by Amy M. Reade
“I don’t want to.”
“Do you think he’ll just open up and tell you everything on his own?”
“No.”
“I hate to see you like this. You’re unhappy, he seems unhappy. You’re not the same couple you were. Do you want Felix to talk to him?”
“No. I can’t ask someone else to do my dirty work. I’ll deal with it myself. I’ve just been putting it off because I’m afraid of what he’s going to say.”
“Whatever he says, you have a lot of friends and family who are behind you. We’ll all help you if you need it.”
I smiled sadly. “Thanks.”
She was right, as Greer had been right, as James had been right. Seamus and I couldn’t go on pretending we were happily married when he had a secret that was threatening to pull us apart. I had to talk to him.
A few nights before Felix and Chloe were to return to London, they went into Edinburgh for dinner by themselves. It was my chance to confront Seamus with an ultimatum: Either tell me the truth about the money and what happened to it, or risk losing everything we had together.
I asked Eilidh to invite Mum for dinner so she wouldn’t have to witness the melee.
After I put dinner on the table, we sat down to eat. Seamus picked up his fork, but before he could eat his first bite, I stopped him.
“Seamus, we can’t go on like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like this. Pretending we’re happy. Pretending you don’t have a secret you’re refusing to share with me. I have to know what it is you’re hiding.”
He put his fork down with an exaggerated sigh. “It’s probably time you found out.”
CHAPTER 13
“Found out what?” I asked. My throat was beginning to constrict. I put my fork down so he couldn’t see my hand trembling.
“You know I was in prison,” he began.
“Yes. That’s not a secret.”
“That’s true. But what you don’t know is what happened in the years before I went to prison.” He paused.
“Yes?” I prompted.
He didn’t say anything. He seemed to be searching for the right words. His mouth opened and shut twice as if he was going to speak, but no words came out.
“Seamus, tell me. What could be worse than you going to prison?”
“The fact that I was married before that.”
I felt like a bomb had dropped on our kitchen. Silence rang through the house. Surely I had heard him wrong.
“I don’t understand,” I said. I truly didn’t.
“I was married for a short time to a woman from Glasgow. Her name is Rose.”
“I can’t believe this! You were married? How come you didn’t tell me? How could you think I didn’t deserve to know about this? What other secrets are you hiding?” I was screeching.
“I’m sorry, love,” he said.
“Don’t you dare call me ‘love,’” I seethed.
“But I love you—”
“How can you possibly love me?” I yelled. And suddenly I reached the obvious conclusion about the missing money.
“Did you give Rose the money you made at the Lundenburg?” I asked, gesticulating toward the studio.
He hung his head. He didn’t have to answer—I knew where the money had gone.
“This cannae be happening,” I said, half to myself.
“Please, Sylvie, let me explain.”
“What’s there to explain? You gave forty-five thousand pounds to a woman you were once married to and left us with fifteen thousand. It’s perfectly simple,” I sneered.
“But you don’t know why I did it,” he said, opening his palms toward me in supplication.
“I don’t care why you did it. What’s important is that you did it, and that you didn’t tell me about Rose in the first place. How could you do this?!” My voice had risen an octave, and I was sure the neighbors could hear. I didn’t care.
“Rose is sick. Very sick.”
“So what?”
“Have some compassion, Sylvie.”
“What?!” I shrieked. “You’re asking me to have compassion? How dare you!”
“She’s dying. She’s in a care home and she has no money. She was destitute when she left me. We didn’t have any money when we were married, neither of us had a good job. She began to run up bills—lots of them. When she was diagnosed, shopping became her therapy. She would open one credit card after another, run them up, and then couldn’t pay. She asked me for a loan to invest in some scheme. Like an idiot I loaned her the money, then she lost it all.”
“That’s her problem, Seamus.”
“I know, but I feel a responsibility for her. After she left me I met you and went on to be happy and successful, and I feel guilty about leaving her in the darkness behind me.”
“How often do you hear from her? Where does she live?”
He looked down at his food, as if searching for an answer. “In Edinburgh.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Seamus.”
“I’m not. I sometimes visit her when we go in for the day.”
I pushed myself away from the table. I couldn’t bear to eat a bite. “You make me sick,” I told him. “I want you to get out.”
“Sylvie, don’t say that. I’m sorry for everything.”
“Get out. And please tell me what on earth she needed forty-five thousand pounds for.”
“I paid off the mortgage on her house,” he said in a whisper.
I could only shake my head.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“I couldnae care less how sorry you are. Now please, get away from me.”
When Mum returned that evening after a lovely meal with Eilidh and Callum, Seamus was packing a bag in the bedroom. I told her what had transpired in her absence.
“Och, Sylvie, I’m so verra sorry. Where’s he going to go?”
“I dinnae know and I dinnae care.”
“It’ll be good for you two to have some time apart.”
“If I ever see him again it’ll be too soon,” I said, gritting my teeth.
He came out of the bedroom with a stuffed duffel bag. He looked at Mum, the woman who was like a mother to him. “I’m sorry about everything. I didn’t mean to hurt you or Sylvie. I’m sorry.”
Mum just gave him a sad smile.
I opened the kitchen door and waited for him to leave. His eyes caught mine before he walked out the door, but I looked away. He had no idea the pain he had caused me. I shut the door behind him and watched him walk down the drive. When he didn’t get in the car, I knew he would be spending the night with Eilidh and Callum.
When Felix and Chloe returned from their romantic dinner in Edinburgh, they were shocked that Seamus had left—and even more shocked when I told them the reason.
Chloe put her arms around me. “This is my fault,” she said, tears in her eyes. “I shouldn’t have encouraged you to talk to him.”
“It’s most certainly not your fault,” I replied. “The fault lies entirely with Seamus. You just gave me the nerve I needed to confront him. He’s been lying for too long. Honestly, I don’t know how he’s been living with himself, the deceitful clod.”
“Maybe I can talk to him,” Felix suggested.
“And say what?” I asked. “Tell him he shouldn’t have done something so stupid? Advise him to apologize? He already knows, and he’s already apologized. Many times. Nothing is going to solve this problem.” I said flatly.
I cried myself to sleep that night, embarrassed, ashamed, and sorry for myself and for a marriage that had failed.
CHAPTER 14
I woke up the next morning to a sunny day. I grimaced as I pulled up the covers and turned away from the window. But as the pain in my head slowly increased from dull to sharp to throbbing and insistent, I grudgingly got out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen for tea. Mum was already up and sitting at the table with Chloe. They stopped talking when they saw me.
“I made tea,” Mum said. She knew better than
to ask how I had slept or how I was doing.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
“Are you coming into the shop today?” she asked.
“I dinnae know. It depends on what Felix and Chloe want to do,” I answered.
“I think we’ll head back to London,” Chloe said. “I don’t think this is a good time for us to be here.”
“Oh, no. Please don’t leave now. Stay a couple more days. I’ll feel terrible if you leave because of me and Seamus.”
Mum looked at Chloe. “I think you and Felix could help Sylvie pass the time if you stayed for a bit longer. You can all go hiking or for a drive. Help take her mind off things.”
Chloe looked up at me. “What do you think?”
“I’m not sure you could take my mind off Seamus, but it would be nice to have someone to spend the hours with. Mum, can you stay here and mind the shop? Chloe and Felix and I could go up to Speyside. Maybe they’d like to see the whisky trail.”
“That sounds fun. I could use some whisky,” Chloe said with a smile.
“You go and try to have a good time,” Mum said, standing up and giving me a hug. I barely had the energy to return her embrace. “Now eat a good, big breakfast and get out there. Your headache will get better and so will your mood, once you have some food and do a whisky tasting.”
How did she know I had a headache? Mum knew everything.
Mum went to her room and came back carrying her handbag. She handed a wad of bills to Chloe. “Take this and the three of you go out for breakfast. My treat.”
“Mum, I can afford breakfast,” I told her.
“No,” she insisted. “My treat. Now shoo.”
I smiled my thanks. I swallowed two headache tablets at the sink and turned to Chloe. “You heard Mum, tell Felix to get out here and let’s go,” I said, forcing a cheerful note in my voice.
Chloe looked at me with sad eyes and smiled. “All right. I’ll get him. Do you mind driving, at least as far as a restaurant? Then you give directions and Felix will drive the rest of the day. You and I can have a good long day on the whisky trail.”
It sounded good to me.
Though I’m sure all three of us feared that I would have a breakdown at any moment, it didn’t happen. Felix and Chloe kept me talking all through breakfast, then they chatted during the entire drive to our first distillery. At the distillery our tour guide took over; Felix and Chloe were probably thankful to let him do all the talking for an hour. Then we enjoyed a tasting, bought a bottle of the smooth golden liquid, and went on to our next stop.
We visited quite a few distilleries that day—I lost count after six. Felix only had one or two small tastes and seemed content to be the designated driver. Both Chloe and I were a wee bit sozzled by the end of the day. But I was smiling, and that was exactly what I needed.
Chloe and I burst through the kitchen door when we got home. Mum was stirring something on the stove and turned around, startled, then laughed. Felix came in behind us, shaking his head and smiling.
“Had fun, did ye?” asked Mum.
I collapsed on a chair and started laughing. “Mum, a day of distillery tours was just what the doctor ordered.”
Chloe sat down next to me. “It sure was. We had a wonderful time.”
“What did you do today?” I asked Mum.
“I just worked in the shop. Not too many customers today.”
The question I wanted to ask hung in the air between us. Chloe looked from me to Mum and back to me.
“Did he come by?” I asked.
Mum shook her head. “I think he’s wise to give you some time.”
“I wonder if he’s painting over at Eilidh’s.”
My mention of Seamus had cast a pall over the gaiety in the room. It was a sudden letdown after a day spent keeping my mind off him, but I suppose it had to happen. I couldn’t go forever without thinking or talking about him.
As the effects of the whisky wore off, I realized how tired I was. I bid everyone an early good night and was drifting off when my mobile phone buzzed. It was Seamus.
Missed you today. R U Ok?
I didn’t want to answer. I wanted to forget all about him. But if I didn’t answer his text I wouldn’t be able to sleep.
I’m fine.
What did you do today?
Went to Speyside with Felix & Chloe. Distillery tours.
Sounds fun. Wish I could have gone.
I was glad he hadn’t gone, so I didn’t respond further. He didn’t, either. I had a perverse desire to know how he had spent his day. I could call Eilidh, but I was afraid he’d hear her talking to me or worse, that she would share our conversation with him. I was never sure about Eilidh’s common sense—she might not realize when a conversation was meant to be kept private.
I fell into an uneasy sleep. Whisky often had that effect on me. I’d paid for my day of no responsibility with a night of insecurity, indecision, sorrow, and little sound sleep.
I was grumpy when I woke up. Chloe was in the kitchen, nursing a hangover, she said. I almost wished I had a hangover—at least then I would have a better excuse for being a grouch.
Felix and Chloe would be returning to London the following day. My stomach twisted just thinking about their departure. They and Mum were keeping me from going mad with anger, sadness, and anxiety, though Mum couldn’t stay forever, either. At some point I was going to have to grow up and face my problems on my own, without the crutch of houseguests to keep my mind and body occupied.
Chloe wanted to spend the day shopping in Cauld Loch and the nearby villages for souvenirs to take back to London. She wanted something to remind her of the most wonderful holiday she’d had in years, she said. Rather than showing her my favorite shops, I told her to take my car and explore to find her own favorites. I told Mum to take the day off, too. I wanted to spend the day working on my photos and getting back into the habit of taking care of things in our shop and gallery. Felix left in his hired car to do a last bit of exploring, so I was left at home by myself.
I wandered into the shop before opening the door to any customers. Running my fingertips along some of the pieces of artwork I’d grown used to seeing, I thought about Seamus and our marriage. I was afraid of what the future held. I went into the studio and glanced around at all my husband’s paintings on the walls. There were several unfinished paintings on easels, stacked against each other on the floor and his table.
My eyes rested on his table. Looking over my shoulder though the doors were locked and no customers waited outside, I walked over to the table and pulled out the top drawer. I rifled through papers, newspaper clippings, and business detritus looking for…I didn’t know what I was looking for.
There was nothing of interest in the top drawer, so I looked through the other three. I found art supplies, a get-well card he had received from Greer and James a year prior, two books on impressionist painting, and, on the bottom of the drawer, a letter. Ignoring the twinge of conscience I felt, I slid my finger under the flap and read the single sheet of paper that was inside:
Seamus,
I’m ashamed to write this, but I’m asking for a bit of help with my bills again. I invested in a company that turned out to be a scam, and I’ve lost everything. The people who convinced me to invest are gone. Can’t find them anywhere. They took my money with them. I’ve gotten behind on my house payments and my credit cards. The bank is saying they’re going to repossess the house. I don’t know where I’ll go if that happens. You don’t owe me anything and I know you don’t like to help me because you have a new life now, but if you don’t I don’t know what I’m going to do. Please, for the sake of our old friendship, please help me.
Rose
I read and reread the letter, trying to imagine what Rose looked like. Seamus had said she was sick—her handwriting was spidery, like that of someone who couldn’t hold a pen firmly. My heart went out to her, despite my feelings of anger and pain. She was probably hurting far worse than I.
It
wasn’t her fault that Seamus had lied to me.
I put the letter back into the envelope and closed the flap. I placed it back where I had found it and put all the other items from the drawer back on top of it. Strangely, I felt calmer after reading the note from Rose. I suppose in the back of my mind I had worried that Seamus still had feelings for her, but somehow the note reassured me. At this point their relationship was nothing more than that of old friends. And one of the friends needed help.
But that didn’t excuse Seamus deceiving me for years, letting me think that I was his first wife. I grimaced.
My mobile phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID. Seamus.
I turned off the ringer and set the phone on my own work table, then went through the shop and unlocked the door. I didn’t see anyone outside, but as soon as I turned around the bell above the door tinkled. I turned back and was shocked to see Alice standing in the doorway.
“Alice!” I cried. “How are you?”
But before I even got the words out I knew something was wrong. I knew Alice had been hiding somewhere near the front of the shop, waiting to come inside.
She stepped in and closed the door behind her, then reached for the lock and clicked it. She was standing between me and the door. Something told me that if I tried to get around her to unlock the door, I would be sorry.
“What can I do for you, Alice?” I could hear the quaver in my voice. How I wished I had answered Seamus’s call.
“You can start by telling me where the painting is,” she said in a low voice.
I was trying to stall for time, to figure out how to get away from her. To get help. “What painting?” I asked.
“You know what painting, Sylvie. Please don’t act stupid,” she answered with a sneer.
“The Leitch? We don’t know where it is. We’ve been hoping the police will find it when they figure out who killed Florian.”
“You’re not telling the truth, Sylvie. What happened to the naïve little girl I had lunch with in London? She always told the truth.”
“I thought we were friends, Alice. Why are you doing this?”
“You assumed we were friends. We were never friends.”
“Why did you follow me to Westminster Abbey?”