The Legacy of Buchanan's Crossing Read Online Free Page B

much larger than her physical form. Today, she felt small, her body more frail than Cayden remembered. She buried the new worry. The ones she’d brought with her were more than enough.
    As Gran had reminded her, breakfast in the cottage was a sacred ritual, a comforting one. Cayden couldn’t disrupt it if she wanted to. So the three of them ate in peaceable silence, she and Rob Roy politely ignoring each other while murmuring their praises for Gran’s cooking.
    After the last bite of fried tomato, Cayden’s gaze wandered past Rob Roy stretched across the low sill, through the lace-curtained window, to the grove that marked the Crossing. The happiest times of her life had taken place either here in this cozy kitchen with Gran or up on that hill. Was it wrong to feel the place was her greatest burden too?
    “Ah, Cayden, I see you’ve gone on ahead without me. Now that’s as it should be, come the time. Not just yet though, darling, eh? Fetch the tea now, won’t you?”
    Cayden shivered and rose to get the kettle off the venerable gas stove.
    She poured hot water from the copper kettle into Gran’s cup. “Please don’t talk that way.” Thinking something was one thing, speaking it, another. Words had power, especially the words of a spell witch as formidable as her grandmother.
    Gran merely sipped her tea and said, “Now then, tell me what kind of man could have set my sweet dark angel to cursing outside the door on such a fine morning. You’ve never given the others a second thought, even the ones you—”
    “I found the Keeper.” Cayden squeezed the ring in her pocket. How had Gran known she was cursing him when she’d not spoken a word of it aloud?
    The only sound in the room was Rob Roy’s bent tail twitching against the windowpane while he watched a squirrel rummaging in the garden.
    Gran looked as if she were waiting for more. Finally, she said, “Why, that’s wonderful! I don’t mind telling you I was becoming a mite concerned.”
    Cayden tried not to shriek. “No, it’s not wonderful at all. It could hardly be worse. He’s been coming into the HandiMart at least twice a week for over a year. He never even noticed me until this morning.”
    “You’ve noticed him, then?”
    “Well, ye-ah. A woman would have to be dead not to notice Clint MacAllen.”
    “Fine to your eyes and a good Scottish name to boot. I don’t see what you’re on about.”
    “You’re not listening. Men like him don’t look twice at women like me. He didn’t listen to my advice about the stupid anchovies. He couldn’t even make himself take my hand. How can I possibly get him to—”
    “Is he wearing the ring?”
    Cayden shook her head. “He gave it back.”
    “Gave it back? I can’t believe the Crossing would choose an idjit for a Keeper.” Gran sat up in her chair, then settled back in with a finger on her bottom lip. “He’s touched it, though. That’ll help. The magic won’t leave him be. How did you manage it if he didn’t notice you? I cannot imagine any man missing the sight of you.”
    Gran leaned forward, watching her with pursed lips, while she told the tale of the HandiMart debacle, complete with the sidebar on the kamikaze breath mints.
    Gran gave Cayden one of her warm smiles. “Inspired indeed, to slip him the ring when you did. Now I understand why you had your meeting with the columbines in the ditch. You’d gone and used yourself up.”
    “I had. Sometimes it feels as though I’ll never learn to control it.”
    “Yet you did, in spite of the cost. You will get better at it. You must believe in yourself, Cayden. While you may not care for the name you were given, darlin’, you’ve certainly lived up to it. You were born with a fighting spirit. ’Tis no time to leave it lie now.”
    “Maybe if I lose a few pounds, have my colors done like Muriel nagged me about, he might find me attractive enough.”
    “Now it’s you who’s not listenin’. You are who you are. And who you are is