III

Getting to Seacouver took them half a day, with two stops. The first was a quick stop at that fast food restaurant with the yellow M, as Rachel called it, for some hamburgers. She wanted to try how they tasted now. She had avoided them, fearful that her kidney would explode, but now that she knew she would not die of it, she decided to give it a go. Duncan went for them and as he queued, he thought about his two companions.

Connor seemed better. That gloominess that had taken over him seemed at bay, at least for the time being. Rachel seemed to have accepted it. Duncan knew it was temporary. Panic would overcome her again, especially if another immortal turned up. Connor and him would have to try and keep her in a good mood. That would not be that difficult.

He returned to the Porsche, with two paper bags with six hamburgers in each. Connor ate three, Duncan another three, and Rachel devoured the other six. Duncan did not remember that appetite increased after the awakening to immortality. But he had been concerned with other matters by then. So had Connor. He returned to his car and they carried on.

They stopped a couple of hours later to have a drink. This time, it was Connor went and bought three bottles of Coke. He returned. Duncan was sitting on the hood of the Porsche. The younger one put his hands together, extended them horizontally and put his left ear over them. Connor understood. Rachel had fallen asleep.

"This is too much for her."

"I know, Connor." Duncan said, suddenly startled by a memory of the past.

"You were right."

"About?"

"That Irish woman, Kate."

"Kate..." Duncan looked away, wondering how Connor had known what he was thinking. A flash of a beautiful brown-haired woman visited his head. "It's different, Connor."

"Really?" The elder one's voice was breaking.

"Yes. I had the chance to let her go and blew it. You didn't."

"I could..."

"What!" Duncan snapped. "What were you going to do? Toss her in the first orphanage and say 'Sorry lass, we spent four years together, but you will become immortal so I don't want you around!' "

"I could have explained her... even..."

"Kill her when she was in the flower of her youth? Thank God you didn't." Duncan put his hand on Connor's shoulder. "You did well, my friend. Very well. What happened was not your fault."

"I'm not that sure. Explosions like that... "

"You think it was one of us?"

"I sensed a presence. Very briefly. It was oddly familiar but I can't figure out who it was."

Duncan thought. "Back in the morgue, the presence we felt. It was a young, dark-haired man. I thought it was someone passing by." Connor felt stung by something. He hardened his face. He stood up and began to fidget. "What is it?"

"It's... nothing."

"Don't start with that again, Connor."

"Look at her, Duncan." Connor was gazing at his daughter, deeply asleep in the backseat of the Porsche. "I wonder what she's dreaming..."

-----

1954. Rachel Ellinstein, a woman in her early twenties, with ample hips and plump stomach, was silently passing the pages of Jane Austen's "Emma" by the porch of the house he shared with his adoptive father, under the pale moonlight and a small electric light. She raised her eyes when she heard someone whistling complimentarily at her. A young, dark-haired man, with a tender face, wearing a green shirt and a pair of black trousers standing near a row of tall bushes in the dark motioned at her. She beamed and approached.

They kissed deeply. His hands began to slide under the dress she wore, caressing her hips. She giggled. Now his hands were on her buttocks. She began to undo the buttons of his shirt. When all were undone, he took it off. She felt his hands removing her panties and chuckled. They lay on the grass as she undid the button of his trousers and pulled down the zipper, revealing his brown and swollen underwear. They fondled each other as he lay over her. She began to pull down his trousers, and she felt his cold hands caressing her breasts. She removed his trousers and let him go inside of her.

"Oliver." She moaned as he pushed lightly against her. He was soft at first, then he went wild, and began thrusting inside her. He gasped as he did so and she replied in like. She moaned again, this time louder. Suddenly he stopped, got out of her and began to dress. "What is it?" Rachel asked puzzled.

"I... I have to go, baby."

"Why?" She did not understand. They had been together for six months. They had started having relations a month and a half ago. An introduction to each other's parents was due. It was not that he did not care for her, or that the place was inappropriate. They had done it twice there already. It was something... she could not guess what it was.

Already dressed up, he leant in to kiss her and began his way out. He stopped short. She looked above the bushes and spotted her adoptive father, Connor MacLeod, standing nearby, his eyes fixed on Oliver. His eyes travelled from him to her, and when he noticed her, Connor looked devastated, as if a truck had just ran him over. Rachel reddened as she began to dress. The other's eyes had returned to Oliver and were studying him intently.

"Sir, let me explain this..."

"Explain what? You were getting laid with my daughter." Connor replied hardly.

"Connor..." Rachel joined, her hair a mess and her dress creased. "I..."

"Who is this, Rachel?" he demanded sternly.

"Oliver MacLeod, sir." He introduced himself. "My intentions with your daughter are serious."

"MacLeod?" Connor's face relaxed a bit. "From the clan MacLeod?"

"No, sir." Oliver loosened too. "Not directly at least. I was born here."

"And how long ago was that?" he remarked the "ago".

"1929, sir. The day of the Crash."

"Connor, remember I told you I wanted you to meet someone?"

"You never told me it was someone you were... fornicating with!"

"And I shouldn't. I wanted you to know him not only because I love him, also because... he is a MacLeod like you."

"A MacLeod, sir? An unexpected surprise." Oliver broke in. Connor glared at him.

"I'm Connor MacLeod." He offered his hand, evidently out of mere courtesy. Oliver shook it gladly.

"Connor MacLeod? Like the legendary Highlander... that was banished and returned later to avenge his father?"

"Heh-heh." Connor laughed. Rachel guessed that he must have felt amused by the mistake Oliver had just made, though he surely wanted to kill him with his bare hands. "No, that was Duncan."

"You are right." Oliver said. "Connor MacLeod was the one that was wounded by the golden giant."

"Let's go inside, Rachel." Connor cut off the conversation.

"It's been a pleasure, sir. Despite the circumstances." Oliver said respectfully and kindly, offering his hand.

"I wish I could say the same." The Highlander grunted as he left Oliver's hand hanging in the air and motioned Rachel inside. The young suitor glanced at her with a trace of disappointment, and another of brokenheartedness. Then he went away.

"That was mean, Connor." Rachel protested. "He is a fine boy."

"You will not see him anymore." Connor commanded. "And that's final."

"But..."

"But nothing, Rachel. Go to your room."

"Connor..." she insisted, her eyes shedding tears.

"Go to your room!" he bellowed, to which she obeyed, running inside.