Lady of Light (39 page)

In the ensuing days, though the list of possible murder suspects rapidly dwindled, Sheriff Whitmore never returned once to demand further explanations. Nonetheless, emotions at Culdee Creek ran high. Evan could barely bring himself to talk to Ian and, when he did, their confrontations always ended in angry words and accusations. Despair began to hang over everyone like a dark thundercloud, foreboding and ready to burst.

“He hates me, he does,” her brother cried one cold, snowy November day as he sat in the kitchen. “He refuses to hear my side of aught. And I think he even suspects that I
did
kill Brody Gerard.”

“You must give Evan some time to sort through everything that’s happened of late,” Claire said as she rolled out dough for a piecrust. “It’ll all work out in the end. I just know it will.”

“Och, aye,” Ian snarled. “And you’re the only person who thinks that. Do you see now why I
had
to lie to the sheriff? No one would’ve believed that I couldn’t sleep and just went out for a ride. If I’d admitted to leaving the house that night, I’d either now be in jail or carted off to that reformatory in Buena Vista. You know that, Claire, as well as I.”

Hot tears stung her eye. Suddenly, she couldn’t even see what she was doing. With a despairing exhalation of breath, Claire set aside her rolling pin. “If the truth be told, I don’t know what to think anymore, Brother. All I know is that I see our fine life here crumbling down about our feet.”

“It wasn’t much of a life at any rate,” he grumbled. “I never really liked it here.”

“I wonder,” she said softly, “if you’ll ever really like it anywhere.”

“Och, so that’s how it is, is it?” With a snarl, Ian leaped from his chair, knocking it over. “Then why don’t I just march into town and confess to Gerard’s killing? It’ll take the heat off you and Evan; I’ll be safely out of both of your lives, and everything can go back to the sweet, wee life you imagine you once had here.”

“Aye, mayhap it would be best,” Claire countered hotly, at the end of her patience. “Why should you ruin my life, as well as your own, in the bargain?”

As if struck by a blow, Ian staggered back, his defiance appearing to dissolve as quickly as it had risen. Tears welled in his eyes, began to trickle down his cheeks. “Y-you’d do that, would you?” he asked, his voice quavering. “You’d t-turn your back on me and walk away, after all we’ve b-been to each other, after what I-I did for you?”

Like some tiresome, unwanted guest, the gruesome specter of that night so long ago flared in Claire’s mind once more. Ian
had
risked everything to save her from their uncle’s lewd advances. Yet, as horrible as the experience had been for her, she sensed it had been even worse for him, as he had smashed that stout length of wood repeatedly into their uncle’s head, crushing his skull. Though it had taken them a time to realize Uncle Fergus was dead, the horrific reality had struck home soon enough. It was an act that might well haunt them the rest of their lives.

With a soft cry, Claire went to her brother, gathering him into her arms like she had done so many times when he was small. And, like those times, he clung fiercely to her now, sobbing piteously. She thought her heart might break.

“Nay, nay,” Claire crooned, stroking his wild tumble of hair, “I won’t turn my back on you, or walk away. How could I, after you killed Fergus to protect me? But Ian, och, will we ever, ever be free of that night?” She shuddered. “I still wake up sometimes, the nightmare of watching his body tumble down that steep rock wall into the sea sending me into a cold sweat. Och, but I just want to be free of those memories once and for all!”

“So do I, Claire,” her brother whispered. “I can’t help it, but I feel like I murdered him. I feel so dirty, so evil. Did we truly do wrong, do you think, pushing his body off the cliff to make it seem as if he’d taken a drunken tumble? Should we have stayed and confessed to what we did?”

“What choice had we?” Claire sighed. “Fergus’s kin would’ve strung you up before a constable could’ve arrived to take you into custody. Nay,” she shook her head with a savage conviction. “There was naught else we could’ve done. Naught!”

“You must not ever tell Evan.” Her brother leaned back to look at her with moisture-bright eyes. “If he was ever to find out what I did, he’d have the final proof he needs to send me to jail. Promise me you’ll never tell Evan!”

“Ian,” Claire began in protest, “you don’t know what you’re asking—”

“On the contrary, Claire,” a deep voice rose unexpectedly from the hall outside the kitchen, “I think Ian knows exactly what he’s asking.”

With a gasp, Claire released her brother and spun around. There, standing in the doorway, was her husband. His handsome face taut with rage, Evan glanced from her to Ian, and then back to her.

“I thought there weren’t going to be any more secrets between us,” he finally said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Yet now I find that all the other secrets paled in comparison to this one.”

“Evan,” she began, walking toward him, “I was going to tell you. Indeed, if things hadn’t gone so badly that night a week ago, I intended to tell you then. But after you refused to give Ian another chance, well, how could I do it then? Last night just wasn’t the right time.”

“And how about all those other times
before
then, Claire?” Evan snarled. “How about when we were still in Scotland, before we married? Or after we got to Culdee Creek? What was wrong with all those other times?”

Looking back now, Claire had to ask herself the same thing. Yet, at the time—all those other times—her hesitation had seemed completely justified. Och, but she had been such a fool!

“I was afraid,” she forced herself to reply. “Afraid of losing your love. Afraid of changing your feelings for Ian, if you’d learned he had killed a man. Would you have felt safe having him even come to Culdee Creek if you had known? Would you, Evan?”

“That’s not the point, Claire, and you know it,” he countered angrily. “What matters is that you kept the information from me. You chose Ian over me. What does that say about us, our marriage, and your trust in me?
That’s
what really matters in the end.”

Hands clenched at her sides, she stared up at him, knowing he spoke true. She
had
kept something from Evan that he’d had a right to know, something that, with Brody Gerard’s death, might have cleared him of any charges even as it further implicated Ian. In her misguided attempt to protect her brother once again, she had failed to trust her husband. She had failed to be the wife—and person—she had promised him to be.

“It doesn’t say much for me,” Claire admitted softly, hanging her head in shame. “You deserved better, Evan, and for that I am so verra sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

“I think, this time, it’ll take more than forgiveness. Where does your true loyalty lie, Claire? Once you finally figure that out, we can talk. But you need to decide if there’s ever going to be any room in your heart for anyone but you and Ian. Only then, once you finally decide, can we see if there’s anything left worth rebuilding.”

With that, Evan turned and strode across the hall, into the parlor, and out the front door. He never looked back, and the rigid set of his shoulders and head held high were the most heart-wrenching thing Claire had ever seen. He walked as if he might well be walking out of her life forever. He walked like a man who held himself together by the slenderest of threads. He walked as if his heart was breaking.

And she was the cause of it all, yet another woman who had, at long last, betrayed him.

Midnight came and went, and still Claire couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, rose to pace her room until the cold wooden floors turned her feet numb, then staggered back to bed and the warmth of her quilts. She cried and cried until she could cry no more, her chest aching with the effort it took to muffle her body-wracking sobs so Ian, sleeping next door, wouldn’t hear. And still there was no solace or answers to be found, neither by dint of her own desperate thoughts, or from God.

Moonlight streamed through the little room’s single window, gilding the interior in a silver glow. Her clarsach’s bright strings caught the beams, reflecting the light in shimmering lines on the walls. Claire watched the ethereal dance for a time, then rose once more from her bed.

Mayhap there was peace to be found in playing her harp, she thought. It had been some time since she had last taken up the beautiful instrument and made music. Not since the night of the Fall Festival, if the truth be told.

She took the clarsach down from the top of the chest of drawers, carried it to her bed, and sat. For a while, she lightly plucked the strings, waiting for the sweet, bright sounds to move her, carry her away to a happier place as it always had before. This time, though, all the music did was remind her repeatedly of the sad turn her life had taken. All it served to do was help her recall a simpler existence when she was in Scotland.

Life had been hard in Culdee, but she had never known such pain as she had endured here, especially in the past days. Just as she had feared, opening her heart too fully to others, allowing herself to trust and come to need them had ultimately resulted in sorrow. And it had only seemed to make things worse for Ian, too.

Claire clutched the harp, holding it close in a despairing embrace. Just like Evan and the MacKays, it deserved better than her. She had nothing left to give to the bogwood instrument. She had nothing left to give to Evan—and perhaps never had.

Still, Claire mused, stroking the timeworn wood, it was a beautiful thing, a work of art with its fine carvings and intricate scrollwork. She knew now what she must do. MacKay family heirloom that it was, the clarsach would serve her one last time. And when it was gone, the music would be over—for she would never play again.

She went to see Noah Starr that day with misgiving, desperate for any solution other than the one she had decided upon, hoping against hope that Noah would, as he always had before, have an answer. Even so, Claire knew it was a last-ditch effort. Still, something beckoned her to the rectory that cold, sunny day, just one week before Thanksgiving.

Millie answered the door promptly. At the sight of Claire, she smiled. “Well, well, what a pleasant surprise. We haven’t had a nice visit together in a long while, have we?” She stepped back and motioned her in. “Come in. Come in.”

Claire entered and, as soon as Millie had closed the door behind her, turned to the older woman. “Is Noah about? I-I need to talk with him.”

At the somber tone of Claire’s voice, Millie’s expression grew serious. “You’re in luck. He just returned from a visit to Jesse Herring’s. That dear old man’s been ailing of late, you know, with the rheumatism.”

“I hadn’t heard.” Claire managed a wan smile. “What with all the excitement … well, I haven’t been in town much.”

Noah’s aunt nodded in sympathy. “I understand, dear. How is Ian holding up?”

“As well as can be expected, I suppose.” Claire sighed. “It’s both Ian and Evan, though, I’m worried about. That’s why I’d like to talk with Noah.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll go check right now.” With that, she gathered her skirts and bustled off, so much like a mother hen that Claire had to smile.

What a good, kind woman Millie Starr was. She was blessed to call her a friend. And then, there was Noah …

Since she had left Culdee and Father MacLaren’s wise tutelage, Claire knew her relationship with the Lord had waned. She was ashamed to admit she had let herself get caught up in the heady excitement of falling in love with Evan, journeying to a new land, and then struggling to adjust and fit into a new family. When Abby and Conor had left, the struggle had only gotten worse.

Yet part of that struggle—perhaps a very large part, if the truth be told—had been of her own doing, in allowing God to take an increasingly smaller place in her life. And now, when she needed Him the most, she almost didn’t know how to approach Him anymore.

It was past time, however, that she try to at least set her life right again with God. If she didn’t, Claire didn’t know how she could endure the journey to come.