Free The Parchment Scroll by C. A. Szarek Page B

propped her hands on her hips. “I haven’t seen you in almost three years, and I don’t want to argue with you.” Her words had a slightly Scottish edge, but Jules didn’t focus on that.
    “Three years? I saw you last week.”
    “Maybe in your time, but I’ve been here two and a half years, Jules.”
    Your time.
    The words rocked Jules to her soul. “Claire.” She rested her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “Think about Lachlan. Modern day meds, computers. Hell, even TV. He’ll never know any of that here.”
    “I am thinking about him. How could being raised with technology be better than being with his father?”
    Jules frowned. She didn’t have the balls to retort to that. They’d been raised without either parent, so she didn’t blame her sister for wanting her kid to have both.
    Foster care sucked.
    Her sister’s eyes were kind, not angry, when she met her gaze. “I made a choice. I chose Duncan and the past. My life is here. Duncan and Lachlan are my life.
    She bit down until her teeth ached and her jaw creaked. “I can’t lose you, little sister.”
    “I don’t want to lose you, either. But I’m happy here, Jules. I promise.”
    “Without… everything you know?”
    Claire laughed. “I do miss tampons.”
    Jules swallowed a giggle. “But not antibiotics?”
    Her sister scrunched up her nose, reminding Jules of when they were little. “An epidural woulda been nice.”
    “I bet.” She snorted.
    Claire took a chair and planted it next to her son. She motioned for Jules to join them. “You can always visit, you know. Magic is real and all that.”
    Jules rolled her eyes, but could stop smiling when she sat on the tartan and Lachlan toddled over to her. “I have a feeling this is a one-time trip. Not a fan of the disorientation. Oh, and the naked part.” She took the baby’s hand when he reached for her.
    Claire grinned down and patted her shoulder. “I bet Laird Hugh MacDonald liked that part.”
    She stilled, avoiding her sister’s gaze as her neck burned.
    “I thought so.”
    “ Thought so? What does that mean?” Jules bristled.
    “Juliette Ann McGowan. You. Like. Him.”
    Jules glared at her little sister. “He’s a freakin’ barbarian. Like a real one. I think not. Wait ‘til I tell you what he did to me. Kidnapped me. Carried me around like a sack of potatoes.” She bit her tongue on the kissing and touching—and sharing a bed. Claire would have a field day.
    “You were pissed when the twins were talking crap about him. You shoulda seen the look on your face. I can still read you like a book, big sister.”
    “Was not.”
    Claire threw her head back and laughed. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
    “How seventeenth century of you,” she snapped, which made her sister fall into a fit of giggles.
    Lachlan laughed too, and climbed onto her lap. Jules distracted herself with an armful of adorable baby, but she managed another glare for his mother.
    “I think…” Claire’s chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, “that Shakespeare said that, so it’s more like sixteenth century.”
    “Shut up.”
    Her sister slipped off the chair, kneeling on the tartan and threw her arms around Jules. “God, I missed you.”
    “I missed you too.” Jules stroked her sister’s long hair, sighing against her.
    Lachlan hugged them both with his little arms and they laughed when their eyes met.
    “He likes you,” Claire said. She ran her hand through her son’s curls.
    “Of course, I’m awesome. I’m gonna be his favorite aunt.”
    Her sister smirked, but then her expression sobered. “I cried the day he was born. I thought you’d never see him. I tried to stop, but I couldn’t. I made Duncan feel like crap.” Claire’s green eyes went misty, and Jules kissed her cheek.
    “Well I’ve seen him now, and he’s gorgeous.” Jules stroked her nephew’s dark curls and he smiled, patting her cheek and babbling. She grabbed his little hand and blew