Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2 (43 page)

"I'll no' be long, Beth," he
murmured poignantly.

A second passed. Two. Three.
The silence of the people was thick, oppressive. No one moved.
Anticipation crackled in the air.

A cramp in his hands made
Winston realize that he had his fingers tightly crossed. Grateful
his pockets concealed what he considered a childish superstition,
he breathed deeply through his nostrils and watched the two ghosts
with deepening curiosity.

Then it began.

The artificial media lights
inexplicably went dark.

Gasps and murmurs rose up
among the crowd.

From the spot where Lachlan
and Agnes stood, a ground-hugging mist, embedded with countless
pulses of miniature lights, slowly began to sweep out in all
directions. Cries rang out, but still no one moved.

The mist swept beneath the
boys' feet, prompting them to jump up and down and revel in its
uncanny warmth. Lovingly embracing one another, Roan and Laura
stared down at it, their faces beaming their sheer delight. Then
the mist rolled past Winston, throwing his psychic awareness into
consternation.

Angelic voices sang within
his skull. He felt as if his person and his soul were being
caressed by caring hands, soothing away his fears, his secreted
darkness, his helplessness. He turned to watch the mist roll toward
the rhododendron hedge. Everyone the substance touched became
enraptured. The crowd moved closer across the lawn, while the
collective media stood frozen in awe.

When every part of Baird
land was covered with the mist, the substance brightened. Its soft
yet brilliant glow bathed the property in ethereal
light.

The snow and ice melted and
rapidly seeped into the ground. Almost immediately, buds formed on
the various plants throughout the property. Leaves opened on the
trees. Flowers blossomed.

Spring awakened in full
glory.

Winston watched the
spectators remove their winter gear, most draping their coats over
their shoulders or arms, others dropping them to the ground. The
people divided again and again, some migrating to the east gardens,
some toward the back of the house, and others hovering by the
hedges and the south gardens.

Winston's attention became
riveted on the rose garden, the vibrantly colored petals beckoning
him. His feet seeming to possess a mind of their own, he ambled to
the spectacular display. He found it impossible to breathe as he
plucked a purple rose from its stem and placed it on a leveled
palm. A crystalline substance coated the edge of the petals, the
sparkle mesmerizing him. He felt as if he was soaring in the
heavens, completely unburdened in mind and spirit.

A
'gift'
the laird had promised. The
word was utterly unworthy of such a
ferlie
, a wonderment.

Tearing his gaze from the
mysterious winter rose, he observed the others around him. Such joy
permeated the air he had to strongly resist a compulsion to tap
into every nuance of it. Others came to the rose beds and plucked
the blooms. He found it curious that the men and boys seemed
content to merely stare at the petals in their hands, while the
women and girls held them to their breasts and cheeks. Needing to
set himself aside from those of his gender, he lifted the rose and
brushed the soft petals against his lips.

An image swept across his
mindscreen.

Rose laughing and dancing
amid the flower beds, her light brown hair shining beneath a sunlit
sky.

Rose. Named after Montrose,
where she'd been found near-dead, in a deep grave.

Here
was her salvation, and his one true hope of capturing the
Phantom.

Here
was the gateway to the future, a gateway promising an end to
his relentless pursuit of the killer.

Blanketed in euphoria, he
turned and made his way back toward the house.

Roan, Laura and the boys
were with Agnes and Lachlan, exchanging goodbyes. For a moment,
Winston thought himself an intruder. He glanced down at the rose
then looked up to find the laird's dark eyes seemingly staring into
his soul.

"Bring her here," Lachlan
said softly, reaching behind him and resting a palm to the glass of
the greenhouse.

Winston couldn't respond.
Dumbfounded, he could only stare at the laird. He was vaguely
conscious of Laura and Roan watching him, vaguely conscious of the
questions in their minds trying to invade his awareness.

"Tis time," Lachlan said to
Roan.

Seconds passed. Somewhere in
the night church bells chimed the midnight hour.

Roan swallowed hard past the
lump in his throat. He took a step back then abruptly lunged
forward and embraced the laird. It was brief, Lachlan gripping
Roan's arms and giving him a push away. But Roan reached out for
Agnes, and hugged her dearly before he could bring himself to
release her.

Tears welled in Winston's
eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even come close to
having a good weep. It took all of his willpower now not to
succumb. He backed away along with the boys, Roan and Laura, his
gaze never wavering from the laird's peaceful
expression.

Something more was coming,
but for the life of him, he couldn't imagine anything more
breathtaking than what had already occurred.

Bring her here.

The laird knew about Rose.
Perhaps he even knew the identity of the killer!

Unexpectedly, the image of
Lachlan Baird became lost within a wide shaft of light—light so
brilliant it should have blinded an onlooker but didn't.

The phenomena remained
poised for an indefinite time. Agnes faded into the house.
Gradually, the visitors began to gather on the lawns. Watching.
Waiting. Floral mementos clutched in their hands.

"Goodbye you...." Roan's
voice cracked. A tear escaped his control and trickled down his
face. "...
old
fool," he completed through a smile laced with piercing
sadness.

Sobbing, Laura buried her
face against Roan's shoulders. The boys clung to their guardians'
legs, their tear-filled eyes watching what had been the
laird.

"For you, Roan and Laura,"
came Lachlan's voice in a loud whisper. "Yer dawn has at last
come."

The shaft of light broadened
in width and height, expanding until nothing could be seen of the
house. Seconds passed before the light began to pulse in a bright
white heartbeat. Too soon for the spectators, the effulgence swept
into the original shaft, and sailed upward, soared upward until,
high in the night sky, it burst into a tiny star and
vanished.

Winston fell to his knees.
The euphoria had too suddenly deserted him, leaving him feeling
unbearably empty.

Lachlan Baird was
gone.

Vanished.

He'd sensed a brief opening
of something beyond the heavens and, for a split second, had sensed
Beth Staples appearing in the portal.

Lachlan Baird had returned
to her. Winston knew he should feel immense happiness for the
spirits, but he couldn't deliver himself out of the depths of his
own sense of loss.

"Are you all right,
mon?"

He bewilderingly peered into
Roan's eyes, the concern in them snapping him from his stupor. He
unsteadily got to his feet. After a moment to compose himself, he
offered the couple a stilted nod.

"Bring who here?"

Winston was spared answering
Roan's question when a cry of glee razored the air.

"Aunt Laura!" Kevin gasped,
pointing to the house.

Compliments of the glowing
mist, everyone was able to view Baird House, restored in all its
former glory, prior to the fires. One by one, interior lights came
on in all the rooms. Seconds after the attic was lit, Agnes stepped
through the greenhouse door. Elation beamed on her face as she
gestured widely for everyone to enter.

Roan took the lead, Laura,
the boys, and Winston following closely behind. Gradually, the
others began to file in, their fears and superstitions temporarily
relegated to a plane of lesser importance.

The mist remained during the
tours into the wee hours of the morning. Every room was visited.
Cameras flashed. Videotapes were filled. Agnes remained out of
sight the entire time, patiently waiting until all who remained
were Roan, Laura and the boys. They found her in the parlor,
sitting primly on one of the settees, her hands folded atop her
lap. A fire roared in the hearth, casting the room in golden-orange
light.

Roan walked to the coffee
table and trenched his fingers through his unruly hair.

"It’s all here," he said
incredulously. "Everythin'!
Everythin'
Lannie owned has been
restored!"

"Did you really believe he'd
leave the place ravaged as it was?" Agnes grinned. "The mon had
class, ma lad.
Real
class."

Alby scampered onto the
settee next to Agnes. A dreamy smile glowing on his face, he laid
his head upon her lap. Agnes stroked his temple with her
fingertips, looked up at Laura, and sighed contentedly.

"The lads must be exhausted.
I believe their room is waitin' on them. Mind if I tuck them
in?"

Kahl wound his arms around
his aunt's leg. "I'm not tired," he pouted and spoiled the
declaration by yawning.

Kevin yawned and stretched
out his arms. "I am. I'm pooped. C'mon, Kahl. Alby."

Sitting up, Alby tilted his
head and searched Agnes' face for a long moment. "Are you gonna
stay with us?"

"For a verra long time," she
smiled.

"Are you our grandma,
now?"

"If you wish."

Alby grinned tiredly. "I
wish...and wish...and wish."

Before her emotions could
get the better of her, Agnes stood and held out her hand. Alby
wasted no time. He slid off the settee, and eagerly clasped her
fingers.

"I love you, Grandma Aggie,"
he murmured sleepily.

Agnes lifted him into her
arms and lovingly kissed him on the cheek. "And I love you." She
looked at the other boys, her eyes misted with tears of happiness.
"I love all ma laddies, wi' all ma heart."

"You still got one of
those?" Kevin asked in earnest.

Roan laughed outright. Laura
smiled and shook her head.

"Aye," Agnes chirped. "Now
come along." Collecting the older brothers, she herded them toward
the hall. "In a few days, when all has settled down, we'll have to
decide which rooms you'll want."

"You mean our own rooms?"
Kahl asked through a yawn.

"Yer verra, verra
own."

Laura stepped to Roan's
side, and snuggled against him when his arm draped across her
shoulders. They watched Agnes and the boys ascend the staircase. No
sooner were they out of sight, Laura turned into Roan's arms and
laid her brow against his collarbone.

"If this is a dream, I don't
want to wake up."

Wearily smiling, Roan
tightened his embrace, molding her against him. "It’s scary to feel
this good."

"I know what you mean." Her
fingers kneading his back, she languidly rubbed her brow against
the blue plaid flannel of his shirt. "My brain and body can't tell
whether they're exhausted or exhilarated."

Roan chuckled then kissed
the crown of her head.

"I just thought of
something." Grinning crookedly, she stared into his eyes. One of
his eyebrows arched in anticipation of her next words. "The boys
totally forgot that it's Christmas morning."

"Ah." Lifting a hand, Roan
lazily brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. "So did
I."

"Wha' say you and I go back
to Aggie's for the tree, fixin's, and the presents? It shouldn't
take but a couple o' hours to set everthin' up here."

Resting her forearms atop
his shoulders, she linked her fingers at his nape. "I'm ready for
anything," she grinned wickedly.

A gleam of mischief
instantly danced in his eyes. "Anythin'?"

"Ab-so-lute-ly
anything."

Roan released a thready
breath. "Ookay. Wha' abou' helpin' me to turn this place into a
sanctuary—a refuge—for people tryin' to find
themselves?"

Laura playfully whacked him
on the shoulder. "I love the idea, but that's not what
I—"

With a low laugh, he swept
her into his arms and captured her mouth in a spine-melting kiss.
He kissed her with the all the passion they'd shared in the past
and in the present, kissed her like a man possessed to become one
with his chosen and destined mate.

The past would never again
rise up to haunt them. They were spiritually free to live and love,
as no other couple had within the walls of Baird House.

Their time had at long last
come full circle.

Reluctantly ending the kiss,
Roan regarded the slightly swollen lips angled up at him. His heart
skipped a beat. He stared into the emerald pools of her eyes and
swallowed past the emotional lump rising in his throat.