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 of 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.”
My resolve sought strength in the sea, in this force that would not be tamed. I locked my gaze on a distant point, so far away the water and the sky merged into a filmy blue veil over the horizon. I had wanted to tell Ben this past week. But when was the right time? Where were the right words? I didn’t feel ready. Telling him would change things . . . but things had already changed. And this was the only certainty I knew at this point.
In the morning, on my way to the east, I would find him and tell him about the pregnancy. We’d sort things out somehow. Aberdeen wasn’t too far away from Ben, but far enough from Glenbroch that I wouldn’t have to watch John take over my home. I might be stronger than I used to be, but I wasn’t that strong.
The long walk back to the tent left me ravenous. I started a fire and when it began to blaze, I pulled a package of oatcakes, quince, and crowdie from my pack.
The sunset promised to be stunning tonight, and I couldn’t imagine a better place to experience it. The shadowy Cuillins now sheltered me, protective rather than ominous, as if they watched over me . . . and my father. The sea breeze fell soft and light on my skin, swirling the smell of charred wood through the air. My thoughts drifted to the many others who for thousands of years before me had sat near a fire and looked out across this sea on a perfect, cloudless night just like this one.
I reclined back in the foldable chaise I’d brought, appreciating my modern comforts, and gazed up at the faint light of the first stars to show themselves in the gloaming, that magical time of day between dusk and nightfall.
A dog’s bark reverberated across the bay, breaking my reverie.
30
I had barely pushed myself up to sitting and stored my food away when Jazz came wheeling around the tent, sporting a faint limp due to his fall from the bridge. Otherwise, he had healed up good as new. His entire body wiggled in greeting as he stepped all over me.