Hanging in limbo was agonizing. I wished the whole thing would end, and I could take the cut fast and clean rather than have my heart shredded by a dull blade a little at a time. I had thought learning John was going to exercise his option to buy me out was the worst part of the waiting. No, the worst part was waiting for him to take possession.
At least one thing had gone in my favor. If someone had overheard me tell Henry about the pregnancy in the steading, that person hadn’t spread it around. If Maggie hadn’t said anything to me, surely no one in the area knew. Anna couldn’t have had a clue.
“Well, get out of this terribly dreich weather, chuck those wet boots off, and let’s cozy up by the fire. We need to have a proper catch up.”
I complied without hesitation, not bothering to annoy Anna by offering to help her in the kitchen. Anna had things she wanted to share with me about my family, she had said when she invited me for lunch on a day John and Ben would be elsewhere. I was glad for the chance to learn more about my father and the MacKinnons.
Anna came through the sitting room door with a tray full of hot tea and biscuits. Sitting by the fire talking with Anna was the perfect way to spend the soggy afternoon.
“I brought the photo scrap book you gave me at Christmas.” I pulled the book from my waterproof pack and set it on the coffee table.
“Yes, let me take a look at that. I need to remember the photos I put in there.”
I slid the book in Anna’s direction and scooted close to view its contents together. She flipped back and forth through the pages and stopped at a photo of two young men and a young woman.
“Your father, John, and I.” Her hand smoothed over the photo. “We spent most of our time together, the three of us. The John you know, he was different then. We all were. My parents thought John was the man for me. Although I cared for him, Gerard and I had fallen in love—but we kept it a secret.” She didn’t look up to see my mouth hanging open in surprise and plunged on with her story. “Your father wanted to go to America and my parents knew this. They disapproved of him abandoning his roots and way of life, as they put it. He asked me to marry him and I said yes, and we made plans to leave, to sneak away.”
Even though it was irrational, I wished it could have somehow been true; I wished that she had gone with my father and married him. They could have been my parents, and we could have been a happy family. Gerard might still be alive. How could she not follow the man she loved?
“But you didn’t leave with him. What happened?”
Her eyes grew damp. “My father found out—I suspected John of telling him—and was furious. He told me I was cut off if I left with Gerard and not to come back. He vowed to make it his mission to bring pressure on Helen and Angus and make it hard for them. It wouldn’t have been too difficult for him to achieve. He had influence and power back then. My father’s mean, stubborn streak was legendary. He wasn’t one to change his mind.”
Anna’s description brought an image of John to the front of my mind. I laid my hand on her arm, pained by the depth of her loss. Although her body hadn’t followed Gerard, her heart clearly had. “That sounds like such an impossible choice. How did you ever go on to marry John after something like that?”
“When Gerard found out about my father’s position, he wouldn’t take me with him, away from my family and my home. He wouldn’t put his parents at risk, either. And I agreed for their sake. John asked my father for my hand and received my father’s blessing. I didn’t have to marry him, but it seemed like the next best thing, the right thing, given that the man I loved would never be mine.”
Her eyes clouded for a moment, then her face brightened. “The boys came along and they brought John and me closer together. I formed a life out of the decisions I made and the circumstances I had. To think things are unfair leaves us bitter. We must do our best with our one life, however it comes.”
Even though I understood this was not her intention, her words chastened me. “I wish I had your perspective. I feel life wasn’t fair and things happened that, as much as I try, I can’t shake. They haunt me and make it hard for me to live more . . . free-spirited, I guess. I want to be open and take life as it comes, but my instincts were formed differently or something. It takes nearly all I have in me to do something risky, like moving here.”
Her gorgeous smile washed over me, the kind of healing smile that can only be borne from a heart that loves as purely as it can be done. “You’ve made a fine job of putting your life together. I don’t know all that you have lived through, but enough to know it hasn’t been easy. And you’re right about the past haunting us. It leaves wounds that never heal completely, but what has helped me is to accept the pain, which isn’t the same as accepting what happened. Somehow that keeps the bitterness at bay.”
“I think it’s too late for me. My thoughts are pretty dark sometimes, and my head is a mess most of the time.”
“Every single person has loads of darkness. Some only see that part of themselves and feel they aren’t worthy of love or happiness in their lives. Others act as if they have no darkness, which is dangerous. Everyone around them knows the dark is there, yes? But Ellie, you bring light into my life, and into others’ lives as well—my son, Jim, Maggie. You could do with seeing more of the light in yourself because it is all through you.” Her eyes grew misty. “I see you as you are, wee girl, and my heart is full of love for you.”
Her words pierced my resolve about leaving. No matter whether I returned to the States to fulfill my contract with Jason or moved to Aberdeen, I didn’t want to lose this woman from my life. As much as I tried to shake loss off my trail, it doggedly found its way to me.
But losing Glenbroch had always been a likely prospect; I had accepted that risk. And now there was pain. I would try Anna’s way and practice acceptance even though I wasn’t okay at all with how I’d lost Glenbroch, and I doubted I ever would be.
Instead of going back to the estate after leaving Anna’s, I headed to Maggie’s. The pub’s blazing fire shed its light over the wooden beams and benches, their heavy girth lending solidity to what I reasoned I must do but still needed to work out in my heart.
As much as I preferred to stay in Scotland, which meant taking Ian’s job in Aberdeen, I needed to face my contractual obligations with Jason. He was notorious for iron-clad contracts and I had known this going into the deal. The consequences of involving him were my tainted pills to swallow.
“Ellie, set yourself down here at the bar and I’ll get your usual,” Maggie hollered across the half-full room.
“Not today. Just a sandwich, to carry out. I’m headed to the broch—need to think. No one can order me off just yet.”
“Right. That old broch doesn’t suit me for thinking, haven’t been there since . . . well, I didn’t have any gray hairs last time I was there, let’s just say. If it helps you, I can’t argue, but I don’t like the idea of you going alone. You’ve been through too much.”
“I’ll be fine, Maggie. It’s broad daylight. And Bethanne is down in Glasgow. She’s not around.”
“Think again.” Maggie tilted her head toward the door of the pub.
I turned and groaned in disbelief at the sight of the woman headed my way. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Look, I don’t want any trouble with you, but I need to say something.” Bethanne shifted from one foot to the other. “I didn’t send those pipes down on top of you. And I wasn’t on the road behind you the night of the storm. I would never do anything like that. I know it looks bad for me because of the other stuff—the gate and computer, the inspector. That was daft, but I wouldn’t try to hurt anybody.” She frowned. “Not like that, anyway.”
Not sure what to do or say, my half-formed fighting words foundered before they could take shape. I was tired of all this and wanted her out of my sight.
“I wanted you to know, that’s all,” she said, waiting for me to say something.
“Your actions cost me time and mone
y and worry. I don’t know what you want me to say. Apologizing or denying things doesn’t help anyone. You need to make it right. Until you do, your sorry doesn’t mean a thing. Aren’t you supposed to be in Glasgow at your new job?”
“I came to see my parents.”
“Right.” No pity needed for her. It was enough that she had her freedom. “Well, go see them and then go back to Glasgow.”
Bethanne glared at me, then turned and sauntered out the door.
I shook my head at the bizarre encounter. I hadn’t thought I would see her again and hadn’t cared that she was separated from her home and her family. She deserved worse in my opinion, and I wasn’t going to make it easier for her by accepting her empty apology. Why did some people think that saying sorry made it all okay? What happened to the idea of restitution, making it right, repentance, amends?
The social worker handling my case had taken me to court the day the judge sentenced the drunk driver who killed my parents. She gave the driver probation and a fine, and suspended his driver’s license. The judge also ordered him to apologize to me. And he did. It was an empty apology and hurt more than no apology at all. A truly sorrowful heart was driven to make amends. As young as I was, I could tell that man was not sorry for what he’d done; only that he’d gotten caught and his punishment inconvenienced him. No, I wasn’t moved by empty apologies full of words and nothing else.
“That was interesting. Don’t believe a word she said,” Maggie warned, breaking into my thoughts. “You hardly said a thing when you should have given her a right bollocking. And then put her in jail.”
Not looking for a fight with anyone, I reminded Maggie of her advice. “You’re the one who told me no regrets, no revenge. Spending all of my time trying to prove what she did and pursuing jail time for her isn’t justice for me. I’m glad she’s moved down to Glasgow. That’s far enough away for the time being.”
Maggie’s eyes narrowed with skepticism. “No justice at all in that, but I understand what you’re saying. By the way, I’m assuming you saw the news, or maybe you don’t keep up with what goes on back in the States. I put one of those news alerts on his name. I knew he’d do himself in, and Bethanne will eventually as well.”
“What are you on about, Maggie?”
“What do you think? Jason Marks. An employee of his claimed that when she refused his advances, he assaulted her. When she reported it, the git fired her. It’s blowing up across the pond. Has quite a bit to keep him occupied and out of your business. He admitted to a relationship, but said it was consensual. Looks like the woman has evidence it wasn’t.”
“I know his version of consensual,” I said dryly.
“Like I told you, he is a no-good sod,” she continued with disgust. “And that company you used to work for, who was that guy who ran it?”
“Leland—”
“—Templeton. That’s right. The woman claims he knew what happened and lied for Jason to cover it up. That Leland fellow has been named a codefendant in a civil suit.”
“Justice comes in interesting ways. Things that go around come back around. See, I don’t need to put Bethanne in jail. She’ll get hers, right?” I didn’t believe what I was saying, but I didn’t want to argue with Maggie right then.
Maggie grunted and sat back against the booth, pleased to have proof Jason was a bottom feeder. Jason always did manage to excel in bad behavior. It might finally be catching up with him. Leland being called to account, which had felt too long in coming, would be a bonus.
Peter plunked a brown paper bag with my sandwich tucked inside onto the bar. I shoved a tenner across the bar top. Maggie picked up my money and stuffed it into the bag.
“On me. You stay safe, and I hope your thinking time results in you doing the right thing: figuring out how to put John MacIver and Bethanne Ferguson where they belong—in jail.”
“Thanks, Maggie,” I said, patting the brown bag. “I’m off to the broch. I’ll see you later.”
Thoughts pinged and zagged in my mind as I stared at the sky from my favorite soft, mossy patch of grass in the broch. The charges against Jason opened the door for me to take Ian’s offer and then hire an attorney to work on nullifying my contract with Jason.
If I were going to stay in Scotland, John MacIver would be in my life, no way around it. Hearing Anna’s love for Gerard helped me better understand John. It couldn’t have been easy to live all those years with the knowledge that the heart of the person you loved belonged to someone else, even after death. But John went too far when he pursued Glenbroch at all costs. If I could ever pull together the energy and time to invest in seeing someone punished, it would be John I would hold accountable.
I’d only gotten down a few bites of my sandwich, but it was time to head back and face my uncertain future. I took the now familiar trail easily, my mind running through all the things I needed to complete to prepare to leave for Aberdeen.
The bridge’s swaying, which kicked up a phobic fear the first few times I crossed it, barely fazed me. My thoughts rolled through my endless task list, not sure how I would get it all done. A familiar leather scent filled my nose and I jerked my head up in recognition. Too late.
A gloved hand clamped over my mouth, and only then did my mind register the creak I’d heard behind me on the bridge a moment before.
I had no gun or knife, but the life inside me filled me with a primal, savage instinct. My body grew still, calm, centered in the eye of a storm spinning itself tight within me. And then the storm exploded with a fury. My body bent forward and then my head reared back, smashing into the assailant whose grip loosened enough for me to get leverage. Grabbing the side of the bridge, my heel thrashed, stomping at anything it touched. No panic to slow me down. A vicious determination fired my body toward one clear goal: survive.
I shoved my entire body back against the person, throwing us both against the bridge’s rope, knocking my attacker loose. I grabbed at the suspension wire, snagged it, and pulled myself forward, holding on as the bridge rocked and swayed. I took one step to run before hands grabbed my waist and arm, pulling me back again.
My arms swung wildly, punching anything I could make contact with. I could hear screaming and growling—it was me—and then a snarl that wasn’t. A flash of black and white leaped past me. Malevolent hands tore at my limbs. As their grip slipped from my body, I turned and saw a blurry mass of human and animal disappear over the side of the bridge.
Clinging to the wire as the bridge pitched and roiled, I forced my head as still as I could to calm my nausea, but my stomach released its small bit of lunch.
Legs shaking from an overdose of adrenaline, I pulled myself along the rope, step by step, to the end of the bridge, to solid ground, and then dared peer over the side to the river and rocks far below.
A person’s body was prone on a large rock shelf jutting out halfway between the bridge and the river. An animal’s body lay crumpled on top of a large boulder on the same shelf. Blood seeped from the animal onto the gray stone. Too much blood.
I stared at the still form, the horror slowly getting through. Jazz! He was badly hurt—or worse. I couldn’t swallow as panic began to set in. Jazz couldn’t afford for me to lose it. My thoughts riveted themselves on getting to him. I took a steadying breath, refusing to give in to my fears.
Inching down the embankment, I soon figured out the only way to reach Jazz was past my attacker. The person lay still, face down; whether dead or alive I wasn’t sure. Right then, I didn’t care. I negotiated my way over the hooded body and was nearly clear when a hand grabbed my ankle, pulling me off-balance.
The river rushed into view as I fell. I grabbed at rocks in a desperate effort to keep from tumbling into the boulder-filled rapids far below.
The only thing keeping me from plunging to my death was the malicious hand wrapped around my ankle.
28
“I never meant to hurt you.”
The voice froze my blood. Nothing in me moved or stirred.
I didn’t want to meet his eyes. But I had to bear witness and face the person who would leave a scar on my soul for the rest of my life.
I turned to look upon this person, suddenly a stranger, unknown to me, eyes emptied of anything comforting, anything familiar. How had I not seen?
Memories of our times together rushed through me, slamming into reality, disintegrating on contact. I couldn’t hold any of the pieces together, couldn’t understand. What I did understand was that I had to break free from the grip on my ankle.
He didn’t release my ankle, but he didn’t pitch me into the river below as I inched over to a more stable place on the rocks.
“All you had to do was look at what was right in front of your eyes. I was always here for you. I was there for her too.”
The sound of his voice, his words, made my head spin, and I needed to keep my wits. “You’re right. You were always there for me, Henry,” I soothed, trying not to choke on the rancid taste of his name in my throat, certain I needed to keep him talking and keep the stress out of my voice. “And I do see.”
“He killed her. He kills everyone I love.”
“Who killed who?” I asked, forcing a calm I didn’t feel, afraid of the answer.
“Don’t act like you don’t know.”
I bit back frustration. “I must have forgotten.”
“Jessie. Ben killed her, back at university. I tried to warn her, like I tried to warn you.” Henry’s hand tightened around my ankle, but his grip had weakened. His eyes looked heavy with tears but none spilled. “She wouldn’t listen to me and she’s dead.” His voice darkened. “You’ll be dead too.”
My memory replayed the conversation with Anna about the photo in Ben’s room and Anna’s explanation. She was killed in a car accident. The scrapbook in Ben’s armoire.
There was more to Jessie’s story, I was sure. “How did Jessie die?”
“She couldn’t see I loved her, and she wouldn’t stop going back to him. You’re just like her.”
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