Catriona - Softcover

Baker, Jeanette

3.85

148 ratings by Goodreads

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0671536753 ISBN 13: 9780671536756

Publisher: Pocket, 1997

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Feeling out of place in modern California, Kate Sutherland journeys to her ancestral Scottish home to seek her true heritage, only to become entangled in the life of Catriona Wells, a fifteenth-century woman caught in a passionate battle with Scottish border lord Patrick MacKendrick. Original.

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About the Author:

Jeanette Baker is a high school literature and writing teacher in Mission Viejo, California, where she lives with her husband and two children. She graduated from the University of California at Irvine, and later earned her master's degree in education. In addition to having her own column at a local newspaper, Jeanette is it freelance writer for several magazines. Catriona is her fifth novel. She is currently working on her next novel for Pocket Books.

Chapter One

Salem, Massachusetts, December 1995

So this was Salem. Kate Sutherland looked up at the leaden sky. It was late afternoon, and the air was sharp and heavy with the promise of snow. She breathed in deeply, smelling salt and fish and the gray, cold scent of the sea. Shivering, she pulled her glove off with her teeth and dug down into her coat pocket for the address she had stuffed into it earlier. Smoothing out the crumpled paper, she glanced at the bold writing and looked up, checking the numbers on the small building before her.

Kate frowned. This must be the place, but it certainly wasn't what she had expected. A Cape Cod saltbox with peeling white clapboards, wooden steps and two feet of unshoveled snow around the doorjamb did not reflect the lifestyle of a woman who could afford a high-priced California law firm. Why Celia Ward of Salem would choose Barrett and MacKenzie, a firm on the other side of the country, to handle a simple tax problem was a mystery Kate wasn't paid to question.

But then Lillian had referred this woman to Kate, and Lillian was full of surprises. Kate hadn't wanted the case. She didn't like traveling and New England in winter didn't appeal to her. It wasn't until Lillian Spencer, Kate's therapist, had explained that Celia was a clairvoyant that Kate's interest was piqued. She had never met a clairvoyant. Something inside of her, something emotional and carefully repressed, broke free and demanded attention. Kate had buzzed her secretary, telling her to place an order for a caf� latte from the Express House across the street and to book her on a flight to Massachusetts.

At first she considered Celia Ward and the idea of witchcraft laughable. But Salem, Massachusetts, with its street signs in the shape of witches on broomsticks, its Cotton Mather museum and Nathaniel Hawthorne's House of the Seven Gables, conjured up ghostly images of a time when it wasn't laughable at all.

Kate shivered. She had completely discounted the snow, something easy to do in the seventy-degree comfort of a Southern California winter. She shivered again, chastising herself for the wild goose chase that had led her to the coast of Massachusetts in the windchill of late December.

She hesitated in front of the door. It was nearly Christmas, and last-minute shoppers, breathless and red-cheeked, hurried down the narrow streets to lighted doorways and apple-log fires. Pine wreaths decorated the doors, and windows were glazed with flocking and holiday greetings. Kate expelled her breath in a cloud of mist. Why was she so reluctant to meet the woman now that she was actually here? Her plane left Logan Airport at nine the next morning. It was now or never. She resolutely pulled the bell.

A cheery voice called out, "Come in."

Wiping the snow from her boots, Kate stepped inside and looked around. A counter reminiscent of a fifties' diner ran the entire length of the room. Glass jars of every shape and size filled with powders, liquids, shells, flakes and feathers were side by side. Dried herbs hung from the open-beamed ceiling and chintz-covered pillows beckoned invitingly from two loveseats in the comer. A fire blazed in the fireplace, and a long-haired white cat slept on a braided rug in front of the hearth.

On her knees, rummaging in the drawer of an antique dresser, was a small woman wearing jeans and an enormous red sweatshirt. Her profile -- all Kate could see from her place near the door -- revealed a tip-tilted nose, round metal-framed glasses and the longest blond braid she had ever seen on an adult woman. The woman looked up and grinned. "Have a seat."

She wasn't as young as Kate had first thought. Despite the braid, the youthful clothing and unlined skin, there was something about the woman's eyes that spoke of experience, wisdom and a deep, unshakable compassion.

Kate smiled tentatively, walked across the room to the loveseat and sat down. If this was Lillian's witch, there was certainly nothing intimidating about her. "Are you Celia Ward?" she asked.

"In the flesh," the blonde replied, standing up, flipping the braid over her shoulder and closing the drawer with her foot. "What can I do for you?"

Kate hesitated. For a moment it seemed as if their roles were reversed and Celia Ward really could do something for her. She shook off the feeling and stretched out her hand. "I'm Kate Sutherland, the attorney from Barrett and MacKenzie. We have an appointment. I'm sorry that I didn't call from the airport."

"Oh yes. Kate Sutherland." Celia's forehead wrinkled as she shook Kate's hand. "You look very familiar to me. Have we met before?"

Kate shook her head. "I don't think so. I rarely come to Boston."

Celia Ward stared into the wide, expressionless eyes of the woman before her. She really was quite lovely, decided Celia, or she would be without that tight took drawing down her face. Kate Sutherland exuded a dignified sort of beauty, the kind that came from long bones and straight teeth and thick, shining hair.

"I'll make some tea," Celia said softly, rising to her feet, "and then I'll explain my legal problem. There's no hurry. Take off your coat and relax."

Gratefully, Kate shed her coat and gloves and leaned back against the pillows. She had what was left of the day and night. The fire was pleasant, the woman friendly. Maybe this anxiety she felt was nothing at all.

Celia returned with a tea tray, china teapot, matching cream and sugar bowl, two delicate porcelain cups and sterling-silver teaspoons. "I normally use mugs," she explained, positioning the tray on the floor beside the loveseat, "but you look like the cup-and-saucer type."

Kate picked up a cup, refusing lemon and sugar, and cut to the quick. "What kind of legal troubles are you having, Ms. Ward?"

Celia stirred milk into her teacup and sipped it. "I'm a member of the Wicca religion. The word means 'wise one.' We follow the practices of the ancient Druids. The government has audited me and decided that I owe nearly fifty thousand dollars in back taxes."

Kate's voice was firm, crisp. "Do you have receipts, check stubs, a log?"

"I have everything," Celia insisted. "it isn't a question of proving expenses. The problem is the Internal Revenue Service has decided that I'm not a legitimate business."

"You don't have to be. The law clearly states that expenses for the purpose of maintaining and upholding religious institutions are deductible. You are a religious institution, aren't you?"

"Yes, we are," Celia said softly, "one of the oldest religions in the world, with a great many practitioners."

Kate rubbed the delicate edge of her cup with the tip of her finger. "You're not what I imagined."

Blue eyes twinkled back at her. "What did you expect? A black robe and a broomstick?"

For the first time, Kate laughed, liked the sound and laughed again. "Not exactly. I did think you'd be more mysterious, maybe a little frightening, certainly older."

Celia Ward looked down at her tea. When she looked up again, there was nothing of warmth or sympathy in her eyes. "I can be frightening, Kate," she said quietly. "But not today and not to you. Now, tell me why Lillian Spencer sent you to me."

"To help you with your tax problem. Why else?"

Celia shook her head. "I don't think so. I don't have the Sight, but I know Lillian. Your being here is no accident. Lillian knows a lot of lawyers -- there are several firms that have offices in Los Angeles and Boston besides Barrett and MacKenzie. There's no logic in asking you to fly all the way out from Los Angeles unless she had a specific reason."

"Federal problems have no jurisdiction and I am licensed to practice in Massachusetts," Kate explained. "Besides, I'm only here to advise you on your case. If, after reviewing the facts, I think you have one, I can refer you to a litigations

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