Love Everlastin' Book 3 (18 page)

Everyone looked down the far
end of the hallway when Deliah intensely fixed her gaze in that
direction. Another wail came, not quite so loud but nonetheless
disturbing.

"Aggie, wha's goin’ on?"
Roan asked in a whisper.

"I don’t know." She jerked
when she became aware of a presence within the house. "No. It can’t
be," she murmured.

Roan looked askance at his
aunt. "Aggie, wha's wrong?"

Deliah sidestepped closer to
Winston and wrapped her arms about his middle. The quilt fell to
the floor as she met his bewildered gaze, her own trying to convey
that she wished she could have done everything differently. He was
about to question her when a door at the far left of the hall
banged open.

A figure bounded from the
master suite and ran toward them, at first appearing to be but a
blur. When what turned out to be a man was nearly upon them, gasps
detonated from the group.

Electricity crackled in the
air as the newcomer came to a jarring halt and cried, "Fegs, tis
Beth! I think she's in labor!"

C
hapter 7

Time and space existed in a
small, confining bubble, left adrift in infinite grayness. At
least, that was Winston's initial impression when he realized who
the man was standing in front of him. He couldn't move. Couldn't
speak. And he was conscious of the others suffering the same
condition. It was as if a spell had been cast over them. Suspended
in the bubble, where movement was impossible and sound couldn't be
heard because of the lack of oxygen, they were all drifting into
the unknown, a realm of such surrealism their minds couldn't begin
to grasp what was happening to them.

Another crescendoing,
pitiful moan came. Then Lachlan Baird—ghost
extraordinaire—bellowed, "Have you all gone daft? Ma Beth is in
pain! Come alive!"

"Stay wi' the lads," Winston
heard Agnes say, and shortly realized she had spoken to Roan, who
remained as still as a statue, staring at Lachlan through a face as
pale as a marble statue.

The boys' mouths were agape.
It was the longest span of silence that had ever befallen them
during their awake hours. When Roan suddenly fell on the floor on
his butt, his gaze dazedly riveted on the former laird of Baird
House, Kevin sat to his right, Kahl to his left, and Alby perched
himself atop Roan's lap. The scene struck Winston funny, but he
couldn't laugh. Not even a smile was able to strain past the taut
muscles in his face.

Then Deliah was tugging
Winston along, trailing Laura, Agnes and Lachlan down the hall. For
the life of him, Winston couldn't fathom how he was walking. He
could barely feel his legs beneath him. His mind was trapped in a
dimension somewhere between reality and make-believe, trapped on a
roller coaster going at a head-reeling speed on a track that had no
foreseeable end. When Deliah squeezed his hand, he looked down at
her through glazed eyes. He knew they were glazed, because she
looked fuzzy. Out of sorts. She didn't look real to him, but he
could feel her solidity pressing against his side, and her fingers
spastically opening and closing on his clasped hand.

Dimly he was conscious of
voices. Heavily gauzed voices, and he was unable to make out what
was being said.

Another scream, one that
pierced his soul with its depths of agony, rescued him. His senses
awakened. He stared at a woman atop the bed and immediately
recognized her. The curly light brown hair. Blue eyes and creamy
complexion. She still wore the long white gown he'd seen her
wearing in her ghostly form that fateful Christmas Eve.

"Oh...God!" she cried,
gripping the bed quilt so fiercely her fingers were
white.

Bloodless....

Details crashed upon the
shores of Winston's awareness. Beth Staples' pain-contorted face
was coated in perspiration. Damp tendrils of hair clung to her
brow, cheeks and neck. Her breathing was hoarse, labored. She was
braced on her elbows, her raised knees parted. From Winston's
vantage point by the wall near the head of the bed, he could see
that her stomach was a mound beneath the gown. There was no
disputing that she was pregnant. Pregnant and in the throes of hard
labor.

"Aggie...Aggie," Beth
panted. "What's happening to me? God, it hurts!"

The last she wailed, and
Winston nearly ran from the room. He'd never witnessed a woman in
labor, and swore he never would again. Laura and Aggie were on the
opposite side of the bed, Aggie sitting and lifting Beth's gown
over her knees. Bewilderment and panic masked Laura's face. Lachlan
stood at the foot of the bed, his wide eyes fixed between Beth's
legs. He looked about ready to faint, and nearly did when Agnes
announced, "I see the head."

"Winston." Deliah's
authoritative tone drew his gaze to her face. "Take Lachlan away
afore he drops," she ordered.

Beth released a long,
suffering groan and Winston felt his blood plummet into his feet.
His stomach became queasy and the room pitched into a maddening
spin.

"Winston," Deliah said
kindly, reaching up and brushing the backs of the fingers of her
right hand down one of his cheeks. "Leave. Tis female matters here.
Take Lachlan and leave, Winston.
Now."

"Laura, fetch me some hot
water and clean towels," said Aggie. Her pale blue eyes targeted
Winston after casting Lachlan a fleeting glance. "And for Pete's
sake, get him ou' o' here!"

Nodding like an automaton
out of control, Winston shuffled to Lachlan Baird's side. "It's
time we checked on Roan and the boys." But Lachlan stood, immersed
in shock and deepening revulsion at the sight of a baby's head
emerging between Beth's thighs.

"Lachlan Ian Baird," Beth
gritted out, "I'm going to castrate you!"

A breath
whooshed
from the former laird and he
jerked back. Next Winston knew, he and Lachlan were hastening down
the hall in the direction of the other males in the house. Roan was
on his feet, leaning against the wall as if his legs couldn't
support him. The boys were quiet, the two older brothers blinking
at Winston, while Alby's face split into a grin and his eyes
sparkled in wonderment.

When Winston and Lachlan
came to a stop, the three-year-old stepped up to Lachlan, craned
back his head to peer into Lachlan's face and breathed, "Lannie,
you're back."

Lachlan and Roan locked
gazes, both looking as though the world had dropped from beneath
them.

"Lannie," Roan began, but
another wail came from Beth, and the group in the hall cringed in
unison.

"I-I c-canna take hearin’
her in p-pain," Lachlan stammered, his gaze casting about like a
madman seeking escape.

"The library," Winston
suggested. He, too, needed to escape Beth's cries and her panting,
roaring breaths, which seemed to fill every molecule of the air
surrounding him.

Lachlan lifted Alby and
absently positioned him on his right hip, then hurried down the
staircase. The older brothers followed. Winston hung back, waiting
for Roan, who took several seconds longer to push himself away from
the wall and head down the stairs.

Winston trailed behind, his
thoughts in overdrive. He tried to concentrate on Deliah, but with
the advent of the ghostly couple, the remaining mysteries behind
the fourth dimension nymph seemed somehow trivial at the moment. At
first recognition of Lachlan Baird, impressions had rushed at
Winston. He still couldn't accept what his inner senses told him.
Beth Staples was upstairs in the master suite, giving birth, and
her dubious significant other was leading this all male party to
the library, still carrying Alby on his hip.

These two factors should
have convinced him that anything more was possible, and
yet....

Beth's cries and moans
followed them into the library. Winston closed the pocket doors
behind him then stood guardlike with his arms folded against his
chest. He was at a lost what to do, what to say, but saw that he
was in better shape than Roan, who stood at the stoked fireplace
with his back to the others.

Lachlan placed Alby on his
feet and shakily instructed the boys to sit on the sofa. They did
so without hesitation, three pair of awe-filled eyes glued to
Lachlan.

"Roan?" Lachlan cut Winston
a glance before again staring at the back of Roan's bent head.
"Roan, say somethin’. At least tell me how you brought us
back."

The current laird's
shoulders twitched beneath his wool shirt. After a moment, he
turned. Devastation was deeply carved in his ashen face, and a mist
of tears was visible in his eyes. Winston hadn't intended to link
with the emotions in the room, but he found he was and unable to
purge himself of their overwhelming influence. Each of the boys
were experiencing different levels of elation. Their favorite
ghosts were back and they weren't concerned with the hows and the
whys. Lachlan was terrified, but of what Winston wasn't
sure.

He couldn't bring himself to
delve into the man's psyche, for he already felt he knew too much.
Roan perplexed him the most. He watched him with increasing
concern. No thoughts came through, but Winston was sure Roan was on
the verge of emotionally shutting down, withdrawing into himself.
To hide away from his fear of having to grieve for his friends all
over again.

"Laddie," Lachlan said
softly to Roan, his hands opening and closing into fists at his
sides. "I'm confused and scared and needin’ confirmation tha' this
is all no' ma bloody imagination havin’ its way wi' me. Has ma mind
dropped into the lap o' the devil himself, or is this
real?"

Roan remained silent and
Lachlan's face reddened with anger. "Fegs, answer me!"

"Don't yell at my uncle,"
Kevin said to Lachlan, his eyebrows drawn down in a scowl, and his
chin quivering as he spoke.

Lachlan fondly searched each
of the young faces. "Sorry, lads. Tis...tis all so confusin’ to
me."

Lachlan's head shot around
when Roan abruptly walked toward him and stopped half an arm's
length away. Winston gauged their building emotions. He was half
convinced he should place himself between the two men, act as
referee, but an inner voice told him to stay put and observe,
nothing more.

Silence prevailed for a
time. The air in the room grew thick and oppressive with
anticipation. Lachlan's broad chest pumped beneath his full-sleeved
white shirt, while Roan's broader chest revealed his breathing was
shallow, overly controlled. Then Roan lifted his right hand and
held it poised in the air for several seconds before placing it on
Lachlan's left shoulder. Lachlan's right hand likewise settled on
Roan's left shoulder. More time passed. Only the crackling fire
could be heard.

"Then, "How did you do it?"
Lachlan whispered, a quavering element in his voice.

"Ye're really here," Roan
said, his numb state holding fast. "You...you feel and look
and...smell the same, you old mon."

A grin cracked through the
tension in Lachlan's face. "Aye, you, too, laddie. So, how did you
bring us back?"

Roan numbly shook his head
and unconsciously kneaded Lachlan's shoulder. "I didn't. You just
showed up. Popped in. Did one o' yer...materializin’
acts."

"No, laddie," said Lachlan
unsteadily. "We were brought back as surely as the sun rises every
morn." His voice cracked and he drew in a throbbing breath. "Fegs,
this is too weird, even for me."

Roan's breathing
accelerated. For a split second, Winston was prepared to lunge
forward and separate the man, but his belief that his host was
about to snap, proved wrong. Roan suddenly flung his arms around
Lachlan and repeatedly clapped him on the back. Choked sounds
emanated from both men, the boys started weeping, and Winston, much
to his chagrin, was so choked up, he had to gulp air into his lungs
in a bid to ward back tears. They came nonetheless, and he swiped
them away before anyone could witness them.

"Lannie, Lannie," Roan said,
in a voice caught between a laugh and a sob. "Damn me, I can't
believe ye’re here! How many times—" He pulled back and almost
roughly framed Lachlan's face between his large hands. "—will I
have to say goodbye before you stay dead?"

A strange expression
softened Lachlan's features as he stepped out of Roan's grasp. He
looked as if Roan had emotionally wounded him. As if he wanted to
crawl into a hole and hide from the world.

"I just arrived," said
Lachlan in a low tone. "Dinna worry abou' yer position here. I've
no inten—"

"Och!" Roan laughed, his
hands raised in a placating gesture. "Lannie, I was jokin’!" He
lowered his hands and offered a genuine grin. "We're all feelin’ a
wee tense, but I couldn't be happier to see you!"

Lachlan glanced at the boys,
at Winston then lowered his gaze to his hands as they brushed aside
imaginary lint on his tight-fitting black pants. "This dinna feel
right, Roan. Beth..." His troubled gaze lifted to solemnly regard
Roan. "Pregnant? I dinna remember much abou' where we were, but I
would think I would remember makin’ a baby wi' ma
womon."

Trenching the fingers of his
left hand through the top of his shoulder-length, dark auburn hair,
Lachlan walked to the fireplace and picked up the wrought-iron
poker. For a short time he prodded the burning logs then turned to
face his companions, his dark eyebrows drawn down in a
frown.