Finding Fraser(39)

Gerald picked a seat right by the fireplace and I slid into the chair across from him. He sighed and gestured to the half-pint of golden liquid sitting in front of me. “Drink up,” he said, and took a sip of his own. “It’s a shandy. I’ve developed a taste for them on the tour.”

“Thanks.” I took a sip. I was fairly certain it was beer and ginger ale mixed together. A little sweet for my tastes, but a free drink was a free drink.

Gerald swallowed another deep draft of his drink and sighed deeply.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last. “But I was so knocked out by the sight of that Highlander. It—he—took my breath away.”

“Me, too. But, to tell you the truth, I wasn’t completely convinced. It couldn’t have been a ghost, right? I mean—there must be some rational explanation.”

I took another sip of my drink, which was growing on me. “It’s not the right circle, for one. And his cloak looked funny … I just needed to get closer.”

He nodded. “I had no expectations, you know. I mean—Clava Cairns— it’s nowhere near Fort William, and in spite of what everyone says, I’m sure Craigh na Dun is much closer to there than here. And I had those old biddies nattering on like fence birds the whole time. We argued about the site all the way down on the bus. Evelyn was convinced she’d see the ghost at Clava, and I was equally sure we would not.”

“And then you did.”

He grinned at me for the first time, completely transforming his expression in an instant from sour-faced to charming.

“Apparently, so did you. Anyway, I decided on the trip up from Edinburgh that I’d had enough of all the natterin’ …”

“Claire this and Claire that?”

He laughed. “Yeah. I’m not a whisky man, either. Bourbon’s more to my taste. In the end, as soon as my cellphone picked up service outside Inverness, I called and booked the cab. Had a private word with Angus the tour driver and it was all set. I had no idea what I’d see, but the lure of waiting by the stone circle had a certain appeal, which I’m sure you can appreciate.”

I nodded and sipped. The glow of the shandy warmed my insides. “Not to mention ditching the tour-bus denizens.”

He leaned back in his chair and looked me over from frizzy head to wet toe. “Definitely more Laoghaire than Claire with that fair hair of yours,” he said, appraisingly. “I guess I should worry that you might just pull a Laoghaire and move in on my ghost, then?”

I tucked a strand of damp hair behind my ear. “Well, if it was him, it’ll be the second time I’ve lost Jamie on this trip, so there’ll be no stealing your man,” I said. “Besides, I’m more anxious to find a modern version of him in the flesh than in apparition-form.”

Gerald nodded. “What’re you going to do next?”

I shrugged. “I met a friend here—her name’s Susan. She said something about some other stone circles nearby. And I need to think things through a bit, I guess.”

He waved at the server and counted a few bills onto the table. “It’s Fort William for me,” he said. “I’ve pinpointed a set of standing stones on a hillside down there that are pretty much derelict, and not on any of the tour maps I’ve read, anyway.”

“Really?” I asked, intrigued, in spite of myself. “Where?”

His face closed up again, as suddenly as it had opened, and I could tell he was wrestling with himself. “You have internet access?” he said, at last. I nodded and he slid a small notebook and pen over to me. “Write your contact information here. If I have any luck at all, I’ll tell you—afterwards.”

I raised my hand to him as he walked out the door, convinced I would never hear from him again— and a bit relieved at the thought. That he believed in ghosts was odd enough— but that he was chasing down the ghost of a fictional character?

Demented.





8:45 am, March 16

Inverness, Scotland

I’m still pretty tired, and not really sure I want to blog about this anyway, but I can sum up, I think, by saying this trip is far from over.

I saw a ghost last night.

The circle was wrong.

The location was wrong.

And yet I saw a ghost. A ghostly Highlander.

I’m not sure what to make of this. I don’t know what it means.

This trip is FAR from over.





I flipped the cover of the notebook closed and dropped it on the pillow beside me, too exhausted from the events of the day before to even grab my laptop and do the post properly.

Breathing deeply, I stared up at the ceiling, just taking stock. My body hurt all over from the bike ride, but strangely enough my knee seemed to be completely better. I tried to remember when it had stopped hurting—I’d bashed it again on one of the standing stones, but sometime after stepping into the stone circle— the pain had vanished.