The Guardian by Diana Knightley
Thirty-seven - Kaitlyn
Ididn’t see her outside so I ventured inside the old chapel, looking around for anyone, and growing more and more nervous. “Hello?” I went down the aisle to the small altar. “Hello?” I whispered, “Lady Mairead, hello?”
Lady Mairead stepped from behind a darkened wall.
“Oh!” I clutched my chest and tried to get my breathing under control. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Where is your weapon, Kaitlyn?”
I gasped for air and pulled my bodice. I pointed at the holster, the guns on both hips, and then between my breasts, “Sgian-dubh, here.” Then I patted the dirk strapped to my upper thigh. “Dirk, here.”
There was a glimpse of an approving look in her eye. “Next time have yer gun drawn, ye canna allow yerself tae be overtaken.”
“What am I doing here?”
“I have a plan, I am going tae intervene with Sir Padraig Stuart.” She dropped her bag to the bench and began to dig through it. “Hold this.” She passed me a vessel. “I would do it on m’own, but I hae been there before, and I fear I hae looped upon myself too many times. I hae made the situation unreasonable.” She stood and slung the bag across her chest.
She continued, “If ye are there, ye could do it for me. Ye haena been tae Los Angeles in the year 1926?”
“I don’t think so...”
Her eyes widened, “Ye daena think so?”
“I was joking, I haven’t.”
She looked stern.
“I am certain I haven’t.”
She said, “We daena hae time for joking, yer daughter’s future hangs in the balance. I am asking ye because I feel ye are in the best position tae help me — ye are smart and are driven by a mother’s desire tae protect her bairns, but if ye want me tae ask someone else I will do it.”
She stalked toward the door of the church and out to the churchyard.
“No, that’s not necessary.” I followed her. “You think I’m smart?”
She twisted the vessel. “I think ye are a great pain in my arse, and if ye were smarter ye would try nae tae be such a great pain in my arse.”
A storm grew above us.
“I don’t remember saying, ‘yes, I will do it.’”
“I daena hae time for ye tae consider it. Your husband has probably seen this vessel. He has likely sounded the alarm that ye are missing, and Sir Padraig grows stronger with each passing moment. Would ye like me tae wait here while ye make an endless decision?” She made her voice higher to mimic me, “‘I daena ken what tae do? What would m’husband want me tae do?’ Or would ye hold ontae my arm and come save yer daughter?”
“That second one,” I muttered as I grabbed hold of her sleeve and the vessel yanked me away from the time that held everyone I cared about.