“Way better,” I said. “But I have a few gaps in what happened yesterday …”
“That’s to be expected. Think you can eat something? We could talk a bit over breakfast.”
My stomach rumbled, answering for me.
“Right then,” he said. “Breakfast it is.”
I took a last bite of bacon and pushed my chair back. “That was awesome,” I said. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”
“Grand.” Jack smiled at me, and then handed his plate to a woman who appeared through a swinging doorway. “That was lovely, Mrs. Moorcock,” he said. “Thank you.”
She nodded, took my plate as well, and vanished.
The woman had gray hair done up in tiny curls around her head. Certainly not a look I would associate with the mysterious Rebecca.
I leaned across the table. “Is that …”
“Mrs. Moorcock, my housekeeper,” he answered.
“She looks so familiar,” I muttered.
“I think ye may just be remembering her from las’ night. She met us at the door?”
“I guess that’s it.” I took a shot. “Mrs. Rebecca Moorcock?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Gladys, actually.”
I looked down at the spot where my plate had been, unsure of what to reply. Contrary to his earlier suggestion, our breakfast had been eaten in almost total silence, with the mysterious Mrs. NOT-Rebecca Moorcock delivering food and pouring drinks before vanishing through the green door by the sideboard.
Jack cleared his throat. “Would you like some more tea?”
“No, thanks.”
The awkward silence resumed, until just when I thought I couldn’t stand it anymore, we both broke it at once.
“What do yeh remember…” he began, while I said, “Can you tell me …?”
We laughed together, and then said, “You first,” in total unison.
It was almost worse than the silence.
After another moment, when it became clear he was going to wait me out, I tried again.
“I really was heading to Edinburgh to catch a plane,” I said. “I have no idea why the police stopped me. I mean, why stop someone who is leaving anyway? It just doesn’t make sense.”
He took a sip of his tea. “Emma, I don’t think they were planning to stop you. It’s likely only because you ran off when the policewoman called over to you. They likely didn’t know you were in violation of your visa until they looked up your name.”
“I actually told her myself,” I muttered. “I’m such an idiot.”
He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Why were you in Stirling in the first place? You said in the blog you were just stopping there briefly before heading home to America.”
I sighed and looked up at him. “I know—I hadn’t even planned on going, really. I just—I caught the wrong bus, and had to change, and then—well, I just wanted to see the place you’d been writing about. So I stopped on the way.”
I toyed with a spoon Mrs. Moorcock had left on the table. “But, I’m still not clear why I am here at all. I mean—here in Scotland, still. And also here … in this house. The last I remember, Constable Doris said she was going to lock me up and then put me on a plane. And then a bit of screaming …”
He shrugged a little. “Not so very much screaming. Their nurse gave you the shot almost right away.”
I swallowed, trying to remember if I’d ever had a more embarrassing moment. The only one I could think of was the night I crawled out of the bar in Philadelphia.
And Jack had been there, too.
“You have a talent for showing up when things are at their worst,” I whispered. “This is so awful.”
He grinned. “Not for me,” he said, lightly. “You know, I spend most of my days locked in a dark room, writing stories about heroes who are long-dead. It’s a rare treat to be able to actually lend a hand to someone who needs it.”
“I do remember the shot, I think,” I said, slowly. “And you promised to …”
“Take you with me to the airport,” he said, and gave me a slow smile. “My American tour is set to begin in a week or two, so I can move up my flight to New York with no problem. And we had a bit o’ luck in that Constable Doris turned out to be a fan. I signed a book for her, and promised to have ye on a plane soon as possible. Besides, it’ll make a great story for your blog. Your stories always make me laugh out loud.”
Not likely, I thought, but I beamed at him, anyway.
He pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. “But first you need to call and book your ticket for tomorrow.”