What Lies Between (42 page)

Maybe I could respect her request and find a way to let go of the regret. If not, it would probably harm our relationship. Still, letting go? I had no idea how to do that.

And she was wrong about grace being inside me. If Anna and Ben saw the darkness that lived in my heart, they would be horrified.

“You mentioned on the phone you were going to scatter Gerard’s ashes. Where have you decided to do this?” she asked.

Grateful to change the subject, I said, “Yes, I want to scatter them this week, while Glenbroch is still in the MacKinnon family. He left me the location where he wanted to be released, ‘to be forever in the place where I was the happiest I had ever been,’ is how he described it.”

“It’s here then, in Scotland?”

“Yes, on the west coast of Skye, near the Black Cuillin. He asked that I release his ashes at the edge of the water near the ruins of a clearance village, Suishnish.”

Mist rose in Anna’s eyes. She stood up and made her way to the edge of the river, staring out at the horizon.

Curious about her reaction, I asked, “Do you know the area?”

“Aye, it’s lovely. Near both the Black Cuillin and Red Cuillin, very secluded.”

“I’ll admit I’m grateful it’s not in the heart of the Black Cuillin. I wasn’t eager to trek into those mountains. I’m planning to camp on the beach near their base for a couple of nights. It sounds like you’ve been there?”

Her distant gaze told me she was lost in thought. “Yes, I’ve been there. The view to the west across the sea is one you can’t forget.” Her tone and faraway look didn’t match her normally attentive nature. She turned around, her lighthearted smile back in place. “I think camping is a marvelous idea. If you need any equipment, let me know.”

“There is some gear stored in my barn. I’ll take another look and let you know if there’s anything I need. If I remember correctly what’s there, I think I’m okay.”

“Do you have plans for how you want to scatter his ashes?”

“I’m hoping to build a small cairn. Other than that, I don’t know. It feels a little awkward being the one to release his ashes when I didn’t know him. One of my regrets is that I didn’t have a chance to know him better.”

“We need to talk more about Gerard. I should tell you what he was like when we were growing up, at least as I knew him.”

“I would love that. You’re so gracious to me, Anna.”

“Ellie, dear, it’s you who is gracious. Many people would have resorted to all kinds of things with the pressure you’re under. Anyone who is paying half attention can see this battle you’ve had was not something you wanted. You must persevere to the end.”

“I gave it my best. Getting Jason’s help was part of that, but it came at a high price, and it didn’t work out anyway.” I looked away, biting my lip in an effort to remain silent about what happened with him. “At least I can fight him for breach of contract, which will hopefully get me out of my deal with him. I may have to pay him, but the rest of it . . .” Anna’s worried frown nearly made me confess.

“Whatever that man demanded of you . . .” She strode back to the bench and sat down. Facing me squarely, her voice firm, she said, “It’s not over. Glenbroch is still yours right now.” Her eyes brightened. “Why don’t you take Jazz to Skye with you?”

“I would love to. Do you think he would do okay with me out there?” Thinking of the isolated beach, the idea of having Jazz along sounded comforting. And I hated goodbyes. After having lived through so many in my life, they should be getting easier. But they weren’t. And this was one of the harder ones; I wasn’t only saying goodbye to Gerard, but to the dream I’d begun to have for Glenbroch and for myself. I’d put off scattering Gerard’s ashes for too long and it was time now.

“He would do fine. He’s attached to you. Come to the house to get him on your way, and I’ll pack up some food and a lead and whatever else I think you might need.”

“That’s great. I’ll be by your place around ten in the morning.”

When Anna dropped me off at the cottage, she followed me inside and handed me a bag. “I nearly forgot. I picked up some cardamom carrot muffins at the bakery in Inverness. I thought you might like some.”

“Thank you. They’ll be perfect to take with me.”

I closed the door behind her and headed to the kitchen, eager to try one. I had only taken a few bites when a queasy spasm gripped my gut. I ran for the bathroom and heaved into the toilet until my body ejected every ounce of my stomach’s contents. I had never been fond of the smell of cardamom, but I’d never gotten sick because of it.

After filling the Beast’s cavernous cargo space with camping gear, I wedged Gerard’s jar of ashes into a box on the front passenger floor and drove toward the MacIvers’ home. Intending to stop by only to pick up Jazz, I couldn’t resist Anna’s tempting offer of a cup of tea. I couldn’t remember ever turning her down, come to think of it. Having lingered for more than two hours, it was now time to head to Skye and face what I needed to do. When I asked Jazz if he wanted to go with me, he gave a sharp bark of approval and headed for the front door of the house.

Jazz jumped into the Land Rover and laid down on the back seat, resting his head on his paws and giving me a wistful expression. When I put the Beast into gear, Jazz uttered a long, woeful whine to let me know that we needed to get the car ride over and arrive at our destination with haste.

“We’ll be there in no time,” I reassured him. “But I have a couple of stops on Skye.”

He wagged his tale in response.

Jazz dutifully waited in the Land Rover while I bought extra cans of propane, kindling, and firewood. I indulged in a couple of vegetarian bridies at the bakery, disappointed they only had one-hole pastries left, no onions. I preferred the bridies with two holes, which were filled with lots of onions—when I could find the vegetarian option at all. Just as well. My stomach was fussing at me again.
The muffins.
I’d had another one on the drive out to Skye. My suspicion about why I was getting sick on those muffins weighed on my mind . . .

Heading west out of Broadford, I took it slow along the narrow road. When we reached the church ruins of Cill Criosd, I pulled over.

Jazz and I scrambled up the slight hill and I stepped through the doorway of the old kirk, the blue sky framed by its missing roof. Jazz nosed about but stayed close to me.

I had never thought much about cremation until Gerard’s death, but it felt more meaningful, more intimate to have his ashes with me than to stand graveside as I had when my parents were buried. I remember watching from far away, even though I was in the front row as they lowered the coffins into the ground.

It could have been my age that made it feel so alien, seeing the people I loved, my everything, being lowered into the ground in boxes. Since I hadn’t been allowed to attend Alan’s funeral, I couldn’t say for sure if being older would have meant a different experience. I just knew that cremation made sense to me when it was my turn. I had no interest in being in the ground where strangers could walk across my bones hundreds of years later.

Jazz and I climbed back into the Beast and drove on. A few minutes later Loch Slapin appeared in front of us; the road rose against the horizon, making it appear to lead straight into the water. As we dropped down over the slight rise, the loch stretched out in front of us, no discernible boundary between its end and the ocean. The wicked ridge of the Black Cuillin loomed against the northern horizon, more dark and foreboding than its photos.

I parked in a sandy area and heaved my pack onto my back. With the shop sacks and firewood stuffed in and my tent strapped on, the pack pressed heavy. I hiked up the road and across a pebble-strewn beach edged by a large, curving strip of scrubby grass. A bracing wind flapped my jacket as I unloaded my gear and supplies, warning me that getting the tent up wouldn’t be easy.

Between the time at Anna’s, lingering at the old kirk, and buying supplies at the shop, it was late afternoon by the time I began staking down the tent. Darkness would blanket the area soon; I needed to hurry. I had gotten only one stake into the soggy grass when the wind whipped the tent from my hands. It caught on a boulder long enough for me to retrieve it. Thankfully its skin didn’t appear to be torn; the forecast warned of rain.

The atmosphere felt heavy, bleak with only the baleful wind, icy ocean, and brooding Cuillins for company, too oppressive if not for Jazz. He pulled at my knee with his paw as I sat cross-legged in the door of the tent, the jar of my father’s ashes on the ground in front of me. When I turned to meet his eyes, he voiced a soft whine.

“I’m okay. Well, I will be. It’s surprisingly hard to let someone go when I never had him in my life.” I stroked Jazz’s silky hair. “I hate
if I had only
thoughts, but I can’t stop thinking if I had only tried harder, called him . . . I don’t know what might have been, Jazz. I just know that once I release him, it will be done and over. I guess I’d always thought he would be my dad someday, for real. But it will never happen.”

As I smoothed my hands over the urn, a powerful sadness gripped my body, its pressure squeezing my insides. A tear fell on the lid of the urn and I rubbed it across the ceramic with my thumb. Jazz pushed his nose under my hand, concerned.

It came without warning. Laying the urn aside as gently as I could, I leaped from the ground, and ran across the rocks, reaching a place as far away from the tent as I could get before my stomach retched its contents onto the ground. Scooping my hair out of my face as my body convulsed, I held Jazz away with my free hand. He pressed forward, worried and curious.

Once the heaving subsided, I picked my way back to the tent, stoked the fire into a roaring flame, and sank back into the camp chair, my veins a delirious cocktail of exhaustion and dread. I hovered too close in an effort to warm myself, and the fire nearly singed my skin. I fingered the zip of my pack, not wanting to open it, knowing I had to.

The zipper buzzed over the sound of the crackling flames. I pulled the package I’d bought at the shop from my pack and opened it. With all the things I’d done alone, I couldn’t face this with stoic privacy. Jazz would serve as my witness.

I clambered across the rocks again, away from the water, and squatted in the icy quiet.

The sky grew darker as I turned my face upward, wanting to rail at someone or something about how life sucked. But this was just another lie. My situation wasn’t happening because life had done me wrong. I had come here to fight for a home I’d never seen and I had fallen in love with this place and these people, and a man I had not intended to meet. Things didn’t go as I had wanted, but when had they ever? Life sucking had nothing to do with where I was now and what might be happening to me. Pee splashed on my leg, bringing my thoughts back to the task at hand.

When I returned to the campfire, I laid the tiny plastic stick wrapped in tissue on the ground.

The night waited. The wind held its breath. The wispy clouds in the dark sky didn’t move. The silhouetted Black Cuillin watched in silence. The timer beeped on my cell phone. I unwrapped the tissue, gripping the stick in my hand. My eyes locked shut in a last wish for a benign result.

The plop of rain surprised my hand and eyes into opening; the daze clouding my mind slowly cleared until Jazz’s furry face came into sharp focus. He yipped and laid his paw on my lap.

Forcing my eyes to look, my mind registered the plus sign, and froze in disbelief.

I turned to Jazz. We stared at each other until the chaos of sounds coming from the nearby sheep, the water, and the wind melded together into a loud silence. Leaning too far back to stare at the sky, my chair tipped over and I fell onto the grass. The night sky lay heavy over me, pressing me into the cold, lumpy earth. The stars, waking slowly and beginning to reveal their evening light, hung forever just inches from my reach.

Could I lie here until I disintegrated into the ground? Would my wish come true when I was gone?

Jazz’s rough tongue lapping my face startled me awake. The time on my phone told me I had lain on the beach for nearly an hour. I was wet, cold, hungry—and pregnant.

I set a kettle on the grate over the fire to heat water for my tea and hot water bottle. After pouring a steaming mug and filling my hottie, I climbed into the tent and consumed the hot tea’s comfort. Sleep wouldn’t come. Digging out a notebook from my pack, I poured my thoughts and feelings across its pages as fast as my pen could write until there was nothing left to say. 

Visible through the tent’s open flap, the glow of the moon danced across the water as I stroked Jazz’s back over and over. Jazz was better than a hot water bottle, I decided, as I turned toward him and snuggled against his warm, furry body.

The sun’s rays streamed through the clear top of the tent and the crack in the door I’d left for Jazz. How long had I slept? And where was Jazz? I needed to eat, regardless of whether I lost it all again or not. The lack of food in my system twisted my thoughts, which ran wild and dark.

My changing body pushed me up, out of the tent, and across the beach. When the heaving subsided I returned to the campsite, started a fire, and lit the single burner to heat water for my tea.

Shutting off the propane to the burner, I poured myself the steaming mug of ginger tea I had bought at the store to settle my stomach, holding my face close. Its warmth began to chase away the bite of the Highland morning. Maybe the bread grilling over the fire would stay in my system this morning. Jazz came running up, dripping wet.

“What have you been up to?”

He shook himself, spraying dirty water everywhere. The fire’s hot coals sizzled as the drops of water splashed across them.

I poured Jazz’s food into his bowl and gave him fresh water, the simple actions of caring for him helping to untangle the mess in my mind. I wanted to talk to someone, but who should it be?

The one person I should seek out first—Ben—was the person I was scared to talk to. Not that I didn’t think he’d be responsible, but I had taken a risk without thinking it all the way through. I didn’t know what I wanted. Once his family found out, when John found out . . . I wasn’t ready to deal with that.