first day, she’d barely been able to climb into the thing, but now — she adjusted the bodice with a practiced hand, smiling down at the way the fabric flattered her shape. It was surprising, how quickly brand new things became familiar, almost comfortable. And as she headed up the stairs with Eamon and Niall, she realized that she hadn’t been thinking as much of modern conveniences. The first few days, she’d ached for a hot shower… now, when she felt grimy, the only thing she wanted was a nice hot pail of water to bathe with. She’d missed running water, missed her microwave, missed her cell phone… but the longer she spent without them, the less she felt that they were somehow mandatory, inseparable from who she was as a person.
And to her surprise, it wasn’t only that she didn’t miss them — she was actively benefitting from their being removed from her life. She felt — clearer, somehow. More present, every day she spent here. As though she was coming into herself — as though she was somehow finding who she was always been meant to be, around all the distractions of modern life. She spent time with people — real time, focused time, not a cup of coffee while they both pretended they weren’t thinking about checking their phones, not half-hurried lunches while everyone was desperate to get back to work. Her conversations with her friends, with Niall, with everyone… they were so much more rewarding than any conversation she’d had back in the future. For the first time in her life, she was beginning to realize why people set such great store by friendships.
It had only took me thirty years and some Faerie magic, she thought with a little laugh as they headed across the courtyard.
“What’s funny?” Niall asked, turning back to her with a raised eyebrow. He was looking especially dashing tonight — his hair was freshly trimmed, and he always looked an absolute vision in Clan Grant tartan. She shook her head, not sure how to explain what she was thinking about.
“Nothing, really. I’m just…” She grinned. “Just happy to be here.”
An unexpected smile spread over his face, and he reached out to touch her shoulder in that casually affectionate way he had that always sent butterflies shooting around in her stomach. “I’m delighted to hear it, Helen. We’re both happy you’re here, too. Isn’t that right, Eamon?”
The little boy had been playing with a stick, and he looked up with the habitually guilty expression of a child who hadn’t been paying attention. “What?”
“Aren’t we both happy Helen’s here?”
“I guess,” he said brightly, hefting his stick again and taking a few brave stabs at the castle wall.
Helen laughed at the expression on Niall’s face. “I’ll take it,” she said with a grin. “That’s plenty of affection as far as I’m concerned. Oh! Father Caleb!”
The priest was hurrying up the stairs, his habitually dour expression hoisted into place on his face, and he looked up with a guilty start when he heard his name. He would have seemed thoroughly suspicious if Helen hadn’t already known what a naturally nervous person he was.
“Good evening, Miss Washington,” he said with an over-rehearsed little bow. “Harbormaster Grant.”
He’d done well at remembering their names, Helen thought with a smile. Should she explain to him that she preferred ‘Ms.’ to ‘Miss’? Was that even a concept in the sixteenth century, or did women just tolerate being referred to by whether or not they’d been married yet? It had always irritated her in the twenty-first century, too. She wasn’t a raving feminist by any means, but the injustices visited upon her sex still rankled.
“How are things in the village, Father Caleb?”
“As well as can be expected,” he said heavily as they headed into the dining hall, aiming for the high table where Laird Donal and the rest of the men were waiting. “We’ll get to that soon, I’d imagine.”
Once they were all settled in with a delicious meal, Father Caleb began to make his report. Helen could see how intently Niall was listening — hoping for clues about what his old ‘friend’ Perry was up to, perhaps? She could tell the subject of the man was still weighing on him, for all that he tried to seem like his mind was on the problem alone. It must be awful, feeling so betrayed by someone who was supposed to be your friend. She didn’t fault him at all for obsessing a little.
“The