by Amy Harmon
Gillian hung her head. “I heard. I’m sorry.”
The man nodded once, they both left and, exhausted, she crawled back into bed and immediately fell asleep.
* * *
The next morning, Gillian went outside into the chilly spring air, bought a local newspaper, and sat on a bench. She looked at the date in the corner, May 24. Sure enough, it was springtime again, and over a month had passed since she’d been there last.
She thought about all that had happened, and stupid tears welled in her eyes again. She knew she needed to get control of herself. She was a mess. But all she could think about was, did he miss her? Think about her? Would he be happy? Did she want him happy with That Cow Edith?
“Miss, are you okay?” Gillian looked up to see a pretty, middle-aged woman looking at her with concern.
Gillian sniffed, wiped at her eyes, and chuckled. “Sorry, I’m fine, just thinking about something… sad.”
“Is there anything I can to do to help?”
Gillian shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Thank you, though.”
The woman nodded. “Okay, if you’re sure.” She smiled and started to walk away.
“Wait. Do you know if there’s a car rental in town?”
The woman nodded. “Sure. There’s one just outside the Gillian town square.”
Gillian stared at the woman. “Excuse me. Did you say the Gillian town square?”
“Yes. I can give you a lift if you’d like.”
Gillian looked at the newspaper in her hand. The Gillian Gazette was printed at the top of the front page in big, bold letters. How had she missed that? “I thought this town was named Marshall?”
The woman shook her head. “No, you’re thinking about the ruin outside of town. It’s called Marshall Keep. The town is named after some obscure lord’s true love.” She waved a hand. “I don’t remember all the details, but there’s a guidebook over at the local bookshop.” She pointed across the street to a charming cluster of honey-stoned cottages. “It tells the whole story.”
Gillian stared at the hanging bookstore sign as chills raced up her body. “Thank you.”
“Are you sure you don’t need a lift?”
Gillian shook her head. “No, I’m good. But thanks for your help.”
She walked across the cobblestone street to the bookstore, asked for and purchased the guidebook, and was soon back outside and sitting on a pretty wooden bench. She flipped to information about the castle.
Lord Marshall, later Lord Hardbrook after his father’s death, had named the town after his true love. Curse it! The tears started up again and she tilted her head back and willed the moisture away. After a moment, under control again, she continued reading.
Historians weren’t sure what the whole story was there. Lord Marshall’s first wife had died, and it had been rumored he’d killed her. For this mystery girl? No one knew, which was why Lord Marshall had become such a figure of speculation and mystery over the years.
Some historians ventured that Gillian had actually been Catherine, perhaps a nickname? Apparently her death had left him disconsolate as he’d never remarried. Another theory stated that perhaps Gillian was a lover who had died too? Or had married another?
What was clear was that, after his wife’s death, Lord Marshall had contracted to marry his wife’s younger sister, but she’d married one of Lord Marshall’s men instead.
Tears flooded her eyes again. It was her that he’d wanted? Not riches or wealth or a connection to Lord Corbett? Just her? Had Kellen believed her story after she’d disappeared? Was he leaving her a message with the name of the town? He’d never married Edith because he loved Gillian? And then he’d been alone his entire life?
She swallowed convulsively. That wretch Tristan! If she could get her hands on him right now, she’d hurt him! She might not have wanted Kellen to marry Edith, but she hadn’t wanted him lonely, either!
She wiped away more tears as she tried to sort through what this meant. Kellen had found out that she’d lied about being Edith. He knew Gillian wasn’t an heiress. And he’d still wanted her? He’d given up wealth and property and even a chance at the heir he’d wanted when Gillian had nothing to give but herself? He’d meant what he’d said?
She pressed her hands to her face and cried harder. She’d felt he couldn’t love her unless she had something to offer, specifically money, but that wasn’t the case. That wasn’t the case! If he couldn’t have her, he hadn’t married anyone?
Gillian started to laugh and pressing the guidebook to her heart, she jumped up and started toward the hotel. She’d grab her things and run back to him. She had to see him, to tell him. She stopped, realized a passerby was staring at her, probably seeing a crazy, giddy woman, and put her head down and walked at a more sedate pace to the hotel.
She wanted to see him immediately, this day. She wanted to hold him, be held by him, tell him how she felt, and listen to his assurances; but there were some things she needed to do first.
* * *
A few hours later Gillian was sitting on the hotel bed, her newly charged cell phone in hand, and the notes she’d made to herself spread out before her. Taking a breath, she dialed a number in her contact list.
“Hello?” A deep voice answered the phone.
Gillian clutched the receiver. “Mr. Frost? Uh, Walter?”
“Yes, who is calling, please?”
“It’s Gillian. Gillian Corbett.”
“Gillian! My dear. It’s wonderful to hear from you. How are you?”
“I’m doing well.” She smiled, seeing the easy-going older gentleman in her mind, always perfectly groomed, and most comfortable in slacks and a sweater. Ten years older than her dad, they’d been good friends in the years before his death. “Better than ever, actually.”
“I’m so happy to hear that. We’ve been worried about you, you know. How was England?”
“Well, I’m actually still here. I’ve met someone and I’m getting married.” Saying the words out loud sent a thrill through her.
“Married?” He cleared his throat. “To that young gentleman you told me about? I thought—” he hesitated. “Did the two of you make up, after all?”
“No. This isn’t Ryan. This is someone I met in England.”
Walter paused. “Oh, but my dear, that was awfully fast.” He hesitated again. “Gillian, as a good friend of your father’s, I feel I have to caution you against jumping into marriage too soon. And so quickly after you ended a previous relationship. You’ve been in a vulnerable place ever since, well, your family… uh… left you alone. He’s English?”
“Yes. And I understand your concern. I do. But please don’t worry. My fiancé is rock solid. He’s a really great guy.”
“Hmm. Tell me about him. What does he do for a living?”
“He’s a farmer. He has a lot of people working for him and depending on him.”
“How do you know he’s not some sort of con artist?”
Gillian laughed, thinking of Kellen’s reaction to such an accusation. No doubt a sword would be involved. “I’ve been living with him and his family for a while now. I think I’d know if anything shady was going on.”
“Well then, how do you know this gentleman doesn’t just want you for your money? I hesitate to say hurtful things to you, my dear, but you’ve been taken in before. Didn’t you tell me Ryan turned out to be less than honest in his feelings for you?”
She looked at the guide book and thought about the fact that Kellen didn’t marry Edith for her money, that he’d named the town Gillian, and she couldn’t help but smile. “I promise you I’m not even the smallest bit concerned about that. He doesn’t even know I have any money. He’s actually been supporting me for the last month or so.”
There was another hesitation then, “Gillian, you’ve been through a lot in the last few years. Are you sure?”
“Positive. Listen, I know Ryan and I didn’t work out, but this is different. In terms of character, Kellen reminds
me of my father and of you, for that matter. He’s honorable, dependable, and always does the right thing. I know he loves me. He’s a wonderful guy and I’m so glad to be marrying him. You have no idea how happy I am about this.”
Walter sighed. “Well, I can see you’re not going to change your mind. And I appreciate you calling to tell me. Are you coming home before the wedding?”
“That’s why I’m calling you. I’m not coming home at all.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m hoping you can sell my parents’ house for me. Quickly.”
“Well, Gillian, of course I can. I still do a little real estate from time to time, and I’m glad you’ve come to me; but why the rush? What if the marriage doesn’t work out? I can list your house, but why not wait for the market to recover?”
“No. I want it sold.”
He paused. “Look, I know your parents left you some money, and I’m aware your art career is going well. Surely there isn’t any hurry? After all the work your parents did to the place, it’s a gem. If you sell it, you may never get it back if you change your mind later.”
“I promise I’m not coming back. This is happily ever after for me. I’m all right and I’m happy. Please don’t worry about me. Here’s what I want… ”
After a lot more talking back and forth, she finally convinced him to sell the house for the lowered price she’d decided on so it would sell fast.
“Everything? What about keepsakes? Furniture?”
“All I want is for you to overnight my family genealogy album and the big red photo album. The one with all my family photos.”
“This just seems so fast. So permanent. Can’t I talk you into waiting?”
“No. My mind is made up.”
He sighed again. “All right. If you don’t care, I’ll buy your house myself if you’re determined to sell it for that price. Then I’ll wait out the market and make the profit you should have had.”
Gillian smiled. “That would be wonderful. Thank you so much. That’s generous of you to offer.”
Walter blew out a breath. “I’m the one getting the good deal. I feel like I’m cheating you.”
“And yet, I feel like you’re doing me a huge favor. Please get the paperwork started immediately.” She gave him the hotel and fax number, the name of the city, and her bank account info. He already had a spare key.
After everything was taken care of, he sighed loudly. “Just so you know, I’ll be paying all the closing costs. It’s the least I can do. And I’ll be calling the local police so I can make sure none of this is being done under coercion.”
“That’s fine. I have their number here if you want it. I took off with my boyfriend for a while, and when I came back they paid me a visit.”
“Hmm. Actually I prefer to look up the number myself. You realize it’s looking even more suspicious to me now, right?”
Gillian laughed. “Please don’t worry. I promise I’m fine. But call the police if it will put your mind at ease.”
When she got off the phone, she added a visit to the police station to her to-do list. No doubt they’d think she was a flake and an idiot for making up with her boyfriend and marrying so quickly, but that didn’t matter. They just needed to believe she was all right so they could convince Walter.
She picked up the phone again. A call to her money manager, then another to the leading gold and gems expert in England got the ball rolling, and when she’d finished making the calls she picked up her purse and headed for the door. It was time to go shopping.
Chapter Thirty-two
Two weeks later, Gillian drove to the ruins of the castle exhausted but happy. She looked down at her yellow medieval gown, dry-cleaned, pressed, and bunched around her knees so she could drive. She couldn’t help but smile.
She knew she was looking her best, with subtle make-up, her hair freshly washed, trimmed and curled, and she wore a fortune in gold jewelry.
She was, however, feeling a bit paranoid because she had so much of value with her. She glanced at the one of the large duffle bags, taking up the entire passenger seat and floor, and gave it a pat before glancing in her rear-view mirror to assure herself no one was following.
She drove along the road near Marshall Keep, saw no one, doubled back, and parked as close to the castle as she could get, in the spot she’d instructed the car rental place to pick up the vehicle in a few hours. She didn’t want it getting back to the police, and then to Walter, that she’d gone missing again.
She glanced at the castle ruin, then carefully studied the entire area, but there were no cars, no people, just the deserted rubble in the morning sunlight, the softly rolling hills, and the cemetery in the distance.
Her body humming with excitement, she got out, double-checked the pepper spray and knife in her pocket, then slipped on her backpack, tightened it, and dragged out the two padlocked duffle bags full of gold coins, gems, spices, and essentials.
She catalogued the essentials in her mind: Her genealogy book, with added family pictures from her photo album, chocolate, antibiotics, and a fully stocked first aid kit. A few books on natural healing, and seeds for some of the healing plants. Ibuprofen, a hand mirror, menstrual cups, a manicure set and nail polish, toothbrushes, and some make-up and underwear. Also, a little something for Kellen on their wedding night. There was so much more she could have brought, but she didn’t want to push her luck. Anyway, there was only so much she could carry.
She’d closed her social media accounts, said her goodbyes to work contacts, college friends, Walter and his wife, and hoped they’d all be so busy with their own lives that it would be a long time before they realized she hadn’t been in contact. Hopefully, they’d just assume she’d moved on with her life as had already happened with a few of her friends.
As an added precaution she’d let it slip to the police that she was ready to completely break ties with her old life, start a new one, and probably wouldn’t be in touch with her friends again. No doubt she’d come off sounding irresponsible, selfish and cold, but the last thing she wanted was for Walter to worry about her or feel responsible for instigating a search and rescue if he tried and failed to get in touch.
She still had to laugh about the last time she’d spoken to him. He’d found her ex-fiancé, Ryan, living in her parents’ house, claiming he wanted to get back together with Gillian. Walter had had him arrested for trespassing. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.
Placing the car key under the mat, she shut the door, glanced around, hoisted a pack onto each shoulder, and groaned at the weight. She staggered toward the ruin and couldn’t help glancing around the entire time, feeling paranoid that the young men who’d attacked her, or someone else entirely, would show up. Thankfully, she was completely alone.
She hauled everything to the ruin and, after much heavy breathing, a few rest stops, and quite a bit of sweat, through to the chapel.
She went to the spot she’d landed the last time and dropped the duffle bags, straightened, rubbed her lower back, and tried to catch her breath. She looked at the bounty at her feet and couldn’t help but feel pleased with all she’d accomplished in such a short amount of time. Darned if Kellen was ever going to feel he’d lost out by marrying her.
Not that she’d tell him about her dowry before he declared himself willing to take her without it. She had her pride, after all, and wanted to actually hear the words. She wanted to hear that he loved her for who she was and not what she brought to the marriage. Apparently, she was still feeling a little insecure.
He would still want her, wouldn’t he? Now that he’d had a chance to think about it? Gillian looked around the ruins of the castle and admitted she was stalling because she was scared. Scared the time travel wasn’t going to work, scared he’d already moved on, scared that the history books had it all wrong.
She took one of the gold chains off her neck, looked at the ring dangling at the bottom, then at the writing engraved on the inside. When her family’
s genealogy book had arrived, she’d found a receipt from the man her dad had hired to decipher the markings. The ancient words meant Life flows for all time. Gillian, thinking of Kellen, certainly hoped so.
She clenched the ring in one fist. It had to work; because if it didn’t, she didn’t know what she’d do. She finally took a deep breath, squatted down, hefted one strap onto her left shoulder, another onto her right, and straightened. The heavy packs dangled against each side, and she opened the chain and removed the ring.
She grimaced as she cut her finger with the small knife she’d bought for just that purpose. She folded the blade, put it back in her pocket and, taking a deep breath, slid the ring onto her bleeding finger.
Within seconds, the chapel was whole again. Father Elliot let out a startled yelp. “By sweet Saint Cuthbert! Lady Corbett!”
Gillian fell to her knees, the duffle bags clanging noisily to the ground beside her. She was so relieved it had worked, that she was back, that she’d made it, that she’d reached Kellen. Stupidly, she started to cry. “Father Elliot,” she said between sobs. “It’s so good to see you again.”
The rotund man rushed forward. “And you, as well. Welcome home.”
Gillian wiped at her eyes and laughed, glad to see he didn’t look as if he were ready to gather firewood for a witch burning. “Thank you. How long have I been gone?”
“A fortnight at least, my dear.”
“Kellen didn’t marry Edith, did he?”
He smiled at that. “Nay, my dear. He awaits your return.”
“Oh.” Another sob burst from her and more tears burned her eyes, but she still couldn’t help smiling. “Good. That’s so good.” Relieved and elated, Gillian shrugged off her backpack, stood on unsteady legs, and headed for the door. She stopped and turned around. “Do you think you could have my things sent up to my room?”
Father Elliot nodded. “Certainly.”
And then she was outside, running toward Marshall Keep to find her man, marry him, and live happily ever after.
