Page 20 of Gardening and Gargoyles

I know full well there is something beyond curiosity that catches my eye when I look at Lady June, even though I try to tell myself it is just the new circumstances I find myself in. In my old life, I was rarely this close to human women, and we never spoke at length. For one thing, most were to be inside before darkness fell, and a gargoyle’s place was on the outside, eyes scanning for intruders, bandits, and marauding rival clans—not that there were any great battles and dangers like there were in my great-grandparents’ time. I certainly never saw any human woman as I have seen Lady June.

In only two nights, I know that I have never worried over a human as I have worried over Lady June. It’s enough so that I don’t leap at the chance to return home.

“If you’re worried about flying and turning to stone by day, there are ships where you stay in your own cabin. It takes longer, but perhaps you’d feel safer?”

“I don’t fear the airplanes.” (That’s a wee lie for a start.) “I’m sorry, I was only thinking that I must see if my clan needs me, or if they are even still in our old territory, then I will decide how best to return. But what of Lady June? Her man made the arrangements to hire your lodge for the summer, and now he’s betrayed her. She is bereft and without attendants.” I turn toIan Fenclan with a scowl on my face, wishing I could meet this Daniel of hers and show him how gargoyles treat traitors and betrayers.

Ian crosses his arms. “Aye, he did, and he has. But he’s paid upfront, and I’ll not give him a penny back. There’s a lodger here, and she isn’t keen to leave from what I’ve seen. If he comes along, I’ll tell him first-come, first-served. He’ll not put her out on our watch.”

I nod, and a familiar warmth lights in my chest. “Not on our watch.” Genesis and Ian aren’t from my clan, but they quickly make me feel as though I have allies in this strange new world.

“Let me call my mother, and in minutes, I’ll probably have half your family on the call.”

“How?” I ask wonderingly.

“I’m willing to bet your folk have phones now,” Ian says with a chuckle. “Man, I cannae imagine waking up after a century and finding everything is different. I’d be off my head. How’re you doing it?”

My eyes shift to the chamber down the hall. “I have been well cared for and given a job to do. I must protect Lady June. I’ll not have anyone saying Clan Mackintosh is full of scoundrels just because the new laird is shite.”

Ian and Genesis exchange a look and an amused smile. “You know, I think you’d like Pine Ridge. If your clan has scattered, or rather, if they’ve moved about and stay in touch by modern marvels like phone and internet these days, you might settle here. Our clans are always connected and able to get in touch in a moment.”

I shake my head, marveling. “Honestly?”

“Watch.” Genesis pulls out one of those little flat boxes that Lady June says is a telephone, taps two buttons, and in seconds, his mother’s voice is coming through as plain as if she were beside him.

“Hello, Ma. Do we still know anyone from Clan Mackintosh?”

His mother’s exasperation sounds the same as my mother’s used to, and it makes my eyes sting suddenly.

“Of course we do. D’ye no’ mind that Wuillie Mackintosh was the one who was so drunk at Uncle Galation’s stag night that he turned to stone in a wheelbarrow and won that wee lassie who runs the castle fishing tours an award for most unusual sculpture?”

“Wuillie?” Little Wuillie, small and impish, barely a boy, still more of a bairn. Gargoyles can live centuries, so I wonder if this is him, all grown, or someone else.

“Ma, maybe you remember your parents talking about a gargoyle who died when an American bought Castle Mackintosh, way back in the 1800s. Snapped a wing off in his stone sleep and never woke?”

“Ah, that was sad, a fine young soul, built like his father, old Hamish Mackintosh.”

“That’s my father. My father,” I whisper excitedly.

“He’s not dead. He’s been mended and sent to Pine Ridge.”

What happens next, I cannae describe all that well. There’s lots of yelling and crying out, and the sound of people rushing for other tiny little boxes. The women have come in from the kitchen now, and they too start, looking up numbers and doing something called “face time,” “three-way calling,” and “merging.”

Lady June comes out of her room to help, eyes pink and lids puffy, still smiling bravely. “Did they find your family?” she whispers, taking my hand in her own and squeezing.

It feels like she gripped my heart, as well. “Yes, we’re finding it now.”

DUNCAN TALKS UNTILdawn, and I take notes. I’ve scribed for enough students who can’t spell or just refuse to write to be super efficient at it.

When the sun is up, there’s a smiling stone statue in my lawn, and I pull one of the Adirondack chairs off the porch to sit in front of him in the sweet, misty morning sunshine filtering through the mountain’s foothills.

I sigh, staring at his relaxed face. He is in some kind of “I will rip your face off if you approach this cabin” position, but he’s got the most serene smile. Body and face don’t match, but it’s weird how I feel both peaceful and protected just sitting near him.

“Can you hear in your stone sleep? I forgot to ask. Anyway, I don’t wanna keep you up, but I want to garden a little bit before I go to bed. I’m becoming nocturnal—and you know what? That’s okay. I can garden at night. It’s cooler, and the moon is so bright out here away from the light pollution.” I lean back in the chair and close my eyes, open them again, and stare down at my lap, which is covered in notes written on the back page of a calendar.

Wuillie, Amy, Freddie, Isa, Ambrose— old clan still alive, now adults. Inverness, Glasgow, and Ontario.

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