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“Out, I said!”
Philippa tugged at her elbow. When the door closed, the people in the waiting area peered from behind the corner at them. Philippa winked and tugged Jenny to the door on the opposite side of the corridor.
“Forgive my son,” she said and opened the door. “He won’t mind. I know where the good stuff is.”
It was the supply closet behind that door, and Philippa went in. Shelves with medicine lined the small room. Philippa took a plastic bag and scooped in half of what was on the shelves. Bandages, syringes, pills—some stuff would be useful, some less so. There were several antibiotics that Jenny knew worked with wound infections, and Philippa took a few packages.
“No, Philippa, please,” Jenny said. “I don’t want to rob the poor GP of medicine.”
Philippa waved her hand at her. “I worked my whole life as a receptionist in this practice. My late husband, his dad, was a GP before Aaron. I’m sure he can buy more medical supplies, but it looks like ‘whenever’ ye’re going, ye need them more. Especially if ye need to save Aulay MacDonald, who left a huge legacy for Islay.”
Jenny watched her swipe more of the medicine into the bag. “Did he?”
“Aye. On Islay, we appreciate our ancestors. And if the stories of faeries are true, I better get on their good side.”
She handed the full plastic bag to Jenny. As she closed the door and they headed back through the corridor under the astonished gazes of the two patients in the waiting room, Philippa glanced at one of them and said, “Dinna stare, Peggie, ye might pop yer eyes.”
The woman averted her gaze, and Jenny suppressed a snort. Relief warmed her whole body as she carried the bag. Once they were out of the clinic and briskly walking towards the car, Philippa said, “I remember a story of Aulay MacDonald. He was gravely injured and almost died of infection. But he didn’t. Some say he was always loved by the faeries.” They climbed back into the car, and Philippa started it swiftly this time. The engine revved and whirred. “One of them couldn’t stand it if he died and brought him a cure. So, he survived. If I remember it well, he did marry an Irish lass later named Guinevere. Today the name is commonly known as Jennifer.”
Jenny cried, making the houses passing by into blurry spots. “I’m so grateful to you, Philippa,” she said, her throat tight. “What would I have done without you?”
“Ah,” Philippa said. “I’m just an old lady. I lived my life, and it’s a blessing to help others live theirs.”
Jenny sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Would you please do me a huge favor?”
“Yes, lass, anything.”
“Would you please call my family…my friends…and tell them…” She stopped, thinking. What should Philippa tell them? That Jenny was alive? That she’d traveled back in time? Philippa might get in trouble with the police if they were searching for Jenny.
“You know what, nothing,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”
It was probably better they assumed she was dead. That was what they must have thought, that she’d fallen off one of the cliffs.
“As ye wish, lass. Though I could call them if ye like…”
“No. They won’t believe about time travel, anyway. I’m still stunned you believe me!”
They drove off the asphalt road and up a small, packed-dirt road leading to the ruin.
The woman chuckled. “There are many strange things in this world, lass, that we don’t understand. I always put out milk for the brownies and never disrespect a lonely black dog jogging along the road, as it may be a Black Angus. If it jumps in front of me and bares its teeth, I know I’ll be dead within a week. There’s a rowan tree at my house. And once or twice, I’ve been at the old ruin and could smell lavender where there was none.”
She stopped the car at the bottom of the hill leading to the ruin. When she pulled up the hand brake, she turned to Jenny. “Are ye sure ye want to go, lass? Ye can still stay here. Ye can still choose this time.”
Jenny stared at the ruin up the hill. It looked like the broken crown of a sleeping giant.
“I’m sure. Love is worth the risk. All I hope is that I’m not too late.”
Philippa was grinning, a sweet, cheeky smile from ear to ear. “Aye, lass, ye go and save him. Be happy.”
Jenny reached out and pulled Philippa into a big hug. “Thank you, dear Philippa,” she said, and as she threw a last glance at her, she opened the door and hurried up the hill.
CHAPTER 32
Aulay opened his eyes. Above him was the wooden board of his canopy bed, drapes hanging from the four corners.
I am alive…
How? He wasn’t burning in the fires of hell. His head wasn’t filled with tar. The pain in his side wasn’t an agonizing, spreading incineration that conquered his body like a despotic king.
