Finding Fraser (45 page)

It stopped ringing just as he pulled it out of
his pocket.

“Unknown number,” he read. “Damn—I
hope it’s not one of those ‘You have just won a free cruise’ calls.”

He smiled at me apologetically and pushed
the button. “I’ll just check if they left a message …”

After a few seconds listening, all the natural
color drained out of his face. Ear pressed to the receiver, he reached with his
free hand for the arm of the chair and sank down. A moment or two later, he
pulled the phone away from his ear and touched the screen.

The airport demolition crew packed up their
tools, and gave up, leaving the tumbled circle of stones standing by the
airline gate. As they drove off, a Thank you for Visiting Scotland banner blew
out of the bin on the back of their gently-beeping golf-cart and lay crumpled
on the floor beside the archway.

“Are you okay, Jack?” I asked, sitting
beside him. “Is it bad news?”

Wordlessly, he hit the replay button and
held it up to me. The message began to run again before I could get the phone
to my ear.

“…el Gibson, calling. I’ve just read yer
book, mate, and I want the rights. They’re to go to no one else, got that? I’ve
a script treatment in mind already—it’s clear as day in m’head; clear as
day. I need this book, Findlay. It’ll mean my redemption, man. I’ve taken so
much shit over the years—it’s time for me to atone. The Braveheart shall
rise again, as God is my witness! Call me, babe.”

I stared at Jack, open-mouthed. He took the
phone from my limp hand, and brushed his lips against my cheek. “Fancy a trip
to California?” he murmured. “I might need to talk to a fella.”

There was nothing I could think of to say.

They called our flight, and as we walked
toward the gate that marked the way to our
airplane, he
took my icy fingers in his warm hands.

And I swear on my tattered, worn and
well-loved copy of OUTLANDER, as we stepped hand-in-hand through that stone circle,
I felt the air begin to hum.

The End…of the beginning.

How lucky am I?

Well, I’ll tell
you. I realized just the other day that the production of this book has been,
from start to finish, only in the hands of friends. To clarify, I’ve always had
a very friendly working relationship with the publishers and staff of the
traditional houses who have produced each of my earlier books. But this one?
Different. I wrote this book for friends. It was beta-read, edited and
copy-edited by friends. The cover was designed and shot and photo-shopped by
friends, and the text was digitized by a friend. I can’t tell you the name of
whoever digitized the text for SEEDS OF TIME or A WALK THROUGH A WINDOW. But I
have eaten dinner with every single person who worked on FINDING FRASER. Every
one is an industry professional, all at the top of their game.

And me? I am one
lucky writer.

So thank you,
Kathy Kenzie, for being my regular writing buddy, for encouraging this book and
holding my hand every step of the way.

Thank you,
Pamela Patchet for being a weirdo-magnet (especially in elevators!) and the
BEST storyteller evah. Sharan Stone could never have existed without you. It is
not lost on me that I likely, in fact, qualify as principle weirdo…

To Laura
Bradbury for talking me into this publishing adventure in the first place, and
offering sweet support from afar.

To Tyner
Gillies, for word-racing me through part of the first draft (though NOT for the
chicken suit you made me wear when I lost…).

Thank you to my
editor Eileen Cook and copy-editor Mary Ellen Reid for eagle eyes and
razor-sharp talents. [NOTHING gets by these women!]

To Martin Chung
for photographic genius and a brilliant eye for detail.

To Lee Edward F
ö
di for cover
design and expertise. The force is strong with this one…

To digital
wizard Crystal Stranaghan, the tech genius behind both book and websites.

To Rob MacDonald
for good sportsmanship – and the kilt! – and to Tricia Barker for
making the connection.

Thanks also to
Peter Dyer, Alicia Kingsland, Meaghan Dyer and Jurgen van Wessel, who each
played their own part in coping with Having A Crazy Writer in the family.

To the Scoobies
for keeping it weird.

To Julie Kentner
and the other denizens of the CompuServe Books & Writers forum; friends,
supporters and flag-wavers from the start.

To Diana
Gabaldon and Jack Whyte; friends, mentors and abettors in this project. Two
more generous writers I could not name.

And a final,
special word of thanks to all my SiWC family. This book could never have come
to be without the cameraderie and craziness behind our annual gathering; and
you, my friends, must share the blame!

kc dyer resides in the wilds of British Columbia in
the company of a wide assortment of mammals, some of them human. She likes to
walk in the woods and write books.

Contact kc [or Emma!] at
kcdyer.com
or
FindingFraser.com
.

If you liked this story, please review it at
Amazon.ca
,
Amazon.com
or Goodreads.com.

Thanks for reading!

Other books by kc dyer:

Seeds of Time

Secret of Light

Shades of Red

Ms. Zephyr’s Notebook

A Walk Through a Window

Facing Fire