Forevermore

Grateful

I can't stop looking at him.  Are my eyes playing tricks on me? I blink several times and even shake my head. When I focus, the Logan-like figure is standing less than a foot away.

His thumb grazes my cheek . . .

My eyes widen; I can feel his touch, his skin against mine. The warmth of his thumb against my skin.

We can touch.

Logan lowers his head toward me, smiling.

"I have dreamed of this," he whispers, then settles his lips against my mouth.

And he kisses me.

His full lips move over mine, and my heart soars with joy, disbelief. My knees grow weak, and Logan must sense it because he holds me tightly against him. My arms fly around his neck in a fierce embrace.

I'm afraid to let go.

"I can't believe you're here," I whisper against his neck. I'm trembling. I can smell him. Smell his clean skin. Feel the warmth of his live body seep through his clothes which are the same clothes he's worn since I first met
him. Dark, hand-sewn pants, boots, and the white shirt. His dark hair is loose and wavy against his collar, and I swear, he's the most handsome thing I've ever seen.

"You're here, alive." I pull back and look up into his familiar silver eyes. "How?" I ask. "How is it even possible?"

Logan's gaze never leaves mine, but his hands move to cup my face.

"I'm not sure," he answers, still studying my features as if he's never seen them before. It's as if he's discovered something brand-new. He laughs softly. "All I know is, I
suddenly popped up in the village, and I was real.  Alive again.  And I knew I had to find you. He kisses me. I dunna want tae let you go, Ivy Calhoun."

It must have had something to do with unearthing Logan's flute. The sonic boom that followed, the unease that had settled? I reach for the flute and hand it to Logan.

He grasps it with one hand, studies it. Runs his thumb under his initials. Then he looks at me and smiles.

And I have never felt so happy.

We stand in the ruined rectory, enveloped in each other's arms. Ouside, the wintry wind howls, but I barely notice it as Logan Munro's heart beats strong against my ear and I melt against his warm embrace.

I can't explain it. Right now, I don't even care.
Logan's back.

And he's mine.

—————

"You look nervous"

Logan glances down at me, then gives me a mock frown. "I'm no' nervous, gell. I've met them all before." He cockily jerks his jaw upward and stands rigid, then grabs the enormous iron knocker and bangs it.

I can do little more than smile, link my arm through his, and wait for the Munros' door to open.

After we'd left the rectory that night, we had shocked old Ian and Jonas with Logan's return. Mom and Niall had taken Elizabeth to the village for fish-and-chips, so we had the place to ourselves for a bit.  We had talked for hours and finally made sense of everything that had happened.

We realized that the moment Logan's flute was unearthed, there was a chance of reversing the curse. When Niall had pulled the twisted rowan off was when Logan had found himself back at Glenmorrag village, alive.

All of Logan's memories have returned as well. My theory wasn't totally correct, because Logan's uncle Patrick had not in fact killed him. When Logan discovered Patrick's spell book and the truth about his ring, Patrick had instead cursed Logan with the Veil of Death - which meant that he would remain suspended between life and death forever. Patrick had taken a personal article of Logan's
the flute - and wrapped it in cursed rowan,
and hidden it beneath the old rectory. Just to ensure that the spell on Logan would never break.

When Logan's mother discovered what Patrick had done, she'd put two and two together and ripped the ruby ring off his finger, removing him from the sway of the
dark spirit. But instead of healing, as Elizabeth had, Patrick went mad and threw himself off the seawall. Logan, in spirit form, saw his mother steal into the castle and hide the ruby ring and spell book. Both remained hidden until Elizabeth discovered them the night of the storm.

The ring was a black mark upon the Munro family. It had originated from a different clan, one who had feuded with the Munros back in the early Middle Ages. The ring was so powerful that whoever wore it could cast all kinds of spells - apparitions, pain, sickness .. . even death. In particular, the ring was dead set against newcomers, people it viewed as interlopers. That was why my mom and I had been its targets when Elizabeth wore it.

It wasn't until Emma and I destroyed the ring, and the spell book, that its power disappeared for good. And it wasn't until Niall removed the rowan from Logan's flute that his particular enchantment had broken. Logan was free.

And I am ever so glad. Now that Logan is alive again, at eighteen, he will live out his life. He'll go to school. I've already begun to teach him how to read. He'll play his flute, maybe learn a new instrument.

Logan stayed overnight in Ian's croft, but today, Jonas drove us over to the Munro keep after I got out of school. Logan wants to learn to drive, too. To learn everything. But we have time. So much time.

As we wait for the door to open, Logan, sensing my stare, glances down at me. His mercury eyes soften, and one corner of his mouth lifts in a slight grin. I want to fling my arms around him. It's very difficult to keep from touching him at all times, now that I can.

The enormous door to the keep opens, and Ethan Munro stands in the archway. All six foot seven inches of him. Ethan stares at Logan, inspecting him from head to toe. Then he gives a nod.

"Och, boy," he says, amazement tingeing his heavy accent. He pulls Logan into a fierce hug, and Logan hugs him back. Then Ethan Munro looks at me and grins.

"You're a strong lass, Ivy," he says, then drops a kiss to my cheek. He turns back to Logan, who still stands rigidly tall with his chin lifted, meeting his ancestor's gaze. Ethan puts his hand on Logan's shoulder. "Come inside, boy, and I'll show you to your room. You'll fit in just fine here, I vow it."

Logan squeezes my hand and follows Ethan inside. Ethan looks over his shoulder at me and, with eyes the exact same color as Logan's, winks.

"Ivy! Logan!" Amelia says, appearing at my side. She hugs us both. "Come inside before you freeze!"

I grin and step into the Munro keep. Logan's new home.

Filled with Logan's ancestors from long ago.

This is the place that taught me that the impossible can be possible.

"Come on," Amelia says, pulling me along the corridor to the kitchen. "I've got a can of Cheez Whiz with your name on it, girl.  And I want to talk to you about a new story idea I have."

I smile at her. Amelia is the most likable person I've ever met. Well, almost. She definitely ranks up with the top three anyway.

As I watch Logan Munro swagger up the spiral steps, still dressed in his nineteenth-century clothes, I know I've witnessed magic. And miracles.

And I'm so grateful for both.

I mean, I'm in a keep full of once-enchanted fourteenth-century warriors. My once-ghost boyfriend's new home.

Then, in the next instant, Logan rushes back down the stairs. He pulls me into a tight embrace, his mouth to my ear.

"'Mairidh mo ghao gu siorraidh, Ivy Calhoun," he whispers.

I smile at him. "I'll love you forever, too.?

With a grin, he races away.

Somewhere above, several deep laughs break out.

I smile. Grateful doesn't even begin to describe it.