Forevermore (8 page)

A
t school, I grab Emma as soon as I find her and whisper to her what happened this morning. She looks appropriately horrified but wants to know more about Logan. Before I can elaborate, the prefect I met on my first day walks up to us.

“Ivy,” Emma says, straightening up. “Remember I told you I’d introduce you to Serrus Munro again?”

Serrus flashes his bright smile. He really is handsome. “Hello again,” he says.

“Hey,” I say to him, feeling suddenly excited. Maybe he does know something about Logan. “So, is Munro an old name in the Highlands?” I ask. When a puzzled expression crosses his face, I quickly add, “I’m into genealogy.”

“Aye,” he says, nodding. “ ’Tis an old name for sure. At least as far back as thirteen hundred or so.” He inclines his head toward the forest edging the school’s property. “About a half hour’s drive that way I’ve an old tower house full o’ Munro cousins.”

“Yeah,” Emma answers. “And one of them married a famous American fiction writer. Ethan and Amelia Munro. Right, Serrus?”

“Aye,” he answers. “Amelia Landry-Munro. A fine lass. She writes about time travel and magic and such.”

“And perfectly dreamy romance,” Emma adds with a grin.

“Sounds like interesting reading.” I’m thinking fast. If the Munro family goes back to the thirteen hundreds and they live in a castle hopefully filled with archives from their ancestors, chances are they could be Logan’s kin.

“She wrote a bestseller, straight from the tower house,” Serrus goes on.

“Oh, wow, that’s cool,” I admit. I love reading, and meeting a real live writer could be cool.

Serrus nods. “You’re welcome tae come meet her if you’d like.”

I blink.

“Of course she’d love to!” Emma says for me. “She’s a bit shy. Unusual for an American, aye?” she laughs. “When?”

Serrus looks at Emma, then back to me. “Whenever she fancies.”

The bell rings. “Thanks,” I tell Serrus. “That would be great.”

“Can I have your mobile number? I’ll check to see when a good time for Amelia is, and I’ll let you know.” He throws a look at Emma. “You can come, too.” He grins.

“Sweet,” Emma says, whipping out her mobile. Her cheeks are a little flushed. Her fingers fly over the keyboard. “There. I just sent you Ivy’s number.” She smiles, very proud of herself.

As we part ways with Serrus and head to class, Emma grabs my elbow and whispers, “Going to the Munro home should be helpful, I hope.”

I nod. “There’s got to be something there. A ledger with family history in it? Something.”

“Aye, probably so. We Scots fancy our history,” Emma says. She pauses for a minute and then, looking impish, adds, “I’ve got tae meet him.”

“Logan?” I whisper.

At that moment, we are joined by Derek and Cameron so we have to change the topic from ghosts to biology. Not nearly as fascinating.

When Mom and Niall pick me up after school, Mom looks excited. For the first time, too, she doesn’t seem as pale and weak.

“Sweetie,” Mom says as Niall drives toward the castle, “we’re headed north up the coast to take a look at some more property Niall is interested in. Would you like to come?”

I don’t hesitate. “Thanks, but I’ll stay at the castle. Work on some new music.”
And hang out with my new dead friend
, I think to myself.

So Mom and Niall drop me off at the castle. I hurry inside and up to my room to retrieve my violin. When I call softly for Logan, he appears.

“ ’Bout time you got home,” he says. “It seems like it took forever.”

This is, so to speak, music to my ears. “Want to go to the rectory?” I ask him. “I’m really wanting to compose.”

He nods, and we head out of the castle together.

Outside it’s silent, save for wind rustling the dying leaves and the noise my shoes make against the ground. Logan’s boots make no sound at all.

“Tell me more about yourself, Logan,” I say, and glance up at his face.

“I’ve wandered a lot,” Logan says. A wave of dark hair falls across his alabaster forehead. “I’m no’ bound to the castle, or even the lands,” he continues. “Sometimes I find myself way up north, to the very tip of Scotland, and the time passes in a fashion I don’t fancy. Once I wandered, and when I came back, three months had passed. It felt more like three days.”

“It sounds lonely,” I say as the rectory comes into view.

“It was,” Logan says so quietly it’s almost a whisper. “It has been, until now.”

I’ve never been a big blusher, but I swear I can feel the heat move all the way up my throat to my face.

We enter the rectory, which is dim and shadowy, and both sit on a stone window seat. Logan sits bent over with his forearms resting against his knees, shoulders hunched.

“I wish I could recall how I came to be here, at Glenmorrag. All I know is, whatever happened to me was a long time ago.”

I pull my legs up and wrap my arms around my knees. I like the way
ago
sounds like
agoo
.

Logan glances out one of the few remaining stained-glass windows. I have to keep myself from touching his face, or one of his hands. I follow his gaze, out of the once colorful glass embedded with the indigo head of a peacock. Although now faded and cracked, it stands stark against the cold gray stone. Somehow, it fits this place. So does Logan.

“But bad things have happened here, Ivy,” he says, and looks directly at me. “I’m pretty sure I fell victim.”

“Have you ever seen another spirit?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Canna say that I have. And I’ve no’ seen anything here. It’s something that I feel. Whether ’tis a
taibhse
— ghostie — or a live being, I canna be sure. And that rowan under your bed? Someone put it there. Someone human.” His gaze briefly moves in the direction of the castle before returning to mine. “Funny thing is, I didna feel the dark presence for a long, long time. Then, several years back, it returned.”

I force myself to breathe.
Someone human.
“I keep thinking about Elizabeth,” I admit.

Logan looks thoughtful. “She wasna always hateful. I
dunna recall all of her days here, but I do remember her as a playful, happy lass, laughing, running.” He shrugs.

I try to picture a younger Elizabeth MacAllister, frolicking in the heather. I can’t. The image just won’t come.

I decide to turn our conversation toward the Munro clan.

“Don’t you have any other family in Scotland?” I ask.

“If I do, lass, the ones who’d remember me are certainly all gone,” Logan answers solemnly. “Why do you ask?”

“There’s a boy named Munro at my school, and he has a bunch of Munro cousins. Might be worth checking out.”

Logan nods. “It canna hurt.”

“Oh,” I say, something else occurring to me. “Would you consider … meeting someone?”

Logan looks at me with a glimmer in his silver eyes.

“A friend of mine. From school. Emma. She’s the girl I brought here, to the rectory, last time. I trust her one hundred percent.”

Logan’s gaze locks onto mine. “Aye. If you trust her, then I will as well.”

Before I can stop myself, my hand reaches toward his arm. “Thanks —”

And it slips right through him.

“Oh, shoot,” I say, and jerk my hand back. “Sorry about that.”

The glimmer in Logan’s eyes brightens. “It’s all right,” he says, his raspy voice quiet. “Doesna bother me.” Then he inclines his head toward my violin. “Will you play now?”

Settling my violin against my chin, I pull the bow across the strings and start the new melody. It comes easy.

And while I play, the ghost of a murdered boy watches me. When did my life become so crazy?

H
ome from school the next day, I dash up the stairs. Logan is waiting at the second-floor landing.

“Hey,” I say, grinning.

“Hey yourself,” he responds, mimicking my Charleston drawl.

“Very funny,” I comment as we walk to my room. “I spoke to the headmistress today about the Strings festival entry and I filled out forms, so I’m all set. She wants to hear the piece I’m working on.”

“No doubt she’ll fancy it.”

I give him a smile. “Thanks.”

My heart skips a beat as we stand there, eyes locked.

“Okay,” I say, and I notice how the grin on Logan’s mouth spreads. “Well, let me change out of my monkey
suit.” I glance down at my school uniform. I had worn the black pants today.

Logan chuckles. “I’ll be right here,” he answers, and leans against the doorjamb. “Although I’d fancy seeing a monkey in a suit.”

Shaking my head, I shut the door. Just as I cross the room to my armoire, my cell phone vibrates. A text message. It’s Serrus.

If you’re up to it, come to the Munro Tower House today. My cousin Ethan’s wife Amelia will be around. 4pm? I’ve already texted Emma and she can come.

Excitedly, I respond.

Totally up for it. Thanks!

I start to think about what I want to ask the Munros.
Change clothes, Ivy
, I remind myself. Once I do, I call to Logan.

“Aye?” he asks as he appears.

As I power up my laptop, I answer. “That Munro I met at school? He just invited me and Emma to come over and meet his cousins.” As I talk, I Google Amelia Landry. Several pages appear, and I choose one that’s an interview with a local paper.

“What are you doing?” Logan asks.

“I’m looking them up online,” I answer. “Munro’s wife is a famous author.” I grin. “I want to be prepared when I meet them.”

“I have seen this strange machine of yours before,” he says, leaning over my shoulder and staring at the screen. “I dunna think I can decipher all the words. My mum had started teaching me how to read, you know. Before.”

I look at Logan. “I’ll pick up where she left off, if you like,” I offer. He smiles and nods, and I read out loud from the
Highlands Gazette
. “‘Amelia Landry-Munro is a bestselling American author of multiple works of fiction. She is married to Laird Ethan Arimus Munro of the Munro clan in the Highlands of Scotland.’”

Amelia’s website is listed, and I click the link. It’s a beautifully designed site, with lots of scrollwork and castle art. There’s a picture of her most recent book, called
Enchanted Love
. I read the book’s description aloud.

“‘An American girl deep in the Scottish Highlands stumbles upon an enchanted tower house and its enchanted inhabitants, in the form of fourteenth-century Scottish warriors. She fights to help end the curse that has bound them as spirits for hundreds of years — and to keep her heart intact as she falls in love with one of them, a fierce knight.’”

An American girl in the Scottish Highlands? Spirits? This story hits a bit too close to home.

“I’ve gotta get that book,” I say, and glance at Logan. He raises one dark eyebrow and grins.

“Fanciful stories of love and enchanted knights? I’m no’ too sure that will help solve the mystery o’ my death.”

I laugh and continue checking out the website. “You never know, Mr. Doubtful.” I click on Amelia’s photo gallery. Several selections show her at book signings and conferences. “Wow,” I say. “She’s really pretty.”

“Aye,” Logan answers, peering closely.

I’d elbow him, if I could.

Then I see a photo of Amelia and a huge guy. His arm is wrapped protectively around her shoulders. The caption reads
Amelia, with her laird husband, Ethan Munro.
They’re standing in front of an enormous tower castle.

I gasp as I get a good look at the laird.

“No way,” I mutter just as Logan mutters, “Och, damn.”

Laird Ethan Munro has dark hair, light skin, a square-cut chin, and very unusual pewter-colored eyes….

Though he’s older than Logan, the resemblance is
uncanny. Logan and I stare at each other, silent for several seconds.

“You look just like him,” I finally say. “It’s … weird how much you look alike.”

“Aye,” he answers. “Mayhap we’re kin after all?”

I scroll through the rest of Amelia’s picture gallery. One photo in particular stands out — it’s Ethan and his kinsmen. Six men in all.

“They’re … so huge. Like, linebacker huge,” I say.

“What’s linebacker?” Logan asks.

I chuckle. “Football guys. Not soccer. American football.” I shake my head. “I’ll tell you all about it later.” I study the Munros. “There’s something just not … right about them.” I shake my head and peer closer. “Something different. I can’t put a finger on it.”

“Like what?” Logan asks, staring at the photo.

I shrug, reading their names in the caption.
Ethan, Rob, Gilchrist, Torloch, Aiden, Sorely
. A lot of the names sound very old-fashioned.

Then I notice the time in the right-hand corner of the screen. “I should go,” I say, grabbing my coat. “I’m going to ask Jonas if he’ll drive me over.” I open the door, then spin back around toward Logan. “Are you coming?”

Logan presses his hand over his heart. “You wound me to think otherwise.”

As I step out into the hall, I almost plow over Trudy, the young maid, carrying a load of clean towels. She glances behind me, then behind herself.

“Are you speakin’ tae me, then?” she asks.

I’m not very good at lying, so my cover-up is awkward. “Oh, are those for my bathroom?” I ask, pointing at the towels. “I’ll take them in if you like.”

Trudy doesn’t look like she’s buying it. “Eh, no,” she says. She stares at me as though I have a horn growing in the middle of my forehead. “That’s okay, gell. ’Tis my job.”

“Well, thanks,” I say, continuing as though nothing is wrong. But Trudy’s eyes remain on me until I disappear from sight.

“I’m no’ sure she believes you, Ivy,” Logan says. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Pinching the metal tab on my down coat between my fingers, I yank the zipper all the way up. “Tell me about it. It’s why I hardly ever even try. Let’s find Jonas.”

He’s easy to find. In the kitchen, going over menus.

“Hey, Jonas,” I say. “Do you think you could drive me somewhere?”

“Sure, Miss Ivy, where to?”

“To the Munro Tower House.”

“I’ll take her, Jonas,” Niall cuts in, strolling into the kitchen. He and Mom are heading off on another drive today, to see yet another property. “Her mother and I are aimed in that direction anyway.”

I turn to my stepfather. “Thanks, Niall. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“No bother, Ivy. Are you ready to go now?” he asks.

“I am, yes,” I answer.

Niall turns when my mom walks in. “Love, we’re going to drop Ivy off at the Munros’.”

Mom breaks out into a smile. “More new friends, Ivy? That’s wonderful!”

I wonder if she’d feel differently knowing that these friends might be relatives of a ghost.

We all head outside and climb into the Rover. Logan materializes beside me in the backseat, and I try hard not to look at him and smile. But the moment the car starts moving, Logan disappears. One second he’s there, the next, gone. Turning my head, I glance around, and through the back window I see him, standing in the drive.

What the heck? Why did he get out? I almost want to tell Niall to stop the car so I can jump out and run back to Logan, but I know he and Mom would be concerned for my mental health. So I sigh and try not to worry about Logan.

Instead, I pull up Serrus’s latest text on my phone. I tell Niall, “Here’s the address —”

“Och, no need, Ivy. I know the Munro house,” Niall says. “We’ll be there in no time. Now, what is it that interests you there?”

“Well,” I say, and I hardly know what
else
to say. “One of the kids at school is a Munro,” I answer. “I thought it was kinda cool that his cousin is an American author. So he asked if I wanted to meet her.”

“Right. Ethan Munro’s wife. Nice lass,” Niall says. He glances at Mom. “I meant to tell you, Julia — Lady Amelia is from Charleston, too.”

“Oh, how interesting,” Mom says. “Ivy, do you know of her?”

“Not until now,” I reply. I glance out the window, and over my shoulder, but there’s no sign of Logan. Where is he?

Finally, a little more than thirty minutes east, in the dead center of the Highlands, we come to the long drive
leading to the Munro Tower House. Ancient stone, gray and blackened with time, rises from the mist sliding across the ground. It looks even older than Glenmorrag, and even spookier, if that’s possible.

Niall pulls around a gravel drive and stops at the front steps. Serrus and Emma are already there, waiting outside the front doors. Emma comes straight over. She’s looking in the Rover, and all around. I know she’s searching for Logan. We all get out and I introduce Serrus to Niall and Mom.

“How ya doin’, Yank?” Serrus says to me.

I give him a grin. “Same ole, same ole,” I answer, and he chuckles.

That’s when the massive, double-hung oak doors swing open and the six giant men I recognize from the photos online step out into the fading dusk. They stand in a huddle, arms crossed over bulky chests, legs braced to support their weight.

“Looks like Munro could have his own rugby team,” Niall says with an impressed laugh. “Big lads.”

“They are indeed,” Serrus says proudly.

And they really, really are. I immediately pick out Ethan Munro.

He looks even more like a grown-up version of Logan in person. A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow past it. I have to make myself not stare at him.

“Och, MacAllister,” Ethan says, stepping forward and extending a hand. “Good of you tae visit.” He glances toward Serrus. “I see you’ve met my wee cousin.”

“Aye,” Niall says, shaking Ethan’s hand.

Ethan nods toward the other men. “My brothers, Rob and Gilchrist, and cousins Aiden, Sorely, and Torloch.”

The men all give a nod.

Niall drapes his arm around Mom’s shoulder. “Munro, this is my bride, Julia. I told you about her, as you recall?”

Ethan lifts Mom’s hand and kisses the top of it. “Pleasure, Lady MacAllister. Welcome tae Scotia.”

I watch as red stains my mom’s cheeks. It’s almost funny.

Until the laird turns his attention to me. Not so funny anymore.

Ethan Munro’s mercury gaze lights on mine, and I fight the urge to look away. He towers over me. “You must be Ivy. Serrus has told me about you.” He extends that huge paw of a hand to me, and I take it in as firm a shake as I can muster.

“Yes, sir,” I answer.

“Ah,” Ethan says, his eyes softening. “You’ve the accent of my beloved bride, Amelia. You hail from Charles Town, yes?”

I smile and glance at Mom. Charles Town is the old name of my home city. “All my life, until now,” I answer.

“MacAllister, you and your lady will stay and visit for a while?” Ethan asks.

“Och, this time, nay,” Niall answers. “We’re on our way to oversee a pub I have the mind tae buy. Next time, mayhap?”

“Aye,” Ethan says. “Good trip to you, then.”

“Cheers,” Niall says to Ethan. “We’ll pick you up on our way home, Ivy,” he says.

I thank him, then kiss Mom good-bye, and watch them get back into the Rover.

“Let’s go inside, then,” Ethan says.

We all file in. Emma crams against my side.

“Where is he?” she whispers in my ear.

“Still back at the castle, I think,” I whisper back, and Emma frowns. “Don’t worry,” I assure her. “He wants to meet you, too. Halloween probably.”

Every one of Emma’s teeth shows as she grins.

“Sae, cousin,” Ethan says. “I see you’ve swayed another lass tae tolerate your company, as well.”

“Aye, so it seems,” Serrus responds with a chuckle. “This is Emma.”

Ethan shakes her hand, too, and she looks at me and mouths,
He is so hot.

I hide a smile with my hand. Emma is so crazy.

Ethan leads us to the great hall. A large fireplace occupies one wall, and the blaze snaps and sizzles. There are two leather sofas, several chairs, and recliners, too.

“Take a seat, Ivy, Emma,” Ethan suggests. “Amelia is finishing something in her office. She’ll join us shortly.”

Emma and I sit in two old-looking chairs, covered in mossy-green velvet. Serrus plops onto the arm of Emma’s chair.

“Sae, how are you finding our country?” Ethan says, sitting across from us. The other men find various places to perch, listening closely. The room seems to grow smaller with all those Munros in it.

I take a deep breath. “Fascinating. I’ve gotten very interested in the history and people of the region. I was even wondering if you knew enough of your family history to trace back to one … person in particular.”

Ethan and the others stare at me, waiting.

“A boy,” I continue.

One of Ethan’s eyebrows lifts, along with the corner of his mouth.
So much like Logan …

I try to gather a little more courage. “His name is Logan Munro. He was born in 1833 and died when he was eighteen.” I meet Ethan’s gaze. “I … think he was murdered.”

Ethan strokes his chin. “And where do you get such information, lass?” he inquires.

Silently, I stare at him, refusing to tell him the truth. I
can’t
. He’ll think I’m insane. Or will he? “I’ve just … heard, is all. Rumors from the staff at the castle. I’d like to find out, if I can.”

Ethan leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “Many a Munro has died a dreadful death over the centuries, lass. Early Scotia was a vicious land.” He rubs his chin. “There once was a lad named Jaime. He had sons — several o’ them. They had sons, and so on. By the by, a bonny lass named Mirrah was born. She bore a son. He was Logan.”

I blink, stunned.

“Looked enough like me to be my twin, at that age.”

I cock my head at his comment.

“Or so I’ve heard,” Ethan adds, clearing his voice. “ ’Tis a shame, though. The boy was thought to have died, possibly by murder. His body was never found.”