The Pocket Watch (16 page)

“Aye, I suppose I did.”

“What on earth did ye have to chat about?”

“Lots of things, but chief among them was time travel.” Maggie laughed at the look of horror on Logan’s face. “Logan, that old crone was Gertrude.”

“What? Why didn’t ye tell me?” He turned back towards the copse of trees and stopped dead in his tracks. “Where is she?”

Maggie shrugged. “She has a bad habit of disappearing like that, but I suspect the question isn’t
where
is she, but rather
when
is she?”

Epilogue

Castle Carr

July 22, 1280

Maggie lay in bed exhausted. She had just delivered their fifth child—a rather stubborn wee lass. The logical side of her brain said,
I did mention the lack of epidurals at least once
.

The illogical side of her brain said,
Shut up. Look at her little nose, it’s so cute.

Logan sat beside the bed, holding Maggie’s hand, looking nearly as spent as she did. “Maggie, there are times I think you made up this whole thing about fathers being present for birthing. I simply cannot imagine what man in the future thought this was a good idea. It nearly kills me every time I have to watch ye bring a child into the world.”

Maggie shook her head. “It nearly kills ye does it? There are so many things wrong with what ye just said, I don’t know where to begin.”

Logan gave her a cheeky grin, “But ye love me even if I am something straight out of the, what did you call it, the
dark ages
?”

“I do love ye with everything in me. But I should never have said that and ye’re never going to let me live it down, are ye?”

He leaned down and kissed her. “Nay my darling, I’m not.”

Logan’s mother, who sat cuddling her newest grandchild and chuckling at their banter, cocked her head. “Shh, someone’s coming. No more talk about the future or the dark ages.”

It turned out to be more than one someone coming. Lady Agnes, who relied heavily on a cane these days, walked in with Maggie and Logan’s four other children.

“Do ye mind a quick visit from an old woman and four wee rogues, lass?” Agnes walked to the bed and kissed Maggie on the cheek. “I hear that was a hard one, sweetling. Are ye well?”

“Aye, Grandmother. I’m a bit tired, but fine.”

Agnes chuckled. “I expect more than a bit. We won’t stay long, but I can wait no longer to see my birthday present.”

Davina stood up. “Agnes, sit here and ye can hold the wee trouble-maker.”

Six-year-old Malina only had eyes for the new bairn but the three-year-old twins, Edward and Elasaid went straight to Maggie. Elasaid started to climb onto the bed, into her lap.

Logan scooped her up. “Nay, Ella, Mama is very tired.”

Ella pouted.

Having seen his twin thwarted, Edward just sidled up to the bed and rested his head against his mother.

Maggie stroked his head but said to Ella. “Mama is going to take a long nap now, Ella. Would ye like to lie next to me and nap?” Ella hated taking naps. Maggie had no doubt that suggestion would stop the brewing tantrum.

The little girl frowned. “Nay, Mama, I don’t want a nap. I dust want to see the baby.”

“Are ye sure?” Maggie asked, trying to stifle a grin.

“Aye, Mama. Da, let me down so I can see it.”

Logan put her down, but held onto her hand. “It’s a her.” He took Edward’s hand too, saying, “Come son, ye have a look too.” He led them across the room to where his grandmother sat.

With the littlest ones occupied, Evan drew closer, giving Maggie a hug. “Are ye all right, Mama? Ye look…well are ye all right?”

Like his father, Evan was extremely observant and empathetic. Even at only eight years old, he tried to think of others first.”

“I am very tired, son. Bringing a baby into the world is hard work, but I am all right. After a few days of rest, I’ll be perfect.”

Her very serious son cocked his head and frowned, a mannerism so like Logan’s it made her heart swell. He would be a good chief someday.

She smiled at him. “I promise, I’m fine. Go see yer new sister.”

With the crowd around the baby growing, Malina came to Maggie’s side. “She’s pretty, Mama.”

“I think so too, sweetling.” Maggie put her arm around her oldest daughter.

“What’s her name?” demanded Ella from across the room.

“That’s a good question,” said Logan. “We haven’t picked one yet.”

“Don’t name her Ella. That’s my name.”

Malina huffed. “Ella, more than one person can have a name. I’m named after mama’s mama and Evan was named after Saint Evan.”

“Well Edward and me have our own names.”

Maggie cast a knowing smile at Davina. Edward and Elasaid had actually been named after Maggie’s parents, Edward and Elise, but Alpin Grant, Davina and Logan were the only people who knew that. “Yer sister is right, Ella, but we won’t name the baby Ella too. That might be a little confusing. We were thinking of naming her after Great Granny since she was born on the same day.”

“Oh, goodness, nay,” said Agnes. “I have never liked my name.”

“What would ye name her, Gweat Gwanny?” asked Edward.

“Hmmm.” Agnes considered for a moment. “I might name her Mary, after Mary Magdalene…but nay, that isn’t a lot better than Agnes. I do like the name Maretta though.”

“That’s a beautiful name, Agnes,” said Davina.

Logan nodded, “I agree, Grandmother. I quite like it.”

“I do too,” said Maggie.

“Is anyone opposed?” asked Logan, as if in a meeting of elders.

Malina and Evan shook their heads but Edward asked, “What does ‘posed mean?”

“It means is anyone against it,” said Evan.

“I’m not ‘posed,” said Ella, “and Edward isn’t eever.”

“How do ye know?” demanded Edward.

Ella frowned and put her hands on her hips. “Are ye ‘posed?”

Maggie grinned. As surely as Evan had reminded her of Logan, she saw herself in this gesture.

Edward frowned at his sister. “No, I’m not ‘posed.”

“See? Tol’ja.”

“Ella, don’t be so bossy,” Maggie admonished her gently.

Logan picked the little girl back up. “Well since no one is ‘
posed
, we will name her Maretta.”

Agnes lifted the baby, so as to look directly at her face. She said, “May God bless ye, Maretta and give ye a long and happy life,” before gently kissing Maretta’s forehead. Then she looked around the room. “Logan, take this wee lass now, and Davina and I will herd this lot out of here.”

There were a few moans and pleas to stay. Logan stopped it with one stern look, after which they all kissed Maggie and left with Agnes. When they were gone, he laid the sleeping babe in her cradle before sitting next to Maggie on the bed. “Ye do need to rest now.”

“Aye, I do. Lay with me for a while.”

“Sweetling, I’ll stay with ye, but I’ll sit in the chair.”

“I don’t recall giving ye an option.”

He grinned. “Nay, love, I suppose ye didn’t.” He lay on the bed beside her, pulling her close.

“I love ye, Logan,” she whispered, almost asleep.

“I love ye too. Sleep well, Maggie.”

A note to the reader

I was desperately trying to figure out what to write for this novella when, out of the blue (I firmly believe it was Divine intervention), I remembered a time-travel story I wrote in college. I had one copy, written by hand, which found its way into a box of memorabilia with baby shoes and wedding cards.  Unfortunately, the box was destroyed when our basement flooded a few years ago. Thankfully, the basic plot was indelibly written in my memory so now, more than thirty years later, I pulled it out and dusted it off.

Although originally Maggie travelled back to Colonial America, other than that, the bones of the story are unchanged. Maggie meets the old woman who gives her the pocket watch with which Maggie travels back in time, exchanging souls with another woman. As I started to form the characters for the story, I thought I would give a little nod to H.G. Wells (author of
The Time Machine
, 1895) by giving Maggie “Wells” as a last name. However, as I researched things a bit, I learned that Wells wasn’t the first person to tackle time travel.

It was actually Edward Page Mitchell, an American Journalist and author of science fiction, who is credited with having written the first time-travel story. But here is where things take a bizarre twist. The name of Mitchell’s story, first published in the New York Sun in 1881, is
The Clock that Went Backward
. Of course I had to read it. There aren’t actually many similarities between the two stories, but I was amazed by the fact that a timepiece is the conduit for time travel in both stories. Furthermore, I learned that, among many stories Mitchell wrote is another first, a story titled,
Exchanging Their Souls
(1877). It too bears little resemblance to the soul exchange described in The Pocket Watch but that I found the fact that he wrote about both topics intriguing.

So in homage to Mr. Mitchell, I gave Maggie his surname, named her father Edward and her sister Paige. Additionally, I named the old woman in my story, Gertrude, a character from
The Clock that Went Backward
.

About the Author

Ceci started her career as an oncology nurse at a leading research hospital, and eventually became a successful medical writer. In 1991 she married a young Irish carpenter who she met at a friend’s wedding. They raised their family in central New Jersey but now live with their dogs and birds in paradise, also known as southwest Florida. While she loves spending time writing “happily ever afters” she still works fulltime in the pharmaceutical industry.

Her bestselling, Duncurra series,
Highland Solution
,
Highland Courage
,
and
Highland Intrigue
are available as e-books, audiobooks, and paperbacks. There are also inspirational versions of each of these which close the bedroom door. Ceci will be continuing this series in the near future.

The Fated Hearts series begins with Ceci’s novella
Highland Revenge
(originally appearing in Highland Winds, The Scrolls of Cridhe – Volume 1) and continues with
Highland Echoes
and
Highland Angels
.

If you enjoyed
The Pocket Watch
, you might like:

The Midwife: The Pocket Watch Chronicles

Coming March 1, 2016, available for
pre-order
now

Can a twenty-first century independent woman find her true destiny, in thirteenth century Scotland?

At his father’s bidding, Cade MacKenzie begs a favor from Laird Macrae—Lady MacKenzie desperately needs the renowned Macrae midwife. Laird Macrae has no intention of sending his clan’s best, instead he passes off Elsie, a young woman with little experience, as the midwife they seek.

But fate—in the form of a mysterious older woman and an extraordinary pocket watch—steps in.

Elizabeth Quinn, a disillusioned obstetrician, is transported to the thirteenth century. She switched souls with Elsie as the old woman said she would but other things don’t go quite as expected. Perhaps most unexpected was falling in love with Cade MacKenzie.

Other Books by Ceci Giltenan

Highland Revenge - Excerpt

Eoin MacKay hadn’t gone terribly far when he caught a glimpse of white halfway up a massive oak. She was well hidden. Her plaid was dark green; he wouldn’t have noticed her among the leaves if he hadn’t been specifically looking for her. He strode closer to the tree, stopping once so he could look up through the branches. There, perched in the crotch of two thick limbs was a woman so perfectly beautiful she might have been part faery. He was left momentarily speechless. Her skin was fair, with a faint pink blush to her cheek. He couldn’t see the color of her eyes, but they were ringed with sooty lashes. Something told him that, regardless of their hue, they would sparkle. Her rosy lips were full and soft—lips that were made to be kissed. The late afternoon breeze ruffled the mass of black curls around her shoulders. Her léine was torn, but otherwise she appeared none the worse for wear.
She is not a faery, she is a MacNicol
, he reminded himself.

She looked down at him silently with her head cocked to one side, as if she was trying to solve some puzzle. She didn’t seem remotely frightened. That would have to change if he was to exact his revenge. “Have ye had a lovely day perched in yer tree, watching us search for ye?”

“I suspect my day was better than yers.”

Her impertinent answer irritated him. “Well ye’ve had yer bit of fun, but it’s over. Climb down.”

She ignored him. “Who are ye?”

“Yer captor, and I ordered ye to climb down. Do it now.”

“Nay, I asked ye a perfectly reasonable question, and ye aren’t my captor if ye can’t reach me. Until I know who ye are, I think I’d just as soon stay free, even if I am up a tree.”

“Free? Nay lass, ye’re as good as locked in my dungeon, and I promise ye will regret yer impertinence.”

He called to one of his men. “Donald, it fair breaks my heart, but the MacNicol lass doesn’t wish to join our company.”

“An arrow would bring her down quick enough.”

“Aye it would, but ye heard her guardsman. This is Fiona MacNicol, Bhaltair’s niece. I wouldn’t want to harm a hair on her wee head.”

Donald snorted. “Ye have no love for the MacNicols, and neither do I. Have ye forgotten? One of my older brothers rode with ye that night.”