Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [49]
Last night.
She lifted her hand as the twenty-something man stepped nearer. A handsome lad with emerald eyes and short black hair, she could well understand how Laura deeply loved him. “Tommy,” she whispered.
Delbert’s head snapped back, then he glanced to where Asha looked. A myriad of emotions flooded the man’s dear face: surprise, hope, disappointment, wonder . . . regret. All were so clear in those faded green-gray eyes. The emotions coalesced into a desperate hunger as he swung his eyes back to Asha. “You see him?”
As feeling returned to her body, Asha gave a faint nod and struggled to sit. She blinked, then tried to clear her vision to look at the two people behind the others, but she felt dizzy.
“Her, too?” Delbert pressed, shaking. “You see her?”
Asha nodded weakly.
Jago’s head swiveled between them, as though trying to figure out what the hell they were talking about. She used his strong arm to sit up. She liked the solid feel of Jago Fitzgerald—a man you could lean upon. A man she foolishly wanted in her life, despite that it could only see her hurt.
“I . . . am . . . fine,” she said slowly, hoping to comfort him. “Help me stand, please. Wow, cheap buzz.” She tried to laugh it off, hating people fussing over her.
Jago didn’t look so ashen, but he was still pale. That brought a fleeting smile to her lips, registering his extreme reaction meant he cared. Even if just in passing.
It was Delbert who now worried her. He backed up several steps and then dropped down to sit on the end of a booth bench. Netta noticed, too. She went to him, leaning down to look at his eyes carefully.
“Are you all right, Delbert?” she fretted, patting his hand.
His head gave a bob. “Please don’t worry, pretty lady. Just a wee bit of excitement. You young ones need to recall I am . . .” He rolled his eyes as if thinking. “Well, let’s say older than dirt. Where does the time go? Everything doesn’t seem that long ago, but it’s nearly half my lifetime. So much sadness. So much waste.”
Asha moved past Jago to her aging friend, more concerned about him than she was for herself. She’d taken a shock, but was quickly returning to normal. She was less certain about Delbert Seacrest. When she reached to touch his arm, wanting to take his pulse, he caught her hand, squeezing firmly. That eased her concern some. His grip was strong.
He gave her a fleeting grin, clearly afraid to believe. “You . . . saw?”
Asha nodded. “Yes, I saw them.”
Jago put his hands on his hips. “Saw who?” When no one answered, he threw up his hands. “Every time something totally bizarre—I mean Outer Limits time—happens around here, everyone ignores me. There was no one there. I think you and Delbert both need to see a doctor and that so-called jukebox needs an electrician.”
Liam came in, shaking the rain off his windbreaker. “Hi ho, everyone. Another dull day around The Windmill, eh?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
With a smile, Asha eyed the e-mail from B.A. It illustrated her sister’s quirky Scottish humor. It read: Help! Falgannon has been invaded! Ravishment looming!
Asha hit delete. She’d give her big blonde Amazon of a sister a ring tomorrow night—provided phone service to the isle in the Hebrides was working; it wasn’t that unusual for the island to lose telephone and internet service for a week at a stretch. B.A. had just launched a new Web site called Isle of Love, advertising for brides because there was a shortage of marriageable females on Falgannon, thus the invasion part of the message didn’t raise an eyebrow. Since most women sighed over a man in a kilt, Asha figured her sister would in short order find mates for the island’s 213 bachelors.
Pacing restlessly to the office door, Asha looked out into the dining room. After things had calmed down from the earlier excitement, everything went back to normal for the quirky place. Later, they’d all dined on Sam’s prime rib, baked potato, and garden salad special. Now,