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“Yer plan is tae just wander around?” Will queried. “Ye’ve no goals or hopes beyond that, for yer future?” He grunted, turned to Marcus and shrugged. “ ’Tis a completely daft notion, dinnae ye agree?”
Marcus appeared to study Taran but said nothing.
“I have hopes. And goals,” Taran said defensively. “But right now, I also have the precious gifts of time and freedom. Two things I thought lost tae me, forever. I dinnae want tae waste them. I plan tae honor them for the treasures that they are. Soncerae sacrificed too much tae give them tae me, tae just toss ’em aside. She’d want me tae follow my heart in this.”
He leaned forward, eager to make them understand. “I have this narrow window of opportunity before I settle down.IfI settle down. I’m in no hurry. In fact, I’m set on avoidin’ such an occurrence as long as I possibly can. Mayhap forever. The 79 are my family.Yeare my brothers. But ’tis time tae spread my wings. And thanks tae Soni, I finally can. So, I’m tryin’ no’ tae clip those wings before I even get started.”
Sitting back, he waited, letting them absorb his words.
Slowly, Will nodded, a half-smile tweaking his lips. “Ye’re sayin’ yer goal is tae no’ have a goal. Mayhap, ever.”
“I suppose ye could put it that way,” Taran laughed.
“Sounds exhausting,” Will observed with a shrug, drawing another laugh from Taran.
Thinking back, Taran couldnae imagine how he might have survived the centuries on the moor without this boisterous, outspoken, fun-loving companion.
“Ye’re really set on this, then?” Marcus asked. “Ye’ve thought it all out?”
“Aye.” Taran would also miss Marcus’ quiet, steady presence. Always the voice of reason.
Setting his own cards aside, Marcus placed his forearms on the table, interlocked his fingers, and leaned in. “How will ye begin?” he asked curiously. “Aside from merely walking down the hill and followin’ yer feet, that is?”
Taran grinned at his logical friend. “Dinnae think I havnae considered doin’ that verra thing. Just waking up of a mornin’ and following where my big toe pointed. Ye must admit, there’s some excitement in every day bein’ a complete surprise, aye?”
Hoping to coax a laugh from Marcus, Taran paused, but his friend’s serious demeanor dinnae change. No’ even a smile. “Instead,” Taran continued, “tae begin with at least, I decided tae take Wickham’s recommendation and look up one or two of the lads that have gone afore us. Those that live close, that is. He said McColl wasnae far from here. Nor Rory. And Sean is somewhere tae the north of Inverness. Wickham thought Chisholm might still be in Scotland, as well. So mayhap, over time, I might stumble ontae one or two o’ ’em. Time will tell, I guess. And mayhap, someday, I’ll stumble ontae the two of ye and ye can tell me lies about how rich and successful ye’ve each become.”
“ ’Tis a date,” Marcus finally smiled. “Just dinnae take too long.”
“That’s it then?” Will queried. “We’re tae just watch yer backside fade intae the distance?”
“Aye,” Taran grinned. “And ’tis a fine backside, if I do say so myself.”
“Oh, aye,” Will said, raising a contrary eyebrow. “I’m sure ’tis what they’ll write in legends about ye.Taran Fleming. A perfect arse of a man.”
* * *
A few starsstill flickered in the predawn sky as Taran stood on the slope of grass above Wickham’s gate and stared into the inky distance. Somewhere out there lay his future, laced with unlimited possibilities. And just beyond the fence, the road that would take him there.
Grateful he’d already said his goodbyes to Marcus and Will, he acknowledged the sting behind his eyes, let it pool, then swiped it away with the back of his sleeve. “Ye asked for this,” he mumbled. “No lookin’ back now.”
Slinging the wee pack Ivy had put together for him over his shoulder, Taran descended the small hill, hopped the fence, and walked into his future.
Chapter Two
You’re one of the last people to see my brother, alive.
“That’s probably not the best way to begin a conversation,” Paige Williams said aloud as she steered her rental car up the lane to the charming house nestled in a pretty glen.
Post cardpretty, she grimaced, thinking of her brother’s preferred but archaic form of communication.
It had taken some doing to track down Reginald McColl’s home. Every reference she could find was regarding his exquisitely crafted custom furniture. Apparently, the man was making quite a name for himself.
But that’s not why she’d tracked him down.
She parked the car near the broad wrap-around porch, gathered her small bag and her courage, and climbed out. Inhaling the crisp, sweet-smelling air several times to clear her head, she stepped onto the porch.
Beautifully carved rocking chairs and benches sat amid pots of various sizes, exploding with colorful flowers. This was clearly a happy place, she thought, somehow feeling even more alone. But that was impossible, she reminded herself. How much more alone can you get thanallalone?
