Love Everlastin' Book 3 (29 page)

"Lannie," she said, stepping
toward him, his daughter in her arms. "I would like you to be here
for ma passing."

Lachlan ran his tongue over
the smarting wound on the inside of his lower lip then shook his
head. He could feel hot tears pressing behind his eyes as his gaze
repeatedly moved between Agnes' face and the cherubic profile of
his daughter. Brown curls were visible beneath her pink bonnet. He
wanted to have a closer look at his children. Wanted to hold them.
But something dark and suffocating swirled around his insides,
terrifying him, creating an emotional wall between him and the
people he loved in the room.

"Lannie?" Agnes took another
step in his direction. "I didn’t mean wha' I said."

"Aye, Aggie," he choked,
backing through the doorway. "I'll miss you, you old
corbie."

"Don't go," Beth choked.
"Lachlan, please."

Lachlan met her pleading
gaze and stiltedly shook his head. "I canna do this. Fegs, Beth, I
canna face ma mortality yet!"

He ran down the hall in the
direction of the front doors, leaving Beth staring bleakly after
him, her face damp with tears.

C
hapter 11

During the celebration,
laughter companioned Agnes' favorite stories of her life. Her
accounts of her childhood with eight siblings in Edinburgh, and her
single motherhood experiences raising her son, held the others a
captive audience. All but Lachlan was present. Even Wiggles
attended, although he remained in a small bird cage Kevin had found
in the attic, and which was now perched on the sideboard. He
feasted on bread and cheese, occasionally dipping into the tiny
bowl of water that had been given him.

As dusk came and went, the
mood of everyone around the dining room table grew progressively
more somber. They boys were uncharacteristically quiet, now and
then casting Agnes woeful glances. Laura remained tearful during
most of the gathering. A wistful yet sad expression seemed a
permanent fixture on Roan's rugged face. Beth held her son and was
often lost in thought while studying his face—a face she could
already see Lachlan's once cherished visage in. Dark hair and dark
eyebrows, dark eyes, chiseled lips and cleft chin, all like his
father. Her daughter looked more like Beth's mother. Pert nose and
blue eyes, with dark brown hair, curly like Beth's.

Winston, although enjoying
Agnes' stories, found himself, most of the time, watching Deliah
from the corner of his eye. Before and since the cakes and snow
cone treats, she held Beth and Lachlan's daughter. Not once had she
looked at him. She acted as if he wasn't in the room, or that his
being there didn't faze her in the least. He wasn't sure which
irked him more. And he wasn't sure how he felt about the fact that,
being a woman with no navel, her obvious love of babies bore an
unmistakable maternal inclination.

Deliah glanced up at him as
if divining his thoughts. He looked away and felt heat surge into
his face. If he started thinking too much about her or dwelled too
much on the maddening perplexities of her physical
abnormality.

How could he not?

How many times had he racked
his brain trying to recall other discrepancies she might
have?

No others came to mind, but
he wasn't convinced that she wasn't hiding something more from him.
Something other than her origin.

"It’s time," Agnes
announced.

A hush fell over the room.
Winston's gaze crept to Deliah. He didn't need to be psychic to
pick up on her sorrow. Despite her outward bravado, her eyes
betrayed the depths of her despair. At that moment, he couldn't
deny his love for her. He was determined to keep its existence to
himself, but he could no longer deny it within the confines of his
mind. Watching her and not caring that she was aware of his
transgression, he marveled at her ability to appear so ethereal and
innocent, especially in light of her fevered lovemaking the
previous night.

No navel.

The thought brought a frown
to his smooth brow.
Animal, vegetable,
mineral?
Was her packaging an
illusion?

Agnes rose to her feet.
Winston sat back in his chair and observed the farewells with the
same detachment he used when on the job. The boys collectively
hugged her when she crouched and opened her arms to them. Winston
absorbed wafting segments of their sadness. It was impossible not
to take in some, but he decided to brace himself against too much
of an influx. He liked and admired Agnes Ingliss, but he didn't
know her well enough to show an outward display of
emotion—contrived as it would have to be. And it wouldn't do if he
absorbed too much of the others' morbidity and burst into tears
like a silly old goose.

Laura was next. Sniffling
but making a valiant effort to keep a firm rein on her emotions,
she waited for the boys to group a few feet away then put her arms
around Agnes' thin shoulders. During the exchange, through which
Laura broke into sobs while listing all the reasons Agnes shouldn't
leave, Roan slowly rose to his feet. One merely looking at him
would have noticed nothing more than a calm demeanor with a tad of
sorrow visible in his eyes. But Winston could see beyond the
veneer. See deeply into the man's soul, and it disturbed him to
trespass into that vast territory. He hadn't intended to scan his
host, but it had come about as naturally as a breath.

Agnes' pending separation
from her friends and living family, was a festering sore within
Roan's emotional center. He'd lost his wife and young son to a
fire. His parents and younger sister had left him to seek their
fortune in the United States, and they had from what little Winston
had learned from Roan. Roan was a man who expected little from
life, and even less from relationships.

Agnes had been his family
lifeline since he was eleven years old, and now she, too, was
leaving. Winston detected panic in Roan. Panic and doubt regarding
his ability to measure up to family life without her guidance. This
surprised Winston. Of all the men he'd known, including Lachlan
Baird, he admired Roan the most. Unlike most men, Roan was outgoing
and dirt honest, but inside, he was complex. Scanning Roan was
equivalent to riding a roller coaster in the dark. Motion in the
fast lane with no end in sight. He had no goals beyond securing
Laura and the boys' futures, and no preconceived notions as to what
the world owed him. Roan was the best mankind had to offer. A man
of honor. A man of devotion. A man of heart to even a stranger such
as Winton had been.

Winston glanced away when
Roan embraced Aggie. The emotions in the room were closing in
around him and he didn't want to react to their infusion in his
psychic matrix. He felt a little queasy all of a sudden.
Lightheaded. He forced breaths through his nostrils while he
pinched his lips into a fine line. His vision went hazy. Dimly, he
was aware of Deliah staring at him. He thought he saw something
floating through the air then realized something was heading for
his brow. It was a bright blue fiber worming toward him. As it got
closer, he felt gentle waves of psychic energy emanate from it. His
eyes crossed as he tried to watch it pass through his forehead.
When the last of it vanished from his sight, he experienced a wash
of heat. His queasiness and lightheadedness disappeared. It was as
if he'd gotten a pure shot of adrenaline. His blood sang through
his veins and he gratefully offered Deliah a lopsided
grin.

Why?
he mused, puzzled by her gift.

Because ye were abou' to
succumb,
she replied nonchalantly, stunning
him with the clarity of her telepathic projection.

He stared into eyes as blue
as the Mediterranean. Eyes which bespoke of timeless knowledge and
fathomless secrets. He swallowed hard and straightened in his seat.
The air stirred about him and he looked away from Deliah to find
Agnes standing to his right. Her lined face was soft and maternal,
her eyes glittering with hope, excitement, and expectation. She was
eager to begin her journey.

Feeling awkward, Winston
rose to his feet. At first he could only stare down into her
wizened features. The last person he'd hugged who hadn't been or
was soon to become his lover, had been his grandmother. He could
not recall his parents ever touching him, and he hadn't been
allowed to embrace them. And for the first time in his life, that
cold wall they'd created between themselves and him, angered him.
He resented the way they had physically and emotionally ostracized
him. He resented having become only a portion of the man he should
have been. An emotionally whole man, not just a man only capable of
living through the emotions of others.

"I've only known you a short
time, Master Winston, but I do know this abou' you," Agnes began in
a soft tone. "Ye're a kind mon wi' a big heart, and wha' you do in
the name o' justice is no wee wonder." Smiling faintly, she rested
a wrinkled hand over his heart. "But life is short, young mon, and
wi’ou' love, it’s damn lonely. So I tell you this, and you'll pay
me heed because I've lived a verra long life, and I've learned a
lesson or two to pass on.

"Open yer eyes before you
get too lost in the darkness. Accept wha' yer heart tells you is
true, and follow yer heart wherever its path leads you."

She stood on tiptoe and
planted cool lips to his cheek in a kiss. Settling back on the
heels of her flat, navy shoes, she broadened her smile. "You take
care o' ma Deliah. She's a precious resource our world is sadly
losin’. Promise me, Master Winston. I can’t leave her fate to the
outsiders. Promise me you'll take good care o' her."

Her entreaty had speared him
with panic, yet he heard himself say, "I will. You have ma
promise."

Agnes walked around to Beth,
whose head was bent over her sleeping son in her arms. Winston felt
his chest grow tight. He could hear Beth softly weeping and it
rocked him. Agnes stroked the back of Beth's head, her hand
trembling and her chin quivering.

"I will miss you, child,"
said Agnes, emotion nearly strangling her words. "If I could have
had a daughter—"

Beth shot to her feet.
Angling the infant to prevent it from getting scrunched between
their bodies, she threw her left arm around Agnes and clung dearly
to her. Now, Beth's crying came in great sobs, seeming to echo in
the room. Kahl leading the way, the boys ran to the parlor, and
from there, to the hall and staircase. Roan sat in one of the
chairs as if his legs could no longer support him. Laura seated
herself on his lap and, also weeping, laid her cheek atop his left
shoulder.

"Dammit, Aggie, it hurts to
let you go!" Beth wept bitterly.

Agnes pulled back and
tenderly ran the backs of her fingers down Beth's wet cheeks. "Ooh,
I know, Beth. If I wasn’t so sure I was doin’ the right
thing...."

"No. Forgive me, Aggie,"
said Beth tremulously. "You have every right to go to your son. I
remember seeing him, now. They're only fragments of memory, but I
do remember seeing him."

"One day, we'll be togither
again." Agnes bobbed her head. "Aye, we'll all be togither.
Meanwhile, you and Lannie—weel, you tamed tha' devil once." She
laughed then drew in a pseudo breath and glanced at Deliah. "I feel
the Light openin’."

Deliah nodded and stood.
Walking around the table, she passed the infant she carried to
Laura then stepped back. Her face pale and taut, her eyes dull, she
said, "I must ask ye all to leave. Tis no' ma place to let ye
witness the Light."

Roan was about to protest
when he read the plea in Agnes' eyes to do as Deliah instructed.
One by one, they filed out of the room, Beth lagging behind
Winston. When there was only Deliah and Agnes left, Deliah numbly
unfastened the back of her dress and let it fall to the floor. She
stepped clear of the material, then initiated her
transformation.

Agnes watched in awe as the
young woman became a vision of wonder. Deliah began her clan's
dance of passage and soon a white effulgence came through the
ceiling and encompassed Agnes. The dance continued until the Light
had vanished, taking with it the soul, the spirit, of a woman who
had brought her own kind of magic to Baird House.

* * *

Not even death had been as
cold as was this night. Cloaked in two wool, full-size blankets,
sitting atop his grave with his back braced against the headstone
bearing his name, Lachlan stared with devastation into the dark
gray sky. It was no longer snowing, but the temperature had to be
well below freezing. Still, it didn't compare to the arctic cold
residing where his heart should be.

He'd glimpsed a flicker of
light shoot down from the sky and pierce the house. He knew what it
was. While he had sat out here, freezing his ass clear to his tail
bone, struggling with indecision, Heaven had decided for him. Now
there was no chance to say a proper goodbye to Aggie. No chance to
tell her how much she'd come to mean to him. He'd let the
opportunity slip away because of his asinine inability to come to
grips with himself.

What was wrong with
him?

How could he fear
fatherhood?

A new beginning with
Beth?

Life?

With a garbled cry of raw
anguish, he buried his face in his hands.