by Wendy Hudson
“Keep your eyes closed,” Eilidh whispered.
Which of course made Darcy open them.
They were passing “the spot”. The fence still hung mangled and limp where Darcy’s car had ploughed through it, and she could see the gouged chunks of turf and glass fragments glinting in the sun.
“Or don’t.” Eilidh glanced her way, a wry smile on her face. “I thought it might upset you.”
“It’s a bit surreal, that’s all. I guess because I remember so little. The damage that’s left doesn’t really tell the full story.”
She caught Eilidh flick her gaze to the rearview mirror. “No, it doesn’t.”
Darcy reached to cover her hand, which sat idly on the gear stick. “Do you think about it a lot? That night?
“I try not to, but we don’t always have control over these things.”
Eilidh turned her hand and intertwined their fingers, an action that surprised Darcy in a wonderful belly-flop-moment kind of way. It took a second to refocus and rewind, remember what Eilidh had said, and respond accordingly.
“True. Until now I don’t think I’ve fully considered how horrific it must have been for you.” Darcy kept hold of her hand, enjoying the softness of their palms pressed together. She stroked her thumb over Eilidh’s and turned a little in her seat, to take in her profile.
Eilidh glanced down at their hands and smiled, telling Darcy that she felt it too.
“I think it was pure adrenalin that got me through it. It was all action and not much thought. All I knew was I had to get you out of that car.”
“You’re a brave person, Eilidh Grey. Many people would have simply called 9-9-9 and stood by and watched. Some would have even run away.” She snorted. “Some did.”
“Brave or stupid.” Eilidh turned and winked, deflecting them both away from imagining the worst.
“I choose brave.” Darcy lifted their hands and planted a kiss on the back of Eilidh’s.
The brewery was a favourite of Darcy’s, and she groaned as the smell of hops drifted their way. “I’m not sure we thought this through. I can’t drink on those bloody horse tranquilisers I’m on.”
Eilidh got out of the car and wandered around to open Darcy’s door. “And I can’t drink while driving…” She trailed away sheepishly, unable to take the words back but obviously afraid she’d put a gigantic foot in her mouth.
“Don’t panic. I know that’s not a dig at me.” Darcy reached up a hand from the passenger seat and allowed Eilidh to help her out. She held on to the door while Eilidh relieved the back seat of her crutch.
“We can at least have a few sniffs and sips to try the new stuff, and then stock up for when you’re off the meds. It’ll be motivation for getting better.”
“Hmm… There’s a good idea in there somewhere, but it’s not helping, I’m afraid.”
Eilidh hooked her arm through the one not holding the crutch for added support and started them towards the Brewhouse bar. “Don’t be such a grump or I’ll take you home.”
Darcy savoured each tiny nip, and they acted like true craft-beer connoisseurs.
“Yes, I’d agree.” Eilidh ran the glass under her nose again. “Definitely floral undertones with a subtle hint of peach.”
Darcy laughed at her plumbed-up voice and swirled her own amber liquid before swallowing it back. “I’m getting the taste of summer in this one: straw, citrus, and mountain streams.”
The woman behind the bar cracked up at that one. She didn’t get many customers mid-week, in the cold early days of March, and they had the bar to themselves. They worked their way through all eight beers on offer, and after packing a dozen bottles each in the boot of the car, they left the woman still laughing.
Eilidh headed for the Cromarty Lighthouse and the stretch of parkland and beach that sat where the Firth met the North Sea. She unfolded a couple of camping chairs and draped a blanket over each. Once Darcy was seated, she produced a small pillow for under her heel and tucked the blanket around her shoulders.
“How’s that?”
“Perfect.” Darcy looked out across the expanse of water and felt peace for the first time in weeks. It had been months since she’d ventured on to the water. Her small sailboat was currently tucked away for winter, not that it was any good to her with two broken limbs. The thought of it was added motivation to be the model patient, and Eilidh assured her she would be back as captain by the end of spring.
“I’ve gone for old-school comfort food.” Eilidh passed her a Tupperware box of cheese sandwiches and poured them both a cup of tomato soup.
“My mum used to make this for me when I was home sick from school. It always reminded me of winters on the island.”
“The island?” Eilidh took a bite of her sandwich.
“Shetland. That’s where I’m originally from. We moved to Australia when I was twelve, and I came back here to Scotland for university when I turned eighteen.”
“Wow, you’ve been around, then. I did wonder about your odd accent.”
“It’s not odd.” Darcy feigned insult. “It’s unique.”
Eilidh laughed. “Is that what your mum tells you?”
“Maybe.”
“Why did you leave Shetland? I mean, I can think of a number of reasons why Australia would be more appealing.”
“Cheeky. Shetland is beautiful, I’ll have you know.”
Eilidh faked a shiver. “But Australia is warm.”
“There is that.” Darcy sipped at her soup. It wasn’t often she invited questions about her childhood, her family. She had become skilled at deflecting them. Too much tragedy had plagued her younger years, and it did no one any good to talk about it. But Eilidh’s face held so much kindness and wonder. She wasn’t being polite, and it wasn’t idle chat; she really wanted to know about Darcy’s past, and Darcy was inclined to tell her.
“My dad died when I was eight. Testicular cancer. He’d had the symptoms for a while but was too stubborn and embarrassed to get it checked out. If he had, it’s likely he would have lived.”
“I’m sorry, Darcy. That’s awful.”
“Aye. I don’t remember much about him. He worked a lot, and I don’t think he spent much time with me. A few years later my mum remarried a guy called Cameron. Initially he worked offshore on the rigs for a Norwegian company, then he got offered a job in Perth, Australia, so we moved. He always had me in the workshop with him, taking something apart and piecing it back together. Radios, toasters, basically any small appliance when I was younger. Then an old classic motorbike he spent all his spare time restoring. He was a good guy, mostly quiet but charismatic and charming when he wanted to be. He took care of us, and clearly loved my mum.”
“Was a good guy?”
Darcy nodded forlornly. “He died in a helicopter crash going out to one of the rigs when I was fourteen. My sister was only two.”
“You’ve got a sister?”
“Aye. She’s twenty now. She has a condition called Rett syndrome, and my mum has to take care of her pretty much twenty-four-seven. Cam didn’t leave us with much, and I guess after losing two husbands, Mum shut herself off. Her heart never really mended, and she made peace with her life as it is.”
“Christ.” Eilidh blew out a sorrowful sigh. “I think my heart just broke a little for your mum. And you.”
It had been eighteen years, and Darcy had made attempts to make her peace with her childhood, but thinking of her mum alone still had the ability to tug at her emotions. Her half-sister’s condition and prognosis just downright crushed her.
Olivia was amazing and Darcy loved her dearly, but growing up with a sibling that needed so much attention had played havoc with her teenage hormones and emotions. She had gone through a period of hating her sister and loathed herself for it now. Then the hate had turned to guilt, because Darcy would never know her suffering and cou
ldn’t do anything to change it.
That a tiny mutation in Olivia’s genes could cause such devastation was hard to grasp. The condition caused regular seizures, heart and breathing issues, difficulty eating, and the past decade had curved her spine and put her in a wheelchair. The surgery to try and correct it was so expensive in Australia, but Darcy had been working on raising the funds.
Most people didn’t even know she had a sister.
She had simply found it easier over the years to keep her family and their past locked away in her heart, for fear that talking too much about them would break it open and the sorrow would consume her.
“I guess we’d struggle to find anyone in the world whose heart isn’t recovering from something or someone?”
“True.” Eilidh propped her chin in her hands and studied Darcy for a moment. “I suppose all we can hope for is the opportunity to mend it.”
“That seems to be the human way.” Darcy chuckled. “Always searching for our next heartache.”
“And here was me thinking you might be the fairy tale type? Have I got you wrong, Darcy Harris?”
“You haven’t.” Darcy dipped a sandwich in to her soup. “I think we need the heartache to appreciate the fairy tale.”
“Hmm… You’ll have to let me think on that one.” Eilidh reached and wiped a splodge of tomato soup that had escaped the sandwich and landed on Darcy’s chin. “You’re beautiful when you eat.”
Darcy felt her cheeks colour but honestly didn’t care. A convivial warmth seemed to wrap around her when Eilidh was near, and there was never a hint of pretence between them.
The superficial nature of dating had always been something Darcy hated. It made her sad that the majority of people felt the need to present a false version of themselves, polished and scripted, so great was their fear that someone might not appreciate the real them.
Darcy figured if it started out that way, it would ultimately end in disappointment.
“I can honestly say no one has ever given me that compliment before.”
Eilidh laughed. “Only you would take that as a compliment.” She poured out the rest of the soup and pointedly dipped her own sandwich. “How did you end up back in Scotland?”
“Free university tuition. As I said, we didn’t have much. It seemed stupid not to come home where it was free for me. So I did my master’s in Glasgow, got an oil job in Aberdeen. I hated oil and gas so moved in to renewables. That’s what took me to Inverness. I’ve been here almost five years now.”
“Well, flipping heck.” Eilidh finished off her soup and looked out across the firth, clearly digesting everything Darcy had said. “That’s some story.”
“Yeah. Probably why I don’t tell it often. In fact, you’re the first person I’ve told since moving to Inverness.”
“Really?” Eilidh looked back at her. “Not even the charming Anja?”
Darcy felt her eyebrows furrow. “What is it with you two? Because that ‘charming’ was anything but sincere.”
Eilidh waved her off. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be that way about her. It’s obvious she isn’t keen on me though and I’m not sure what I’ve done to make her so…”
“You haven’t done anything,” Darcy reassured her. “I think she’s still spooked about the accident, and the whole stalker thing hasn’t yet been resolved, and…”
“Wait.” Eilidh shifted around to face Darcy fully, remembering Sam’s theory. “She doesn’t think I’m the stalker, does she?”
“Not anymore.” Darcy smirked.
“Anymore? Are you serious? I pull you out of a burning car, and she thinks I’m the person that potentially put you there?”
“Hey.” Darcy reached and rubbed Eilidh’s forearm. “You’ve got nothing to explain. I said she used to. I’ll admit for a second that I considered it. She made a good case. But now I know you, I’ve told her it can’t possibly be true.”
Eilidh still didn’t look fully placated.
“The fact I told you about my family, about my sister, tells me I’m right. I don’t trust many with that story. Not even Anja. She knows some, but not all of it.”
“Why do you trust me?”
Darcy shrugged. “I can’t explain it yet. It could be the pills, I suppose.”
Eilidh shoved her playfully. “Bitch.”
“Listen, next time you see Anja, can you please make an effort? For me? It would mean a lot if you two could get on.”
“Fine. I’ll do my best to be nice when I next see her and try not to accuse her of being your stalker.”
“What?”
“I’m kidding.” Eilidh chuckled. “But you see what I’m saying now? Anja being that freak should be as ridiculous to you as me being the stalker.”
“Point taken. How about we talk about something else? Tell me about your family.”
Eilidh sighed and reached back in to her bag. “We’ll need chocolate doughnuts for this.”
“Oh no, is it awful? It’s okay, you don’t have to talk to me about it.”
“No, no. It’s incredibly dull compared to yours, so I thought these would help make it more interesting.”
Darcy laughed and took one of the chocolate-filled sugared doughnuts.
“In a nutshell, I’m Inverness born and bred. My mum and dad had me quite young, got married too young, settled down too young. So it didn’t take long for it all to fall apart. I went back and forth between the two; they parted on reasonable terms and my dad got a place not far away. Then they both remarried, both had more kids, and I guess that left me feeling a little left out of it all. There’s ten years between me and my next sibling, even more between me and the other two, so we’ve never really been close. I went to Edinburgh for uni, and when I came back, I realised I was fine on my own.”
“Do you see much of them?” Darcy bit in to the doughnut and groaned as the chocolate and sugar hit her senses. “This is awesome, by the way.”
Eilidh laughed and took a huge bite of her own. Her eyes widened, and they both nodded at each other in joint appreciation of the gooey treat.
“I visit on the appropriate holidays and stop by with gifts for birthdays and the odd family dinner. I mean, it’s all perfectly civil and pleasant. I know they’re both there for me if I need them, but I’m living my own life and so are they.”
Darcy licked chocolate from her fingers. “That must be a little weird though? I’d give anything to have my mum and sister closer.”
“Aw, sorry, Darcy. I didn’t mean to be flippant about it. I love them both and know I’m lucky to have them. I guess I’ve just never really fit in with either of their new families.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m happy you have them. My mum’s still trying to make a visit work, but I’m not holding out any hope. I can tell she’s terrified of leaving Olivia in full-time care, and now I’m out of hospital, there doesn’t seem any point.”
“How do you feel about that?”
Darcy shoved the rest of the doughnut in her mouth. It was too much and her cheeks bulged, but it was pure heaven.
Eilidh chuckled. “Is that your way of avoiding the question?”
“Maybe,” Darcy mumbled through the crumbs, trying not to laugh. She felt sticky all over, but it had been worth it. She brushed remnants from her lap, and when she looked up, Eilidh was knelt in front of her.
“Here, you’ve got something.” She indicated Darcy’s chin.
“Again?” Darcy wiped at it. “Did I get it?”
“Almost,” Eilidh whispered. “Let me.”
Her hand moved to Darcy’s cheek, and she felt a few grains of sugar be brushed away. The hand remained, and as Eilidh’s thumb stroked across her jawline, Darcy felt her eyes flutter closed at the tender touch.
She took a shuddering breath and waited. Hoped.
When Eilidh’s lips pressed to hers, i
t still took her by surprise. They were tentative at first, only lightly brushing against Darcy’s. When they found no resistance, they became bolder, still moving slow, but sure. Eilidh’s fingers found the back of her neck and caressed it gently, sending a tremor through Darcy’s spine.
Excitable energy tingled in her belly and urged the kiss on. She wished they weren’t sitting, wished Eilidh’s body as well as her lips were flush to her own. As Darcy’s mind ran away, a tiny groan slipped between their mouths. Then Eilidh’s lips were gone.
Her forehead touched to Darcy’s, and it was a moment before Darcy opened her eyes. When she did, Eilidh held her gaze intently, a small smile playing on lips that Darcy longed to kiss again.
“I guess the interlude is officially over, then?” she murmured against Eilidh’s mouth.
They both grinned and moved apart a little. Eilidh smiled coyly and took Darcy’s hand, keeping hold of it as she moved to sit back in her chair.
“When a girl you’ve waited weeks to kiss has chocolate on her lip, I’d say it’s reasonable to call off any interlude.”
Darcy found herself licking her lips, but no trace of chocolate remained. “Is that your excuse, or was there really chocolate?”
“I guess you’ll never know.” Eilidh squeezed Darcy’s hand and looked back out to the water. “I missed you.”
The three simple words conveyed so much and caused a swell of exhilaration in Darcy’s chest. Was this really happening? Nervous anticipation coursed through her body as she took in Eilidh’s profile and imagined the possibilities.
“I missed you too.”
Chapter 41
Eilidh’s heart thudded when she spotted the ivory envelope tucked under her windscreen wiper. It was the second day in a row that one had greeted her. She had an idea of what it might say, but opened it anyway.
Stay away from her.
That was it. Four words.
They required no explanation: the message was clear. She knew enough about Darcy’s stalker to know it was likely the same person, and the thought gave her a chill.