by Amy M. Reade
“I’ll think about it, I promise,” I told her. “I want everything to work out, but I need to be able to trust him. Now I understand how Greer’s been feeling about marrying James. I didn’t realize I had a reason to distrust Seamus, but now that I know he’s been hiding something, it’s hard to move forward.”
“Just don’t make any decisions until you’ve talked to him,” Mum said, her eyes filled with sadness. She and Dad had enjoyed a long and happy marriage before his death years before, and it would be very painful to watch both her daughters’ marriages fail—even if it was a good thing Greer’s marriage to Neill had ended.
When Felix came home later that afternoon, he and Chloe disappeared into the bedroom, no doubt so Chloe could tell him what had happened and to ask if they could extend their holiday.
When they emerged Felix found me in the studio, poring over photographs. “Chloe told me what happened this morning,” he said. “I’m so sorry we weren’t here to help you. I think we should stay longer, at least until Seamus comes home or Alice has been caught.”
I shook my head. “No, Felix. I appreciate your concern, but this is something I need to handle myself. I have to prove to myself that I can. If Seamus leaves for good, I need to know that I’m capable of living on my own, without falling apart or being paralyzed by fear.” I smiled at him. “You and Chloe need to get back to London and stop worrying about me. I’ve promised Mum that I won’t make any rash decisions about my marriage without talking to Seamus, and without serious thought.”
“If you’re sure…” he said. He sounded doubtful.
I gave him a quick hug. “I’m sure. It’s been wonderful having you here, but you have a life to get back to, and if you stayed I would feel so guilty that I couldn’t live with myself.”
“Then we’ll stick with our plan to head back to London in the morning.”
“I’ll miss you both, but that’s the right decision.”
When they left early the next day, I was sad to see them go. Seamus came to say goodbye. He gave Chloe a peck on the cheek and shook hands with Felix.
“Och, I’m so sorry for the way things turned out. I hope I didn’t ruin your holiday,” Seamus told Felix as he glanced at me. I pretended not to notice. “Will you come up again?”
“Of course we will,” Felix assured him. “I hope you two are back under the same roof when we return.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. Seamus gave me a hopeful look, but I turned away to give Chloe a hug.
“Come down to London anytime you want,” she said. “You’re always welcome in our home.”
I wiped away a tiny tear that had made its way into the corner of my eye. Felix and Chloe slid into the hired car, dressed once again in the London idea of country clothes, and left for the train station. Seamus, Mum, and I waved until they were out of sight, then Mum abruptly went into the shop. Seamus lingered after she left.
“It was nice to see them, aye?”
“It was,” I agreed.
“We should go down to London to see them again before too long,” Seamus said.
“Maybe.” I was noncommittal. I didn’t want him think I was making plans with him.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you later.” He gave me a hopeful look, and when I didn’t respond he walked down the drive and toward Eilidh’s house.
Gorse Brae seemed so empty that day. I moped around until closing time, then Mum said she was taking me out for dinner at the pub.
“I don’t really want to go out,” I protested.
“I don’t really care,” she responded. “I’m not going to watch you slink around here all night the way I watched you all day. You need to get out. Come on.” She held the door open as I walked outside, then locked it behind her and checked it by rattling the doorknob.
When Mum and I got to the pub we sat in a booth in the back at my request. A game of darts was in full swing, and when the fellows playing saw me come in, they hailed me over.
“Sylvie! Come take a turn!”
“Nay, I can’t. I’m here to have dinner with my mum,” I replied.
“Of course ye can play,” she exclaimed. “I’d love to watch!”
“Och. All right,” I said with a sigh.
I accepted a dart from one of the men, aimed carefully, and let the dart fly. Bull’s-eye! The men cheered and their wives, sitting nearby, clapped and laughed. I walked over to introduce Mum and to chat for a few minutes. They were full of questions about me and Seamus. I guess word had gotten around that I had kicked him out and that he was staying with Eilidh and Callum.
I was grateful when my turn came around again so I could step away from the women and their nosy questions. I left Mum talking to them while I finished the game, then Mum and I went back to our booth and chatted quietly until our food came.
We hadn’t been eating long when Seamus, Eilidh, and Callum walked into the pub. I saw them immediately and groaned inwardly. This was sure to be awkward. The people who had seen then looked at me, as if expecting some vehement reaction, but I disappointed them and remained silent and still, trying to ignore what was going on.
“Don’t turn around now, but Seamus, Eilidh, and Callum just walked in,” I told Mum in a low voice.
She turned around. “Mum! I told you not to turn around,” I whined.
“Oh. Sorry about that,” she said. Eilidh had seen Mum and she made a beeline for our table. “Sylvie! Aunt Margot! What a surprise to see you here!” Her eyes widened and her smile was broad and toothy.
Eilidh was a wee bit too surprised, though, and suddenly I knew she and Mum had planned this. I glowered at them. “I know what you’re doing,” I almost growled. “And I don’t appreciate it.”
“What?” Mum asked, a picture of innocence.
“I know you two planned this, to get Seamus and me together to talk.”
“Well, now that he’s here you might as well,” Mum said. Eilidh nodded her agreement.
“What if I’m not ready?” I asked.
“You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to,” Mum said. “But if you want to…” She nodded and raised her eyebrows in his direction. He hadn’t even noticed me yet—he and Callum were busy talking to the men playing darts.
Seamus stopped short when he saw me. It was clear he hadn’t been part of Mum and Eilidh’s ambush plan. He stepped forward tentatively.
“I dinnae know you two were here,” he said to Mum, then he turned to me. “Do you want us to leave?”
I hesitated, then replied. “No. Eilidh and Mum arranged this whole thing so you and I would have to talk to each other.”
“You don’t have to,” Mum began, but I stopped her by putting my hand up.
“Maybe it’s a good idea. If we’re in a public place, it might keep us from screaming and getting too out of hand,” I said to Seamus.
Seamus slid into the seat opposite me while Mum joined Eilidh and Callum at a table nearby.
“This is awkward,” Seamus said. “I dinnae have anything to do with their plan.”
“I know. I could tell from your reaction when you saw me sitting here.”
“I’ve missed you,” he said.
“The truth is, I’ve missed you too. But I still don’t know how to handle what’s happened between us.”
“I’m sorry for everything. It’s all my fault,” he said, placing his hands palms-up on the table.
“Actually, I don’t think that’s true. I’ve been thinking about it,” I answered. “There had to be something in my nature that made you want to keep Rose a secret. Maybe I’m too judgmental, too angry, too nagging—I don’t know. But what I do know is this: We both have things to work out before we can move forward.”
He pondered that for a few moments. “Does that mean you don’t want me moving back yet?”
“I’m afraid it does.”
“Because we both have things to work on?”
I nodded. I hated to make him stay away, but I had to do
it to save our marriage. We had problems that we hadn’t even known we had, and we both needed time to examine ourselves.
We ate our meals in silence. I glanced out the corner of my eye to see Mum, Eilidh, and Callum watching us. They would be disappointed, but their plan hadn’t been a total failure. Seamus and I had spoken civilly to each other, without vitriol, and with a view toward making our marriage work. We had both acknowledged fault, and that was a big step. Seamus put his hand over mine before we stood up to join the others. My instinct was to pull my hand away, but I left it where it was.
Mum and I left Eilidh, Callum, and their reluctant houseguest at the front of the pub and took the long way back to Gorse Brae. I thanked her for trying to get Seamus and me to speak to each other and explained why he wasn’t coming home with us. She seemed to understand and was happy that Seamus and I had taken one tentative step toward acting like husband and wife again.
CHAPTER 16
The police were no closer to figuring out who had killed Florian McDermott. They questioned me again, and I heard from Eilidh and Callum that they had questioned Seamus, too. Scotland Yard was apparently still working on the case, we were told, but had requested that the local police reinterview people in Cauld Loch.
Autumn was fast approaching and Eilidh’s job at the potter’s came to an end. The potter hated to let her go, he said, but with a dwindling number of tourists to visit the shop and buy souvenirs, his income was also dwindling. Eilidh had known from the beginning that her job would only be temporary, so she was accepting. She missed it, though, and often visited me in the shop and studio while I worked.
One morning she came in wondering whether Seamus might come to the studio to work.
“Of course he can,” I told her. “This is still his house, and he’s welcome to come over. I just don’t want him here when he’s not working.”
She rang him up and told him. I had been giving more thought to hiring Eilidh as an assistant—her help would be even more appreciated now that Seamus was spending most of his time at her house and I had my own work to do in the studio. The main reason we hadn’t offered her the job after our trip to London had been financial. But now that I knew Seamus had made a great deal more at the Lundenburg, it was time to tell Eilidh the job was hers if she still wanted it. I would tell Seamus later.
“Remember we talked about possibly hiring you when your job at the potter’s ended?” I asked her.
“Yes.”
“Well, if you’re still interested, I’d love to have you come to work here.”
“I’d love to!” she exclaimed. “Is it okay with Seamus?” She looked toward the door as if she expected him to be standing there.
“I haven’t discussed it with Seamus, but believe me, we don’t have to worry about not having the money to hire you. Seamus knows how wonderful it is to have an assistant around here, especially when I’m busy shooting photos or getting them ready to sell. He won’t have any problem with it—trust me.” Seamus knew better than to thwart me on this. The last thing either of us wanted right now was another fight.
“And I have a gift for you,” I said over my shoulder as I walked into the kitchen. Eilidh followed me. “I bought it over a week ago when I was out shopping with Chloe.” I handed her a gift bag with tissue crowding its opening.
“Ooh, this is exciting!” Eilidh said, smiling into the bag. She pulled out a leather pouch and untied the thin strings keeping it closed. “Darts!” she exclaimed. “My own set of darts! Thank you verra much.”
I watched her proudly, pleased that I had made her so happy. “I promised I’d teach you, remember?” I asked.
“I remember. When can we start?”
“Tonight. You and I will go over to the pub and have a throw.”
She hugged me again. “Now Callum won’t be able to laugh at me for being such a terrible dart player.”
I wagged my finger at her. “It will take you some time to learn, so Callum may still laugh. But not for long,” I added with a smile. “Pretty soon you’ll be playing with the best of them.”
She grinned as she examined her new darts more closely. “They’re really quite beautiful,” she said.
“They are,” I agreed. “My set is similar. You can feel the quality—they feel good in your hand.”
She put them aside and turned to me. “Where should I start? You want me to start today, right?”
“Uh, sure. I hadn’t really thought about it. But there’s a lot you can do to help around here. Mum will help, too.” I gave her a list of jobs that would keep the two of them busy for the next three days, then went out to shoot some photos on Cauld Loch. I didn’t want to be around when Seamus came over.
The loch was at its most glorious in the late summer and early fall. The trees lining its banks were beginning to lose their green and gain a tinge of yellow and orange. When the sun was shining and the wind wasn’t blowing, I could see a perfect reflection of the trees in the chilly water that gave the loch its name. An otter family splashed in the water, playing games with each other. I sat quiet and still, watching them until they tired of their activities and swam off. I took as many photos of them as I could, but I didn’t want them to hear the shutter clicking so I used the camera on my mobile phone. I hoped the photos would turn out well. I sat for a bit longer, waiting to see what other animals might appear. I was rewarded with two kestrels and a hawk soaring high above the loch, no doubt searching its cold waters for a meal.
It can be frustrating to be a photographer, as I discovered soon after Seamus gave me that first camera. It can take all day to get a perfect shot—an unlucky photographer could wait many hours for a shot that never comes.
But this day was an anomaly. Shots appeared in front of me—the otters, the kestrels, the hawk. The sun playing on the water was an exquisite backdrop for the birds and the animals. I couldn’t have planned a better time to take the photos. To think I had gone to the loch simply to get away from Seamus.
It was quiet at the loch. The tourists had disappeared, along with the traffic, the noise, and the litter they left behind. I took hundreds of shots. Normally I would be anxious to get back to the studio to see the photos on the computer, but on this day I was content to sit and wait for the photos to reveal themselves to me. My time at the loch gave me a chance to think uninterrupted about Seamus, our marriage, his lies, and my tendency to judge others.
As the sun moved across the sky and the shadows on the water shifted, I decided to move to another spot for a different angle. I packed up my lenses, my tripod, my camera, and my rucksack. Before leaving my spot under an ash tree, I stood up and listened to the sounds around me—the lapping water of the loch, the unseen birds chirping, the leaves rustling in the trees over my head.
But then I heard another sound, like a twig snapping. I stood as still as a statue, straining my ears to hear the sound again. But it didn’t repeat itself. It could have been anything—a fox, a badger, a weasel. Or a person.
When I moved, I did so tentatively. I took a step, then paused, then took another step. No sound. I shifted the rucksack on my back to make it more comfortable, and as I did so I thought I heard the sound again. I looked around but saw nothing. The trees were thick where I stood, so I might not see a person who wanted to remain unseen. I was beginning to feel nervous—if the same thing had happened six months earlier, I wouldn’t have given the noise a second thought. But after the break-in and the visit from Alice, I was easily unnerved. I didn’t want to flee to the safety of Gorse Brae, though, because I wanted to show myself, and any person who might be nearby, that I wasn’t afraid.
So I kept walking. I moved out of the woods and toward the edge of the water—it felt safer to be exposed and visible rather than hidden among the growth of trees. I glanced over my shoulder occasionally as I walked, but I didn’t see anything.
It wasn’t until I found a new place to set up my camera equipment that I heard the sound again. Something—or someone—was following me. I wa
s sure of it. I reached into my back pocket for my mobile phone to call Mum or Eilidh, then realized with a jolt of anxiety that I had no service. I was out here alone, with no way of communicating, and possibly in the sights of someone who meant me harm.
I decided to forget about proving how brave I was. I needed to get home and back among other people. I packed up the camera equipment again, without taking a single photo in the new spot, and started back in the direction from which I’d come.
I hadn’t gone more than twenty steps when I saw a gorgeous red fox standing in front of me. He stared at me in curious wonder, but didn’t run away as I expected him to do. Moving in slow motion, I reached back and gently slid the rucksack off my shoulder. I bent down to unzip the bag and get my camera out. I glanced up to make sure the fox was still there; he was, watching and waiting to see what I would do.
I lifted the camera to my face, squeezed one eye shut, and focused on the fox. Miraculously, he was standing regally still, almost as if he knew I wanted to take his picture. When I had snapped the shutter several times, he took off running through the woods. I smiled in satisfaction, knowing I had gotten some excellent photos. I bent down to put the camera away. Zipping up the bag, I glanced out of the corner of my eye and noticed a pair of boots standing behind me. With a gasp I stood up and wheeled around to face the person.
It was Hagen. He looked different from the last time I had seen him. Now he sported a long, ragged-looking beard, rumpled clothing in camouflage colors of green and brown, and a hat pulled low over his eyes.
“Hagen!” I exclaimed, looking around warily for the quickest escape. “What are you doing here?”
“Hiking,” came the reply.
“But why here?” I could hear the suspicion in my voice. “Why in Cauld Loch?”
“Because I saw what a beautiful place it was when I came up to have a look at that painting, and I wanted to come back and explore. I took a sabbatical from my position at the university to spend some time getting back to nature.”