It was that day, after I blocked James from my life, that I went to my parents’ house and again brought up the possibility of a memorial. I knew I was ready now, and I hoped they would be as well. And they were.
So, on a gorgeous day in April, the day she would have been thirty, we gathered in the River Canyon Park for a birthday party.
We ordered catering from McKenna’s Delicatessen and a three-tiered cake fit for a princess from Patty’s Cakes. We asked River Canyon’s local celebrity and world-renowned rock star, Devin O’Leary, to play his guitar during the festivities. He had accepted without question, and then, we were surprised us by inviting his whole band to play. My parents had ordered a gardens’ worth of flowers, and Tom surprised us by ordering the headstone, sparing us the pain of doing it ourselves.
Days before the party, I’d gone out and spent an obscene amount of money on a dress at Harold’s, River Canyon’s only department store. I wasn’t going to initially, because there were bills to pay and I needed to eat. But then, I imagined all of the birthdays, parties, and weddings Grace would never have or attend. All of those moments she would never be there for, all of those memories I would never make with her, and suddenly, a few hundred dollars didn’t seem like all that much.
Now, I stood at the table, to survey the crowd of friends, family, and neighbors who had gathered to celebrate her life. It was the party she had always wanted, something close to the wedding she never had, and I smiled, knowing she would have been happy. I hoped that she was.
“Mom, do you wanna eat something?” TJ asked me, standing up from his seat to graze at the buffet table.
I shook my head, unsure I’d be able to stomach anything at the moment, and smiled. “Nah, I’m okay. Thanks, though.”
He shrugged and wandered off, and I sat down to listen to Devin play with his band. I stared ahead at one of the many picture collages, showcasing a lifetime of memories between Gracie and me. The adventures had by two young girls, the fun they had as teens, the growing up they did as adults. Years of experiences, all compiled into a few dozen pictures.
With a forlorn sigh, my eyes bounced to another collage, this one of Gracie and TJ. Then, to another, of her and our parents. This was all we had of her. Her apartment was gone now, after my parents, TJ, and I had cleaned it out a few months ago. Now, the only evidence of her existence was held within those pictures, and that’s all there was. There would never be any more.
“God, Gracie,” I whispered, clasping my hands and pressing my forehead to them.
I closed my eyes and imagined I could hear her voice.
Love you, Rosie.
I was grateful that I had held onto that, even after all this time. I hoped I always would, even as the black cloud of time loomed over me, with its reminder that everything fades. Even the most vivid of memories.
“Ye all right, lass?”
The trauma of my time in Scotland had lingered for months, and even now, I couldn’t go a week without wondering if Stirling Sharp was really dead. And along with my desperation to forget the horrors I’d experienced, I had also forced my mind to block any and all thoughts of Alec Brodie. Not because I wanted to forget our brief time together, but because with those fond memories came the realization that he was out there somewhere, living his life and forgetting about me. I lived with enough pain as it was, and I had learned that the pain of becoming a memory wasn’t one I could tolerate. Not when it came to him.
But now, looking over my shoulder, I found a ghost I had desperately tried to force into the past, and damn him for not staying there.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, dropping my hands to the table with an unceremonious clatter of silverware.
I stared in dumbfounded wonder as he pulled out a chair from beside me. Dressed in a gorgeous grey, tweed suit likely too warm for the day we were having, he sat down, and helped himself to the rest of my glass of champagne.
“Um, I wasn’t done—”
“Ye ken what I’ve found to be a problem?” he asked, smacking his lips and lowering the glass to the table with an audible clink.
“W-what’s that?”
He crossed his arms against the table and looked out toward the crowd, while my brain still struggled to come to terms with him being here. It seemed impossible, when I had become so accustomed to him being over three thousand miles away, across an ocean, and in an entirely separate country.
“Remember all of that shite ye said, about not wantin’ to become a memory?”
My poor gut twisted into a thousand tiny knots, as I nodded and said, “Yeah …”
“Well, I found it’s impossible for ye to become a memory at all, when I cannae get ye out of my fuckin’ head.” He sighed, winded and breathless, as if he’d spent the past six months running toward me, and said, “Ye’re all I think about. What ye’re doin’, who ye’re seein’, how ye’re handlin’… everythin’ we went through and everythin’ else … I cannae do a damn thing with my life, when thoughts of you are takin’ all my time.”
My cheeks flushed, as my eyes volleyed to the crowd of chatting and dancing guests. “Oh …”
He snorted, slapping the table with a palm. “And that’s all ye have to say? I came all the way here, said all of that, just for ye to say, oh?” he mocked, then shook his head as he laughed. “Unbelievable.”
I turned to him, utterly gobsmacked, and exclaimed, “What do you want me to say?”
“I dunno,” he said with a shrug. “Somethin’ … more, I guess.”
“Okay, then how about this?” I leveled him with a stern, hard glare. “I can’t stop thinking about you either. I can’t stop thinking about all we went through, and how you saved my life, and the fact that I know I’ll never find another man like you. But what is the point to saying any of it, when I know I can’t have you?”
“Rosie, d—”
“What are you doing here?”
At the sound of my son's voice, I turned and saw him standing there in his dress shirt and pants. A scowl painted his face against a happy backdrop of fresh flowers, lively music, and his father coming to stand over his shoulder with curious intent. After months of listening to my incessant commentary about Alec's whereabouts, I expected Tom would have strong feelings against him showing up at my sister's memorial, and I dreaded his backlash more than that of my son.
“Inspector Brodie,” he greeted Alec with a cordial nod of his head. “I'm glad you could make it.”
Alec stood and extended a hand to my ex-husband. “Aye, and I'm still grateful to ye, for givin' me the information. It was appreciated.”
“No problem at all,” Tom replied, as the two men shook hands. Then, he put a hand on TJ's shoulder and said, “Come on, let's go find Grandma and Grandpa and let them know Inspector Brodie is here.”
“But … why?” TJ asked, shaking his head through a bewildered stupor. “Why are you here?”
“To pay my respects to your family,” Alec replied simply, turning his hand to my son, who accepted slowly and curiously. “And to see how ye were all fairin', after everythin' that happened.”
“I didn't think we'd see you again,” TJ said, as if Alec's words had fallen on deaf ears.
Alec nodded. “I didnae think so, either. But I found I couldnae just leave things the way they were.”
Devin O'Leary and his band began to play one of their biggest hits, “Daisies & You,” when TJ came around the table. He walked carefully over the grass, while keeping his intense stare on Alec. My anxiety rose higher and higher with every step, until my son stood before the man I desperately wished to call my own. And then, he pushed forward, until his arms were wrapped tightly around Alec's back and his cheek was pressed to his shoulder.
“Thank you for saving my mom,” he said, as an unexpected burst of tears came forth against Alec's suit.
“Ah, laddie,” Alec softly replied, hugging my son back with warmth and comfort. “I told ye, I'd do everythin' I could to keep her safe or die tryin'.”
/>
“I'm sorry I was such a dick.”
Alec laughed and patted TJ's shoulder. “Ye were nothin' I couldnae handle,” he replied, as TJ took a step back and wiped hastily at his cheeks. “But ye've been all right?”
TJ nodded, sniffling. “Yeah. We're okay.” Then, with a glance in my direction, he said, “Well, Mom's been sad.”
“That's to be expected,” Alec sympathized. “I just buried my father not long ago. That type of grief isnae somethin' ye get beyond overnight.”
“No,” TJ said, shaking his head. “I guess not.”
“But havin' people around to help ye feel better helps,” Alec added.
“Yeah, Dad and I have been trying to help, but,” TJ shrugged helplessly, “I don't know how much we really help or whatever.”
I bit my lip, trying desperately to not cry, then said, “You do a good job.”
TJ shrugged, then said, “I'm gonna go find Grandma and Grandpa, okay? You'll still be here in a few minutes?”
Alec nodded assuredly, as he lowered back into the chair beside me. “I'm not leavin' this spot right here.”
We were left with a nod, as my son rushed toward where his grandparents were chatting with Collin Kinney, beside one of the many collages of Gracie's pictures. Alec watched with interest, as my father wrapped his arm around TJ's shoulders in an affectionate embrace. Then, he surveyed the large crowd of people I knew and loved and made that little sound I'd grown to miss so much.
“Hm.”
“What?”
He turned to me, as his elbows planted against the table, and studied my eyes for a moment, before asking, “Did ye mean it, when ye said ye wanted me?”
The wind was thrust from my lungs as I nodded and said, “Yes. But—”
“Do ye reckon River Canyon is a fine place to stay for a while?”
Reluctant rejoice began to slowly build within my heart as I licked my lips, and said, “Um, well, there isn’t much to do around here, but the people are nice, and the scenery is beautiful. Why? Are you interested?”
“Well, apart from a wonderful, dear friend, there isnae much holdin’ me to Scotland these days.” Alec looked beyond the park, toward the nearby businesses and neighborhoods, and slowly nodded. “And I thought, well, maybe it’s time to take a holiday, so why not see what this River Canyon ye speak so highly of has to offer?”
His invitation to give this a shot was laid out to me on a shining, silver platter, as he waited for my response with hopeful, expectant eyes. I hated to admit that I hesitated, but I did, just for a moment, as I thought of all the chances my baby sister would never have and the life she would never get to live. The faintest stroke of guilt nearly tore me apart, and almost forced me to turn Alec down, but then, I heard her voice whisper to me through the clouds.
It wasn’t a whispered threat, and it wasn’t accompanied by the image of her ghastly, lifeless face. It was simply her, the gentle voice I had known for twenty-nine remarkable years, and it said, “Go get yourself a hot Scot, Rosie. You deserve it.”
So, I nodded and said, “I think it’s a great idea.”
Then, without another word, he leaned in to refresh the memory of his kiss against my lips, with a silent promise that it wouldn’t be the last. But before he could take it a step further and part his lips, I pressed a hand to the breast of his tweed jacket.
“But on one condition,” I continued, my lips brushing against his as I spoke.
“Hm,” he grunted, furrowing his brow. “And what’s that?”
“If a dead body happens to turn up, I’m never, ever coming along for the ride again.”
Alec laughed in the way that I had missed but had rarely heard during my time in Scotland, as he pressed his forehead to mine. I don't know how, with the horrors of those days playing through my mind, but I found it in me to laugh with him, for the first time in what seemed like months. And it felt like freedom, relief, and the meaning of what it was to be alive, all wrapped up in one cozy little package of hope.
Then, he exhaled into the newness of Spring and said, “Lass, I cannae see the future, and who knows what might happen, but Christ, I fuckin' hope not.”
“Well, then,” I replied, wrapping my arms around his neck, “that'll have to be good enough for now.”
THE END…
FOR NOW.
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Acknowledgements
To my mom, for being the first person to introduce me to mysteries, thrillers, suspense, and horror. When I really think about it, this whole thing, everything that I am, is her fault. I hope she’s proud.
To Danny, for creating the most perfect cover I have ever had for a book. It was a long road to get to this one, but he made it happen, and it is absolutely everything I ever could have wanted.
To Kelly, for telling me a story about a detective who looked up into the sky, spotted a circling bird, and knew from that alone where the body was. If she hadn’t told me about that, I’m not sure the idea for A Circle of Crows ever would’ve been born.
To Kirsty and her father, Peter, for being the best Scottish sources in the world. I am eternally grateful to them, for always answering my questions and steering me in the right direction.
To Jess, for being the best editor with the greatest enthusiasm and tough love. Knowing she enjoyed this book is one of my fondest accomplishments.
To Judy, Kerry, Emma, Melanie, & Leanne, for being the best team I could ever ask for. Their enjoyment of my stories is one of the key ingredients to keeping me going.
To Diana Gabaldon, for instilling a love of Scotland in me and for ensuring that, one day, I’d have to write a story with a Scottish hero.
To you, Dear Reader, for always reading and supporting this crazy dream of mine. I love each and every one of you with all my heart and soul.
And lastly, to Mike, for everything he ever was and everything he still is.
About the Author
Kelsey Kingsley is a legally blind gal living in New York with her husband, her son, and a black-and-white cat named Ethel. She really loves doughnuts, tea, and Edgar Allan Poe.
She believes there is a song for every situation.
She has a potty mouth and doesn’t eat cheese.
Other Books by Kelsey Kingsley
Holly Freakin’ Hughes
Daisies & Devin
The Life We Wanted
Tell Me Goodnight
Forget the Stars
Warrior Blue
The Life We Have
Where We Went Wrong
Scars & Silver Linings
A Circle of Crows
The Kinney Brothers Series
One Night to Fall (Kinney Brothers #1)
To Fall for Winter (Kinney Brothers #2)
Last Chance to Fall (Kinney Brothers #3)
Hope to Fall (Kinney Brothers #4)
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A Circle of Crows Page 27
