Page 11 of Highlander Unraveled
“We’re here to take care of the house,” Mrs. MacDonald added.
I glanced back at her, wondering why she felt the need to step in.
Did the old broad know something about time traveling?
Ohmygod…
I had to be reading into things. Paranoid about everything and everyone. She was probably just coming to my rescue from the pesky busybody. Wanted to escape this conversation as much as I did.
The neighbor sniffed, swiping hair from her face. “Well, ye’ll need the key then.”
I turned to face her, narrowing my eyes and cocking my head. I refrained from putting my hands on my hips, reasoning this would likely only get the lady riled up more. “Did you take their key?”
She straightened, holding her broom firm and straight up and down on the ground, like a Roman sentry with his spear. “I did.”
I cocked my head, genuinely irritated and curious. “Why would you do that?”
Her nose turned up. “I wasn’t certain they’d be back.” Her eyes shifted away.
“That’s an odd thing to say. They are your neighbors, and have been so for quite some time. There is no for sale sign. Why would you think that?”
She pursed her lips and looked me straight in the eye. “On account of them having broken out of jail.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Jail?”
Mrs. MacDonald eyed me with worry, but I shook my head. So she’d not fallen for their lie about working as personal trainers. She was smarter than they thought. Or just more of a busybody than anyone had anticipated. Probably went home and searched on the internet for what the clothes at the jail looked like.
She smacked the broom against the pavement. “Jail, missy.”
“You’ve got the wrong of it,” I said, using the tone I carried with wayward staff or adolescents at Gealach Castle. “And it is unchristian of you to pass judgments, especially false. I hope you haven’t spread rumors like this across town. I’d hate for Shona and Moira to return from the U.S. and be labeled for something they didn’t do.”
“Well, I…” The woman sputtered.
“Best give us back the key, else I’ll be forced to call the police,” Mrs. MacDonald said. “That’s stealing, and at your age, ye ought to know better. I’m certain ye don’t want to spend a night in jail.”
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. The neighbor was likely every bit the same age as Mrs. MacDonald. But the mention of stealing, and spending the night in jail, seemed to drain her of her attitude.
“I’ll go get it,” she muttered, but then waggled her finger at me. “But I’ve got my eye on ye. Any funny business and I’ll see to it that the police are questioningye.”
I was too tired to respond, and when Mrs. MacDonald said she would follow the neighbor back to her house to retrieve the key I nodded, sitting down on the front stoop, all the energy sapped from me. I pressed my forehead to my palms, massaged my temples, the pounding in my head not having abated.
“Where are you, Logan?” I murmured into my hands.
But there was no answer, as I knew there wouldn’t be. Oh, but I could have curled up on the stoop and cried. My entire body ached for missing my family. Tears pricked my eyes and I blinked them away, not wanting to break down in front of my new friend. I’d already burdened her enough.
A moment later, Mrs. MacDonald returned with a bronze colored key and held it out to me.
“I don’t know what that was about, my dear, but we’d best get inside before the old biddy comes at ye again. I can tell ye’re tired.”
I nodded, took the key and forced myself to stand. With great effort, as my limbs felt heavy, thick, tired, I slipped the key into the lock. The bolt turned easier than any at Gealach, and I pushed the door open.
The inside of the house was dark and smelled slightly of stale air. The blinds were drawn. I expected, with them having been gone, to also smell something rotten, since they’d not had a chance to empty their trash or clean out the fridge before Fate pulled them back to 1544. I was surprised to find I didn’t.
I flipped a switch and lights turned on. The neighbor said they’d been gone a few weeks, so the electric company wouldn’t have turned off their power just yet. Thank goodness, for me.
“Can I get you some tea?” I asked, walking down the corridor toward the back of the house, where a kitchen normally is, and pleased to see I found it.
I didn’t want Mrs. MacDonald to realize I’d never been here before. I was also hoping she said no.
