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“Tell him about the carriages that drive themselves,” Marjorie said.

“Yeah. There are carriages that drive themselves, no horses needed.”

Colin stared at him. “Are they driven by magic?”

“No. By engineering.”

“What is engineering?”

Konnor chuckled. At least the boy didn’t hate him. He seemed to be enjoying the conversation. “Well, science is about how things work. What makes an arrow shoot from a bow, or how to make a wheel turn better and allow a cart move faster. Or how to design a boat or a sail so that it catches more wind.”

Colin glanced at the loch. “How do ye catch more wind?”

“I don’t know. But engineers in my time do.”

“C-can I look at the future, too? Mother, can I?”

Marjorie pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, sweet, I’d like to see all those wonders, too, but we canna. Our life is here.”

And Konnor’s was in the twenty-first century. That was the sad reality.

Konnor clapped his hands together once. “All right. Who’s ready to play a game from the future?”

“Me!” Colin cried.

Marjorie giggled, and her laughter was like a bell ringing. Konnor wished he could make her laugh like that every day. “And me.”

Her laughter was infectious, and their combined excitement kindled joy in his chest, too. “Great. Marjorie, you’ll be a goalkeeper. Stand here.” He walked to a spot between two bushes with about four feet of space between them. “This will be the goal.” He raised the bunch with four hazelnuts. “This will be a ball. Colin, we need to kick this into the goal. Marjorie, protect the gate and try to deflect the ball and not let it pass through. We’ll count who manages to score the most goals, and that person wins. You can only use your feet and your head though. You’re not allowed to touch the ball with your hands. Got it?”

Colin nodded enthusiastically. “Aye.”

Konnor put the hazelnut bunch on the ground, swung his leg back, and kicked it into the makeshift gate. Marjorie stepped into the direction of the bunch, but was too late, and it flew by her and into the gate.

Konnor raised his arms in the air and made a half-hearted triumphant run. “Yeah!”

Marjorie and Colin watched him with amusement.

“So it’s one point for me,” he said. “Colin, you try now.”

Colin beamed. Marjorie threw him the bunch, he caught it and put on the ground. He kicked it but missed.

“It’s okay,” Konnor said and came closer. “Try again.”

Colin aimed his shoe at the bunch and kicked again, but this time he only scratched the surface of the bunch, and it rolled diagonally. Damn it. The thing was too small for pointy shoes.

“It’s too small. What we need, is a ball,” Konnor said and demonstrated the size with his hands.

“A ball? Where can we get one?”

A lightbulb moment illuminated everything around Konnor. It was ridiculous that he was enjoying this so much. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad with kids. Colin did look more cheerful and seemed to have forgotten about the kidnappers.

“We can make one.” What could he use though? He scratched his chin. “I think the easiest would be to take a small heap of hay and wrap a layer or two of a hemp rope around it, like a yarn ball, to hold it. Later, I can help you make a real ball. What do you think, buddy?”

Colin looked at Marjorie. “Ma, ye dinna mind if I make a soccer ball with Konnor?”

Marjorie’s eyes connected with his, and there was so much gratitude and light in it that it took his breath away.

“I dinna mind, sweet.”