Fraoch tossed the fish into a Tupperware box, added a bit of water, and sealed the lid.
“I also thought we could go up and have dinner tonight at Joe’s 2nd Street Bistro and after we can hit the Green Turtle. It was, I mean is, one of Magnus’s favorites. I would love to show you. Are you ready for going out in public—”
Quentin called down, “Fraoch, Hayley, check this out!”
“Coming, hold on a second!”
Fraoch put the last of the fish in the deep freezer, and we washed our hands in the sink with lemon to get the fish smell off them. I washed out of solidarity, because Fraoch was still getting used to the idea that hand-washing was necessary. Then we went upstairs.
Quentin was waiting for us, “Shit, y’all take your time?”
Chef Zach said, “We had something fucking crazy to tell you.”
They were at the table again, surrounded by the research.
Emma flattened a magazine in front of me. “This! Check it out! I was taking a nap, flipping through this month’s Smithsonian magazine, and look at this article!”
I read out loud: “The Mysterious case of the Medieval Ballpoint Pen Signatures.”
I screwed my face up. “What?”
She pointed under the headline, “Here! It’s important, read it!”
I read, “Okay, yes, it says...” I read for a moment not understanding why. “What is this, I’m not getting it?”
She huffed. “Fine. To paraphrase: there are a bunch of Scottish documents from the mid-sixteenth century that look as if they were signed by ballpoint pens! Blue ink, Hayley, it wasn’t even invented yet!”
I looked down at the article. “Do you think this is Magnus?”
She pointed at an image. “This is not Magnus’s signature, this is Lord Châtellerault’s signature, but he is clearly using a ballpoint pen. The date is 1552. They have two more samples: Another of Lord Châtellerault’s signature and one of Mary of Guise’s signature. They cannot figure it out because they weren’t even that close. How did they both get ball point pens? Some are suggesting these are forgeries, but that’s not a good explanation. At the time these signatures were important and necessary. They’re just clearly using a ballpoint pen. Look! And historians are all ‘intrigued.’”
“Me too, that date would fit, right? And would Magnus have a ballpoint pen with him?”
Quentin said, “Hell yeah, he was obsessed.”
“Weird and cool.”
“So since Emma told us this, we’ve been looking for more examples and check this out.” Quentin grabbed a piece of paper from the printer, then said, “Fuck the printer cartridge is blown.” What followed was a couple of moments where Quentin had to replace the printer cartridge while Zach said, “Hold on, wait, wait, he’s changing the cartridge,” which we could clearly see. Then Zach pushed ‘print’ again and the printer went chucka-chucka-chucka until there was a paper sliding into the tray.
Quentin placed it in front of me, jabbing at it with his finger. “There!”
Centered in the middle of the page was a parchment colored square with a very large, confident, and blue signature: Magnus Archibald Caehlin Campbell. Beside it the numbers: 1552
“You found him!” My hands shook. It was like seeing Magnus in real life. “He’s alive. That means Katie’s alive, right?” Quentin shrugged. I said, “It totally means she’s alive. She’s smart. She’s the reason he’s signing like this, the reason they’re alive and sending us a message. I’m sure of it.”
“Yes, and this is in 1552. This is when...?” Zach peered at the screen. “It’s hard as hell to make out what this says...” He peered longer. “All I know is that it’s from 1552, but it says Edinburgh. And this is J. Hamilton, Châtellerault, who also signed in blue ink. He was the regent for Mary Queen of Scots and—”
“Mary Queen of Scots?” My eyes went wide. “What the hell, did Katie meet her?”
Zach flipped a piece of paper over. “I don’t think so, here it says she was young. She’s living in France at this time, and her regent is running the country. For some unexplainable reason, this document has Magnus’s signature on it.”
I grinned. “They’re alive! They’re alive and they’re back there. Now we just need to figure out how to get them home.”
Emma said, “This is such a fucking relief.”
Zach joked, “You know something is a fucking relief when my wife drops an F-bomb.”
She said, “I’m way too pregnant for all this worry and stress. It’s too hot. Too stressful. Too irritating. Now that I know Magnus is alive, I can breathe. It has to mean Kaitlyn is alive too. Now it’s up to Lady Mairead to get them.”
I sighed. “Why hasn’t she yet?”
Seventy-nine - Hayley
On September 7, 2021, Emma was taken to the hospital and gave birth to Zoe Jane Greene.
Zach was in the room with her, as well as her sister. Her family was there in the waiting room, along with me and Quentin. Beaty and Fraoch stayed at home with the kids.
Her labor was short, so they said, though it seemed plenty long enough to me.
I knew Katie would have loved to have been there. This would have been the kind of thing she would have known what to do and what to say.
And when we got ushered in to meet the baby in Zach’s arms, I felt so overwhelmingly sad that this was happening without Katie to be a part of it.
Emma met my eyes and gave me a sad, knowing smile.
Yeah.
This fucking sucks.
But also congratulations. Woohoo.
We rode in quiet on the way home.
Right as Quentin turned on our road I said, “You know what this means?”
Quentin said, “What?”
“This means that a whole new person is on the earth while Katie and Mags are gone. There’s no looping back, or starting over. A new person while they aren’t here...”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Yeah, I hope they make it back soon. Katie is going to be so sad about the time she’s missing with her kids.”
Eighty - Hayley
A few weeks later, we were sitting around on pool chairs watching the boys splash in the swimming pool. It was a new addition to the house, built under a large screened enclosure. Zach and Emma had gotten it built as a summer present for the family.
Zach took the boys swimming every day. Like today: he was splashing in the pool with the boys. Emma was nursing Zoe in a chair by the pool. Isla was napping inside. Beaty, who took daily swimming lessons from Quentin, was sitting in a chair in charge of the towels while Quentin was on guard duty. I was laughing at what ‘little lovable idiots’ the boys were, when all of our phones buzzed at once.
Quentin texted from up on the roof: “Car coming up the drive, says they’re carrying General Hammond and Lady Mairead. I’m on my way down.”
Zach said, “Hey kids, out of the pool, please.” They scrambled out, Beaty wrapped them in towels, and hustled them from the pool area with Emma following. Zach rubbed a towel over his head, then wrapped it around his waist, and drew on a shirt. I peered through the screen as a black, limo-style SUV rolled up to the house. Quentin jogged down to meet it in the driveway.