Not Without Juliet (A Scottish Time Travel Romance) (Muir Witch Project #2) (23 page)

They still hadn’t spoken. Quinn had needed all of Jillian’s attention. But the woman kept glancing over at her. She paced about twenty feet away, between two trees, feeling like an orphan looking through the dining room window at a real family sitting down for Thanksgiving.

She felt a heavy arm descend over her shoulders and glanced up, sure she would see James there, trying to make Quinn jealous. But it was Montgomery.

“Ye see, Jillian?” the man called to his wife. “I’ve got her. She’s not going anywhere.” In a lower voice he said, “For the love of God, don’t go anywhere.”

Jules laughed.

Quinn’s head snapped around. He looked at Montgomery, then at her. There was a question in his eyes and she knew just what he was asking.
Was she remembering the dream? Imagining it was Montgomery on the other side of the bars?
The fact that he would worry made her tear up.

She looked intently into Quinn’s eyes and shook her head slowly, clearly.

He smiled and nodded. Then she looked from him to Jillian and back, asking him the same silent question. He laughed and shook his head.

“What the bloody hell was that about?” Montgomery asked it none too quietly.

“Private joke,” she said.

“Ah. And just how much privacy did you and my nephew enjoy?” He’d sounded like a protective father, not a brother in law.

“Oh, we didn’t enjoy it.”

Quinn frowned, then called out. “The hell we didn’t.”

Jillian made Quinn lift one arm, pushed it up a little higher, then gave him a good frown. Then she bent back to her stitching. A second later, Quinn cried out.

Montgomery laughed. Jillian slapped her patient on the shoulder, like it was his own fault he’d gotten hurt.

Quinn held very still, but spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I’d be better able to concentrate, Jillian, if a certain great uncle of mine would just remove his hands from my woman.”

Jillian straightened and dropped the bloody rag she’d been holding. She glanced in Jules’ direction, but not up at her face. Tears poured from her eyes and she walked away, in the opposite direction, into the trees.

Montgomery’s arm disappeared from Jules’ shoulders and he ran after his wife. She didn’t go far, though, and collapsed at the bottom of a tree, bawling into her hands.

“Jillian! You will be all right, do you hear?”

“No. No, I won’t,” she sobbed quietly, but her voice carried in the moist air.

“Is it the babe? Do you wish to lie down?”

“No. The baby’s fine. But...” She was crying too hard to finish.

She was pregnant?

Well, hormonal or not, Jules knew the crying was her fault. If she were anyone else, she might have been able to run up to the woman who was supposedly her sister, throw her arms around her, and start celebrating. But she just wasn’t like that.

Jillian Ross wasn’t just a stranger; she’d been the bane of Jules’ existence. And she couldn’t just pretend it wasn’t true. She had to show a little loyalty to herself, to remember what she’d come here to do. She was finally close enough to speak to the chick. It was time to suck it up and do it. After all, Jillian was already crying—she couldn’t make it much worse.

Her pounding heart propelled her across the clearing and she didn’t stop walking until she was standing in front of her sister. Montgomery was squatting beside his wife, drying her tears with her own hair. He stood and gave Jules a grateful smile, then started to walk away.

“Wait. You probably don’t want to leave her,” she warned. “Not when you hear what I’ve come to say.”

Monty’s brows rose, but he looked more curious than worried. He shared a glance with Jillian, then leaned against the tree. Within comforting distance maybe.

“First of all,” Jules began, “I want to thank you for taking care of Quinn. I don’t know anything about stitching wounds. I’m probably a lot better at inflicting them. I’m sure you’ll agree in a minute.”

Jillian put a hand on the ground and got to her feet. “I guess if you plan to hurt me, I shouldn’t take it sitting down,” she said. Then she wiped a sleeve across her face and lifted her chin.

It was all too painful to watch, like Jules was seeing herself move, hearing something she might have said under the same circumstances. But she shook off the empathetic impressions and got back to the script she’d practiced on the hillside.

“My parents... Our parents died in a car crash...” She couldn’t go on. After all this rehearsing, she couldn’t tell this ghostly version of herself that it was her fault her parents died. Maybe, now that she wasn’t alone anymore, she could see through that red, angry fog and admit that it hadn’t been Jillian’s fault. All the fault should be laid at their grandmother’s feet.

“My grandmother,” Jillian began. “Our grandmother told me my parents died in a car wreck. She never said anything about a sister. She said we had no other family. I’ve known about you for about thirty-six hours.”

Her sister swallowed, then gave a little smile, but it didn’t stay long. She must have read something on Jules’ face that told her not to start celebrating. It must have been the shock. When Jules was able to speak again, she couldn’t seem to turn up the volume enough to hear herself clearly. What she did hear clearly was her heart pounding against the wall of her chest.

“You don’t remember me?” She didn’t know if she was more hurt or outraged. She’d considered the possibility, but it hadn’t seemed possible that Jillian’s memory would be worse than her own. The second time she spoke, she was nice and clear. “You’re claiming you don’t remember me?”

When her voice bounced around the trees and back into her face, she glanced over at Montgomery, to see if he was going to come to his wife’s defense, but he was gone. Jillian followed her gaze.

About twenty feet away, the missing husband had his arms over the shoulders of Quinn and Ewan and the three of them were sneaking quickly away into the mist. James, who now stood guard over the horses, seemed to realize he’d been abandoned. He turned aside and whistled softly.

“Cowards,” she and Jillian said in unison.

Neither of them laughed.

“To answer your question,” Jillian said, “no, I didn’t remember you. Since the Muir sisters told me we were twins, I’ve remembered just a few things. Little, stupid things. I didn’t even remember your name, although Jules sounded a lot more familiar than Juliet. I should have been able to remember your name. I’m so sorry.”

“I would have given anything to forget yours,” Jules mumbled.

Jillian’s mouth opened like she’d just been punched in the stomach, but she recovered quickly for someone who’d just been bawling her head off.

“First blood goes to you,” said her sister. “Fine. So I’ll tell you what’s been bothering me for the last day and a half. If you’ve known about me, remembered me, why the hell didn’t you come looking for me before now?”

Jules’ mouth opened with an indignant grunt. “Are you kidding me? I spent my life looking for you! You stupid, self-centered bitch! You never looked back!
You
never looked for
us!”

To her horror, that little outburst opened a floodgate of her own wild emotions. She couldn’t catch her next breath and was at the mercy of her own contorting body. The only way to breathe was to bawl.

Quinn came out of nowhere, but it wasn’t
his
arms that came around her, it was Jillian’s.

“Get out of here,” her sister barked at him.

Jules was grateful he went. Even her hand spread wide couldn’t hide her gaping, howling mouth, and she turned toward her sister and buried her face against her so no one else could see the ugliness. There was just too much pain for her to handle on her own. For once, just this once, she’d lean on Jillian, but just until the tide in her chest turned.

Jules hadn’t noticed when they’d made it to the ground, but as her surroundings crept back into her awareness, she realized they were seated right hip to right hip facing opposite directions, with their heads on each other’s right shoulders. Jillian flipped a small square of plaid over her arm and Jules hurried to blow her nose on it before anyone told her it was meant for something else. Scots were funny about their plaids, weren’t they?

Jillian let go of her and pulled back to look in her face.

“You said,
You never came looking for us
.” She took a deep breath. “Who is
us?
”

Jules wasn’t sure she could talk, but she tried.

“Mom and Dad,” she said.

Jillian frowned. “But they died, when we were three.”

“No. They died when just before our tenth birthday. We looked for you for six years. It’s what we did. Then, after I was old enough to drive, I was always looking for you too. By then I was pretty mad and wanted to take it out on somebody. It wasn’t until I was snooping in an FBI agent’s stuff that I found the file they had on me. They’d known about you, and about grandmother. Suddenly I knew right where to find you.”

Jillian was shaking her head and tearing up again. “I don’t understand. Why would Grandmother have lied to me? Why would she keep me from my parents? Were they abusive?”

“No! No, they were wonderful.” Jules realized she’d been so angry for so long she’d forgotten how lucky she’d been. “It was Grandmother,” she said. “She was crazy. Mother refused to believe her conspiracy theories so Grandmother took you away. Supposedly, she was protecting you from something that was supposed to happen in the future. Now that I know about the tomb, I’m not so sure she was crazy. But how did she know?”

“It’s a long story. Let’s just say, she misunderstood something she heard. I’ll tell you all about it another time. And you can tell me what our parents were like.”

“Deal,” Jules said.

Jillian leaned back on her hands and looked at the toes of her green boots.

“I remember a little girl who I thought was just my reflection in a mirror,” she said. “And a bear named Necklace.”

“White bear with purple legs and arms?”

“And head.”

Jules shook her head. “It wasn’t Necklace. It was Jewels. Your bear was Jules. Mine was Jillybean. They’re in a box, somewhere.”

“Grandmother called me Jillybean.”

“So did I.” Jules swallowed back a wave of tears rising in her throat.

Jillian smiled. “I can’t believe you kept them all this time.”

“Yeah. Neither can I.”

They sat in silence for a minute. It was a comfortable silence. Jules could almost imagine she heard her sister’s thoughts.

Someone cleared his throat on the far side of the tree. “Does this mean you two are ready to—”

“Go away!” they shouted together, and this time they laughed.

The guy was gone so fast Jules didn’t know if it had been Quinn or Monty who’d tried to interrupt them.

“So. Is there anything else you wanted to get off your chest?” Jillian asked. “You know, in case we need to cry some more before I finish stitching up Quinn?”

“No. I think—well, at least I hope—I’m done being mean to you.”

Jillian laughed.

They heard a scuffle, then a strange thunk, then silence.

“Jillian! I’m bleedin’,” Monty called.

Jillian shook her head and didn’t move.

“Then stop fighting with Ewan,” she called back.

They giggled, then waited.

A few minutes later, there was another plea for attention.

“Quinn’s bleedin’ again!”

That time, it sounded like Quinn’s voice, but they both jumped to their feet and went hurrying around the tree. Monty and Ewan didn’t look too happy to see them. They both passed a coin to first Quinn, then James.

“How much did you lose, husband?” Jillian walked over and prodded Monty’s arm with a sharp fingernail and he winced.

“Naught,” he said.

“But I saw you pass coins,” she argued.

Monty looked at Quinn and grimaced. Quinn shook his head so slightly Jules wondered if she’d imagined it—if it weren’t for the guilty way he avoided eye contact when he reached for her.

“What did you bet on?” she asked him.

“Nothing of import,” Monty claimed.

“What did you bet on, husband?” Jillian ran her dangerous fingernails up Monty’s chest and by the time she reached his neck, his defenses were forgotten.

“The first wager was determined by which was made of sterner stuff and wouldna greet first.” He cleared his throat. “Knowin’ ye fer the strong woman ye are, I bet on ye, wife.” He grinned like he expected a reward.

Jules figured
greet
meant
cry
. Well, at least Quinn had bet on her. He’d lost, but he’d bet on her. She made a mental note to reward him later, but saw nothing wrong with hugging him tight right then.

“And the second wager was whose blood would bring ye runnin’,” Monty continued. “I must admit to being a wee disappointed in ye, mavournin’.”

“Be disappointed later, uncle,” said Quinn. “For I meant what I said. I am bleeding again.”

***

Jules resumed her pacing between the same two trees while she waited for Jillian to finish with Quinn. He’d already pulled out a stitch, and didn’t mind getting poked again, but something about it bothered Jules and while she paced, she realized what it was.

What if he got an infection? Here. Now.

Could she convince him to go back to the real world with her? Was she wrong to even think it? Wrong to ask him?

But there was something else bothering her too. Something more immediate. Another foreboding.

She spun on her heel and met her sister’s gaze. She suspected the frown on Jillian’s face matched her own. Whatever the foreboding was, her sister felt it too.

“Montgomery,” Jillian called. “We need to leave. Now.”

She said something to Quinn. He nodded. Then Jillian shoved her supplies in her little first aid kit and headed for her horse. Jules could only think to go to Quinn. He raised an arm and waved her to him, smiling, oblivious to whatever it was she and Jillian were feeling.  

She took two steps through the pine needles when she was stopped by James’ bellow—the alarm she’d been dreading to hear for months.

“Gun!”