The Charm Stone (27 page)

Which brought her back to what it was she thought he truly wanted.
Her?

“No,” she muttered, “that's just what
you
want him to want.” She groaned and flopped back on the sand. She was a hopeless head case.

“And so what if he does, Josie,” she said out loud, her words whipped away by the breeze. “What if he does decide he wants you, the rest be damned? He's a freaking three-hundred-year-old ghost. Not the best prospect for a long, enduring relationship.” Not to mention difficult to explain to friends and family.

She laughed. Yeah, she'd become that crazy old woman who lived alone in the croft, ranting on about her secret ghost lover. Which brought up the whole complication of her aging while he stayed forever young.

“Argh!”
Enough of this torture,
she told herself. She rolled to her feet, brushed herself off, and grabbed her sketch pad. She had surf lessons to give shortly. That was about all she could handle at the moment. “At least I'll be dealing with mortals.”

Josie ended up being very thankful for her mortal friends. They were the only reason she made it through the following couple of days without losing what was left of her already admittedly shaky mind.

Maeve had been an avid pupil, as had her friend, Posey, the one with the shaky marriage. Josie wasn't sure learning to surf was going to help in that department much, but that wasn't any of her business.

Her star student, however, had been the surprising old Mrs. Stewart. And old was the mildest of adjectives one could use to describe this woman. Her wrinkles had wrinkles. Josie's initial reaction on seeing her climb out of Maeve's car had been to call off the whole thing. This woman wouldn't last one second out there and no way was Josie going to be responsible for putting her into an early grave. Early being a somewhat subjective term. But still, she wasn't going to be a party to it.

Then Mrs. Stewart-or Bidda, as she'd commanded Josie to call her-had plucked Josie's board from its resting place against the side of the croft, propped it up, and toted it on down to the beach as if she was balancing nothing more than a basket on her head. It was only when she'd barked at Maeve and Posey to stop standing about, wasting her class time, that Josie had snapped her mouth shut and moved.

Maeve had given her a helpless shrug, to which Josie could only nod in understanding. Apparently no one stopped Bidda from getting what she wanted. She'd had to hide a small smile as she'd followed the ladies down to the shoreline, thinking that next time the boys decided to hoist some of Bidda's sheep, she might actually be willing to help them out.

She did smile now as she stood on the ferry dock and watched the boat draw closer. The boys, as she'd come to think of them, were all crowded at the edge, as if their anxiousness could will the boat to go faster. She couldn't deny that there was still some small part of her that wanted to get on that ferry and get as far away from here as possible, escape the endless thoughts of Connal and what he wanted and what she wanted… and what fate could possibly have in store for them.

But the larger part of her couldn't imagine leaving
here. For the first time she felt like a vital part of the community, rather than the reclusive artist-slash-surfer.

She'd never really meant to become reclusive, being a social enough person. She supposed after all the traveling and hopping about the globe she'd done, she'd just enjoyed the solitude, the peace and quiet that allowed her to create. She had friends, other surfers mostly. She hung out with them on occasion, though she guessed she'd term the friendships fairly casual. Of course, she had her dad and his crew. They were family to her, and Parker's Inlet as normal a home as she'd ever had. She was happy, fulfilled. She'd never really given any thought to being more involved, community-wise, or felt that she was missing out on something by staying tucked away in her bungalow.

Until this moment, standing here on this dock, surrounded by a bunch of anxious Scots and feeling just as excited about the shipment of gear as theydid.

The boat chugged closer. No, she realized, she was in no hurry to leave this place, these people. Her people. She laughed at that. Her people. God, now she sounded like Connal. But she hadn't meant it that way, she just felt like she belonged here.
Yeah,
she thought,
among the other eccentrics. I fit right in.

Dougal turned to her, grinning like a little kid on Christmas morning. “I don't suppose we could bribe ye to give us a real lesson this evening could we?”

“I'll help you go over your gear tonight. You all have to try it on and make sure it fits. Tomorrow morning will come soon enough.”

He pouted as she patted him on the arm, then shouts from the boat drew their eyes to the water.

Someone was waving from the deck of the boat and the men were all waving and hollering back. Josie, however, stood rooted to the spot, frozen, certain her eyes were playing tricks on her.

“Wha-?” was all she managed to get past her suddenly tight throat.

Roddy turned to her and gave her a wink. “Now ye see why we brought ye down here. 'Twas no just the gear we had shipped in, but a wee surprise for ye as well, Josie lass.”

She'd half suspected something of the sort was going on, but she'd thought it was just the art supplies she'd ordered. She thought maybe they'd gone and done something foolish, like order her a drafting table or something. But this… she'd never suspected this. “We?” she squeaked, as her heart bumped, then began pounding furiously.

“I hope yer no’ mad at us,” Clud said. “He made us keep it a secret.”

She looked at them all. Gaped, actually. “You
all
knew?” She looked back to the ferry… and the man shouting hello from the deck. Big Griff. Her father. Was here. On Glenmuir. “But how? Why?”

Roddy threw his arm around her shoulders. “I'd only order from the best, and figured who else could I trust but the man who taught our teacher? We got to e-mailing each other and we sort of told him about the lessons ye were going to give us and well, he decided to bring the stuff out personally.” He laughed and hugged her. “Dinna be angry wi’ us for not tellin’ ye.”

“I'm-I'm not.” And she wasn't. She was too shocked to feel anything. Her father. Here. A grin finally split her face and she waved madly back at Griff as the reality finally sunk in.

It seemed to take forever for the ferry to dock.

She was on the ramp even before it was fully secured. “Dad!”

“Josiecat,” he said, his big voice booming even over the groan and squeal of the boat being moored.

She was swallowed in his embrace seconds later. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I thought I'd come meet the merry band of fairies and pixies that had stolen my daughter away from me.”

Josie laughed past the brief blink of panic his comment caused. Connal. The charm stone. Bagan. Talk about your fairy magic. But she refused to think about that right now.

“Surfing lessons is it?” He nodded to the group of men clustered at the bottom of the ramp. “To these fine young gents?”

“Now, Dad, you of all people should—”

He laughed. “I'm just teasing you. But I was sort of hoping there'd be at least one under the age of fifty in the group. You know, one you'd be giving more personal lessons to?” He looked down at her, his eyes twinkling.

“Since when have you wanted to play matchmaker with me?”

He hugged her. “Oh, I've always wanted to see you happy, little cat.”

She pulled back and looked up at him, honestly surprised. “I am happy.”

“You're stuck with a bunch of old people. First me and my crew and now these guys.”

“I'm not stuck with anyone. I happen to love you, and I like these guys, too.” She grinned. “A tad eccentric, the lot of them,” she said with a brogue, then smacked him on the arm before grabbing his hand. “You'll fit right in.”

Griff laughed and let her tug him down the ramp,
where introductions took place with a hearty host of slapped backs and shaking of hands. It was like a reunion of old friends and Josie wondered just how long they'd all been e-mailing each other. She shook her head in bemusement and followed as Griff was swallowed up and all but carried off to Roddy's pub, where ales were had and stories shared before finally someone remembered the boxes of gear.

“Dear Lord, we left it all sitting on the dock,” Gavin said. “After all this, we went and forgot it.”

“No ye didn't.”

They all turned to find Maeve standing in the doorway. “It's over in the store. I signed for the lot of it.”

Roddy came out from behind the bar and kissed her. “Thanks, love.”

She swatted him, but let him kiss her again. “Ye might want to hold off on those kisses until ye see what's in the boxes.”

He frowned and the room all but stilled. “What d'ye mean? Is there something wrong with the gear?” He looked to Griff, who just shrugged.

“Shouldn't be,” he said. “It's all there as far as I know.”

Roddy looked back to his wife. “Maeve?”

She looked to Griff and winked. He winked back. Then she smiled up at her husband. “Yer no’ the only one with surprises up your sleeve.”

Roddy looked from Griff to Maeve and frowned. “I'm no’ thinking I like surprises.”

Griff roared with laughter and Maeve flushed furiously and swatted him again with her towel. “Roddy!”

Roddy flushed a bit, too, but laughed as well. “I wasna really worried,” he said, pulling her to him. “I know yer a happily married woman.”

She let him buss her loudly on the cheek, then said, “Just see as ye keep it that way, laddie.”

Roddy's eyebrows lifted as everyone hooted and hollered, then he grinned devilishly, and said, “We'll see to the unpackin’, then we'll see to the rest.”

Maeve pulled out of his arms then, cheeks dark pink. “Enough of this foolishness,” she said, though any fool could tell if she'd been anywhere else she'd have had Roddy right where she wanted him, Josie thought, blushing a bit, too.

She caught her dad grinning at the display in obvious affection and spent a moment wondering why he'd never remarried. She'd asked him more than once, though it had been years since the last time, back when she was a young teen experiencing her first crush. He'd told her then that he'd been blessed with finding his soul mate and although their time together hadn't been for as long as he'd have liked, he was content just knowing such a love could exist.

Funny, she hadn't thought of that in years. She grinned to herself and took another sip of ale. Of course, for all his talk of soul mates, he'd certainly not lived the life of a monk since her mother's death. Far from it. And yet, she thought, as she sipped some more, he had never been remotely serious about any of them.

She supposed that was why she'd been so surprised by his matchmaking comments. Griff had never struck her as the type to worry about that kind of thing. He was much more the type to live for the moment. And he did, with gusto.

She studied him as he got up and followed Roddy and Gavin next door to retrieve the gear boxes. Tall, strong, and still quite handsome if she did say so herself. She'd never once felt sorry for him or thought
him to be lonely or unhappy. Had he honestly worried that she might be either of those things?

She was distracted from that train of thought when they came back with the boxes, followed by Maeve and Posey. Josie wished she'd had a camera to capture the expression on the boys’ faces when Bidda stepped in behind them.

“Can I help ye, ladies?” Roddy asked, obviously as surprised as the rest and just as obviously hopeful they were here because they'd developed a sudden thirst for an ale.

“No, no,” Posey said. “We're here to look at our order.”

There was a moment of dead silence, followed by the sound of Dougal clearing his throat.
“Our
order?”

Posey beamed. “Aye.”

Roddy looked to his wife, who smiled back at him and said, “That surprise I started to tell ye about before you got all hot to trot.”

Josie almost choked on her ale, laughing.

Somehow that sound drew the attention of all four men to her.

“What?” she managed, trying to look completely innocent.

“What have ye to say about this?” Clud demanded.

She sat her tankard down and stood. “I have to say that the ladies have every bit as much right to learn to surf as you all do. I'm an equal opportunity instructor.” She winked at Maeve, then turned back to them. “Now why don't we stop all this and have a look at what you bought? I've been waiting all day for this fashion show.”

“Fashion show?” Dougal asked, swallowing hard.

“Oh, aye. Only way to see if the gear is proper. Consider it part of your training.” She waved at
them all. “Dad and I will sit right here while you all go and try your suits on.”

“All of us?” Roddy looked from Maeve to Bidda, then back again when she gave him a swift elbow to the ribs.

“All of you.”

O
f course, if she kills the lot of them, you won't have a legacy left to worry about,” Bagan offered, looking down from the tower at the surf lessons commencing in the swirling waters below.