Doon

She searched my face as if waiting for a punch line. “Hungry, maybe … do you feel something?”

“Ah, well no, of course not. It just feels—you know—heavy.” I turned my attention to the envelope, checking to make sure that was all it contained.

Slowly, I looked up to find my friend biting at her lower lip as she battled her emotions. She reached toward the folded sheet of paper lying on the floor and then snatched her hand back like she’d been burned. “The letter from my aunt. Will you read it, please?”

I took the worn stationery and searched Kenna’s face. Unshed tears filled her eyes, giving them a silvery shine. “Sure.” An odd combination of trepidation and expectancy sent my already jittery nerves tingling as I opened the letter and began to read aloud.

My Dearest Mackenna,

At the time I write this, another chapter of my life is drawing to a close. Once again, my beloved Cameron calls to me. And I long to be reunited with him. This time, forever.

I paused and glanced at my friend. She stared at the floor, making it impossible to read her emotions.

As I scanned the next line of the letter, the paper began to shake in my fingers. Propping my elbows on my knees, I pressed on, relieved there was only a slight tremor in my voice.

I am one hundred and fifty-one years old and have lived a long, happy life full of love and purpose. My only regret, dearest Mackenna, is that I must convey your legacy in writing—for I would rather share this with you in person.

Remember the stories I used to tell you as a child? I pray, my dear, that your heart is still open to extraordinary tales, because I am about to tell you the most miraculous one of them all.

In 1882, at the age of nineteen, I finished my studies, and had just accepted a position as a governess in Glasgow when the visions began. I was haunted by a boy with black hair and whimsical gray eyes. He called to me from the Brig o’ Doon.

My stomach catapulted into my throat. She had visions too?

Although I had not intended to detour on my way north, I felt drawn to the small village of Alloway. Along the journey, I stumbled upon an antique ruby ring in a curiosity shoppe and spent most of my meager traveling allowance to purchase it. From the moment I slipped it on my finger, I felt a sense of urgency and purpose.

I glanced at the ruby ring on my finger and then up at my best friend. She sat motionless, staring into the shadows.

The minute I laid eyes on the Brig o’ Doon, my feet moved as if they had wings. I burned with the need to cross to the other side. As I reached the center of the auld brig, my ring began to glow.

On the far bank, the boy I’d been dreaming of stepped from the mists, his silver and emerald ring glowing in answer to mine. Behind him stood a glorious castle that grew sharper with each step. The ring had led me to Doon—a beautiful kingdom outside of time and place—where Cameron, my true love, waited. We were married that same day.

Cam and I spent twenty bliss-filled years in his kingdom before destiny led us back across the Brig o’ Doon. Strangely, the world I remembered was gone. Over eighty years had passed on this side of the portal. The year was 1960.

Eventually, I was able to track my sister’s descendants to America and reconnect with my only living relatives. I shared my secret with your mother when she turned eighteen, but her future lay elsewhere. Now I leave the legacy of Doon to your keeping, dearest Mackenna. The kingdom is your destiny, if you are courageous enough to embrace it.

All my love,

Aunt Gracie

The rain had stopped, plunging us in a shroud of silence as Kenna stared into her hands. Her mouth opened and closed but formed no discernible words. Unsure of what to say, I set the letter down and asked, “What do you think?”

She shrugged and twisted the emerald ring on her finger, her lips pursed and trembling.

I searched her profile and tried to put myself in her place. As far as I knew, she hadn’t experienced any visions of her own, but surely she couldn’t dismiss the words of the woman she’d known better than her own mother. When I spoke, it came out as a whisper. “This is all pretty extraordinary—don’t you think so?”

“My aunt was always making up stories for me … Pretending they were real. I guess she wanted to leave me with one last fantastical tale.”

“It doesn’t sound like a made-up story. Don’t you think it lines up perfectly with what Alasdair told us at the pub?”

“He probably heard it from her.” Beads of sweat dotted Kenna’s forehead and upper lip.

“Maybe your aunt’s journal would help clarify things? We could read it together.”

“Just stop.” She held up her hand, her eyes clamped shut.

I didn’t tell her that I’d skimmed the first several pages—mostly genealogies, and family trees—while she’d been in the shower, or that I was already plotting to examine it again after she fell asleep. It would be so much easier if I could study the journal without the secrecy. I didn’t want to lie to her. Maybe if she knew how similar my visions were to what Gracie and Cameron experienced, and if I showed her the sketch … “What if I could prove —”

“No—enough. I thought she just made those stories up for me, but apparently she went around telling the whole village she came from another planet.” Kenna shook her head like a child who thought if she plugged her ears and closed her eyes she’d become invisible. Suddenly she sprang to her feet. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

As I listened to her retreating footsteps, I decided not to go after her. Maybe once she decompressed, she’d be more receptive to what I had to say. Plus, that would give me time to go through her aunt’s things and find more proof. I carefully gathered the rest of Gracie’s papers and tucked them inside the envelope.

My heart broke for Kenna and the confusion she must be feeling, but as far as I was concerned there was no doubt left in my mind. When I’d slipped on the ring, it was like a window opening to another world. I could see it and feel it, almost touch it. Despite past disappointments, I wanted the fairy tale—handsome prince and all. And if I didn’t do everything within my power to find this magical place, this kingdom of Doon, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.

CHAPTER 6 Mackenna

Without conscious thought as to where I was going, I stormed into my bedroom, the door slamming in my wake. The walls trembled as my entrance dislodged a set of costume butterfly wings from an overstuffed shelf. The delicate keepsake spiraled to the floor in a gossamer swirl of silver, orange, and bright blue.

My first visit to Alloway had been sheer magic. Like something from Mame. My wonderfully strange, larger-than-life aunt converted her dining room into a stage, and we spent the entire summer cocooned in a world of make-believe—creating gorgeous sets and costumes to accompany our scripted stories of Scottish lore. I emerged from that summer a new creature; a confident, creative butterfly with an incurable obsession for theater.

Now, I resisted the urge to stomp the memento of my metamorphosis into shreds as I questioned whether Gracie’s passion had been tinged with madness all along. Maybe I’d just been too young to realize the most influential person in my life was really the village wacko who believed her jewelry opened the mystical portal to a hidden kingdom.

The part of me that loved my aunt could’ve forgiven her—except that she’d infected Vee with her