Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2 (35 page)

"You believe me, don't
you?"

Holding him back, Laura
searched his ravaged face for a long moment. "Yes, I do. She was
probably trying to say goodbye, Kevin."

"Why couldn't she look
normal, like Lachlan and Beth?"

"I don't know. But how about
if we concentrate on making this Christmas special for your
brothers and Roan?"

"I'll try."

"Oh baby," Laura wept,
hugging him again. "You boys have been so brave through all the
craziness. I'm so grateful I have you in my life. I'd be lost
without you."

"Me, too," he sobbed,
hugging her as tightly as he could. "And I promise to be real good
for now on. I promise."

Framing his face with her
hands, Laura laughed. "Always be yourself, Kevin. Don't change for
anyone, or anything."

He thought over her words
then earnestly stated, "If I had one wish, Aunt Laura, I would wish
to be magic."

"You are magic,
Kevin."

"Real magic, Aunt Laura. I
would fix Baird House, and make us all happy again."

"As long as we're together,
we'll always have magic."

"Enough to fix the
house?"

Laura sighed. "You really
liked that place, didn't you?"

He nodded and swiped the
back of a hand beneath his moist nose. "I miss it. Even the bad man
couldn't make me not want to stay there."

The bad man?

Laura stiffened. So much had
happened since their return from Edinburgh, she'd forgotten the
series of events prior to the fire. Someone had loomed up on the
servant stairwell. And someone had hit and kicked her and dragged
her outside.

Now that she thought about
it, why?

Why drag her outside and
leave Roan and the boys in the house?

Borgie?

Had he been the one
terrorizing the boys?

Had he been the one she'd
seen pass by the window in the bedroom?

A knock at the front door
gave her a start. Jumping up, she crossed the room and opened the
door. Viola Cooke stood primly on the stoop, a smile of greeting
appearing on her thin lips at the sight of Laura.

"May I come in?"

"Of course."

The elderly woman passed
Laura, who shut the door and offered to take her coat.

"Oh no, dear. I can't stay
long." The faded blue eyes lit up as they swung to Kevin. "Well,
young man, are you ready for Saint Nick?"

Kevin shrugged.

Roan came from the kitchen.
"Good evenin', Miss Cooke."

"Dear Roan, I'm so sorry
about your aunt. I planned to attend her funeral, but I was a bit
under the weather."

Roan sadly smiled in
understanding. "How are the roads?"

"Quite good, actually. I'm
sorry I didn't call first, but I was anxious to see the boys." She
cast Kevin a grandmotherly look. "The poor dears have been through
so much."

Roan's troubled gaze met
Laura's briefly then cut away. "Aye. But they're strong lads.
Aren't you, Kevin?"

"Yeah."

A sigh heaving her bosom,
Viola folded her hands against her abdomen. "I have a favor to
ask."

"What is it?" Laura
asked.

Viola smiled warmly at
Kevin. "I would dearly love to take the boys for the night. Some
friends and I have put together a pre-Christmas surprise for them.
Gifts and sweets."

"You want to take them
overnight?"

"Laura dear, you and Roan
need some time together—alone—and me, well, I haven't any
grandchildren to spoil. I promise to return them tomorrow
night."

The doubt in Laura's
expression prompted Viola to rush on, "I will keep my eye on them
every minute. Besides, Bertha and Katherine will be there,
too."

"I-umm, I-I guess it's up to
the boys," Laura stammered.

Sliding off the couch, Kevin
walked to Viola's side. "Sounds okay. Kahl and Alby will think it's
cool."

Laura looked to Roan for his
opinion.

"The lads could use an
upper," he said brusquely, wiping his floured hands on the
half-apron tied at his waist.

"All right. Kevin, go ask
your brothers if they want to go."

He went into the kitchen.
During the seconds that passed, Laura stared at Roan, waiting for
him to say something further. He'd barely spoken to her since that
last time at Baird House. No matter how hard she'd tried, he
avoided almost all contact with her.

The boys came into the
parlor, Alby and Kahl's eyes wide with excitement. Kevin remained
somber.

"You got us presents?" Kahl
asked Viola.

"Lots and lots," she
laughed.

Alby released a squeal of
joy.

"I'll pack them a bag,"
Laura said to the older woman, and went to the boys' room. When she
returned a few minutes later, it was to find Roan squatting in
front of them. He zippered the jackets she'd purchased for them in
Edinburgh, then gave each a hug.

"You be good for Miss
Cooke," he instructed, erecting himself.

"We will," Kevin
assured.

Alby eagerly followed Viola
to the door.

"Hey," Laura chuckled,
placing the brown luggage on the floor, "don't I get a
hug?"

She sank down and opened her
arms. Grimacing, Alby allowed her to embrace him then jubilantly
clasped Viola's gloved hand. Kahl's hug was as brief, but Kevin
lovingly wrapped his arms about her neck, and kissed her on the
cheek before stepping out of her hold.

Fresh tears misting her
eyes, Laura passed the small luggage to Viola then stood at the
open doorway and waved to the boys as they followed her down the
snow-packed pathway. An icy breeze swept into the house. She closed
the door and, bracing her back against it, regarded Roan's hostile
posture.

"We need to
talk."

He hastily untied the apron
and tossed it onto the back of the chair to his left. "No'
tonight."

"Why not
tonight?"

He removed his coat, hat and
gloves from the closet by the door, and began to don
them.

"Where are you
going?"

"Shortby's for a
bit."

"Roan.... Dammit, we have to
talk!"

"No' tonight!" he barked,
his face livid, his eyes condemning.

"We're not Tessa and
Robert."

"Excuse me," he said
tightly, indicating that he wanted to leave out the front
door.

"Think about it, Roan! For a
reason I can't begin to understand, Lachlan has planted their
memories in us!"

"Laura...move ou' o' the
way!"

"Have you once considered
all the events that brought me to Scotland?" She released a
near-hysterical laugh. "Everything that brought my brother to
England? His first wife dying, his second wife tricking me into
coming to visit with the boys! Can you honestly shrug it all off as
the hand of fate?

"I'm an American! I don't
have one iota of Scottish blood in my veins."

With a growl of contempt,
Roan grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from the door.
Before she could regain her balance, he'd slammed out of the house,
leaving her to gape in stunned incredulity at the closed door. It
was seconds later before her temper doused the fiery empty ache in
her heart.

"Damn you, Roan
Ingliss!"

Reincarnation.
It was the most ridiculous concept she'd ever
heard, especially since she'd taken the time to reflect on the
countless paths involved in bringing her to this particular place
and time. She couldn't explain the haunting dreams of the blonde
and the man the woman called Robbie.

There were a great many
things that defied any explanation, but that didn't mean she was
willing to accept that she was Tessa reborn.

The mansion was somehow the
key.

There were times when she'd
experienced an inexplicable hatred of Lachlan Baird. She'd been
forced to accept the existence of ghosts—very real ghosts—and the
idea that another presence had influenced her, made more sense than
reincarnation.

Her mind seemingly afire,
she removed her coat and gloves from the closet and put them
on.

The answers had to be at the
house. Perhaps even the spectral laird was being manipulated by
something more powerful than he could perceive. Whatever was behind
the series of bizarre events, she was determined to get to the
bottom of it.

She exchanged her slippers
for knee-high black boots, left the house, and plodded through the
calf-high snow to the red Ford Escort she'd rented in
Edinburgh.

Fear lingered at the
periphery of her mind. She would have preferred to return to Baird
House with Roan, but he was beyond emotional reach these days, at
least where she was concerned. He openly showed his affection for
the boys, however, he became rigid whenever she entered the same
room he was in. Sometimes, she caught him watching her from beneath
his sandy-blond thick eyelashes, watching her with something akin
to sorrow, and other times, something akin to disgust. She fostered
the hope that if she unraveled the mystery behind Tessa and Robert,
she'd win Roan's heart once again. Too much was at stake for her
not to try. At this point in her life, she couldn't imagine a
future without him.

"I love you," she murmured,
starting the engine.

She backed out of the
driveway, inwardly fighting to banish her fears, her trepidations.
She didn't relish the idea of summoning Lachlan Baird. His eyes....
She dreaded confronting their intensity again. He possessed a way
of looking through her that left her feeling as though he'd branded
her soul.

Heading down the main road
to the mansion, she thought of Beth. She was an ally. At least
Laura felt sure that the woman owned of enormous compassion and
understanding.

Woman.

Ghost.

She wondered what the living
Beth Staples had been like. And she wondered how such a
mild-tempered woman endured a man as stubborn as
Lachlan.

Man.

Ghost.

It was hard to
differentiate.

And why wonder,
anyway?

Roan possessed a stubborn
streak that rivaled the yellow-brick road!

Too soon, she spied the
regal silhouette of Baird House to her right. Her hands gripped the
steering wheel so tightly, pain shot through her wrists. Her
heartbeat accelerated. Despite her determination to hold back her
fears, they rose into her throat and threatened to shut off her
oxygen.

She cut the wheel and turned
onto the driveway, accelerating steadily to make the incline. The
pavement proved icy in patches, but not as slick as it'd been that
first night. She crested the top, pulled up to the carriage house,
and shut off the engine. Before her courage completely deserted
her, she climbed out on the right side of the car, absently
slinging the strap of her purse over her shoulder. Her gaze never
wavering from the structure, she approached the greenhouse, her
gait determined, her shoulders held tautly back.

Her first attempt to call
out Lachlan's name, caught in her throat. She'd never felt so cold,
so isolated and alone. The house loomed over her, a sentinel of the
supernatural. She could feel it watching her, probing her inner
awareness.

She shuddered
uncontrollably.

Run,
her mind cried, but she refused to obey the
warning.

"Lachlan! Lachlan Baird,
it's Laura!"

Her shaky voice softly
echoed in the night. The three-quarter phase moon cast the house
and grounds in silver-blue, glimmering soft light.

"Please, I must talk with
you!"

Silence.

"Beth...Beth are you
here?"

Within seconds, the
beautiful woman materialized to Laura's left, once again wearing
the white gown with the flowing sleeves. Beth's eyes lacked their
usual luster. Her cheeks were gaunt, her curly hair in
disarray.

"Beth...?"

"He's nowhere to be found,"
she dully replied, looking off in the direction of the
driveway.

"I'm sorry." Laura swallowed
past the lump in her throat. "Is there anything I can
do?"

The blue eyes swung to
search Laura's. "It must be hard for you to...accept everything
that's been happening."

"Do you really believe in
reincarnation?" When Beth didn't answer for several seconds, Laura
went on, "It's impossible, Beth." She laughed low, nervously. "I'm
an American. As far as I know, I don't have any Scottish
ancestors."

"I don't think lineage has
anything to do with it," Beth said kindly, her expression one of
deepening pain.

"I-I could never k-kill
anyone, Beth."

A soft smile appeared on the
specter's shapely mouth. "Lachlan told me that some souls return
and return until they've atoned for their sins. I'm not sure if I
believe that or not, but you and Roan were once Tessa and
Robert."