Come Across the Big Pond

Part One…

Tar ar an tAigéan

Disclaimer. I don’t own the characters that are found in the Murder She Wrote TV series, or in the book form. They are the property of someone else. I * do * own the characters that I created. The character of Dr. Tipper Henderson was created by Anne, and is used with her permission. To read more about the adventures of Tipper, Google Murder She Wrote and go to the “Definitive Guide to Murder She Wrote.” This story (Tabhairt Isteach Do ) is several stories within one, starting with A Picture Perfect Murder, then The Ghost of Preston Giles, Murder by Trust, and Till Deadly Do We Pact, and the ones that follow this adventure. It was broken up into chapters and placed on Fanfiction.net as such to make it easier to read.

Authors note & warning… This story has a warning of 13+ due to language, beliefs and customs that may offend some people’s sensibilities.

If you have traversed this far, please sign a review so that I know you have read it! Don’t be shy!!

Kats

© May 18^th, 2006. Finished June 9^th, 2006.

Frank leaned against the window of the bus and pulled out his pencil and note pad. He looked at Jessica, who had nodded off - It had been a lot of walking for her to go the two blocks, then up all of the stairs to the classroom, then to the diner and then back the two blocks where they caught the bus back to the bus station in time to make the trip back to Cabot Cove. They would arrive at midnight, and Sheriff Metzger would pick them up at the bus station and take them home. Frank didn’t know when they would be leaving for the wedding, but there were one or two things he had to do first.

Willie’s knuckles were a bit banged up, and Frank could see the bandages they had gotten at the corner drug store would have to be replaced when they got home. Aunt Jessica had said something about getting a tetanus shot, and Willie had mumbled something about rabies as well.

Flipping open the note pad, Frank licked the end of his pencil and began to write.

“Dear Mom and Dad,

Aunt Jessica says that I can send the company you work for this letter and they will forward it to you wherever you are. I wanted to let you know what was going on so that if you call and there is no answer at Aunt Jessica’s you won’t worry. You know that I met a man named Willie Mac, and I told you he had moved in next door to stay with Aunt Jessica’s neighbor Ms. Andrews. Well, when Aunt Jessica fell, I got to stay with them on the advice of Sheriff Metzger and we found out something very cool. Willie Mac is really a MacGill! Sheriff Metzger found a photo of Willie’s mum and it looks a lot like Aunt Jessica, but it’s not. Aunt Jessica says there are a lot of MacGills that look like her so it could be any of her cousins. Anyway, life here in Cabot Cove, Aunt Jessica says to tell you, is going “as usual.” She said that you would know what that meant and not to worry - everyone’s been taken care of.

A lot of things have happened. I don’t use the internet as much as I did before because I have been busy learning how to card wool and weave and dye materials with Willie. He is a really cool guy. Aunt Jessica says he is a Doctor of Biology, and he has his medical doctorate from Cambridge.

Mum, you know when you said you packed my passport and I asked you what I would be needing it for and you said, “you never know”? Well … I do now! I am going to be traveling to Ireland with Aunt Jessica, Willie Mac and Ms. Andrews and Dr. Henderson, if she can get away for a while. Willie Mac TOLD Ms. Andrews that they were getting married because he didn’t want to give her the chance to say no, and he asked me if I can be his best man because I helped to get the two of them together. I suggested that they get married. They don’t do the mushy kissy stuff like some people do when they are dating, but they keep looking at each other like, well, when you look in on me when I am sleeping just to watch me breathe. I don’t know when we are leaving, but Willie Mac says that the wedding will happen almost right away when we get to the village he lived in and then we are going to spend some time going over old records to investigate some things, like what Aunt Jessica does best. I know if I tell you not to worry, you will worry just because.

I have learned a lot while I am here and one of the things I learned was what it means when someone is disappointed in you. I understand it now. I really do. I feel like I am growing up a lot in the short time that I have been here. I promise not to disappoint you ever again (if I can possibly help it). The review by the school board that they didn’t tell you about went ok. They have agreed that I don’t have to come back for any more, I only have to have reports sent in when I have completed stuff. My new glasses are working out pretty well, and Willie MacGill gave them heck because where I was sitting in the class room - well, even he said he couldn’t hear or see what was going on, so I guess there will be some changes there.

Love,

Frank.”

He closed his note book and shoved it into his back pack. He knew when they got home there would be time enough for the stamp and the envelope. Looking over at Willie, Frank saw a five o’clock shadow on Willie’s face, and the concern that clouded his eyes. Frank reached over and took Willie’s hand in his.

Willie looked over at him, a bit surprised. “Something amiss, lad?”

Frank shook his head and shrugged. “I’m just glad that you’re a part of my family,” he said simply.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Donald Brook strode through the hospital hallway up to the nurses station and presented his ID to the nurse on charge. She glanced at it, then regarded the stout man with the salt and pepper hair and twinkling blue eyes. He could have been a movie star in another life - though being a lawyer was sometimes enough notice that anyone could want. She pressed the button to allow him entrance into the closed ward of ICU.

As he approached Anthony’s room he could hear voices that he recognized, Seth’s and Taylor’s, and one other he didn’t know, all behind a curtain. Clearing his throat he heard the conversation stop. Seth pulled the curtain back and regarded him, then with a nod allowed him to step into the cubical where Anthony lay swaddled in bandages. There was just a clump of his sandy red hair peeking out, his eyes were still closed and his swarthy complexion had the look of being scrubbed clean. Taylor looked up at Donald’s entrance and smiled. He walked over to her side and gave her a brief hug, then shook hands with Seth and regarded the administrator, who was fuming with anger. A low moan came from Donald as he gripped the edge of the bed for support. He had heard from Jessica that Anthony had been in an accident, but didn’t know the extent of his injuries. It was painful for him to see his old friend so close to death.

Donald felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. Taylor gave him a smile. “He is doing much better, Donald.”

“Exactly my point!” said Seth to the other man in the room. Donald turned and regarded the man, whose smock said “Dr. Geoffrey Marshall, Hospital Administration.” The man looked, in Donald’s opinion, just like a ferret. His bright beady eyes peered suspiciously at Donald, and then he turned back to Seth.

“The man is not licensed to practice medicine in the state of Maine. Bits of plants placed directly in the wound, disconnecting the prescribed IV’s - who knows what all!”

“I am his POA, and I authorized it. Two days ago, Anthony was dying from drug interactions. He has a chance now - more than he had before, and it’s no thanks to your medicine, which was nearly the death of him before.”

Donald looked quizzically at Taylor, then to Seth, and the administrator. “Has his care been compromised by this treatment?” Donald asked Seth.

“No. There is no indication of detrimental effects to the current treatment plan. Dr. Razanur has helped to stabilize Anthony’s condition. I happen to agree with him regarding the side effects of some of the drugs that were given to Anthony, and if the result is that patches of poultice do much better than the chemical version, my vote would be to go with what is working. He is off the respirator, breathing on his own, and his blood gas levels are the best I have seen since his admittance …”

“The issue is, they want to charge for his care, but they can’t because it wasn’t their doctors who were treating him,” said Taylor with a bemused grin.

“Is he stable enough to travel?” inquired Donald as he went to his friend’s side and picked up his free hand. It was warm and soft and leathery feeling, and reminded him of kidskin gloves.

Seth regarded Donald, then looked at Taylor who was suddenly studying the pattern of the bed sheet beneath her hands. “Not for awhile. Where would you be taking him? Isn’t that a decision for his POA?” Seth saw Donald nod.

“It is. It is why I am here. The insurance carrier would like him closer to home as soon as possible and to be evaluated for long term care. I’ve already found someone to care for him and a facility that specializes in durational management.” Donald saw tears form in Taylor’s eyes. “Perhaps we might discuss this in a conference room?” he asked softly.

She straightened up and, escorted by Seth, went into the room behind the nurse’s station. Donald said to the hospital administrator, “This is a private matter for now. When we have reached a decision you will be notified.” He closed the door and went to sit across the table from where Taylor was sitting. Seth was beside her, holding her hand.

She had her eyes closed for a moment. “I suppose I should ask what gives you the right to change his treatment plan and where he is cured?”

“Until a month ago, I was his POA.”

Seth regarded Donald. “What changed?”

Donald let out a sigh. “The state changed his medical package a month ago, and some of the paperwork became scrambled. Taylor was his beneficiary, I was his POA. Now I am his beneficiary, and Taylor his POA. He was in the process of changing it back when he came here, but with him incapacitated, the changes won’t take effect, and we can’t finalize the changes until he recovers - not just his benefits package, but everyone else’s who worked at the court house.”

“A month ago … wasn’t that when they scheduled Kent Fordham’s hearing?” asked Taylor softly.

Donald nodded. “Yes. And, yes there were some manipulations of the accounts.”

“So, what do we have to do to get this straightened out?” she asked. She knew Donald from many years before - a lifetime away. She knew that Donald would do everything he could to protect Anthony, and that as a lawyer he would know all of the legalities.

“For now, just come to an agreement on his treatment plan,” Donald said gently.

Seth looked at him, then at Taylor. “Forgive the impertinence, but how would it have looked if something happened to Anthony and Donald had to make a life-or-death decision, and it was discovered that he would directly benefit from it?”

Donald let out a sigh. “As his lawyer, I can’t be his beneficiary.” He saw Taylor grip the table, her knuckles white from the pressure. Reaching over he took both of her hands in his own and held them. “All of this was put into place four years ago. He never changed it because he had hoped some day to be with you.”

“I tried to tell him - for years I tried. I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t live, not knowing if he would be taken out at any given moment. He was declared dead, and he still went back. Donald, you have to know. There is some one else in my life - he’s asked me to marry him, and I’ve said yes. And he has agreed to allow Anthony to be brought into our home to be cared for…” Taylor stopped for a moment and closed her eyes – “… to be cared for the rest of his life, how ever long that may be.”

“He is the same one who took over Anthony’s care?”

Taylor nodded. Donald looked at Seth who was sitting quietly. Seth reached over to Taylor and touched her arm gently. “Dear, Anthony’s care won’t be that simple.”

For a long moment Taylor looked at Seth, then back to Donald. “Did he sign a DNR?” she asked in the smallest of voices.

“To my knowledge, no. They had to have been planning this for a long time,” Donald said softly.

Taylor looked at her hands. ”How do you know the person who is going to take care of him isn’t involved with all of this?”

“I’ve known Sondra for four years, and she has nothing to do with Kent Fordham. Anthony knows her too. He will receive excellent care, and be safe.”

Her sudden giggle threw him off. “That’s pretty much what Anthony said when he sent me here ahead of him.” Taylor took in a breath and then looked up at Donald. “Willie will be returning home tonight. I believe it would be prudent to wait until he returns to discuss the matter of his care, and if he can travel, with him. “

Seth furrowed his brows and regarded Donald. “Is that the same Sondra that Jessica and I know?” Donald nodded.

“Very well. I will be staying at the Hill House,” Donald said as he gave Seth a nod.

“You bloody well will not be staying there! Donald – that place is a den of iniquity! “

Donald was about to chide her for being an alarmist when Seth cleared his throat. “I agree. Normally the place is safe enough, but in this regard we are not taking any chances. You’re coming home with me, and tomorrow we will meet with Willie and Taylor and discuss the options … Now, what’s this about you getting married to Willie?" asked Seth.

“He asked me yesterday, before they left, and I said yes ... he is going back home to settle some things, and we’ll be married over there. Frank is going to be his best man, Tipper as my maid of honor, and Jessica as a witness.”

She saw Seth’s eyes narrow. “That’s near Scotland, isn’t it?”

“A bit near … why?” Taylor asked, bemused. She could see Seth struggling with something internal. Finally Seth closed his eyes and sighed. “Seth? What is it?”

He flushed a moment before saying, “George lives there.” He said it with a tinge of sadness in his voice. The look in his eyes was one that Taylor had seen in Anthony’s not long ago: acceptance that there was another man in the life of a woman that he loved and there wasn’t anything to be done for it.

“George?” asked Donald, curious.

“The chief inspector of Scotland Yard, Inspector George Sutherland He helped to do the paperwork for Willie to reclaim his sword. I dare say he might be there - Willie mentioned something about making things right, which will mean involvement with the law on something greater than a local level.” Taylor watched Seth’s shoulders go down just a bit. The thought of Jessica being at a wedding, dancing with George – being in his arms again – was a bit much for Seth. Taylor took Seth’s hand in hers and held it gently.

“Seth, I haven’t had the chance to ask you … if you’re free for a bit, would you be able to walk me down the aisle? You would be escorting Jessica back up the aisle after the ceremony.”

“Me??” he gasped.

“Well, I had considered Anthony, but that would probably not be something Emily Post would say is proper form."

Seth nodded. “I would be honored,” he said, giving her cheek a kiss. “I have rounds to do. If you wouldn’t mind waiting, Donald? “ Donald gave a nod as Seth strode from the room.

“So, tell me about this young man that you’re marrying. What do you know about him, and how long have you been acquainted?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jessica watched the icy blue clouds dance upon the horizon. It seemed odd that at one in the morning they were serving breakfast and that the sun was coming up - but flying east did that. Three days had past since the recapture of Kent Fordham and Willie’s return. He had been quiet about it, and about how his knuckles had been bashed up. Seth had given him a check-up and a few shots, and then the four of them sat down and had a long discussion regarding Anthony. His healing would take a long time. He had snatches of being awake, and during one of those times, Taylor told him about her planned marriage to Willie. For the longest time he didn’t say anything. She thought he had drifted off to sleep, but he took a breath, and managed to give her a smile.

“Good,” he said. “He loves you.” He nodded, then his eyes closed again and he fell asleep. She bent over and kissed his cheek, and when she left the room and faced Jessica, there were tears in her eyes.

There was a lot to the planning of the trip that Willie just took over. Willie insisted on going to the courthouse and filling out forms for his dual citizenship, and there were other papers that he had Taylor sign, that Jessica had been a witness to - things that, after a while, were just another form. Telling the others had been the next step. Tipper had jumped up and down in excitement at being asked to travel to Ireland for the wedding. Getting coverage for the hospital was a bit of a stretch - nether she nor Seth had any idea that the words “getting married soon” meant “leaving in two days.” Tipper had just renewed her passport on a fluke with the new laws going into effect that required one to get in and out of the States from Canada, and Taylor had to dig in several boxes to find hers. Getting the sword on the airplane as part of the carry-on took several calls and quite a bit of nail biting. Willie wasn’t going to risk putting it in the checked bag or having it shipped - not now, not when it had taken so long to reclaim it. Mort had been the one to discover that historical artifacts were given priority when it came to shipping, and owing to the age of the sword, it fell under that category. Getting it back through customs would be a trick, as they might not be so easily convinced of the concern he had for it.

Willie had spent a great deal of time in the shop, not telling Taylor what he was doing. He would come up to her and give her a hug, twirl her around, then he would be off again. It gave her time, she supposed, to manage things to get her house taken care of, and to make arrangements for Sydney and Lucky’s care. Jessica had been busy too, making calls overseas. Willie refused to open the sword until they got over to Ireland, and in the presence of officials who could validate whatever they found.

Frank had been wiggly the whole trip. He kept squirming in his seat, looking around and watching people. If any one else noticed it, they might think it was the normal high energy of the child that age, but Taylor knew that he was looking around, just to be on the safe side.

Tipper leaned back in her seat next to Jessica. Normally she would shy away from people-filled events. Animals were less judgmental, loving unconditionally. In the years that she had known Taylor, she had never pressed the young vet on why she hadn’t married, why she didn’t seek the company of men or others, preferring to live a life that was fulfilled with work and her animals. She had begged off getting involved with local plays and gatherings. She didn’t really see the faces of the people who brought in their animals; instead she saw their animals as the important part of the family. Jess owned a canary. Birds were all right, but being so small, if they became ill there wasn’t much that could be done for them anyway. Tipper was like her cats, independent, coming and going as she needed. Her relationship with Taylor had started by accident, and their friendship grew from there. Tipper knew that on any given day when it had been horrid in surgery, or if she had helped to birth half a dozen bunnies, that Taylor would be there with a cup of tea and fresh buttermilk biscuits, and maybe even that odd corn stuff she called mush. Willie MacGill was a kindred spirit, being alone most of his life. In a way their marriage was totally romantic - but in another way, Tipper viewed the pending event with sadness. Things would change.

She could hear Frank asking Willie a question about Ireland, for the umpteenth time. Willie answered in his same calm patient way that he had since the first question. She had tried to close her eyes, but there was just so much to see and listen to, and of course there was the bright-eyed little girl who peeked over the seat at her and smiled.

“Zoe, eat your biscuit. There’s a good lambkin,” said a voice with an accent. Tipper realized that everyone on the plane except Jess, Seth, Frank and herself had an accent of one type or another, and then it occurred to her that it wasn’t they who had the accents, but that Seth, Jess, Taylor, Frank and herself were the ones who were speaking oddly.

Jessica felt Seth take her hand beneath the blanket as they both tried to get a bit of sleep between the meals that were served. Since the last time Seth had encountered George the feelings between them had simmered. She knew that Seth was very fond of her, and the disclosure of the relationship between the two of them had been unsettling. Seth, though, didn’t push, and didn’t pout. He had shown George in his own way that he was there for Jessica, as a friend, every day of the year. There were two types of relationships – the one she had with George that had all of the fireworks, and the other, the steady friendship she had with Seth. If there was a way that the two men could be merged together … well, the result might be worth getting married again for. There was a twinge inside of her for a moment, remembering everything that Seth did for her - the storm windows, and the plumbing, and she wondered if in a way she was using their friendship for that. Inside, though, she knew that they were the dearest of friends, no matter what transpired. Seth had taken the news of the relationship between George and her very maturely. There was no way he would ever think of being with Jessica that way.

Willie saw Frank look out the window, then back at Taylor who was snuggled next to Willie, a blanket over the three of them. “That story that you started, well, I only heard the beginning of it when Aunt Jessica was in the hospital. Could you tell me the story now?”

“It was a Dark and Stormy Night,” Taylor began.

“The rain and wind lashed the branches in a frightful display of the elements. The skies were split by earth-shattering blasts of fierce lightning and the booming thunder that rattled the depths of the ancient willow that was once a terrible wizard who had cursed the small seaside cove. His name was …”

Willie interrupted her. “Lass, don’t say it, we’re on a plane a long way up, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember last time when you said it. Its ok, I know his name,” said Frank with a grin on his face.

“Very well, we will call him Alnan,” said Taylor. She continued:

“You may wonder how a terrible wizard had become a willow tree that would curse the small sea side cove. It happened as this. Alnan had once been a lowly wizard who studied hard, and was an apprentice to a very powerful wizard named Lakaran who had quite forgotten the feelings of the lowly wizard who worked under him. No matter how hard Alnan worked, it was never good enough, or worthy of the powerful wizard’s attention. Feeling very dejected, Alnan went down to the cove every day after his master went to bed where he would watch the stars come out over the water. It was there he first caught the eye of a beautiful young girl named Harama who had raven black hair so long they could have woven a fishing net from it.

“Together the two of them would spend their nights walking up and down the shore of the cove and falling in love. Alnan wouldn’t tell her where he lived, or what he did, for he was afraid that the powerful wizard Lakaran would punish him for falling in love. One day, in secret Harama followed Alnan home, and learned where he lived, and that he was the wizard’s apprentice. It was that same day that Lakaran decided that Alnan was not paying attention to what he was teaching, and he redoubled the lessons he was giving the young wizard so that he had no time to meet with the beautiful Harama by the cove shores. Wondering where he was, she crept to the wizard’s home, and seeing him by the cauldron she tapped lightly on the window. He opened the door and tried to warn her away because of the danger, but she wouldn’t listen. Her voice woke Lakaran, and as Alnan shooed her away Lakaran caught sight of the two young lovers.

“The next day Lakaran came to the village leaders and said that he was to have as his own a young girl of the village by the cove, and if they did not make it so, the curse that he would bring down upon the village by the cove would be terrible and mighty. The village leaders didn’t question why he wanted a bride so quickly, or who, and it wasn’t until later that Alnan learned that the person chosen was his beloved Harama.

“Alnan went to the town leaders and begged them not to allow the wedding. It wasn‘t right - Harama was only a young lass, and Lakaran was older than the hills. But they were too afraid of Lakaran, and wouldn‘t listen to Alnan. So he cursed them, saying, “No longer will your nets bring the fish home to your wives and family. No longer will the sea be warm and gentle as a mother’s arm to those who venture from your shores. Hard will be the wind that blows and deep the snows that cover your land. Summer shall flee from your shores and all you will know is mud for thrice the time as was before.” Alnan went in search of Harama, and found her crying by the shore of the cove. She had heard that he had cursed the cove, and it had broken her heart. Alnan, not knowing what else to do, and not being able to explain to her why he had cursed the town, changed her into a little bird to hide her, hoping that if Lakaran couldn’t find her, then perhaps they could escape later.

“Well, the townspeople didn’t know what to do, so they went to Lakaran and told him that Alnan had cursed the town because he wanted to marry Harama. Lakaran became angry and demanded that Harama be brought forward so he could have her as his own. The townspeople searched for her, but couldn’t find her and Lakaran became even angrier. He called Alnan forward and demanded to know where Harama was. Alnan wouldn’t tell Lakaran, and they began to battle as only wizards could. In the end Lakaran turned Alnan into the seed of a willow tree, and was going to place him in an iron box where he would not see light or be able to escape for all the days of the earth. But a little bird flew down and seized the seed from Lakaran’s hand. She flew as far away as she could and laid the seed down between two rocks and hid it when Lakaran came after her. He cast a spell, freezing her on the spot. Her body covered the seed, and when the rains came, the seed sprouted and grew into a mighty willow.

“One day Lakaran was looking for a particular herb to place into his collection when he came to where the Willow was growing. In its bark he saw the face of his apprentice Alnan. Alnan saw him, and before Lakaran could do anything, Alnan’s branches wrapped around him and flung him into the sea where he quickly perished. The spell that had frozen Harama was broken, but Alnan was still a willow, and she did not recognize him. She flew away in search of the man she loved, not realizing he was the willow tree. All that Alnan had cursed had come true - the nets would not work in the cove, and the town was in despair …”

Taylor stopped her story. Willie, who was following it, looked at her questioningly. She inclined her head in Frank’s direction. He had fallen fast asleep. “For another time then,” he said, kissing her gently.

It was misty as the plane settled on to the runway at Dublin’s airport. They had made the flight in good time, and while the line was long going through customs, Tipper saw a familiar face at the end of it. Frank, who had awakened as the plane was touching down, was the first to march up to the custom’s counter in their group.

“Do you have anything to declare?” he was asked by the portly agent.

Frank thought a moment. “I always wondered - do they really make that Irish soap here? - Oh! You mean like if I was bringing something in to the country? No,“ he said, shaking his head. He missed the agents’ bemused grins.

George stepped forward as Willie laid the sword in its carrier on the counter and untied the bindings for it. The agents regarded it, then the documents that he presented, and nodded to George who took the sword from the counter and walked with Willie to a small room. The door closed between them and the others, and for a moment the two men spoke. Tipper waited, watching them as the others made it through customs. When it was her turn she stepped up to the counter and presented her passport to be stamped. For the longest time they held it, looking at it, and her, then flicked it under the barcode scanner. She found herself being frowned at by the customs agent.

“Have you had contact with ill animals with in the last three months?”

Tipper blinked then realized what they were asking. “Physical contact, as in bitten or scratched? No. No infestations, either.”

“Will you be coming into contact with any animals during your stay here?”

“Lord love a duck, I certainly hope not … no matter how cute the lad may think he is,” she said, not being able to help herself. She was a vet, for crying out loud - of course she had come into contact with sick animals! She understood their caution, but removing quills from the nose of a dog wasn’t the same as dealing with bird flu, and they didn’t have any cases of foot-and-mouth, not among the lobsters, anyway.

She saw the customs agents’ eyebrows raise and wondered just how much of a sense of humor they had. It was possible that they could deny her entry into Ireland for whatever reason. Tipper didn’t breathe for a second. Then the agent handed back her passport and reached for the next person’s passport in line. By the time all of them were through, Willie and George were coming out of the room, the sword wrapped back up in the case that Willie had made to transport it safely.

Jessica looked at George. He was uncharacteristically formal about everything. No hugs, no greetings, just nods to them, not even looking her in the eye. He walked with them down to the baggage claim area where their things were just beginning to come down the ramp. Jessica considered giving him a good nudge to see if he would react, then thought better as she saw another customs agent had fallen into step behind them. “What is going on?” she thought to herself. She noticed that some of the bags had been pulled aside and by the bright pink straps on them, they were theirs. She saw the agents waving a wand over one, and nodding to another to cut the lock. Willie groaned beside her and strode forward, asking something of the agents who were poised over the lock.

Taylor look at the bag, puzzled. It was one of their bags, but she didn’t remember it being unloaded from the trunk of the car when they had arrived at the airport. Willie sighed and went to them, bent over and whispered something in the agent’s ear. Jessica saw the agent look at them, then lifting the bag and bade Willie to come into a room away from them where once again the door was closed. In a moment he came out with the bag in his hand and the lock replaced on it along with a paper sticker that was put on the outside of the bag. There was no sign of the sword, but from the increase of weigh in the bag, it was apparent that it had been placed within the bag that had just been inspected.

Frank regarded the car that awaited them. He had overheard that Inspector Sutherland had personally checked out the car to be sure nothing had been tampered with, and that the tank was full. He just didn’t see how six people with their luggage could fit in such a thing, but then he saw the trunk. He realized with the way they had packed, yes, a few things would have to be held on their laps, but it was doable. It surprised him more when Willie got behind the wheel of the car and made his first turn onto the street.

It wasn’t more than forty-five minuets later that they pulled into a small village that lay nestled among the verdant pastures. There was a worn sign that proudly stated, “MITHER MCGEE’S THE ROOSTING HEN BED AND BREAKFAST” tacked to the fence post that was surrounded by ivy and clover. Willie turned the car into its drive and brought it into the parking lot near the garage.

Willie breathed a sigh of relief as he brought the car to a stop and turned off the engine.

“Just so you’re knowing, the registers here carry sound - even a mouse can’t cough without everyone knowing in the whole village. I don’t know the accommodations that they will be having for us, but at least we will be having beds, so that’s a comfort. Flynn and his misses still run the place - it’s a bit off the beaten path, but it’s where we want to be right now.“ Willie regarded Tipper and gave her a wink. “Oh, ye might be wary of the local lads, they tend to grow them a mite handsome this part of the world. Wouldn’t be surprised if your dance card is filled for the wedding in half a heart beat. Be mindful of them if they ask if they can hang their laundry next to yours.”

Wiggling about, Frank saw a few curtains move as people looked out to see who had arrived in their village. “Is this where you grew up?” he asked.

Willie nodded down the street. “Gram’s house is a bit down that way, and the market shops are over that way. Mind that it may not be the warmest of welcomes … but I never met an Irishman who didna love to step out for the wedding of a bonny lass,” he said with a grin at Taylor. He got out of the car and went around to open the door for Jessica and helped her out, then Taylor, and Tipper. Frank helped Seth out, who regarded the quiet farming village. It was a lot like Cabot Cove, in more ways than he could put into words. While it was inland, it still held the quiet charm, and the close knit community spirit.

Seth suspected that the road that led to this town, before Willie had put it on the map, had been a dirt one that the residents would have liked to have forgotten. He picked up his bag and Jessica’s, directed Frank to take a few then followed Willie up the steps of the front porch where Mither McGee was waiting by the door to usher them inside. When the car was unloaded, she handed Willie a key and in a moment he came back after moving the car into the garage. He sighed. He would have rather stayed in another town, perhaps, rather than coming directly into the fray that he knew would soon erupt, but Mither McGee’s was the only place that he knew he could trust, and that would have a garage where he could secure the car safely. It also was one of the few places that had three bathrooms, though when the bed and breakfast became full, there was often a wait for the tub.

“Mind the tins,” Willie muttered under his breath as he led Taylor up the back staircase to where the bedrooms were. It took Taylor a full minute to understand that the tins were by the chairs, and that they were used as spittoons for the guests that came, or, more notably, for Mither McGee herself, who was in a proper state once they arrived up at their rooms.

Willie was right. They did have their own beds. Frank had always wanted to sleep top bunk, and upon the advice of Willie, Tipper was the other top bunker. They had two rooms, one for the men, the other for the ladies, each room sleeping four with two sets of bunk beds. She saw he had the sword in its case as he escorted her down the steps for proper introductions to Mither.

“Seven calls in two days, Willie, I had - seven!!! Had to triple-bunk some and I don’t know how the floors in the attic will be taking so many traipsing up there! Who would ha know ye would marry into such a large family! Would have lodged ye all together but it didna seem proper to put ye in the same room with your bride before the wedding, though I might have to after if people are staying over, seeing how there will be two empty beds the night of your wedding …” she said with a sly wink to him.

Willie smiled. “Na, there are two coming who will be taking the place in the cots that night, and you did leave one room open, didna ye?”

“Aye. I did. But ye haven’t told me how many are staying in it.”

Willie shrugged. “Won’t know until they come. Thank ye, Mither,” he said, kissing her cheek gently.

Surprisingly, she blushed then waved him away. “Go on, off with ye, Gram is waiting for you to come home. Faraday can show you about the town while you’re waiting for the rest of your group to arrive.”

Tipper turned at the sound of footsteps. She knew from Willie’s description that Flynn had to be older. The man who came into the room was younger, fit, and had curly black hair with a dimpled chin. He wore a crisp blue oxford shirt that had the cuffs rolled three-quarters of the way up and dark Dockers. When he smiled, it was with his whole face - the dimples got deeper, and even his sky blue eyes crinkled. His voice was mellow and even as he held out his hand. “Might I show you about?” he asked, speaking in near perfect English.

“I … yes, thank you, that would be lovely,” said Tipper with a shy smile on her face, which was touched with a pink blush. She could hear Frank clear his throat behind her as she tucked her hand in the crook of Faraday’s arm.

Mither called after Faraday: “Don’t forget to hitch the team to the hay wagon later for ye father!” Faraday waved backwards at her, letting her know he had heard her.

Walking over to Taylor, Willie held out his free hand and escorted her down the lane to where a small cottage was nestled behind large spreading oaks. A thin wisp of smoke rose from the chimney signaling someone was within. Willie took a breath, then after knocking once, opened the door and led Taylor inside

It was the same as Willie had described it the night Cal had died. Taylor saw Gram, a diminutive woman wrapped in a soft blue shawl that she knew had to have come from Willie’s hand. On the table near the hearth lay her pipe and a tin of tobacco. Something made Taylor go to her and kneel at her feet, and taking her withered hands in her own, kiss the backs of them softly before laying her cheek against them. For the longest time Gram didn’t move or acknowledge that she had even felt Taylor taking her hands in hers, or the kiss that Willie put upon her cheek. Finally she looked at him and sighed.

“Is it done?” she said softly.

“It has started. Gram, why couldn’t you tell me?” he asked, taking her by the arm gently.

“Better to keep a secret if not known. Only the sword could tell … ‘tis the key, ye know,” she stated.

Taylor looked at Willie, a bit confused, yet trusting that he would tell her what was going on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

George Sutherland looked down at the address that was scrawled on the scrap of paper, then at the numbers on the bottom of the door. Looking around he saw that where he was standing wasn’t the best or the safest of neighborhoods. The yellow house before him was a post war construction, single story with thin walls and perhaps at the most two bedrooms. While the neighborhood may not be the safest, he could see that care had been taken, and pride, in how the house was kept. Taking a breath, he stepped up to the door and knocked. A young girl, perhaps five years old, opened the inside door and looked up at him with a frown on her face. He heard voices inside scolding her for opening up the door. In the dimness of the small hallway he saw a younger woman coming forward, and in a heartbeat George knew what Jessica had to have looked like forty years before - beautiful. What was even more breathtaking was the woman who followed the younger woman down the hall, a mousy grey-haired lady who held all of the poise and grace that Jessica did – albeit a life of sadness in her eyes.

“Yes?” the older woman asked.

George drew a breath and said softly, “Mrs. Rosemary MacGill Razanur, I am Chief Inspector George Sutherland of Scotland Yard, and I have been asked to transport you and your family safely to your son Dr. Thaladirith Razanur’s wedding to Miss Taylor Andrews, which is being held in two days’ time in the town where your children were born. Tabhairt isteach do.”

George saw Rosemary raise her hand to her chest. It had to be a shock, to hear about a son whom she had given up years before come forward and acknowledge her, and even more to hear uttered the Razanur’s family motto of ‘Tabhairt isteach do‘. She didn’t budge, though. There was still fear in her eyes until he said softly, “You may contact your sister Emma. She will describe me, and tell you that I am known to your cousin Jessica MacGill Fletcher.” Reaching in his pocket he withdrew a small photograph and held it up for her to see. “You do understand there isn’t much time. Bring what you need.”

She nodded, and then turning to her daughter said something to her softly. In short order, Rosemary, her daughter and her four children, and two suitcases were loaded into his car. He closed the car boot then looked around. Nary a curtain dropped. Either the neighbors didn’t care, didn’t want to be involved in what had the potential to be a blood bath, or that which was feared was already put into motion.

As he drove along the narrow roads he stole a glance at the woman who sat next to him so quietly. He could afford himself a smile. There had been talk about Jessica being a witch in his village of Wick. After meeting Emma and now Rosemary, truth be told, if the three women ever entered into the village together the faint of heart would perish. He had never seen such as strong family resemblance in all of his lifetime. The children sat in the back with their hands folded in their laps. Either they were very well behaved, or they were terrified of any reasons why a chief inspector of Scotland Yard would be coming to pick them up.

There was another truth that needed to be told. He had been uncharacteristically formal to Jessica since her arrival - he had to be. There were several concerns regarding her safety and that of the others - no one was quite sure how deep the roots of the organization Furhdaham had created were. The other issue was the sword. Yes, it was an ancient artifact, steeped in mystery. But had he shown any favoritism to Jessica upon her arrival, and then it be learned that she was traveling with Willie, the customs agents would have seized the sword and prevented Willie from gaining access to its secrets, secrets that George hoped would help end the blood feud between the two families. The last thing they needed was for rumor to get out that all of this was arbitrated because he and Jessica were lovers, and that it had been accomplished because of that favoritism. He sighed. It wasn’t fair really to classify what was going on as a blood feud - rather, it was a one-sided slaughter of the innocent. He looked in the rear view mirror at the children again. Yes, it was fear that kept them quiet.

He knew they couldn’t go back to where they had lived, and how they had lived. Willie had known that, and at least was in a position to help them, if everything went well. Willie, despite having to endure questions regarding his parentage, had been fortunate. He was brilliant, he had the advantage of education, and he was able to use that education to research breakthroughs for immune treatment using autoantigens found in nature. He was a skilled healer, an apothecary, a biologist, and an entomologist. It was said, during his time on the wards, that he could look into your eyes, and know not only what ailed you, but the cure as well. The hospital took care of his salary. He had little use for money, though, and chose to let the money they had paid him build up in his accounts. He wore the same homespun suits to black tie affairs as he did coming and going on the wards. After the sword had been stolen, Willie began to crumble. Not that the sword had directly to do anything with it; rather, it was the series of bombings and accidents around him that Willie had managed to survive. They never could determine if Willie had been the target, or if it had been politically and religiously motivated. The people George had interviewed regarding Willie found him a gentle soul incapable of hate, or revenge. He had informed George once that he didn’t pick fights, and he was hopelessly out of that element because of his size. The success of Willie’s book was staggering until the issues with the Nightshade Company came to light, raised by Willie himself.

Once the photo had been found Jessica had made a call to her cousin Emma, who had walked into his office a few days ago seeking his help. The only one of their family that fit the description in the photo was her sister Rosemary, who had withdrawn from the family four decades before to live a quiet life. She had only an address that was many years old. George’s research on Rosemary had shown that she had very little money when, several decades before, she had been granted a land allotment for widows of the war. She raised her daughter in the same house, working seven days a week as a mender for the local laundry, and when her daughter had married ten years before, kept the family together under the same roof and took care of the children while the two parents worked in the factories.

Her daughter Sara had been home ill when the accident at the factory happened four months before. The illness was unspecified in the report that was filed, but after the accident the factory closed. Sara kept to herself then, not seeking work. Having a letter from her doctor stating that she was not able to work, Sara went on the dole to support herself and her four children. All that they had were in those two battered cardboard suitcases.

Research into Sara’s husband yielded very little. John McAvery was an honest man with few faults. Honesty didn’t make you richer, or less prone to temptation. If he drank it was the brew that most made in their own pantry, or in the root stock area of the home. There was no connection to him with the Furhdahams, although the accident that took his life and others in the factory could be claimed as suspicious. Too many people died that were unknowns that might possibly have a link back. George was smart enough to realize that one man could not have possibly arranged everything. He had a gnawing fear that something larger was at hand, something far more deadly. He glanced at Sara again. She still looked ill, without obvious cause. Musing to himself, he wondered if Willie could help her.

Keeping himself focused, George let out a slowly drawn breath. It was a terrible risk that was being taken. The people who they were dealing with didn’t care who they hurt, not in the hundreds, or the thousands. The customs agent who had found the extra bag had almost brought things out hours ahead of time.

They were nearing their turn when Sara reached over and took him by the arm, squeezing it. He saw she was ghastly white and pulled the car over to the side of the road out of the way of traffic. The moment the car had come to a stop she was out the door and kneeling in the grass. George dug a small bottle out of the glove compartment, opened the car door, and went over to where she was still kneeling, supporting herself with her hands clenching the grass.

“Rinse your mouth out and then take a swallow. We mustn’t linger here. It’s not far now.”

It was a few moments later that they were back on the road again. When they turned into the village road George looked in his rear view mirror, and to his relief there were no cars behind him. He heard one of the children gasp when they pulled past Mither’s place - there were people milling about the front lawn, hugging each other, and children giggling and playing. Streamers were being hung from the trees and tents erected for the festivities. It was a far cry from the place they had left a few hours before. He drove down the lane and parked the car in front of another house.

Rosemary shot him a look. “She’s alive, then?”

George nodded, then got out, went about the other side of the car, and opened the door for her. For a moment Rosemary hesitated, but then she allowed George to escort her to the door with Sara behind her as well as the children. He knocked on the door with his knuckle, then stepped back as Taylor swung the door open for them and looked into the eyes of Willie’s mother. George stepped back. This was their moment, their time to heal. He could see through the window as he closed his car door Willie embracing his mother and his sister and then the children.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting on the front porch swing with Frank, Jessica regarded the coming and goings of the people. In some way or another all the people were related to the MacGills. It had taken a few quick calls, and things grew from there. Tomorrow the media would arrive for the beginning of the festivities. It wasn’t often that most of the MacGills, some of them very famous, were in the same town, and a family reunion, along with a wedding seemed appropriate.

The other children were playing and laughing on the front yard. Frank sat with Jessica - not because the children were younger than he, or that he wasn’t sure about the game that they were playing, just that he had noticed the people looking at Jessica and Seth strangely when they spoke. He had realized that he would sound odd to them as well. A breeze caught the flowered cotton skirt Jessica wore and it was with a quick hand that she caught it and tucked it down under her legs. They all had changed into something more comfortable after the flight, and for some reason, the skirt seemed like a good idea.

The front door opened and Tipper came out with a tea tray and biscuits for them. She wore a faint blush on her cheeks as she handed the biscuit tray to Frank to pass about. He eyed her and inquired, “So what did that man want?”

Tipper cleared her throat. Somehow word gotten out that she was a doctor. She knew that Faraday had introduced her to several people, and had told her about most of the neighbors that had grown up with Willie. He was a nice lad who hadn’t found the girl he wanted to marry yet. One of his friends had commented that once they leave for the university, that they can’t be contented with the locals to find a wife or a husband. Faraday had been very polite, and she found she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. Mither had given him a look when they returned, and then sent him off to the barn to hitch up the horses for the afternoon. Hay needed to be brought in from the fields.

Tipper had slipped into the kitchen to put the kettle on for afternoon tea when one of the locals came in through the back door and asked if she was a doctor, and just as she said yes, the kettle began to whistle. She turned to remove the kettle from the stove and heard him say something about his knee. When she turned back, he had dropped his pants to his ankles and sat in the chair with his legs apart as he pointed out the knobby pus-filled growths on his knee. Seth and Frank had come in to the kitchen at that moment. Seth had the presence to turn Frank about and tell him to wait on the front porch. He could hear the man saying something about being bitten by his goat clean through the trousers.

Tipper cleared her throat and averted her eyes. She saw Seth and her eyes pleaded, “Help me!”

Clearing her throat again, she said, “Well … amputation, wouldn’t you say, Dr. Hazlitt?”

The man jumped to his feet. “Amputation? Oh na, it’s na tha' bad!!” he gasped, bending over to pull up his trousers. It was then that Seth saw the reason for her distress.

“Well, the table’s almost clean and there is a fair selection of knives on the board…” Seth said dryly. It was enough to send the man hobbling out of the kitchen as fast as he could.

“We give discounts for seniors!” Tipper called after him. She couldn’t look at Seth - her cheeks were flamed red and she kept her eyes closed trying to rid herself of that particular memory.

Tipper saw that Frank was waiting for an answer. “It … was about his goat.” She saw Frank raise his eyebrow. She knew he was pretty smart, and he had to have noticed that something was amiss.

“Guess it was pretty baaad?” he asked with a smirk.

She took a biscuit off of the plate and popped it in her mouth. From the look on her face he knew he shouldn’t push any more.

“What was?” asked Willie as he climbed up the porch steps with Taylor holding the crook of his elbow. He saw Seth and Taylor exchange glances, then looking at Frank he said gently, “There is a gentleman who will be pulling in soon from down the street. He has some bags that need to be carried up to the room next to ours on the second floor. Be a good lad and help him.” Frank nodded and took the steps down. He could see the car pulling up the lane, and went to wait for it.

“What was?” Willie asked again when he had gone.

He saw the flush on Tippers cheeks. “One of the gents came to the kitchen with a goat bite to the knee, and was seeking professional advice ... from me. I, um, dissuaded him by suggesting amputation. He, um, left in rather a hurry, when Seth suggested the knives and the table in Mither’s kitchen. We’ll need to get word to the regular doctor here …”

“What did he look like?” asked Willie with a sigh.

“Stumpy older gent, had a blue flannel shirt on and gray pants. Scruffy, big ears and brown suspenders. Why?” she asked, curious.

“Ah, that’s Toot,” said Mither as she came out of the house with another plate of biscuits.

“No regular healer here since Gran retired four years ago. Na many will go to the city for things like bites an’ such.“ She stopped and gave Tipper an odd look. Willie saw it, and knew what she was thinking.

“Mither, she’s na trained for people, just animals. The cures are different,” Willie said with a resigned sigh. Seth saw the sigh and stood up. “I’ve got my bag in the room,” he said simply.

Willie turned to Taylor and kissed her softly. “One of three things will happen. Either we will be right back, or back in a half an hour…”

She covered his lips with hers to prevent what he was going to say. “Or I will come looking for you,” she said softly.

Toot looked up from where he sat on his back porch holding his knee. There were several jugs beside him, one of which was uncorked and near his hand. He tried to scramble away when he saw Seth, then hardened his jaw when he saw Willie.

“Wha’ business do ye have here?” Toot said, his voice tinged with anger.

Willie stopped. “I’ve come to make things right.”

“’Ave ye? Without running away? Or ‘ave your friends do the dirty work tae lame a man for life?” he sneered.

“Well, a least I don’t go wavin’ my private proper about in front of an unmarried lass who was getting tea biscuits for the children!” Willie said, waving his hand toward Mither’s house.

“Did na such thing. She’s a doctor!”

“She’s a vet. The closest she gets tae that is removing them on animals, which you’re very lucky she didna do to you for how you came upon her like tha’,” he said, approaching Toot and pushing him back onto the steps of the porch as he pulled out a knife from his pocket. Toot gasped then cried out as he slit the inseam of the pants and folded it around his leg.

Seth grimaced. It was a nasty bite, left to fester over a few days. Willie took the jug from where it rested, sniffed it, then dumped some of it over Toot’s leg. Seth almost staggered back. He knew exactly what was in the jug.

“You will go blind if you don’t cut that more,” he said, putting his doctor’s bag down on the step and opening it. He dug through it and found several lancers, then handed one part way opened to Willie. Deft fingers worked it into the largest pus sack. Toot yipped with pain, then gagged at the smell. Willie was very careful to keep the area clean, and to remove the infected tissue. Every once in a while Toot would let out a yip as Willie poked another pus sac. Seth kept a careful eye on what Willie was doing, not that he was doing anything wrong, but knowing that if something did go wrong, he could give account that it was done properly.

It was twenty minutes later that Willie finished with the leg and wrapped it properly. The dangling pant leg was wrapped about on top to protect the bandage and then secured. There were no offered thanks, just a grumble about using most of his best stuff on the wound.

They walked back to the house, looking ahead in the lane at the children playing under the tree. Willie looked at Seth. “How did you get your bag through customs?” he asked, curious.

“Oh, just had it with my things, and declared it. Jessica is one of my patents, and I have to be prepared if something should happen to her,” he said with a shrug.

Willie saw the seriousness in Seth’s eyes. “You think something is going to happen, do you?”

Seth drew in a breath and stopped walking. “Tell me why you left. Forget the sword, and the book, because you could have handled things from here, seeing that you knew where the sword was all the time, and the sheath. Why did you leave a village full of people who need a good doctor to come to America? You had been practicing here before. What changed? What is going on here Willie? If any other person came home to Cabot Cove after being gone for years and they were getting married, the whole town would be out trying to get a glimpse of the new bride and asking questions. The only one who has ventured to ask anything was Toot.”

Seth saw the struggle on Willie’s face. “I became a target, and those around me, those whom I loved and wished to help, were getting in the way. I left to keep them alive. Good people died, and it was my fault that they were in harm’s way. Those who came to me for healing were marked, and found their barns torn down, their animals dead. The curious came after the book was written, and the people felt on display. Some adapted to it, like Mither. Look around, Dr. Hazlitt - you see simple farming folk, some would say a quaint life. It hasn’t changed here for several hundred years, yet we have power lines under the ground, with the telephone lines so that they can’t be disabled. The water comes pumped in from the river two towns over and not a common well. Some of the homes have the internet, but few have use for it. Aye, I could have left closing up the shops to others. I had to know it was done properly, though, and end it properly. It was my way of severing the connection Furhdaham had built up across your country. I didn’t know, when I chose Cabot Cove to be the end place for it, that I would find my life, which had been so empty for all those years, to be made whole again, and given a reason to live.”

“The end place for it? You expected to die?“ said Seth, shocked.

“Yes, I expected to die there. Kent would try to escape and I was being watched by his followers, and if any one of them had the word given it would have been over. I knew, though, that Kent would want to do it himself. He understood I had the sword and the sheath and that I was destroying what he built. It was my way of waging war against his family. Then Taylor came into my shop. She gave me life, Seth, and my heart told me I had found the lady I wanted to hang my wash with. Not a handfast, but a proper marriage.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jessica waited on the porch while George helped Sara out of the car, and then Rosemary. She could see the two women were trying to fathom the events that had so recently unfolded before them. The children tumbled out of the back seat and looked around, uncertain of what exactly was going on. Some of the children in the front yard stopped playing long enough to wave to them, but Sara’s stayed close to her. Frank walked up to them and as George opened the trunk and placed one of the suitcases down on the ground, he picked it up. He could only manage one. George regarded him and then saw Jessica looking on. She nodded to him, but kept the excitement of seeing him close in her heart so her face could betray no emotion.

George escorted the women up the walkway to the front porch, where Jessica stepped forward and smiled. “Hello, Rosemary,” she said, then gave her cousin a hug, her eyes bright with tears.

When the two women parted Rosemary stepped back and held out her hand to her daughter. “This is my daughter Sara, and my grandchildren: the twins, Ian and Patricia, Shauna, and wee Emily. Children, this is your cousin Jessica from across the pond.”

The children looked at Jessica, and then at their grandmother. “We have kin then?” said Ian in a low voice.

Jessica placed her hand on his shoulder and bent over saying softly in his ear. “Nearly everyone here is your kin.” She placed a kiss on his cheek then straightened up. She turned and saw Frank returning from taking the bags up to their room for them. “Thank you, Frank.”

Frank regarded Ian as he stood by his mother’s side. He didn’t look like the other children. His hair curled in the same way that Willie Mac’s did, and he had the same eyes. Frank understood at once, after seeing the others that Ian and Willie Mac had to have taken after their grandfather. Patricia and Shauna looked like their mother, and would look like Jessica when they grew up. Emily, while young, looked like her father, Frank hazarded to guess. He saw the fear in their eyes as people walked by, how they stayed close to their mother, and the wary glances that they gave.

A taxi pulled up just as Willie and Seth returned from helping Toot. Seth got the door of the taxi and helped Emma out. For a moment his breath was taken away by her resemblance to Jessica. She had a small bag with her as well as a plain brown wrapped package that she pressed into Willie’s hands after giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“You can open that later,” she said with a smile. She saw her sister and Jessica and waved to them before taking Seth’s offered arm to walk slowly with him across the lawn to the front porch.

Frank eyed Willie’s actions carefully. He found it odd that after being parted from his mother and his sister all of his life, Willie should take their presence so casually. He knew that they had to have had some private time at Gram’s home, but, even still - it was the caution that was being taken that was so telling. To the people who were looking out of their doors, or had found some excuse to sweep their walks or weed the grass in front of their houses, it just looked like a mingling of an extended family at Mither’s. Taylor was the one who was hugging and greeting people as long lost relatives would, as did Jessica, who took the time to introduce her to everyone. Ian and the others were still with their mother and grandmother when Frank walked over to them.

“I’m Frank Fletcher - Aunt Jessica is tending to me this summer. You can stay in my room if you would like, Ian; that way Cousin Emma can be with your mum and sisters. It would just be us guys then.” Frank saw Ian look at his mother, uncertain. With a pang, Frank realized that he had never been away from his family and the thought was probably pretty terrifying. “If you don’t mind the snoring between Dr. Hazlitt and Willie,” he added.

“You do a fair bit of snoring yourself, lad,” said Willie, regarding his sister’s expression at the offer. It was a struggle for her to accept. She had never been parted from her child, and the worries that had lasted a lifetime - to keep hidden, to keep safe - were things she had instilled in her children. This marriage, this gathering - in a way it was a challenge to Furhdaham’s family, something that would bring it all into the open and end it, though the end could only come one way or another. She saw the look on her son’s face. He was of age, he would willingly stay with his mother, his sisters, and grandmother in the same room to protect them, sleeping on the floor - this offer said to them, ‘it’s safe.’ She nodded and saw the shy smile on Ian’s face, accepting that he was no longer a child.

Willie led them into the house, and as the door closed behind them George heard Tipper ask, “Inspector Sutherland, will you be staying on for supper?”

“Sadly, I have other duties to attend to.” He took a breath and dropped his voice. “However, Mrs. Fletcher, I might ask if I may borrow some of your time to assist in a matter which I have neglected ...” He floundered with his words as his hands made the shape of a box, and shrugged.

Frank looked at George. He didn’t seem like the type to put off something like buying a wedding present until the last moment. He saw the faint flush on Jessica’s cheeks, and took a breath. “I will be fine Aunt Jessica,” he said. “Tipper’s here if I need anything.”

“I think I might be able to help you with that, then,” Jessica said, smiling. George escorted her to the car and helped her into the back seat, then went around to the front and after starting the car pulled it out of the slot gently. They were turning onto the main road when Jessica leaned forward. “What is going on, George?” she asked. “Do you really need a wedding gift for them?”

Smiling, George looked in the rear view mirror at her. “Picked up a set of Waterford flutes yesterday. I do owe you an explanation, dear lady. Things are going to unfold that will turn this community upside down. If it was seen that a chief inspector had a relationship with a relation of one of the parties, it could jeopardize the entire investigation. Furhdaham has been under scrutiny for decades, but we could never catch him at anything. We started this when one of the people from the village came forward making inquiries regarding her daughter. Furhdaham had given her a scholarship to go to the university, and when the mother made inquiries about her daughter at that school they didn’t have her listed. They didn’t have any record of her at all, and we discovered the letter from the university was forged.”

George pulled down another lane and into a wooded spot where he turned and regarded her. “I have missed you, Jessica. It was horrid being so close to you and not being able to welcome you,” he said softly before getting out of the car and getting into the back seat with her.

“What type of welcome did you have in mind?” she asked, curious.

He saw the mischief in her eyes as he bent forward. “A proper one that would have shocked the customs officials and had me banned from the airport forever, perhaps even tossed out of Scotland Yard …”

It was an hour and a half later that George pulled the car back into the slot and helped Jessica out of the back seat. The others could see something on the seat as she slid out and he closed the door. He escorted her back up to the porch and then bowed his head formally at everyone.

“It was a pleasure meeting you all,” he said, then bid them good-bye and returned to his car. Jessica watched with some sadness as his car backed out and he drove down the lane.

She felt Mither at her elbow, and heard her ask, “Inspector Sutherland? Ye have met him before?”

“Yes,” Jessica said as if he was someone she had known as a casual acquaintance.

Willie glanced at Jessica and then inclined his head to her as she followed him inside. He looked at her, his eyebrow raised, then he stepped forward in the alcove and unbuttoned three of her buttons and set them right again. She saw a twinkle in his eye. She returned his gaze without a blush and was surprised when he took her hand in his and led her to where the back porch was. No one was back there, no one was around.

He took her to where the flower trellises were and said softly, “If I gave ye a lecture on what’s proper you’d be right to smack me silly so I won’t. I’ve known the Inspector a long time, and he is trustworthy, but nae everyone here is. Ye might be able to do tha once an’ not be followed, but twice could lead to far worse than misplaced buttons. I canna even say tha’ we are safe here, but it’s safer than other places we could be.”

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Frank sat between Jessica and Tipper on the swing and watched as Tipper studied a chain of flowers that Faraday had given her. They had taken a long walk about the village and Frank had seen Faraday pushing Tipper on the park swing down the street and her giggling like a school girl. The flowers were a lovely shade of pink that matched the flush of her cheeks. He couldn’t explain exactly how he felt at that moment. Perhaps the word he was looking for was - longing.

It was exciting to be in a different country. Everything here was different than what he expected - it took a bit to follow what people were saying, and to take in everything. All the pictures he had seen of Ireland before were of what his mother would call quaint thatched-roof cottages. But this was different. The roofs were of slate, and while the homes were of stone, it didn’t look much different from some of the places that he had seen when his parents took him for a drive in the country. People wore jeans and tennis shoes, and t-shirts under sweaters. The only notable oddity was that when he was looking for a barn in a field, as he was used to the huge red or white or black pitch barns that dotted the Pennsylvania Dutch area, that he was pointed to small lumps in the field that had doors. He realized they had made their barns into the ground itself.

He stole a glace at Tipper, who opened her small purse and sorted around for some mints. Frank glanced down and saw her driver’s license photograph upside down. Her hair was shorter then, and her eyes looked larger. She found the small tin of mints and offered him one. He nodded his thanks and returned the smile to her. He knew something about Tipper that Faraday didn’t, and oddly, that pleased him.

“Is this the lot of you then?” he heard Flynn ask curiously as he poured Taylor a spot more tea in her cup to heat it up. Seth had come out of the house after putting his bag away.

“Oh, no. This is just a small part of the family,” he said, nodding to Jessica. “Mrs. Fletcher’s husband had seven other siblings, and from what I remember, you have a fair amount of nieces and nephews from those siblings, don’t you?” Jessica nodded, watching Flynn take in this information.

“Must be lovely having a large family,” Flynn said to Tipper as Taylor and Willie walked over to join Jessica.

Taylor was saved from answering by the arrival of a crowd of people led by Toot up to the front lawn of the bed and breakfast. The crowd parted to reveal several who were dressed up in straw. Their masks were woven in straw, as were their skirts and shirts. Willie took Taylor by the hand and led her down the steps and walk way to where the Straw Men were. They formed a circle about Willie and Taylor, and using a small hand drum and lute, began to dance wordlessly around them while playing their instruments. The others came down off of the porch to watch. Ian moved in closer to Frank and Tipper, who stood near the side of the bed and breakfast watching what was going on. Tipper wasn’t comfortable with the crush of people, and Frank sensed it. The villagers began to come out of their homes to watch the straw men dance, and as the crowd grew, Tipper and the two boys found themselves backing up a bit to the corner of the house to stay out of the way of the people who were clapping and cheering at the dancing men.

The flower chain slipped from Tipper’s fingers and fell to the ground as the drums began to play a cadence. It bounced on the grass twice before