Summoned in Time: A magical, ghostly, time travel romance... (The MacCarthy Sisters Book 3) Read online

  “I do have fae blood, and if you’ll let me, I’d love to help you move on. That’s what I do. I help spirits who are stuck in the earthly realm cross into the light.”

  “Well, and good luck to you then.” His brow rose. “I hope you succeed where I’ve failed, for I’ve tried to enter the beckoning light more times than I care to count. Nothing would please me more than to move on. Only then can I be reborn.”

  He gave a ghostly shrug. “However, I cannot. I broke a vow, and that is what keeps me here. I’ll not be free until I make good on my promise, and since I’m dead, I see no way to accomplish the feat. Do you?”

  He admitted to being dead? Meredith opened her mouth to reply, but her phone trilled her sisters’ video call, and Daniel disappeared. She hit accept. “Hey, you two. You’ll never guess where I am,” she said.

  Grayce placed her fingers against her temple and closed her eyes. “Let me see,” she said dramatically. “I sense you are in Garretsville, Montana where you plan to help a bunch of ghosts mosey along.”

  “Aunt Beth told you.” Meredith sighed.

  “She did indeed. Beth emailed us both.” Regan laughed. “Is there a term for a bunch of ghosts? We have a gaggle of geese, a murder of crows, a mob of kangaroos, and a pack of wolves. What do we call a group of ghosts?”

  “How about a hover or a linger?” Meredith suggested. “It’s kind of what they do, and we can use either word as a noun. Flock, murder, pack, mob and herd are verbs or nouns depending on how they’re used. I’m not sure about gaggle. I’d have to look it up.”

  “If it’s a vote, I’m all for calling them a linger of ghosts,” Regan said.

  “Me too,” Grayce added. “It has a nice ring to it.”

  “It’s official then. I am here to help a linger of ghosts pass into the light.” Soft, masculine laughter flitted through her mind. Meredith scanned her surroundings, seeing no sign of Daniel, which meant nothing. He might be hanging around in the shadows between the trees, or he might’ve chosen to be invisible and just far enough away that she couldn’t feel his chill.

  “So you know where I am. Do either of you sense anything I need to know? Any visions, Grayce?” Her identical twin sister had the gift of foretelling, and she was also an empath, though to a slighter degree than their aunt.

  “No visions, but I do have a very strong feeling that things are not going to be easy, and you’re there to help a particular spirit.”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I already know who that is. He’s being very rude right now. His name is Daniel, and I believe he’s eavesdropping.” This elicited a disgruntled snort from the ghost.

  Grayce frowned. “I also sense a few hostiles in Garretsville, Meredith. Guard yourself well and call for reinforcements. The hostiles really need to be sent on their way. I have the feeling they are a big reason why that town has so many ghosts.”

  Should she tell her sisters about the creepy you are familiar incident? Could be the three had used that line on any medium who showed up to help the spirits to cross. Likely they’d said it to heighten the fear factor and to chase away anyone intending to banish them. Mean ghosts were addicted to the fear they created with their hauntings, and it had worked. They’d frightened her all right.

  “I’ve already had an encounter with the unfriendlies, and I have no intention of taking any risks where they’re concerned.”

  Judging by the background, Grayce had joined Regan at her home in County Waterford. Meredith squelched the envy caused by seeing her sisters together for the call. Grayce would pick up on it, and Meredith didn’t want either of them to know how lonely and unhappy she was now that they lived so far away.

  “What’s new with you two? How’s my darling nephew?” she asked her older sister. “Is he walking more?” Conan had taken his first steps a few months ago, shortly after turning one.

  Regan chuckled. “Conan walks like a tiny drunk. We aren’t calling him a toddler yet. He’s more like a wobbler. I’ll text you a video.”

  “I’d love that. How’s Fáelán’s doctoral program coming along, Regan?” she asked, gladdened just to see and hear her sisters.

  “Really well. He’s ready to begin the field work for his dissertation,” Regan said. The pride she felt for her husband came through loud and clear. “Fáelán and two of his fellow doctoral candidates have formed a partnership, and they’ve applied for a number of grants. We should get word any day about funding, and then they’ll begin work on the Wicklow Dig.” She sighed happily.

  “I can’t wait to see what they turn up,” Meredith said. “How’re things going with the Wicklow Farmhouse Inn, Grayce?”

  Fáelán’s proposed archeological dig happened to be located right on the farm Grayce and her husband Brían owned, which was a win-win situation for everyone. If Fáelán managed to unearth the home and the burial site of the long gone Irish king he swore had lived there, that would draw tourists, archaeologists, and anthropologists. All of them would need a place to stay.

  “Better than expected.” Grayce moved into the camera’s direct line of sight, edging out their older sister. “We’ve leased the newly remodeled dining area and kitchen to a couple of recent graduates from the Ballymaloe Cookery School and Organic Farm. They’ll be able to grow vegetables and herbs here on the farm, and we already raise chickens and sheep. We’ll also add a few more dairy cows. Their plan is to locally source everything they can. They’re amazing chefs, Mere.”

  “I agree. Liam and Randal are also the sweetest couple,” Regan added, moving closer to Grayce. “They plan to get married at the inn next spring. It’ll be the inn’s first wedding.”

  Meredith grinned. “That’s exciting.”

  “It is. Brían and his dad are building a gazebo on a spot that has a fantastic ocean view,” Grayce told her. “My mother-in-law and I are putting in a flower garden there. We hope this first event will draw more couples looking for wedding venues.”

  “Wonderful,” Meredith said. “I can’t wait to see everything and to sample the food at the new restaurant.”

  Grayce glanced at Regan, and then at her. “I have news of a personal nature to share, but you both have to swear not to tell Mom, Dad, or anyone else.”

  Meredith didn’t have to have psychic abilities to know what was coming, and this too caused a surge of bittersweet envy. “When are you due, and are you hoping for a boy or a girl?”

  “Meredith!” Her twin laughed. “You didn’t even let me tell you.”

  Regan squealed and hugged Grayce.

  “Sorry,” Meredith said. “So when are you due?”

  “We just saw our doctor for the first time on Thursday. I’m due at the end of December. You have to come visit during your winter break. I’ll never forgive you if you don’t.”

  “I will, and I promise to keep the news to myself,” she said.

  “My lips are sealed, but I’ll bet your in-laws already suspect,” Regan added.

  “Maybe. I’ve tried really hard to hide the morning sickness, the afternoon naps, and the frequent trips to the bathroom. Also, Brianna and Sloan are living in the newly renovated farm manager’s cottage now. Brían and I don’t want to say anything until we’ve made it through the first trimester.”

  Regan nudged Grayce with her shoulder. “Back to Meredith’s question, are you hoping for a boy or a girl?”

  “Honestly, I don’t have a preference, but since the Tuatha dé Danann magic has been lifted from his clan, Brían is hoping to be the first to have a daughter. He’s all about bragging rights.”

  The three of them chatted for another fifteen minutes about babies, Meredith’s current mission, her cabinmates, and family. Finally, they said their goodbyes and ended the call, and Meredith was left with an aching loneliness. She drew up her knees, and placed her chin upon them. She continued to sit on top of the hill in an unfamiliar place, far, far away from the people she knew and loved. Meredith swallowed in an effort to dislodge the lump that had formed in her throat.


  She’d always believed she and her sisters would go through life’s major events together, as in living within a few miles of each other. Their children were supposed to grow up together. In her fantasy, the entire family always gathered for holidays. She, her sisters and their families would get together for summer barbeques, and they’d even go on vacations together.

  Her twin’s pregnancy hit her with a cold splash of reality—none of her hopes would come to fruition. Regan and Grayce lived in a different country across a vast ocean. Grayce and Regan’s children would be close, while Meredith’s—if she ever had any children—would hardly know their Irish cousins.

  “Don’t be sad, Meredith.” Daniel appeared once again. He even sat down beside her. “Good news is cause for celebration, aye?”

  Nodding, she peered at the ghost. “You’re right, and I am thrilled that I’m going to have another niece or nephew to love. I’ve always been close with my sisters. I just wish we at least lived on the same side of the Atlantic.”

  “There, there, lassie.” He raised his hand as if he meant to pat her on the back, but then he dropped it again. “Count your blessings, not your sorrows. You’re all in good health, are you not? All of you have plenty to eat and a roof over your heads. I heard you say you’d travel to see your sisters soon enough. You’ve much to be thankful for, and that’s a fact.”

  “I do.” She slid him a sideways glance. “For one thing, I’m still among the living.” The sound of his chuckle resonated through her, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.

  “Now that reminder was uncalled for, Meredith.”

  She half-laughed, half-snorted. “I should head back down the hill and practice leading tour groups a few more times. I’ll show up at the saloon once my cabinmates are asleep, sometime around midnight. You can tell me more about your situation.” She tapped her phone’s alarm app. “See? I’m setting my alarm.”

  “That would be grand. I shall await your arrival there. Did you know Garretsville once had thirteen saloons, and a thousand souls made their home here?”

  “I didn’t know about the saloons, but I have visited Garretsville’s school and church. You’ll have to tell me more.” She stood up, dusted off the seat of her jeans, and grabbed her water bottle.

  She smiled at the friendly ghost who’d distracted her out of her self-pity. “See you later, Daniel,” she said as she strode off. How weird was it that she’d been comforted by a ghost? Usually it was the other way around.

  3

  The very instant Meredith MacCarthy had arrived in Garretsville Daniel had felt a tug the likes of which he’d never before experienced. Without so much as a glimpse of her, he’d been drawn into the beautiful woman’s orbit. So here he sat in Keoghan’s Saloon, awaiting her arrival in the dead of night.

  How had he sensed her arrival at all? Ghosts didn’t feel the presence of the unseen living like the living sensed the presence of the unseen dead. Might it be the fae blood running through Meredith MacCarthy’s veins had called to him? His own granny had been gifted with the sight. Perhaps he too carried a wee bit of fae dee-an-ay, whatever that might be. Perhaps on some level he sensed she might be able to free him from this hell, and that is what drew him to her.

  The entire day he’d drifted along in Meredith’s wake, pulled as if attached to her like a wee child in leading strings. She truly was lovely, with her honey colored hair, wide gray eyes, and shapely feminine form. Her rainbow aura shone brightly with the goodness of her heart and soul.

  When she’d been sad earlier, he’d been struck by a powerful need to offer comfort. He’d longed to make her smile, and when she had, the grief and anger he always carried with him diminished. For a short while he’d basked in her warmth, and now he craved more of the same.

  He’d kept enough distance between them all day to prevent her from shivering from the cold or shuddering from the horror of his presence. Aye, he’d been aware from the start the effects he and the linger of ghosts in Garretsville had on the living. The revulsion, the shivers, shudders, and the fear nearly broke his heart—or would have if he still had functioning internal organs. He didn’t deserve those reactions. It was no fault of his own his life had been cut short, nor had he chosen to become a scáil to haunt Garretsville.

  Though most of his companions denied being dead, he never had. The others carried on as they always had in life, working their claims, drinking and gambling—even visiting the few ghostly whores who’d remained earthbound. Daniel had fully realized his own miserable situation from the moment his life had been brutally taken. He’d do anything to break the chains that bound him.

  Phantom candles and kerosene lamps lit the interior of the saloon. The pianist tapped out a lively tune, and the men and ladies of the night gambled and drank. When death had still been new to him, he too had sought comfort in pretending. The resulting hangover had been one of heart-rending regret for the life he’d never live. He’d never experience the love of a good woman or hold his wee children in his arms. His biggest regret though was that he’d never own that dreamed-of home where he might bring his family back together to begin anew.

  Because of his foolishness, his dear mother, brother, and sister had likely remained destitute for the rest of their lives. He’d wept buckets of bitter ghostly tears over that fact, and perhaps he would continue doing so for all eternity. Was this purgatory after all?

  The door creaked open, and Meredith entered, awash in the very real golden light from the lantern she held aloft. The heart he no longer had flipped in his chest and all thought deserted him. He stood up from his chair. Meredith smiled as she caught sight of him, and he swore his non-existent pulse quickened. These sensations where she was concerned were disconcerting to say the least. Still, he did his best to smile back.

  “Wow,” she said as she set the lantern on the table and sat down. “This place really rocks once the sun goes down.” Meredith scanned the interior, pausing on different scenes unfolding around them. Her brow rose. “I’ve never experienced anything like this. It’s like watching an old western movie in black and white.”

  Not knowing what an old western movie might be, he said nothing. Instead, he drank in the vision before him, all the while resisting the imperative to move closer to her warmth. What did she smell like? Sweet, no doubt, like the wildflowers that bloomed in the fields of Ireland.

  Her gaze came to rest on him. “They’re ignoring me, which is also a first. By now I’m usually surrounded and inundated with pleas for help.”

  “That is my doing.” He took his seat again. “I asked that they leave us be this one night.” He studied her, his curiosity piqued. “How do you hear me when I’ve no voice? What is it like for you?”

  “I hear your words as whispers inside my head. I can’t really explain how that happens or why, because I don’t really know. My older sister, father and aunt can also commune with the dead. We’ve often worked together to help spirits move on. We’re ghost whisperers; it’s a family thing.” She bit her lip and her brow creased as she once again surveyed the goings on inside the saloon.

  “I’ve never met a spirit so aware of their own ghostly state as you seem to be.” Meredith folded her hands and rested them on the table, and her attention returned to him. “Maybe if you tell me more about how you came to be here in Garretsville, your story might help me figure out how best to help you cross.”

  “Gladly, and I sincerely hope the telling will help.” He heaved his ghostly version of a sigh. “You’ve heard of Ireland’s Great Potato Famine of ’45, aye?”

  “You mean 1845? Yes I have. From what I understand, that particular famine mostly affected the poorest families, those who subsisted on tenant farms or held the lowliest jobs.”

  “Aye, that is so, and it fell to those of us who were better off to aid the starving as best we could. During the terrible years of the potato blight, the British continued to export our much needed grains rather than help alleviate the suffering taking place right under the
ir noses. Thousands upon thousands died while the British profited from Irish crops planted in Irish soil and tended by the very laborers who were starving to death.” Once again anger consumed him, and if he’d had solid teeth, he’d be gnashing them.

  “My family were among the more fortunate. We owned a farm in County Meath along the banks of the River Boyne. Ours was the prettiest farm you ever did see, and there I lived with my mam, dad, younger brother, and two younger sisters.” The anguish of not knowing what had become of his remaining family tortured him. Dead for as long as he’d been, the memory of his mother’s tears the day he’d boarded the ship to America still haunted him. Oh the irony—he was a haunted ghost.

  “Go on,” Meredith encouraged.

  “We had plenty at a time when many of our neighbors suffered starvation. We did what we could, shared what we could. What you might not know is that famine’s bosom companion is disease. Typhus and smallpox swept through Ireland, making no distinction between the classes and killing the well-fed along with the starving.” He paused as memories of the horrors he’d seen came back to him.

  “Visiting our neighbors as often as we did, we were exposed to smallpox, and all but my mother took ill. We lost my father and my baby sister. I almost died as well. My brother had just turned nine, and my remaining sister was but four. Between tending to us and the livestock, my mother could do little on her own to keep the farm going. She sold off or butchered most of our livestock to feed us and to make ends meet. Our fields lay fallow, and by the time the blight ended, we were in poor shape indeed. In 1849 I was well enough to farm again, but by then it was too late.”

  “What do you mean by too late?”

  The look of empathy suffusing her features caused a hitch in his phantom breathing. “We had no money for seed or for livestock. We had no money to pay our taxes or the debts we’d incurred trying to keep body and soul together while recovering from illness. We tried to sell some of our land to cover the debts, but corrupt officials in the county prevented any potential buyers from making an offer.” Again the bitterness and rage flared. “Our farm was seized in the autumn of 1850.”