The Legacy of Buchanan's Crossing (30 page)

Chapter Twenty

C
lint turned the windshield wipers up a notch and glanced back at Cayden lying curled up on the seat behind him, still unconscious. The rain had started before he reached the bottom of the hill. By the time he’d driven far enough to get any bars on his cell phone it wasn’t worth bothering with an ambulance. Besides, they’d have wanted to bring her to the nearest hospital. She’d want to be at Boston General with her grandmother, where he was taking her.

Even if he’d had the guts to face his thoughts, he hadn’t had time to think about anything but getting her there. Once they were inside the little ER room, the nurses kept him busy with a thousand questions while they hooked Cayden up with monitors and an IV. Then he’d been forced to give them useful information while leaving out pretty much everything that’d happened. It wasn’t until one of them asked if she could look after his burns that he even noticed he had any, or all that remained of his shirt was charred tatters.

The pain turned out to be a welcome distraction during the forever he waited for the ER doctor to show up. No amount of agony would have been enough to fend off his fears while he watched her examine Cayden. Or when she called for batteries of tests. Or when he sat holding Cayden’s hand in a too-quiet private hospital room, not knowing if she’d ever wake up or if their baby would be okay, or if anyone was even allowed tell him since they weren’t married.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there, cursing magic, the Cumberlands, the Crossing, and himself most of all, when a knock on the door penetrated his bitter haze. A wheelchair pushed cautiously into the room. He was as unprepared for the occupant’s words as he was her presence.

“Here now, ’tis not so bad as it might’ve been, if you were not the man you are.”

As watery and unused as her voice sounded, it was still musical. Her expression was warm, the hand that grasped his shoulder through the thin hospital smock he’d been given, gentle. He deserved her wrath, not her kindness.

“If you only knew…”

“I ken the all of it. Cayden and the wee bairn are safe enough.”

Relief spread before the question formed. “How could you possibly know about the baby? You went into a coma the day after—”

“Lassie, if you’d be so kind as to wait outside?”

As soon as the timid attendant was gone, Aileen Buchanan said, “Up at the Crossing with her you were, that night. I may be old and foolish now and again. But not so stupid as to think you could resist my bonny Cayden, or your destiny, Keeper.”

“Don’t.” He raised the hand that wasn’t holding Cayden’s. “I don’t want to hear anything more about destinies or power or the damned Crossing.”

“Yet hear it you will. You’re still bound to that greedy fiend. A blood oath, you swore.”

“They tricked me. That bastard Dean, he—”

“He is at that, through no fault of his own. And raised by that lyin’ devil’s hand, no less.” Her voice was low and filled with sadness. “As you ken, the Cumberland magic is persuasion. And Milton’s stronger than it should have been. Somethin’ not right about that.”

There wasn’t anything right about any of this. “If you truly knew what happened up there tonight, believe me, you wouldn’t be letting him off the hook.”

She sighed. “Yet isn’t that what you want for yourself? I saw and heard and felt the all of it, I tell you, what poor Dean did, and what that bloody Milton said. I happen to be the woman he was goin’ on about.” Aileen stared at him with her bright piercing blue eyes, as if waiting for a reaction from him. She shook her head. “’Tis nothin’ to you. Your oath now, that’s a different matter entirely.”

He put her talk of Dean aside for later consideration. “I thought the charm counteracted it.”

“Sure, if you always have it to hand. But if you should lose it… Do you have it and the Blood of Three still?”

His hands went to his pants’ pocket. He’d forgotten all about the charm and the vial. He nodded.

“To break the binding—”

A beeping outside the door silenced her.

“Probably just a pager,” Clint said, wanting badly for her to go on.

“They’ll be comin’ to fetch me before long.” She turned back to him. “Now then, when the blood meets the amulet, they’ll take each others’ magic.”

“So if I pour the blood over amulet…?”

“You’ll be free. Free of all that holds you: the Cumberlands, the Crossing, and your destiny. The ring will find its own way back.” Her eyes rested on his hand.

“You haven’t told me how you know all this. You’ve been in a coma.”

“I have been in the Shadows wardin’ the Crossing, not under a rock, lad. It’s my place she’s taken there when her blood was spilled in the fire for the rite. ’Tis not the proper way. But the Crossing must have a warder.”

He was sick to hell of the damn Crossing. “Why? Sure, there’s power, a lot of power. But I don’t see why Cayden should have to sacrifice her life.”

“This world cannot afford to lose even one wee drop of love or faith or hope. That’s the true power of a Crossing. It flows quiet in the darkest hour to any who’ll accept it. ’Tis for receiving, not for taking. And you have seen what some will do to have it for their own.” She looked at his ring again. “You ken the truth when you hear it.”

As she said the words, he registered the full meaning of them and recognized their verity. “You mean Cayden’s stuck there? What about our baby?”

“The bairn can stay safe and warm till her time and then be brought into this world while her mother sleeps. And sleep in the Shadows she will, until the next warder can take her place.”

His chest felt like it was being crushed between two concrete beams. His daughter would live and grow, but without her mother. “No. I refuse to accept nothing can be done. What good is all of the magic, all of this power, if it can’t bring her back?”

Aileen reached over to brush a tangled curl off Cayden’s ashen face and turned fierce and somehow familiar, bright blue eyes on him. “Have you not just told me you want nothing to do with any of it? You’ve done your part. Not so well as you might have, nor so poorly, either. But done it, you have.”

What he’d had was more than enough of this. “I thought you heard, or saw, or whatever, everything that happened up there tonight. Or didn’t you hear me tell the Cumberlands I am fed up with being used?”

“Well, we’re very sorry to have troubled you, Mr. MacAllen.” As tiny and frail as she was in the wheelchair, when Aileen Buchanan straightened up and glared at him, he took a step back. “If you don’t like where you find your feet, you have had, and made, a choice every step on the road that brought you to it. A road with warnings and signs, had your eyes been open to see them.”

Her anger was greater comfort than her kindness had been. “I know. God, how I know. What I don’t know is how to live with it. I’d do anything to go back and change it, anything to have Cayden open her eyes.”

“Anythin’?”

Something in the way those eyes of hers narrowed on him sparked hope. “There’s a way, isn’t there? What do I have to do? Whatever it is—”

There was a knock at the door. One look at who walked in after it gave him an even bigger surprise than the current visitor had.

“Mom? Dad?”

“We came as soon as we could.” His mother said, breathing hard.

His father stood behind her, his arms folded, wearing a typical, vaguely disapproving, expression.

“But how did you know?”

She pressed her lips together and handed him one of his old shirts freshly pressed on a hanger, as if that explained it. Her scowl turned to a timid smile. “You must be Dr. Buchanan. Forgive my son, he seems to have mislaid his manners.”

Clint made introductions before he repeated his question.

His mother leaned down to kiss Cayden on the forehead before answering. “I had another one of my dreams. The worst I’ve ever had. I was worried. Since you wouldn’t answer your phone, I…well, I hoped I was wrong, but I called the hospital anyway. When they told me you’d been treated and Cayden was in serious condition, I knew I wasn’t mistaken. How is she?”

He closed his eyes in shame. He knew what she knew. The shirt did explain it. His only consolation was whatever she’d told his father, it couldn’t have been everything. Because if she had, as close-mouthed as he usually was, he’d have plenty to say right now.

Just when Clint didn’t think it could get worse, Cayden’s parents burst through the door.

Muriel Sinclair took one look at her daughter lying unconscious in the hospital bed and said, “Why hasn’t anyone washed off that hideous makeup? She looks ghastly.”

Todd Sinclair wrinkled his tanned nose. “I don’t know, she looks pretty much the same to me, Muffy.”

Clint’s own mother’s mouth was open. His father’s lips were so tight they were turning white. There was nothing vague about his disapproval any more.

Aileen Buchanan spun around in her wheelchair. “If that and more like it is all you two have to offer, you can turn around and go on back the way you came. Cayden and the bairn need love, not your poor excuse for it.”

“Mother, you’re awake! How wonderful. Is it necessary for you to speak with that, that accent? It’s worse than ever.”

“It does a body good to ken where it came from. You’d do well to remember that, daughter.” She was stating more than the obvious. Cayden had mentioned her mother using magic to snag her husband, then turning her back on it.

“Now just a minute. Am I to infer Cayden’s pregnant?” Todd sighed, eyeing Clint. “I assume you’re the father? Don’t think this will get you any closer to my bank account.”

“Of course not, dear. She’ll get rid of it as soon—”

Clint jumped to his feet. “No, she won’t. That’s my daughter you’re discussing. That baby is wanted. Not for money—” he looked at Todd Sinclair and wondered how he ever could have thought he wanted to be that guy “—and not for what she may accomplish in the future, Aileen. This baby is wanted because I love her mother.”

If he hadn’t quite realized it before he’d said it, it didn’t make it any less true. He squeezed Cayden’s hand and lowered his voice, “I love her, and everything that’s part of her.”

He was glad he’d eased the shirt on over his bandages before the exchange because they were all staring at him now. His mother, his father too, with approval, the Sinclairs with displeasure. It was Aileen’s backing he required. He was sure that before everyone had arrived, she’d been ready to tell him there was a way to bring Cayden back.

His mother spoke first, still smiling. “Well, I’m happy that’s settled. You didn’t mean what you said, about wanting Cayden to get rid of the baby, did you, Mrs. Sinclair? I understand it’s quite a shock, but…”

Cayden’s mother lifted her neatly groomed eyebrows. “So you knew. When did she tell you?” She let out a little sigh that might have indicated hurt in another woman. He was no expert, but Clint had yet to see evidence she had the sort of feelings which would allow for that.

His mother had lost her smile and looked distinctly uncomfortable. “She didn’t. I had a dream.”

Muriel Sinclair’s next sigh could have been taught in acting school on how to sound stuck up, along with the eye-rolling. “Oh Lord, another one. Just what this family needs.”

Instantly, Clint’s father put his arm around his wife. His expression made it clear to everyone in the room what he thought of “this family.” Both of his parents looked at Cayden with fresh sympathy.

Clint had always prided himself on tamping down his temper. If he hadn’t succeeded tonight, well, it was because no more nails were left in that gun. “This is unbelievable. What in the hell is wrong with you people? Your daughter is lying here unconscious. She may never wake up. You get that, right? And this is the kind of shit you want to talk? Really? No wonder Cayden doesn’t want anything to do with you. You know what? No matter what happens, if you ever so much as want a photo of this child, you’d better—”

He wasn’t aware he was yelling until Todd Sinclair’s cultured voice interrupted him. “Mr. and Mrs. MacAllen?” Apparently, he’d finally deigned to notice them, or maybe he was trying to diffuse the situation before Clint tossed him and his wife out the door. “Perhaps it would be best if you remove your son. Try to help him understand I could never allow a Sinclair to grow up under your circumstances. With his limited resources, he couldn’t hope to win a custody battle against us. Engaging in one would certainly bankrupt him and his company. I would see to it personally.”

Well, that answered that. Todd was not interested in peacemaking. “Try me. I’ll fight you to my last penny and beyond because you’re the last people on earth Cayden would want to raise our child.”

He was definitely shouting when two nurses walked in, and they didn’t look happy. The larger one informed them they would all have to leave and held the door. She smiled apologetically at Clint as he passed and told him he could come back later. The other fussed over Aileen and began wheeling her down the hall.

He took long strides to catch up. “Wait, you have to tell me how—”

“Aye, now that I ken you have the will for it.”

The nurse pushing the wheelchair said, “Clint, right? Sandy down in ER told me about you. Look, I know you’ve been through a lot, but Aileen shouldn’t be out of bed, much less visiting.” They were pulling up to the elevator bank, where one of the doors was open.

“Quick. What do I have to do?”

Aileen frowned at the nurse. “She’ll hear, and there’s no help for it. ’Tis not as if she’ll ken what to do with it.” She locked those intense eyes on him. “Your blood for Cayden’s in the fire that burns, and your oath to Keep her and the Crossing to your last breath. Have a care with it, or you’ll find yourself lost in the Shadows as well.”

Aileen was already in the elevator and the nurse was blocking him. Shit. “But I don’t know how to do this.”

Her voice drifted through the closing doors. “Love’s the real magic, Keeper. Just hold to it with both hands and all your heart.”

“What I can’t understand is how two such unfeeling people could have raised such a warm and loving daughter.” Clint’s mom was shaking her head while talking to his dad when he caught up to them in the hospital lobby. “I’m sorry I encouraged her to mend any fences that might protect her from them.”

Clint said, “Well, I don’t think they actually raised her. They fed and clothed her, and paid other people to keep an eye on her. If it wasn’t for her grandmother, it would have been a lot worse.”

His dad stopped and put his hand on Clint’s arm. “If it comes to that, we’d help you raise your daughter, fight for her, too. Mr. High and Mighty Sinclair might not want his grandchild to be poor, but I’ll not have mine grow up in a house with those two. I don’t care how big and fancy it is.”

It was the opening he’d hoped for. “Dad, I wanted to tell you… I saw the cabinets you put in over there. Whenever I need that kind of work done, I know who to call. Cayden loved them, too. I was wrong to be ashamed you worked there. I was wrong about a lot of things.”

“Glad to hear you finally got your priorities straight.” His dad briefly clasped his shoulder.

His mom said, “Why don’t you come home and rest for a while? We can all eat a nice breakfast. I have some salve that’ll help those burns, too. You can get some rest before you go back to the hospital.”

“Sounds great, but I spoke with Aileen a few minutes ago. There’s a way for me to bring Cayden back. If you saw what happened tonight up at Buchanan’s Crossing, then you know… How much
do
you know?”

His dad made his trademark, “Hmph,” and shifted his feet, clearly not happy with the direction of the conversation.

“Who do you think gave Cayden that amulet? It’s not some simple good luck charm.” His mom gave her husband an indulgent smile. “I’m sorry, Lewis, if this is—how do those business types put it?—outside your comfort zone. We’ll be right back there in a minute, dear.”