by Camille Eide
But there was one thing she did remember with clarity. When Ian had said goodnight, he’d told her there was something special he wanted to show her as soon as she was rested.
What would it be like to spend a lifetime with such a man?
She closed her eyes with a groan. Why are you doing this to yourself? You know what you have to do.
“Emily?” The voice from the hall sounded like Claire.
“Yes?”
“Are you hungry? Maggie has been keeping breakfast warm, but there’s no hurry.”
“Thank you. Claire?”
The door opened. Claire poked her head inside and peered at her. “What is it?”
“Is Aunt Grace up?”
“She was. She had breakfast with Maggie and now she’s sleeping again.”
“She’s okay? I mean, how was she?”
Claire snorted. “She’s a sharp, wee cookie. She and Maggie are quite the pair.”
“What time is it?”
She cocked her head and studied Emily. “Mm, nearly two, I think.”
That late? “Thanks. I’ll be down in a minute.”
“No hurry, like I said. Take your time.”
Claire’s footsteps creaked on the stairs.
Emily found her bag, pulled out a pair of jeans and a soft summer blouse, and dressed quickly.
How much did Claire know about her and Ian?
She searched the walls for a mirror.
No clock, no mirror.
She ran a hairbrush through her hair. A soft knock came as she slipped into her shoes.
“Coming.” When she opened the door it was not Claire who greeted her, but Ian.
“Hey.”
The sound of his voice, quiet and unnervingly deep, sent a tingle through her. His eyes sparkled and the hint of a smile waited at the corners of his mouth.
She tucked her hair back on one side.
“Are you rested now? I mean—did you sleep well?”
She nodded. “But I think I’ve taken your room.”
The smile broke loose. “Aye. You have.”
Please don’t say a word about sharing your stuff with me. Without warning, tears welled up. She looked away. “Would you excuse me? I need to use the restroom.”
“Right. Sorry. Lavatory’s downstairs. I’ll show you.”
She blinked hard and followed him to the landing at the end of the hall.
Ian stepped aside to let her go down first. As she started to pass by him, he touched her arm. “Emily?”
She paused on the step, praying he wouldn’t notice the tears.
“When you’re ready, would you take a walk with me? Just you and me?”
Fabulous. The last thing she needed was to be alone with Ian, but then there was really no point in putting it off—he needed to know. And going for a walk with no one else around was probably best.
The sooner she ended things, the better.
She entered the kitchen and apologized for sleeping so late and causing trouble.
“Trouble? What trouble?” A deep frown creased Maggie’s brow above hazy gray eyes. She huffed and puffed as she scraped away bits of goo from the pot. “Ye’ll have hot porridge in my house and there’s nothing troubling about it!” She rinsed the pot and added hot water from a kettle on the stove.
“No, really, you don’t have to.” Though Emily couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten, there was no way she could choke anything down now. She turned to Ian, who smiled from the doorway, and then to Claire, who sat at the table marking dates on jars of jam.
“You’ll never win a battle in this kitchen, Emily.” Claire tossed a nod at Maggie. “Better get used to it.”
Emily took a deep breath. “Thank you, Maggie, that’s very kind of you. But if you don’t mind, I’d just like to go check on Aunt Grace first.”
Maggie spun around with a wooden spoon in hand. “I’ve already seen to my sister. She was up at dawn. Had a good, hearty breakfast.” As she returned to her pot, she muttered, “Which she sorely needed. I dinna ken what ye’ve been feeding her.”
She thinks Grace needs better care?
“Maggie!” Ian hissed her name in warning.
“Och, it’s no matter.” Maggie threw a handful of oats into the boiling water. Though most of the grain made it into the pot, a healthy dusting of it landed on the floor. “I’ll put some meat back on her wee bones.”
Emily bristled but held her tongue. The old woman stirred the pot as Emily tried to think of something diplomatic to say.
“Don’t listen to her, Emily,” Claire said. “You’ve done a top job caring for Aunt Grace.”
The breakfast Maggie put in front of Emily could’ve fed a football team.
Ian pulled out a chair at the table and straddled it beside her.
She swallowed a few bites of porridge, took a bite of a flat cake made from oats, but winced at the heap of bacon and kippers on the table.
Ian caught her eye. “You don’t have to eat that.” He smiled. “Well, not all of it, anyway.” He leaned a little closer. “When you’re ready, I’ll show you to Aunt Grace’s room, so you can check on her.”
“Thank you.”
“And then we’ll take a walk.”
She nodded.
And after that, things will never be the same.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
As they climbed the path, a fine, cool mist filled his lungs. He couldn’t wait to see her face when she saw it. God must have provided that honeysuckle glen just so Ian would be able to surround her with something she loved. His proposal couldn’t fail in a place like that.
But at the tree line where the path grew steeper, Emily was not beside him.
He stopped and turned. “Sorry.” He reached out to her. “Here, take my hand.”
She stared at his outstretched hand, then into his eyes. She opened her mouth, but no words came.
“What’s wrong?”
She drew a sharp breath, still without a word, and he knew. If it didn’t matter to Emily where they had their first kiss, it certainly made no difference to him. With a hammering heart, he took a brisk step toward her and pulled her into his arms. Soft, sweet, and trembling—
“Ian ...”
He lowered his face, closed his eyes, and brought his lips close to hers.
“No, Ian, please.” She gasped and pulled away.
No? He froze, pulse still racing. He sought her eyes. Not here, not like this—that was it. He hissed out a long exhale. “You’re right,” he said, his voice unsteady. “This isn’t the place. Come on, it’s not far.” He took her hand and started up the path again.
She trailed in silence, her hand trembling in his.
Patience, man. Almost there. The agonizing wait was nearly over.
But his agony wouldn’t end until she accepted what he had to offer.
When they reached the trail into the grove, he led her carefully through the tangle of underbrush, thick from a surge of summer growth. Ian had been through several times in the last weeks and made certain the path to the center stayed clear. “This is it, Emily. I want you to hold your breath and close your eyes.”
“Hold my breath?”
“It’s a surprise.” He took her hand and guided her carefully along the makeshift trail. “Trust me. I’ve got you.”
She stepped cautiously as he guided her through the brush to the grass in the center of the thicket.
“Okay now, open your eyes.”
She did. At first, her gaze found him, but then she glanced beyond him, gasped, and turned round. Without a word, she kept turning until she came full circle.
“Can you smell it?”
Inhaling, she nodded. “Honeysuckle. Ian, this place is ...” Mouth agape, she turned again, taking it all in—the profusion of blossoms, the evergreen canopy overhead, the thick grass beneath. When she turned to him again, her eyes shimmered with tears. “It’s so beautiful. I can’t believe it. The entire place is full of honeysuckle. It’s—”
“Your favorite.” He smiled. “I know.”
Her mouth hung open. “You do?” A tear slid down her cheek.
He took a step closer. “Aye. You and your mum.”
She didn’t speak, but the question in her eyes was clear enough.
It filled him with a rush of mingled pride and pleasure. “I come here often. It reminds me of you.”
Her hand came up to her trembling lips. “It’s incredible. Who did this?”
“I don’t know.” His eyes never left her face. “It may have been here forever, but I only discovered it recently.”
Emily shook her head as if marveling at the sight before her. She moved to the thicket and picked a blossom, then brought it to her nose, closed her eyes, and breathed in the scent.
“So ...” His voice vibrated low as he moved close to her. “Do you like it?”
Without a word, she turned to him with teary eyes and nodded.
“Good, because I could think of no better place for this.” He reached down and took both of her hands in his. “Emily.” He cleared his throat and stared at their joined hands, sorting through the words that he’d been rehearsing in his mind. “I want you to know that something miraculous has happened.” He drew in a deep breath and lifted his eyes to meet hers. “I haven’t always been the man you think I am. For too long, I was weak, bitter, and faithless. But even though I shut God out, He didn’t leave me. He helped me do something I believed was impossible. I prayed for Edward, like you said. I still do. I don’t know what will happen to him, but I believe I was the one who needed those prayers. As I prayed for Edward, God changed me. The hate that consumed me has faded. I have only compassion for him now, and that’s a miracle. God helped me to forgive. And He ...” A lump formed in his throat, lodging tight. He frowned at their hands, fighting to keep his voice steady. “He’s forgiven me too.”
“That’s wonderful, Ian,” she whispered.
Ian looked into her eyes. “Emily, I thought I’d be chained to that hate for the rest of my life. But those chains fell away. I’m free.”
Her glistening eyes darkened.
“I’m free to be a good husband and a good father, and—” He had to lower his voice to keep it from breaking. “I’m free to be the good man you believe I am.”
Though her expression didn’t change, more tears filled her eyes.
Perhaps she worried that he still held some bitterness. He squeezed her hands. “It’s okay, Emily. I’m a changed man. I truly am. God did that. Thanks to you.”
“Ian, I—”
“I love you, Emily. With everything in me. You brought my heart back to life, and I’m offering it to you. Forever.”
“Please, Ian,” she whispered, her voice catching. She wiped the tears slipping down her face. “I need to tell you something.”
A terrible tingle climbed his spine.
Trembling, she turned away and pressed her tightly folded arms against her stomach. “I can’t ... I can’t be there for you the way I wish I could.”
“Be where? Emily, I want to marry you. I want to give you a home and a family and everything you—”
“Ian, I can’t marry you.” Her voice shook. She turned back to him.
All he could do was stare at her face. The echo of her words slapped at his ears like a loose sail in a storm. “Can’t? What do you mean, you can’t?”
“Because I ...” She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly.
Ian caught a sharp breath and held his tongue.
“It turns out that I don’t have very long to live.”
The phrase struck like an icy boulder in the center of his chest, stupefying him. Her words echoed round and round in his head.
“I only just found out for sure. I never would have gotten so close to you if I’d known.”
It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.
No, no, no!
But her eyes, dark with grief, did not lie. She wiped her eyes and cheeks again. “What my mom had is hereditary. My mom and my grandmother both died in their thirties.” She drew a shuddering breath. “And more than likely, so will I.”
She shouldn’t have run, shouldn’t have left him stricken like that. But she couldn’t stay. As she answered his questions about the disease, the full weight of her news seemed to hit him, doubling him over.
And, like a coward, she’d run.
Blinded by tears and stumbling over bumps in the path, she kept running down the trail that would lead her back to the house. But she couldn’t outrun the image of Ian, so full of hope one minute, doubled over the next like a man who had taken a blow to the gut.
I want to marry you. I want to give you a home and a family and everything—
Ignoring the slap of passing branches, Emily ran down the hill through the woods and out into a clearing on the hillside overlooking the farm. When the house came into view, she slowed her steps.
Unhindered by trees, the sky appeared in sullen shades of gray that blocked the sun, draping a shadow like a dull shroud over the house and grounds.
Coward!
Panting, she pressed on. The path took her to a gate leading to the grounds surrounding the house. She passed through the gate, but, instead of going toward the house, she followed the path to some small buildings behind the house. One of them, an ancient woodshed, offered a temporary sanctuary, a place she could let the anguish out.
You encouraged his heart to take a chance, then you crushed it.
Emily stumbled into the shed and burst into tears. She laid folded arms against a stack of firewood and pressed her face into them. Bitter sorrow flowed hard from deep within. She tried to breathe, taking in short, shuddering breaths, but couldn’t fill her lungs between the sobs.
Minutes later, or perhaps hours, she turned around and leaned back against the woodpile. She pressed her arms tight against her stomach to break the clenching spasms, to somehow ease the pain. A few slow, deep breaths helped to calm the sobs a little as she wiped her eyes.
Ian’s face was so clear in her mind, so full of hope.
And then her dad’s face came to mind, grim and hardened by pain and loss.
Would that happen to Ian now?
Tears continued to gather and fall. She tried taking another deep breath, but the sobs regained strength. Her legs wobbled and she slumped to the base of the woodpile.
“Well?” Claire’s voice.
Emily covered her mouth.
“No use hiding—I saw you pop in there.” Her cheery voice carried from outside as it drew closer. “It makes no difference to me if you two fancy the privacy of the woodshed over the house. I just want to be the first to hear the—” Claire rounded the corner and stopped in the doorway when she saw Emily. Frowning, she scanned the shed. “Where’s Ian?”
Emily whispered, “I don’t know.” She turned away and gave her cheeks a brisk wipe.
“Are you crying?”
The more people knew, the harder it would be on Ian.
Please, God. I don’t want to tell her.
“What happened? I thought you and Ian ...”
Emily squeezed her swollen eyes closed. Ian must have told her he was planning to propose. Who else knew? More people would be hurt.
“What’s going on?” Claire came closer and crouched to Emily’s level. “Did Ian do something to upset you? The big ox. I’ll straighten him out. What did he do?”
“No.” Emily shook her head, sniffling. “Ian didn’t do anything wrong.”
Frowning, Claire studied her for several long seconds. “What is it then?”
Emily pulled in a deep breath. “Ian asked me to marry him.” Her voice dropped to a pained whisper. “And I refused.”
“You refused?” Claire’s tone turned sharp, eyebrows furrowing above dark eyes.
A new rush of tears threatened. Emily turned away from Claire’s scrutiny.
“Where is he?”
“I’m not sure,” Emily whispered.
“Weren’t you with him?”
; Emily turned back and met a piercing gaze.
Claire stared at her and then snapped a look out the shed door. When she faced Emily again, her eyes flickered with intensity. “Ian loves you. Why would you refuse him? Is this some kind of game?”
“No.”
Claire’s red head tilted at a sharper angle. “Do you love him?”
Emily wiped her eyes, swallowing the burning constriction in her throat. “Yes.”
Claire shook her head. “Emily, I never meddle in my brother’s business, but there’s something you should know about Ian. When he lost Katy, it crushed him. For years, he was a very empty, broken man. It killed me to see him like that.” Her voice cracked. “I was afraid he’d never love again. Then, by some miracle, something changed. The Ian I once knew came back, full of life and hope. And love. It was because of you, Emily. I’m dead certain of that.”
“Claire, please.” Quivering, she fought hard to keep from breaking down. She could only speak in a whisper. “Believe me, I never wanted to hurt him.”
The fire in Claire’s eyes flashed hotter. “But that’s what you’re doing. You’ll break his heart all over again.” She leaned close. “You’d better have an incredibly good reason for doing that.”
Her tone sent Emily’s heart racing. “I have no choice.” Her throat cinched up so tight, she could barely force the words out. “I’m dying.”
With hands braced on his knees, Ian caught his breath, heart still hammering from his break-neck sprint from the glen to the old cemetery.
But the cold, vacant church offered him no sanctuary, no relief. No answers.
How was it possible? Again? It had to be a dream. No—a nightmare. Emily dying? She was young and caring, full of life, with dreams of a loving family—a dream shattered before it had a chance to begin.
Just like Katy.
Ian had no idea where Emily went after she left him. All he knew was when the gut-wrenching spasm released him and he could stand up straight, she was gone.
He sucked in a deep breath, stood, and walked over to Katy’s grave. Lush, vibrant green grass surrounded the gravestone. The trees around the vacant church burst with life, thick with summer foliage and trilling bird song in tediously cheerful rounds.
