He stormed past me, stopping in the doorway. “What a load of shit, Grace. The man wouldn’t spend half his days writing about you if he didn’t want you. You’re scared, and you need to grow up. You can only use being a mother as an excuse not to have your own life for so long.”
The shock on my face must have been evident, for he nodded, continuing. “That’s right, Grace. The man is crazy about you. I was playing with Cooper last night, and we stumbled across some old room where he writes. You should see it, Grace. Only a total idiot would turn down someone that thinks that highly of them. There are few men that could ever be worthy of you as far as I’m concerned, but he’s one of them. Do not be an idiot.”
He stepped out into the hallway.
“And you know what? My mind is made up anyway. Even if you decide to leave, I’m staying right here.”
Chapter 26
The room took some finding, but shortly after Jeffrey left me, I went in search of it.
The room was filled with books all neatly organized amongst cleanly-kept shelves, candles ready to be lit lining the room.
I moved slowly, setting it alight, taking in the beautiful cave-like atmosphere. It would have been a nice place to work on my article, which now would remain eternally unfinished.
Jeffrey didn’t make idle threats or promises. If he said he’d made up his mind to stay, he would stay. And so would I.
In the center of the room was a large table, and right in the center lay the open-faced journal. Eoghanan must have truly thought the room hidden to have left it out so blatantly. It was wrong of me to be here, to delve into his private thoughts without permission, but curiosity overwhelmed me. I truly had no right to shame Cooper for eavesdropping. He came by it honestly.
The journal was new, not only the entries, but the binding itself was modern. It was the sort of special journal I could’ve ordered from a craftsman; the outside leather, the pages made of the highest quality paper, all sewn in thick gold-colored threads. It had the look of something old, but the date embossed on the inside flap of leather showed the date of its creation—two thousand and fourteen. I imagined it had arrived at the doorstep via Morna, right alongside my son’s dinosaurs.
I thumbed the pages for a bit, running my fingers over the ink-dried pages, without really looking at the words, trying to work up the nerve to actually read them. When I finally did, I found myself taken aback. He’d not written so much about me, as for me.
“Do ye remember the day ye spent with Cooper in the park? I only know the lad’s name for ’tis what ye called him when ye spoke. Ye have the loveliest voice I’ve ever heard.”
I could think of few things less lovely than the sound of my voice. I cringed every time I heard it on any sort of home movie or recording.
“If ye ever read this, ’twill be many moons from now, but for me, ’twas just this afternoon. Me body is bleeding and wounded from the journey, and I write with pages so far from me eyes I canna see them, but I must write every piece of ye down lest I forget ye. ’Twould break me heart to no remember every instant that I saw.”
I put a finger on the page to hold my place and skipped forward a handful of pages, smiling as I did so. He’d told the truth about the page being far from his eyes. The page I read now was scribbled messily, the lines and words crooked with the effort it took him to hold the pen and move his fingers.
As his shoulder slowly healed, so did the neatness of his handwriting. It came as no surprise that in full form with the full movement of his shoulder restored that his last entry showed handwriting that was shockingly straight and neat.
I returned back to where I’d left off reading.
“I have no ever been so frightened in me life as when I woke inside the park. The tall stone structures and the deafening noise were enough to make a man mad. Me head and heart pounded as I struggled to understand the sights around me, and then me eyes found ye and the wee lad. Yer long blonde hair blew with the breeze, and ye laughed as ye pushed the boy on a strange seat that sent him flying in the air. Ye wore the breeches of a man, though I’ve never seen a man wear something so tight. God help me, lass, I couldna keep me eyes off yer bum. I couldna believe when I looked around and saw many lassies dressed such. ’Tis no wonder Morna says there are numbers of more people in the world now than in me own time. I imagine men have a verra hard time getting much work done. Ye wore such lovely colors, the greens and blues in yer top making yer eyes sparkle in the sun. I doona even know yer name, but me only dream tonight, should sleep find me, is that I should get to see yer face once again.”