but staking me isn’t within possibility. It’s just...” He thought briefly, then continued, “Things work differently now. Staking someone in a business takes a great deal of money. Not like having a little farm and some cows, or having a little shop in town where you sell bread or weave cloth or make knives. It’s better to have a job. It’s safer. I get a salary, benefits, and if the business goes bust I don’t lose anything but my job. And trust me, businesses go bust real easy these days. I have a degree; I can try to find a better paying job. We’ll be okay.”

  “Och,” she muttered. It didn’t make sense, but she was forced to accept his word on it. “So,” she said, “no dowry, so the wife comes to the marriage poor.”

  “Yes. I mean,” he sighed. “No. That is, she brings what is hers already.”

  “So she provides her own dowry?”

  “If she can. But nowadays it’s not expected. So in the past century, what with the divorce rate going up, they changed the property laws so that when people split up they divide everything evenly.”

  She lifted her head to look into his face. “Folks get divorced here that often, do they?”

  “I’m afraid they do.”

  Her next question terrified her, and she had almost no voice for it. “Will we?” Gòrdan came to mind again. Gòrdan, who had found it so easy to be rid of her.

  “Of course not.”

  “Because we’ll be married in the church?”

  “No, because neither of us will want to be divorced.”

  That was what she’d believed when she’d handfasted with Gòrdan. “But if one of us did?”

  “We won’t.”

  “I won’t, but will you?”

  A sigh and a groan rumbled in his chest beneath her. “You’ve got to stop this, Beth. I’m not Gòrdan.”

  “You’re a man.”

  “I’m not a coward. Gòrdan was a coward.”

  “You’re a man. And men often tire of their wives, even ones they love. I wish to be married in the church.”

  “We can’t be married in the Catholic Church, because they require a waiting period that would have you so big by the time we could do it we’d have to roll you down the aisle. And besides, even the Church can’t change the law. Not in this country. If one of us wanted a divorce...” His voice trailed off as she sat up and slid away from him. “Hey, I’m not Gòrdan, for crying out loud!”

  “I dinnae like this place.”

  “You’d like it less in Glencoe if you’d stayed.”

  “I doubt that. I had a family there nobody could take from me.”

  An exasperated snort erupted. “Yeah. Until the Redcoats came and massacred them.”

  A reply to that wouldn’t come. She blinked at him, then finally managed, “What Redcoats?”

  Color rose to his cheeks, and when he spoke his voice sounded choked. “According to a book I have that was written by one of the soldiers, about a week after we were last there a bunch of English Army guys came. A regiment of Campbells from Argyll. They stayed in the villages there, in people’s houses, and on February 12, on the order of King William, tried to kill all the men and boys in the glen. Thirty-nine people were murdered, three of them women and two children. That’s how safe you were there, Beth. One of those women was you.”

  “How do—”

  “I know because I read about it. Accounts of the massacre list you as one of the ones murdered by the soldiers. Dozens of people died in the aftermath. Lots of old folks and children, and it was months before anyone even was able to return to their homes. If you’d stayed, you’d be dead by now.”

  “Why did you not tell me this?”

  “You didn’t need to know. I didn’t want to know myself, and I sure didn’t want you having the nightmares I’ve had. I keep....” Sudden tears crumpled his face, and he sat up and hugged his bent knee as he struggled against them. He swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and continued. “I keep having these horrible dreams of watching you being run through with a sword. And the worst of it is that I know it’s not just a dream. It’s what would actually have happened if we’d not come here. Don’t say you want to go back, because there’s nothing in that past but death for you.” He glanced at her belly, and she knew he also meant the baby.

  “You cannae be certain I would die.”

  “I can. I am. It happened, and I went back in time to prevent it.”

  “How did you do that?”

  His lips pressed together.

  “Tell me, Nick.”

  “No.” He rose from the sofa to retreat to the bathroom without another word. In a moment she heard the water running in the shower, and knew he would never tell her how he’d moved backward in time. She picked up his book and flung it across the room in frustration. The pages flapped as it flew, then it smacked against the wall and dropped to the floor.

  She was right. Nick never did speak to her of the magic that had taken him to the past. Each time she brought it up, he fell silent and refused to reply to her query. So she searched for the book he’d mentioned. The one written by the Redcoat. She wanted to read it and know what had happened to her people. To see what he’d read that had happened to her. Which wouldn’t happen now that she was here, she supposed. And that made her wonder what the book might say now that she was not dead in the past. While Nick was at work, she forayed into his office and began looking at the books on the shelves.

  There were so many. And many of the words in the titles were unfamiliar to her and impossible to decipher. Slowly she browsed the spines, sounding words to herself and hoping she might recognize the name of her home if she saw it. Glencoe. Guh. It would start with a “G”. The task was difficult and tedious, and she sighed to herself as she went from book to book. Some of them were too narrow to see the printing on the spines, and she reached up to take those down and examine the front. Across, up, and back. Across, up and back. Bottom to top. Nothing in the first case, and she mov
ed to the other one. Across, up, back. It was a tall case, and as she gazed at the top and final shelf she despaired of finding anything. Her fingers fumbled about among the hard-to-see volumes up there, and touched a small one bound in leather.

  A scream filled her head. Her hand jerked back, and trembling took her, for she knew that voice. It echoed in her memory, a part of her soul her entire life. Father. It had been her father’s voice, a shout of despair that cut her to the core. Heart in her throat, she looked around the room, but there was nobody else in the apartment. For a moment she waited to regain her breath, then reached for the book again. The scream came again, surely her father, and her hand yanked back once again. Tears rose, and she turned a panicky circle. This was the magic. Surely she’d found the faerie magic, in the book Nick had spoken of. That was her father’s voice, she was certain, and that could only mean she’d found the book with that terrible story. Her fingers trembled and a sob rose in her as she reached for the evil thing once again, and this time she held onto it though the voices broke her heart. She pulled the book from its shelf, and they stopped.

  At first she couldn’t bear to open it. She stood still in the office and tears dribbled down her cheeks. The book was warm in her hands; she could feel the magic coursing through them and up her arms. It was terrible evil. The darkness in it was damp, cave-like, and she could taste it in her mouth. Sour earth, like a grave. Finally she worked up the courage to open the book, but was disappointed to find the words were not printed like in other books. These pages had been written by hand in a script she couldn’t read at all. To her they were only curlicue lines wandering across the page, meaningless. Her heart sank to the floor, and she leaned heavily against the shelves.

  Now her tears were of frustration. This had to be the magic that had taken Nick to Glencoe. This was the information she sought, but it was useless to her. And her father was in there. Possibly her brother as well. Not to know what had happened to them was unendurable. Though she paged through the small volume, there was nothing in it she could decipher. Nothing to tell her why her father had screamed, or what had become of Dùghall. The tears made dark spots on the aged, brown paper as she cried herself out, standing in the middle of Nick’s office.