don't believe he can
roar," Alby accused, and snatched the carving from Winston's hand.
"Grownups never believe. But you will when he bites
you."
Winston unsuccessfully tried
not to smile. "Oh...indeed. So tell me, Alby, would you be up to
joining me for breakfast? I make a mean batch of
bannocks."
"Breakfast is ma
responsibility, Mr. Connery," said a feminine voice from behind
him.
Turning his head, he blinked
at the sight of Agnes Ingliss crossing the room. She was dressed in
a wool-blend simple blue dress, three-quarter-length black sweater,
black stockings and shoes. Her snow white hair was neatly secured
in a bun atop her head, and a pair of small pearl earrings adorned
her earlobes. Stopping at the side of the bed, she opened her arms.
Alby zealously sprang up and threw himself into her embrace,
wrapping his arms about her neck and planting a wet kiss on her
cheek at the same time. A smile glowed on her face as she hugged
him.
At that moment, Winston
wanted more than ever to experience that kind of bond. A hollow
ache replaced his heart. When he attempted to tap into what Agnes
was feeling, her pale blue eyes flashed him a warning that she knew
what he was trying to do. A flush stained Winston's cheeks. He'd
forgotten that her ghostly powers were intact.
"Alby, love, wha' do you say
Mr. Connery helps you wi' brushin’ yer teeth, while I tend to
breakfast?"
The boy scowled at Winston
then buried his face to the side of Agnes' wrinkled neck. She cast
Winston a guarded look then grinned.
"Now, now, Alby. You don’t
want your sausage too weel done now, do you? Old Agnes is movin’
slower these days, and I'm sure Mr. Connery would love to see how a
big lad like you can brush his teeth sparklin’ white."
"As white as a fairy's
tooth," Alby beamed.
"Aye, tha' white and mair.
Weel, do we have a plan, now?"
Alby spared Winston a shy
glance, frowned again, then halfheartedly held out his arms to him.
Winston rose to his feet. His system tingled with anticipation as
he hesitantly opened his arms. In the next instant, Alby was
clinging to him, the small arms wrapped tightly around his neck,
his legs secured about Winston's middle.
"Thank you...Mrs.
Ingliss."
"Agnes," she corrected with
a smile and a twinkle in her knowing eyes.
Alby grimaced and looked
beseechingly at the woman. "He has baaad breath!"
With a low, raspy chuckle,
Agnes headed for the door. Over her shoulder, she suggested,
"Perhaps, Alby, you could show Mr. Connery how to brush his teeth."
When she disappeared into
the hall, Winston ruefully eyed the boy's comical expression. "Tha'
bad, huh?"
Alby nodded.
"Come along then," said
Winston, heading for the hall. "We'll see who's the brushing
champ."
"I am."
Winston laughed and he
realized he couldn't remember when he'd felt this good about
himself, or being alive.
* * *
Laura stretched luxuriously
beneath the warm covers. With her eyes still closed and a grin of
contentment on her lips, she reached out for Roan. His side of the
bed was empty. Her eyelids lifted and she squinted into the morning
light. When her vision adjusted a moment later, she spied Roan
standing by the window in a beam of sunlight. His expression struck
her as being both wistful and desolate. He was watching something
beyond the panes, but she was relatively sure he wasn't actually
seeing anything at all.
A shiver passed through her,
its cause unknown. Now that their lives were settling into normal
routine, the stress of what they all had endured should have been
waning. Her nephews alone seemed to adapt to their new lives. Laura
harbored a sense of loss, but a loss of what she couldn't be sure.
Perhaps, knowing that Roan wasn't as happy as he pretended had
something to do with it. At times she thought herself the cause of
his moodiness, but instinct told her his bouts of depression were
somehow still tied to Lachlan and Beth's departure. The few times
she had tried to get him to open up to her, he'd chosen to withdraw
into