“I will never know,” she mumbled, oblivious to the fact that Reikart and his mom stood behind her. “I’ll never know if he suffered,” she cried. “He was a good brother. He was. He did a horrible thing, but for so long, he was a good brother.”
Reikart’s mom inhaled a sharp breath, and he knew she was surprised at what she was hearing. She started to step toward Deirdre, but Reikart’s instinct to protect the woman took over and he pulled his mom back. She looked at him, eyes widening and mouth parting as Deirdre sobbed louder now, mumbling about how she had failed her brother and sister.
“Reikart,” Mom said quietly, her voice soothing in a way he’d completely forgotten, in a way only a mother’s could be. His chest clenched hard. “It’s okay. I can give her peace.” Reikart released his mom’s hand as his uncle appeared at the far end of the path, another woman trailing behind him. His mom glanced toward Dermot as she kneeled, and casting a look over her shoulder toward Reikart, she said, “That’s yer aunt Grace.”
Reikart smiled at his mom’s slight Scottish accent; it was more pronounced than he remembered. His mom put her arms around Deirdre, and Reikart leaned forward as his mom whispered, “Yer brother went quickly.”
Deirdre turned to look at his mom, and Reikart could see the tracks of wet tears glistening on Deirdre’s cheeks in the twilight sky. There was utter disbelief on her face. His fingers curled reflexively with the desire to brush away her tears. What the hell was happening to him?
“How do ye know?” she asked.
“My brother Ross was the one to kill him.”
“Yer brother Ross?” Deirdre repeated, a note of hysteria in her tone. Reikart imagined her shock at how his mom looked so much older than when Deirdre had last seen her was fully setting in now.
“Yes,” his mom answered, slow and patient. “I’m Shona. Ye know me.”
“It can nae be,” Deirdre whispered, her hand fluttering to her neck.
Reikart found himself nodding in complete empathy.
“It is,” his mom said firmly. “Ye see me here before ye. When ye last saw me, I was in my twenties. Clearly, I’m years older than that now, though I’ll not be telling ye just how old. A woman never confesses her age.”
Reikart chuckled at that, though he was the only one. Clearly, modern-day humor was lost on them.
“I can nae believe this, believe ye—” Deirdre’s words ground to a halt, and she reached out and pressed her fingers to his mom’s arm. “I feel ye,” she said, her voice trembling.
“Of course ye feel me. I’m flesh and bone.”
“What spell is this?” Deirdre whispered, her gaze darting between them.
Reikart’s mom scowled. “There’s no spell, Deirdre. Do ye think if I had the power of the Devil, I’d have run from yer brother when he tried to kill me?”
Deirdre’s mouth parted, but she promptly shut it and shook her head. “I…I suppose nae. What ye say makes sense, but—My brother? Ye said Ross killed him.”
Mom nodded. “Ross said it was a quick, clean death. It did nae give him pleasure to have to do it. He once called yer brother a friend. We all did.”
Deirdre nodded, wiping her hands over her cheeks. Her shoulders drew back, and her chin notched up. Reikart studied her, aware of what she was doing because he’d spent the last four years doing the same thing. She was drawing up her barricade. She was on one side, and everyone else was on the other.
Dermot and his aunt reached them as Deirdre rose to her feet, taking a step back out of the circle they had started to form. Without thought, Reikart caught her by the elbow and drew her forward, catching his mom’s frown at him. His mom stood, cleared her throat, and said quietly, “Rhys told me about Amanda.”
Reikart wasn’t surprised. Rhys spent too much time worried about Reikart’s mental health. His brother had probably been itching to enlist Mom’s advice. Reikart simply nodded, not wanting to say more, especially in front of three virtual strangers.
Reikart was saved from any questions she intended to lob at him by Dermot. “Donald is dead,” he said, matter-of-fact, followed swiftly by, “Who is this Amanda? This is nae someone else we need to worry about, is it?”
Reikart opened his mouth to answer, but his mom beat him to it. “No, Brother. Amanda is dead. She was from our time, and she was—is?—” Mom arched her eyebrows at Reikart “—the woman Reikart loves.”
Knife meet gut.
All eyes were on him now, including Deirdre’s.
“Love?” Dermot asked, sounding perplexed. “Ye said she’s dead, though, aye?”
“Love doesn’t die just because a person does,” his mom muttered with a roll of her eyes. “Ye would know that, Dermot, if ye ever allowed yerself to fall in love.” She turned her attention from her brother to scowl at Deirdre.
Understanding dawned. “That’s enough, Mom,” Reikart said. Though she had offered Deirdre comfort, it seemed she didn’t truly care for her. “Deirdre is my responsibility,” he blurted like an idiot.
Deirdre frowned at him and wrenched her elbow away. “I am most certainly nae yer responsibility.”
