“How did Jessie die?” I repeated.
He ignored my question. “You know what’s unforgivable? Ben didn’t even see that I loved her, didn’t care what he did to her or to me. He moved on to the next girl and left me to pick up the pieces.”
“How did Jessie die?” I asked again, keeping my voice steady.
“It’s not suicide if someone drives you to it. He broke her . . . completely. I was the only one standing by her. Too much pain. She didn’t know how to make it go away. I had to help her. Made sure she was asleep when I sent the car into the water. She never had to cry herself to sleep again. I couldn’t take it. She couldn’t take it.”
His ranting words chilled the already cold air.
“I tried to help you too, but you ran yourself into the trees! And worst of all, you went to him! And Hogmanay?” Henry’s face twisted into a sneer as he continued, “I saw you at midnight. You’re more worthless than Jessie ever was. Did you think I would let you bring his . . .” He shook his head, disgust etched in his face. “It will never happen.”
Henry’s hand tightened on my ankle and he yanked.
In my precarious position, I had no leverage and fell backward, my arms banging against the rocks on the side of the precipice.
I grabbed at a clump of ferns and held on, my muscles weakening. My head was hanging over the edge; the rushing water and rocks below too close for comfort and too far to fall.
A wild hysteria thickened in my chest, threatening to black everything out. Fear wouldn’t save me; that half-blind monster would get me killed. I needed to focus . . . breathe. Long slow in, steady out.
Looking up, I caught sight of the tip of Jazz’s tail and focused my eyes on its slight flutter in the wind. I needed to get to him, save him. I strained to pull myself back up and my arms popped painfully but stayed in their sockets. Gasping for air, muscles screaming, I scooted back from the edge.
Henry’s grip tightened on my leg.
Fighting back the urge to vomit, I said, “It was you with the pipes, and on the road that night, at the barn; that was all you.”
“You kept taking his side. You slept in his cottage, let him hold you, make tea for you, play his guitar.”
He had been watching Ben and me all this time? My gut wrenched and vomit filled the back of my throat. I turned and spit it into the water below, but it fell on the rocks . . . a shiver jerked my body at the thought . . .
Henry’s eyes looked through me at something else. His words were directed to me, but he wasn’t talking to me.
My mouth and throat dried and shriveled. As soon as his words were used up, he would finish what he had begun. I needed to start talking.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have come to you. But you don’t understand. I did this for us. I needed to persuade Ben to let me keep Glenbroch. And then you and I could be there together. You know how much I love being with you. I didn’t know you would think I was serious about Ben. And I did lie to you because I was too ashamed about Jason and what he did to me. He forced himself on me, but I can deal with Jason’s baby and we can still have our life. Don’t let me go. Everything we want is in our hands,” I pleaded with all the sincerity I could manage. “I’m cold, Henry, and I need you to hold me.” All the lessons from my childhood had been a gift. I knew the words to use, the lies to tell, to convince someone I meant no harm.
Straining to reach for the rock I had glimpsed behind me, my arms and fingers stretched to near tearing. I couldn’t get hold of it.
Henry’s dead eyes studied mine. If ever my eyes needed to lie it was now. I flashed back to Ben and how I met him, lying at the bottom of the hill, rubbery-legged and soaking wet—a good memory. A memory that gave my face the truth it needed. I would only have a split second.
Sometimes lies hold the deepest truth. He released my ankle, but instead of scooting closer, I pushed back, wrapping my hand around the rock. He grabbed hold again and yanked me toward him.
Swallowing down the bile rising from the pain in my body and the knowledge of what I had to do, I steeled my nerves. Using my free leg and hand for leverage, I sustained my balance as he pulled. As his hand tightened around my ankle, a satisfied grin spread over his face. Henry was a beat or two away from done with me. I would get one chance and it had to count.
A pained smile was the best I could muster as I twisted my body up and over him. “It will be all right,” I lied as I brought the rock down onto his skull. Lifting it higher, I smashed it down on his head again, then again. I didn’t want to see his face any more, didn’t want to hear his voice. I needed him never to look at me with those eyes again.
The grip on my ankle loosened then fell away. I held the rock above my head, hesitated—Henry’s face came into focus. My mind urged me to finish it. Before I could, the rock sailed over the edge, the splash and thunk as the rock sunk below the surface inciting another sick wave through my stomach. Knowing I had thrown it over the edge, I stared at the water where it disappeared, disembodied, as if the hands that had held the rock and bashed it into Henry’s face belonged to someone else.
“Ellie!” Ben’s voice rang out, sharp, jerking my fuzzy mind loose from its thoughts.
I turned to see him at the center of the bridge, cell phone to his ear, heading my way. I dragged my leg out of Henry’s reach and leaned against a boulder, willing the rising vomit back into my gut. I didn’t have time to be sick. My arms and ankle screamed in pain, but I would be fine.
Jazz wouldn’t.
“Are you okay? Emergency services is sending a helicopter,” Ben said, giving me a quick once-over as he scrambled over the rocks toward me.
Henry mumbled and Ben turned to look at him, his eyes widening in shock as recognition sunk in. And there was the blood. Henry’s forehead was mangled and his head and face were covered in dark streaks of blood that ran down his neck onto the rocks. I had done that. But he was alive. I had held back, restrained my blows. My arms had resisted my mind’s objective: kill him. The same instinct to survive had enough sense to shut itself down before I took actions I would never get over.
Revenge didn’t suit me. Looking at Henry’s bloody body, replaying his words—he destroyed his life for nothing.
“Jazz is too high for me to reach, Ben. I need you to get him down and get him to the vet.” I grabbed Ben’s sleeve. “Jazz has to be okay. You have to make sure he’s okay. Promise me.”
Jazz whimpered at the sound of his name. I hoped the flick of his tail was more than a flutter of the wind.
Ben clambered over to where Henry lay still and checked his pulse. “He’s hanging in but I don’t think he’s capable of getting up right now.” Ben climbed to the top of the boulder. “Jazz is hurt pretty badly, Ellie, but my concern is for you at the moment. Once you’re okay, I’ll fashion some kind of a stretcher and get him back to the truck and to the vet.”
“No, please! Take care of him first. I’m fine!”
“Ellie, there’s nothing I can do for him right now. Listen to me,” he said, his voice stern. “Relax and let’s wait for the helicopter.”
“No, get him to the vet. Please!” I could feel my mind spinning out, my words coming out jumbled. “Don’t risk Jazz for Henry. He admitted to killing Jessie Wilcox. She didn’t die in a car accident. He sent the car off the bridge. She was upset but she didn’t kill herself. Henry took matters into his own hands.” I shook my head in disbelief. “He watched us.”
Ben’s eyes grew wide. “He killed her? All this time I thought she . . .
I thought it was my . . . he did this to you because of me?” Horror turned Ben’s face ashen and he pulled me to him, rocking me in his arms.
“Look at me,” he said, pulling back until I could see his face. His eyes were stricken, dark with pain. “It will be all right, aye? Didn’t you tell me that?” he said, a long sigh falling across my skin.
Neither of us had any idea how it would be all right. We clung to each other, fierce and tight, until the sound o
f a chopper’s blades could be heard over the rush of the river.
The emergency rescue team evaluated Henry and me and loaded Henry into the helicopter. They instructed Ben to take me to the hospital and call the police. Before they flew away, they left us a child-sized stretcher to retrieve Jazz.
I went through the motions of strapping him down and the difficult task of getting him up the side of the embankment. We laid him across the back seat of the truck and I sat back there with him. I refused to go to the emergency room until we took Jazz to the animal hospital. The vet was waiting for us and took Jazz away.
As Ben drove me to the hospital, I tried to wrap my mind around everything that had happened since I’d moved to Scotland. But I couldn’t sort it out or even bear the weight of it all.
And then I remembered I didn’t have to.
I scooted into the middle of the bench seat, reattached my seat belt before Ben could protest, and laid my head against his shoulder. I was not alone.
29
I banned the paper and the internet from my sight and steered clear of the pub. Henry Mitchell was all anyone could talk about across the Highlands. People rehashed the same questions and facts, and most had reached the same final assessment—Henry Mitchell, bampot—and could tell you all the ways they had known.
Henry gave the police a confession about everything he’d done to Jessie and me—it apparently didn’t occur to him he’d done anything wrong. Calum kept tabs on the situation and informed me Henry would probably be found incompetent to stand trial.
Of the many scenarios my imagination conjured when I’d gotten the letter nearly one year ago, my current reality hadn’t been one of them. Life wouldn’t be anticipated or controlled—I’d gotten this message loud and clear. Still, negotiating and maneuvering to keep things from going off the rails would be a hard habit to break.
I stared into the fire, a dram beside me, a book in my lap. For a moment we were laughing again, twirling on the dance floor—Henry in his handsome dress kilt, me in my blue chiffon dress—fireworks glittering in the night sky above the loch, heralding the birth of a new year full of promise.
His soft words and gentle guidance in how to work with the sheep, how to cast with a fly rod, the meaning of Scottish words and phrases—there was more worth keeping than what had happened the last time I saw him.
Someday I might find a way to remember Henry other than with regret or anger. I could nearly see it, could almost touch it, but it lay, for now, beyond my reach.
Loads of guests called in the days that followed Henry’s arrest. Most never actually became guests as they couldn’t imagine a relaxing, enjoyable holiday in a place where would-be murderers ran around creating mayhem. Some canceled with promises to book again in a later season, “When things calmed down and this sordid affair is far behind you.” My only consolation was that soon the lack of guests would be John’s problem, not mine.
Jim handled the chores, giving me space to recover, or fall apart if that’s what I needed to do. It had not become necessary to tell him I couldn’t help with lambing. Anna stepped in, as well as Ben. No one questioned me about not helping out. My secret stayed with Henry as far as I could tell, unless it existed on some police report if Henry had mentioned it.
Calum called to tell me he hadn’t received John’s check. I didn’t much care. My emotions numbed out most of the time and tumbled in a confused mess the rest of it. I either flat-lined or thought I’d go mad with the sadness that became anger and then morphed again to something else I could never predict, unless I was blessedly distracted altogether with morning sickness.
Hanging onto the edge of a toilet came with the bonus of hyper-immediacy, and I’d remember, lolling over its edge, what mattered and could let go of the pain . . . again. Grief and forgiveness were similar I suppose. Neither promised to be a one-shot deal, but an over and over again thing, a cycling. Hopefully, in time, I’d gain ground and would leave this orbit of grief behind me, taking with me only the memories I chose to carry.
The last day of April arrived locked into a battle with itself, not sure what it wanted to do: play itself out sunny and clear or cloudy and rainy. I could relate. Looking at my suitcases in the back of the Beast, I waffled and nearly lost the strength to go through with the decision I had made.
Of course part of me wanted to stay in the Highlands, but I couldn’t see a way. I didn’t feel strong enough to live in the area and not have Glenbroch. I was scarcely strong enough to live in Scotland and not have my beloved home. For it to be taken from me felt too cruel, and I felt too weak.
But I would pretend to be brave and see how that worked out. Aberdeen was a good choice. Far enough away that I wouldn’t be reminded of all I had lost and close enough to work out an arrangement with Ben.
Ian, my soon-to-be boss, aware of my obligation to Jason, agreed that Jason’s actions and the fact that he was facing possible criminal charges meant I shouldn’t have much trouble breaking my contract with him. Nervous to reveal my pregnancy to Ian, I believed he had a right to know as my obstetrician was concerned the pregnancy could get complicated.
His response to my news was philosophic. “Life happens. It’s fine. We work as a team and that means we watch out for each other. You can be human, Ellie, and still do great work.”
As much as I could barely stand to pick up my life once again and move, Ian and the others I had come to know at the firm were wonderful and eased my decision.
I needed to talk to Ben, and I kept avoiding the conversation. I decided to tell Maggie, but only the part about taking the job with Ian.
“Hey Maggie, can we talk?” I asked, inhaling the pub’s atmosphere, feeling another sharp pang of loss. The Loch Moran Inn and Pub. Coziest spot on earth. Indoors anyway.
“Of course.” She turned toward the kitchen. “Pete, look after the bar for a minute.”
“Aye,” Peter replied through the swinging doors.
She tossed herself into a booth, and I did the same.
“I was offered a job at Ian’s firm,” I blurted out. “I’m going to take it. I leave for Aberdeen tomorrow.”
Maggie pushed herself back against the high wooden booth. “That’s fast! I mean I’m happy that you have this opportunity but don’t you want to think about it? Won’t you miss being here? This glen is your home. Aberdeen is not the Highlands. And it’s a city. Are you sure about this?”
“I get on with everyone at the firm. And I’ll enjoy the work. Who knows, your account could be one I’ll work on,” I said, trying to look happy, knowing Maggie was right. This was my home. I would likely always have a Glenbroch-shaped hole in my heart—my hiraeth. But I’d be too busy to have time to think much about the estate.
“Have you talked to the MacIvers about what they’ll do for help over there?” She rolled her eyes. “I know, I can’t believe I’m saying you should try to work for them. But you love Glenbroch, and I can’t see you not being a part of it.”
“You know I could never work for them.”
“Aye, but you’re my family now. If it’s too much for you to be away from here, you always have a job with me. May not be much to offer, but in case you want to come home . . .” She dropped her shoulders, let go a long sigh. “Okay, you’ll be going, but you’re here today. What do you have planned to take advantage of this lovely weather? You’ve been holed up in that cottage for too long.”
“I’m heading over to Skye, back to Gerard’s cairn. Hopefully it’s held up with my novice cairn-building skills. I promised I’d say goodbye. I did do my best with Glenbroch, right?”
She nodded, a pained look crossing her face. “Aye lass, course you did. Hardly able to bear what’s happened to you. It’s been hard, your time here, and I understand your wanting to go. Can’t blame you. You know I don’t want to see you leave.” She reached across the table and patted my hand. “About that one day at a time approach, you do it well, whether you like it or not. I do think it would be better for you if you stayed
. You’re a part of us,” she said with a wistful smile, “even if you probably don’t want to be.”
I managed a happy expression in response but my heart wavered. Her words were about to make me run back to the cottage and unpack my bags.
Pulling to a stop at Camas Malag beach, I patted the dash of the Beast. At least no one could take him from me. This Land Rover had become one of the most reliable things in my life. Not wanting to drag things out, I set off on the long hike to Suishnish, picking my way across the dry, scratchy grass once I’d left the road behind.
The rain must have decided to leave me to myself and the hike went by quickly; the warm air and quiet wind provided a measure of comfort. Squatting down beside the cairn I inspected it, surprised it was wholly intact. Smoothing my palms over the coarse, cold rocks as if they had magical powers to summon those gone from this world, I decided to reach out to my parents. They were the only parents I’d ever had, regardless of biology. They hadn’t chosen me out of pity but had wanted to be my mom and dad. And I missed them.
Could they hear me? I would choose to believe they could.
“Hey Mom and Dad, you would be grandparents soon. Our tiny family would be a little bigger, a little louder. But that would be nice. I’ve been meaning to tell the father—his name is Ben—and have been looking for the right time, whenever that is. I’m trying to be brave but not doing such a great job with it. Life and people got a little harder to believe in after you were gone. I’m working on that too. Slow going but I have new motivation.” A soft laugh escaped as I patted my belly. “I’ll keep you posted on all this.”
I picked up a smooth, flat rock and threw it as hard as I could into the water, the splash as it struck the surface barely audible over the wind that had risen. It quickly sank from sight.
“Gerard, I have some things to say. What happened between you and Anna and John was important information. I wish you would have told me.” A pained laugh escaped. “Anna never stopped loving you. It’s funny; if you had stayed here I never would have been born. Or Ben. It would have all been different; you and Anna could have lived your whole lives together. Here I am tied to this family, and you’re out there somewhere. I know you left Scotland, but I can’t do that. Ben has a right to be a father. You, of anyone, should understand. The fight is over, and I leave Glenbroch for good in the morning.”
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