by Caro LaFever
Chapter 27
“Are ye sure, Lil?” Her father stood on the dock by her side, frowning down at Mr. Hume’s boat.
The old sailor glanced at both of them, his eyes worried, but at her determined nod, he flicked on the engine.
“I’m sure.” Throwing her backpack onto one of the boat’s seats, she turned to face her dad’s concerned gaze. “It’s for the best.”
“Are ye sure?” he said again.
He’d asked the question when she’d arrived at his cottage yesterday, stating she wasn’t going back to the castle. He’d asked her this morning when she’d been packing. He’d even asked her as she stuffed her camera bag and backpack into his car for the drive to Fingal.
“I’m sorry I’m leaving again before our month is over.” Guilt swamped her determination to leave, but then she remembered who still lurked in his sanctuary and how damaged her heart already was. Before she started to cry, she leaned in and gave her dad a kiss goodbye. “I need to take this assignment, though. It’s my first from this new agent.”
She’d made the call as she’d walked out of the castle. She’d made the call before she sobbed and ran into his home and begged for His Majesty’s attention. She’d made the call determined to get on with her life.
The agent had been delighted.
“You’ll be going to the Philippines then?” her father grabbed her hand before she jumped into the rumbling boat. “And onto Australia?”
“Yep.” She put on her jaunty grin. “Won’t be back for several months.”
Several months where she’d work all hours of the day and night. Ignore her heart, ignore her tears, ignore her memories and destroyed dreams.
“But what about Iain?” Her dad’s brown eyes were heartsore. “I thought—”
“No, dad.” Pushing her smile wider, she met his gaze. “I had a great time with him, but nothing special.”
“Only a great time?” Edward’s gray brows rose. “Are ye sure?”
Yes. She was sure. She’d given Iain opening after opening in their last conversation and all the man had done was hem and haw and say virtually nothing.
Which had said everything she needed to know.
She’d helped him. She had done that. He’d promised no whiskey, and she believed him. And if she stayed any longer, she’d only fall deeper and deeper into love to the point she’d end up being a stupid pest he didn’t need around him as he rebuilt his life.
“I thought ye were going to stay until he was better,” Mr. Hume barged into the conversation, his brow furrowed in disappointment.
“You both saw him the other night.” She tugged her hand from her father’s. “He’s fine.”
He wasn’t fine, but he was well on his way. The McPherson she had grown to love had enough fight in him he wouldn’t flounder again. She’d known it the moment she’d seen him staring at his computer yesterday morning. No wish for whiskey. No bellowing or angry outbursts. No, the man had been calmly sitting doing his research on how to run his kingdom. He’d find the rest of his way without her help.
A help he clearly no longer needed or really wanted.
“He was a good lad a couple of nights ago,” the old sailor’s frown eased. “He did what needed to be done.”
“He was out of his shell, that’s for sure.” Her dad sighed. “He seemed to be a wee upset, however—”
“Only cold and tired,” she shot through his worry. “He told me he’s got big plans for the islands.”
Big plans. Plans that drew him from his bed and away from her. Plans he had no intention of sharing with her.
Aye. A great time.
The words he’d said that sliced her last, dying hope from her heart. That’s all she’d been to him. A helper, a person who made him laugh, who gave him some good sex, who drew him out into the world again. Like she supposed she’d done for several other men in her lifetime, when she’d been carefree and glad to walk away unscarred.
Just a great-time girl.
Not important to his life in any real way.
She was going to carry scars this time. For a long time.
Lilly forced herself to focus on the men before her. “He’s doing a lot of research about the islands and what’s the best way forward.”
“Is he now?” Angus looked delighted. “Well, that’s good news.”
“I’m not exactly sure what he has planned,” she continued, knowing truer words had never been spoken, yet wanting to leave them both with hope, “still, I know they’ll be wonderful.”
They would be wonderful. Because Iain McPherson might not be interested in anything long-term with her, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a hero.
He was.
Just not hers.
“He did apologize to me about the golf course the other night.” Her dad smiled at the thought. “That must mean something good.”
“So, you see?” Giving her dad’s shoulders a stiff hug, she swung down into the boat. “My work is done here.”
Her father stared at her. “Are ye sure, Lilly?”
“I’m sure.”
Mr. Hume gave her dad a wave, and pulled the boat from the dock and out into the harbor. Fingal drifted past her gaze as they turned around the point of the island, the docks empty, the storefronts looking battered from the recent storm. The castle rose before them in the mist of the morning. No lights shone down on them. Not even from his sanctuary. She wouldn’t worry, though. He’d likely still be sleeping, or maybe hunched over that computer of his, deciding the fate of his kingdom.
Forcing herself, she grabbed her camera case and opened it. Pulling out her sturdy and only companion, she ducked behind the lens and focused on the rolling waves of the sea.
His sea.
She tried to focus on anything else but him.
Yet, he surrounded her. His castle, his sea, his memory. The way his sky-blue eyes went dark when he came inside her. The way he lifted her so easily in his brawny arms. The way he threw his head back when he laughed.
She loved him. Deeply and truly. She didn’t see this moment of time as some kind of fun frolic, some kind of affair that was meant to burn out.
She would love forever.
But she wasn’t going to cry over this. Cry over the fact Iain McPherson didn’t feel the same. Sob over the knowledge she’d found her place, and the place and person who owned it hadn’t wanted the same thing.
Lilly sucked in a breath and let the tears fall on her cheeks behind the camera.
“You can’t be seriously considering doing this on your own.” Her stepfather’s voice came from across his wide, burled-wood antique desk. As usual, whenever he talked to her, his voice lowered and slowed, like he was talking to a small, disobedient child.
Lilly had never been a disobedient child. She’d always been the sunshine child, the kid who made sure any tension or unease was banished before she left the room. She’d realized very early on this was the best stance to take.
Yet, he still always took on this voice when he talked to her.
“Well?” Samuel Dimon’s lips tightened, a clear indication his patience was nearing an end.
Which didn’t make much sense if a person didn’t know her stepfather. They’d barely begun this conversation. But her stepfather had never had a lot of patience for her.
For her half sisters, yes.
For her, no.
She sat in the hard-backed chair, facing him. Her mother was silent, sitting on another chair nearer the side of his desk. The home office in the New York City mansion—where she’d lived since she was nine until she left at the age of seventeen—was silent, other than the soft tick-tock of the grandfather clock Samuel had rescued from a French castle several years ago.
“I’m sorry you don’t agree with my plans,” she finally offered.
She didn’t want to fight. She’d never really fought with her stepfather, she’d merely gone her own way. Usually, by the time he’d figured the situation out, she was already far down the road
to where she wanted to go. He’d grumble when she came back to say hi to her mom and sisters, and then she’d leave again before anything could actually be discussed.
Simple.
But not this time.
This time she’d been suffering from shock.
So she’d stumbled into her childhood home after two months away, expecting something. Some encouragement or peace. Some acceptance.
What had she been thinking?
Not much, clearly.
“Darling.” Sandra Howe Graham Dimon shifted in her seat, her blonde brows rising. “You have to see where we’re coming from.”
She did. She always had. And most of the time, she was fine with where they were coming from or going because it didn’t include her.
“Are you sure the man won’t want to be involved?” Samuel said.
No. She was pretty sure the McPherson would jump to immediate attention and march into the situation, intent on saving the day.
That was the problem.
“Being single with a small child is hard.” Her mother shook her head, her tight blonde curls not moving a millimeter. “I wouldn’t advise you to take that on, Lilly.”
The unsaid words drifted above them. Samuel had saved Sandra from that awful fate along with her poor, small daughter.
She should be grateful like her mother.
And behave.
Her hands tightened into a fist in her lap. The purple cashmere dress her mother had pushed on her this morning, before they’d all gone to church, felt damp on her skin.
“While I’m not a believer in the career you chose, such as it is.” Samuel leaned back in his chair, his elbows on the arms, his fingers pressed together in a pointed V of disapproval. “I’m sure you can see how it would be impossible to care for a baby at the same time you’re gallivanting around the world.”
Gallivanting. He made it sound as if she didn’t have a purpose every time she got on a plane for an assignment. But her purpose had changed, now. Changed dramatically when she’d looked down at the blue plus sign.
Pregnant.
She’d stared into the dinky mirror in her hotel room in Dorrigo, Australia, where she’d come to photograph the Waterfall Way and the people of the Gumbaynggirr Nation, and realized everything had changed.
Everything.
She’d known even before taking the test. She’d known by the way her breasts ached, and by how tired she was at the end of the day. She’d known when the smell of vinegar and garlic had made her stomach turn way before she’d found out the Filipino meal she was about to eat was made of cooked crickets. She’d known.
“There’s still time for an abort—”
“No.” The word rang out in the cool room like a loud bell. She closed her mouth before she started to yell because she didn’t want to fight. Fighting with her stepfather never led to anything worthwhile.
“Well, then.” Her mother coughed, a genteel sound of disapproval. “I think you should give this baby up for adoption like your father is suggesting. It would be for the best.”
Samuel Dimon wasn’t her father. He never had been, and never would be. Her mother liked to pretend, and in the decades since she’d married into this wealth, she’d become very good at it. Still, Lilly hadn’t ever forgotten she didn’t really belong here, or pretended she ever really wanted to be.
“No, Mom.” Her nails cut into her palms, but she knew some things for sure other than her pregnancy and no abortion. “I’m keeping my baby.”
She knew she wanted to be a mom and she knew she wanted Iain’s baby.
Samuel grumbled behind his desk, his black brows descending into a deep frown. “I won’t help you with this. You need to understand that.”
When had he ever helped her in years? As soon as she announced she wasn’t going to Wellesley, Samuel had pulled the plug on any more finances. He had not been happy when she’d received a scholarship to the NY Film Academy and attended there, instead. During her entire college career, he hadn’t offered her a penny.
Which had been fine with Lilly.
Money wasn’t given in this household. It was used to tie knots around her. She’d been a smart kid. She’d figured that out early.
“I understand.” She rose because there wasn’t anything else to say.
“Lilly.” Sandra sighed, the sigh she’d used when her oldest daughter hadn’t wanted to put on her Easter dress. The sigh she’d used when her oldest daughter hadn’t wanted to join her younger sisters in taking tap dancing. The sigh that used to play in Lilly’s head as she fell asleep. “I wish…”
She knew what her mom wished. She always had. Sandra wished her oldest daughter had never been born.
That wasn’t going to happen to her baby.
Walking over, she bent down and kissed her mom’s bronzed cheek. The smell of the pressed powder, designed to make her mother’s skin white, filled her nostrils, so familiar, so sad.
She wouldn’t let her baby think she needed to be anything other than what he or she was.
“I’m going to go north for a bit.” Straightening, she met her stepfather’s disgruntled gaze. “I think I might find something there.”
He snorted. “Something you haven’t found in Japan? Australia? Scotland?”
When she’d gotten over the initial shock, the first place she’d wanted to go to was Scotland. Into brawny arms, into sky-blue gazes. She’d also yearned for her dad’s warm embrace and complete acceptance. But that meant being in the vicinity of Iain. And even though she yearned to lean on his strong shoulders, she couldn’t do that to him.
He needed to find himself before she shocked him with the news about the baby.
She needed to make her own place, be steady and strong on her own, before she let him back into their baby’s life.
Ignoring the lancing pain inside her chest, she put on a smile. “I’ll keep in touch.”
The library door thudded shut behind her.
“What did he say?” Her half-sister, Taylor, almost eighteen, stood on one foot, balancing on one leg, twining her other one around it. She always did that when she was scared.
“Was he mad?” Ashley, nearly sixteen, peered at her, her blue eyes wide.
“He said what I thought he’d say.” Lilly strode to her sisters and grabbed both of them in her arms. Although Taylor was four inches taller than her, she still nestled her dark head into her older sister’s shoulder like she’d done when she was small.
Ashley sniffed into her neck. “I hate it when Father is mad.”
“He won’t be for long.”
“He won’t?” Taylor’s head popped up, her eyes wide too. “Why not?”
“I’m leaving.” She ruffled her youngest sister’s blonde hair.
“Oh, no. Not yet.”
“You’ve only been here for a week.”
Taking their hands in hers, she walked them down the hallway. Past the dining room with its fancy glass chandelier, past the living room where their parents had their social gatherings every month, past the foyer with its stained-glass windows. They ended in the one room Samuel and Sandra never entered.
The kitchen.
The housekeeper had the day off since it was Sunday. Unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen was fairly simple. Clean, bright, homey.
“Are you guys hungry?” Lilly walked to the refrigerator and opened the door.
The nausea had subsided during this last week she’d been in New York, thank goodness. That was normal, her doctor had told her when she’d visited two days ago. At two months along, she should be feeling better.
Physically, she was feeling better. Emotionally, she was still shaky.
Yet, as she’d talked to the doctor, she’d realized something important.
She could do this. Be a mom. She could be a really great mother.
“Milk and cookies!” Ashley crowed, showing she wasn’t always the perfect, grown-up lady her father expected.
“I suppose Mother would want us to eat a sal
ad.” Taylor slung herself onto one of the high, caned stools and moped.
Lilly opened the freezer. “I’m thinking ice cream.”
Both her sisters laughed, and she turned to grin at them. She might not have ever fit in here, but she had found love every time she came in the door. From her sisters.
The first people she’d told about the baby.
Pulling out the round, white containers filled with chocolate-chunk and butter pecan, she got to work on the comfort food. Her sisters laughed and teased each other while they waited, easing her tension and her sorrow for what could never be with her mom and her stepfather.
“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” Ashley slurped on the gooey mix of chocolate ice cream and marshmallow topping.
“I don’t care.” Though she wouldn’t mind a little boy with Iain’s blue eyes and sweet soul.
“I’d want a girl so I could dress her up.” Taylor, the fashion queen of the household, smirked.
“She wouldn’t want to wear whatever you told her to.” Her younger sister frowned. “After all, she’s going to be Lilly’s kid.”
“And Lilly never wore what Mom wanted her to, did she?” Taylor giggled.
She didn’t mind the teasing. She might have been the sunshine kid, yet she’d also always been the odd one out. If she thought about it long enough, she supposed that role had been the reason she’d never felt a part of a place until she’d found Iain.
But that had been wrong for her, too. Or wrong for him, really. So she and her baby would have to find a new place, and she was well on her way to doing that. She giggled with her sisters and then told them of her plans and made sure they were okay before they dashed off to do their mounds of homework. After washing the dishes, she ran up the stairs and went into the bedroom she’d had since she was nine.
There was nothing in the room that would indicate she’d ever lived here.
The pink coverlet she’d picked out on the day Samuel had proposed to her mom had long ago been given to charity. The fancy striped wallpaper her mother had chosen and Lilly had never liked had been replaced with cream paint. Her dolls and toys had been packed away or given to her sisters.
