The Arms of Death
Page 34
They had already passed the autumn equinox and were approaching Samhain. The nights were falling sooner and lasting longer and it was full dark outside her window when the door opened and Jim slipped into the room.
“Hello,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
She closed her book and set it aside, ignoring his question.
“Is it over?”
“Yes.”
Ginny couldn’t help feeling a chill around her heart. Her hand closed around the talisman. “Is there going to be a funeral?”
“No. He said he wanted no ceremony. His body will be cremated and the ashes buried privately.”
He had no family; was survived by no one. Except her. Ginny told herself it didn’t matter. God knew where he was, and what.
“There ought to be a marker, at least.” Something, somewhere, to show that a man had been born and lived and died.
“There will be.” Jim crossed the room and leaned on the bed rail, looking down at her.
Her lower lip trembled and she brought her hands up to conceal it. He reached out and brushed her cheek with his fingertip, his eyes full of concern.
She blinked and found her own eyes swimming. She tried to stem the tears, but it was no use. Her grief overflowed and she could not stop it.
He let down the side rail, then slid one arm around behind her and the other under her knees. He picked her up, carried her across the room, and settled down in the recliner with her on his lap, then wrapped his arms around her and held her while she cried her heart out.
Ginny hadn’t expected it to hurt like this. She clung to Jim, hiding her face from him, trying not to make a fool of herself. He hugged her and murmured to her, telling her it was okay to grieve, that she had a right to feel bad about a wasted life, a shattered dream. He pulled tissues from his pocket as if by magic, and dabbed at the tears, holding her while the racking sobs ran their course, then eased, then faded away.
The effort left her drained. She leaned against him, her eyes closed, and listened to the silence. Not silent, though. She could hear his heart beating through the muscle of his chest and the soft sound of his breathing, slow and steady and infinitely reassuring. She fit neatly into the curve of his arm, her head nestled against his shoulder. He sighed and she felt his chest expand under her.
He bent toward her. “It’s over, Ginny.”
Over. All except the weeping.
She sat very still, her heart numb, but her conscience still active. Eventually she took a deeper breath.
“I owe you an apology,” she said.
“What for?”
“For thinking you could be a murderer.”
“You had good reason.”
Maybe, but she’d been wrong about him.
“I almost got you killed.”
He tightened his arms around her. “I’m not going to die. Stop worrying about me.”
Not going to die.
“You think Hal would have killed me.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
She lay on his heart in silence for several minutes, trying not to believe it. Eventually she stirred.
“How am I supposed to get past this?”
He took a deep breath. “With my help.”
She looked up at him and their eyes met.
“I will be here for you,” he said. “For as long as you need, whatever you need.”
That might be a tall order. The guilt stung like alcohol in an open wound.
If she had listened to him, or Andy, or Detective Tran, and left the investigation alone, how much of this misery could have been avoided?
She held Jim’s gaze for a moment longer, then nodded and settled down in his arms. They were good arms, strong and gentle. The man who would be Laird would need to be strong, and gentle. Brave, too, but he’d already proved he was that.
* * *
Chapter 53
Tuesday
It was the morning of the third day and Ginny couldn’t help feeling Biblical. Jim had cheated death and looked set to devote his life to good works. She was also on the mend, though she would never be the same person she had been. Too much had changed. What she needed now was something that hadn’t changed. Something known, something familiar, something safe. The knock on the doorframe diverted her attention from her thoughts.
“Ginny.” It was her supervisor.
“They told me you were here. How are you?”
“Better, thank you.”
The older woman lifted an eyebrow. “How long?”
“A week, maybe two. Dr. Armstrong hasn’t decided.”
She nodded. “I’ll follow up with him and do the paperwork.” She gave Ginny a distracted smile. “We’ll manage, but you—” She gave Ginny a stern look. “No malingering. There’s a nursing shortage on, you know.”
Ginny smiled. “Yes ma’am. I know.”
THE END
GLOSSARY
Auld – old
Aye – yes
Bonnie – handsome
Canna – cannot
Ceilidh – party
Frae – from
Ghillies – flexible, lace-up dancing shoes, akin to ballet slippers
Gloaming – twilight, dusk
Ken – understand
Kirk – church
Nae – none
Nicht – night
Noo – now
Sae – so
Samhain – the Celtic festival marking the end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter; traditionally celebrated from sunset on 31 October to sunset on 1 November.
Tae – to
Texian – resident of Texas during the time it belonged to Mexico
Wee – small
THE SWICK AND THE DEAD
Ginny’s story continues in The Swick and the Dead, Loch Lonach Mysteries, Book Two.
Swick – from the Old Scottish swik, deceit (1420), swyk (1513), sweke (1514), to deceive, deceiver.
The discovery of a body in her ICU after a particularly busy shift pushes amateur sleuth, Ginny Forbes, into an investigation to uncover the culprit, the motive, and the shadowy figure behind the pipeline of death that has been laid from south of the border to her home on the banks of Loch Lonach. Not that she realizes it, of course, not until it is much too late to turn back.
Visit www.maggiesmysteries.com for more information about Ginny, Jim, Himself, and the Loch Lonach Mystery Series.
THE LOCH LONACH COLLECTION
BY MAGGIE FOSTER
The Loch Lonach Mysteries
The Arms of Death: Loch Lonach Mysteries, Book One
The Swick and the Dead: Loch Lonach Mysteries, Book Two
Viking Vengeance: Loch Lonach Mysteries, Book Three
Final Fling: Loch Lonach Mysteries, Book Four
Loch Lonach Short Stories
Dead Easy
Duncan Died Dunkin’
About the Author
MAGGIE FOSTER is a seventh-generation Texan of Scottish descent. Her ancestors were in Texas before it was a Republic. In addition to being steeped in Scottish traditions and culture, she has spent a lifetime in healthcare as a nurse, lawyer, and teacher. Her interests include history, genealogy, music, dancing, travel, dark chocolate, good whisky, and men in kilts.
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Also by Maggie Foster
Loch Lonach Mystery Series
The Arms of Death: Loch Lonach Book One
The Swick and the Dead: Loch Lonach Book Two
Viking Vengeance: Loch Lonach Book Three
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