Forever Doon by Carey Corp, Lorie Langdon Read Free Book Online Page A

way.
    As the shock wore off, a few others, like Fiona, Caledonia, and Rabbie, stepped up to help bear the burden of leadership.
    Raibeart MacGregor—affectionately known as wee Rabbie—had been the only other soldier to make it out. Although he’d been Duncan’s apprentice with the guard for less than a month, like most Scotsmen, what he lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm. Wee Rabbie was built like a boulder—a super-nice, very conscientious boulder.
    Said boulder cleared his throat loudly as he focused pointedly away from where Duncan and I were swapping saliva. Like many Scottish boys in their late teens, Rabbie’s natural complexion was a mottled shade of pink that had a tendency to turn scarlet with emotion. As someone who’d battled the curse of the ginger all my life, I took pity on the blushing guard and broke away from Duncan with a hasty apology.
    “M’Laird,” Rabbie stammered, pretending that I didn’t exist. “Eòran sent me for ye. The gentleman in his custody is in need of relief.”
    From the street beyond the garden’s privacy hedge, a voice clarified, “I’ve got ta see the wizard.”
    Laughing, I explained the use of slang and the euphemism. Alasdair certainly had inherited the MacCrae wit.
    With a sigh, Duncan ran his hand through his hair so that it stuck out at odd angles. It was longer than he typically wore it, but my boyfriend had more important things on his mind than a haircut—like being responsible for a hundred-plus people in a strange new land and finding a way to return home.
    From across the hedge Alasdair’s voice whined, “I’m gonna wet m’ trousers if ye don’t get me to a privy, m’Laird!”
    A nod to Rabbie sent him scurrying away to prevent Alasdair from doing something drastic. Still smirking over the old man’s cheeky response, Duncan captured a tendril of my hair and tucked it behind my ear. “What do ye think—should we leave Alasdair to wee Rabbie and pick up where we left off?”
    Tempting as it was, we still had no idea whether the old man was friend or foe. Reluctant to transition back into real life, I leaned in for one final kiss. “You should go. Why don’t you take Alasdair to Oz, and then get him settled in the guys’ dorm. I’ll go check on Cheska.”
    Duncan open his mouth, but was cut off before he could speak. “Unhand me, laddie,” Alasdair insisted. “I mean ta relieve m’self one way or another!”
    With a groan of regret, Duncan jogged off. Not wanting to know if Alasdair made good on his threats, I waited in the garden until the guys were good and gone.
    The girls’ dorm, Rose Petal Cottage, was in the opposite direction of the guys’ housing, Thornfield Lodge, with Aunt Gracie’s place right smack between the two. The journey to Rose Petal took less than five minutes. It was a lovely walk down the path that overlooked the river, but one I would forever associate with my best friend.
    In a weird way, the journey reminded me of summers between seventh and twelfth grades spent at drama camp. Those six weeks were the longest, most exhilarating weeks of my life. Exhilarating because I got to perform in the camp showcase, first in the ensemble then as a soloist; long because I missed Vee every minute of every day.
    Each time I made the trek, the construction of the new bridge reemphasized the absence of Vee, as if the two things were one and the same. I guess in some ways they were. They both symbolized Doon and both were inaccessible. Although restoration work had begun simultaneously on both banks, the construction had been cordoned off with police tape to keep the gawkers and everyone else back.
    The media had attributed the disappearance to a freak earthquake that broke the bridge apart and caused a river surge that carried off the debris—which, to me, sounded more preposterous than an evil witch making it vanish.
    After another dozen steps, I veered away from the river, following the trail that would lead me to the