The Guardian by Diana Knightley

Seventy-three - Magnus

Twas November 21 in the year 2023.

We landed on a stretch of beach on the south end of the island. Kaitlyn and Emma were tae awaken early, havin’ a gold thread upon their necks, because someone needed tae be up with the bairns when they wakened. Wee Zoe was a’ready wailin’, along with Isla, now three years auld joinin’ in.

I spit sand from m’mouth. The sky was a high blue, a Florida sky, a cool breeze with a warm sun. I looked up to see Kaitlyn, sitting with a crying Isla whimpering in her lap, Archie under her arm looking frightened. I said, “Ye feel it, mo reul-iuil? Tis an autumn day in Florida, we are home.”

Archie dove into my arms and I hugged him tae my chest, looking up at the sky as the wind picked up and thunderous clouds built overhead as a new storm arrived. “Och!” I yelled, “Everyone tuck under, someone else is comin’ on top of us.”

The winds pummeled us, sand bursting like bombs had hit, lightning struck the low trees, sizzling the sand and water.

Zach yelled, “Is everyone here?”

Beaty said, “Aye! And I hae Mookie!”

Emma yelled, “Aye, I have the kids!”

Kaitlyn said, “Me too, Isla, Archie, Magnus is holding my hand.”

Zach said, “Can we get off the beach?”

“Nae, too dangerous!”

“Then hold on!” The thunder crashed overhead, now the bairns were truly wailin’.

It lasted for about twenty minutes, long enough tae be verra frightening for the children, but we clasped hands and held on through it. And then the storm parted, the cloud bank rolled away as if twas the ocean slidin’ away from the Florida shore.

There was at last some warm rain. The sea turned from deep frothin’ green tae a paler blue, sparklin’ in the sun.

There were sleeping bodies nearby. I rushed tae Hayley, who was partly under Fraoch and Quentin, and began shovin’ them off. Quentin said, “Get off me, man!”

I said, “Ye are the one upon someone else.”

“Great,” he moaned, and began climbing off the pile.

Fraoch was slower, but sat up, giving Hayley a chance tae complain bitterly that she always landed with a pile of people on top of her.

Tae the side was James, groaning, and Sophie, whimpering and clutching his shirt. I crouched beside them. “Madame Sophie, tis goin’ tae be all right.” She shrieked and cowered against James, but without opening her eyes.

I said, “Master James, ye need tae arise. Yer wife is sufferin’ and frightened.”

He groaned again so I shoved his shoulder tae attempt tae bring him alert.

Quentin, head in his hands, with Beaty hovering over him and Mookie snuffling against his cheek, said, “Make sure he’s not shot, that was a hell of a firefight.”

I said, loudly, “Master James, are ye shot? Any pains?” I shook his shoulder again and visually inspected his shirt and pants.

He said, “Any pains? It feels like I just traveled five centuries — what the hell do you think?”

“I think ye are wailin’ like a bairn when all the rest of the bairns are already up and running about in the sand.”

He opened an eye as Ben and Archie ran by.

“Stupid kids.” He climbed up tae sitting and got Sophie tae put her head in his lap. He patted her shoulder and whispered tae her.

I asked, “Is she all right?”

He nodded.

Zach said, “All right, Quentin, want to go get our trucks?”

“Hell yeah.” Quentin clamored up and brushed sand off his pants. “Get my truck! I thought I would never hear such a sweet sweet phrase again. Let’s do it.”

They trudged across the sand tae the road tae walk tae our house. The house that had been closed up for a long year.