Day 2 – Saturday morning
Forbes residence
Ginny stirred her coffee slowly, counter-clockwise, watching the cream make swirls of pale light that faded into the darkness. Good coffee was as soothing as it was stimulating: a chemical enigma. She inhaled the fragrance and let it seep into her soul.
“Another slice of ham?”
Ginny raised her eyes from her cup. Her mother was adding ham and eggs to her own plate, not looking at Ginny, her face serene. It was a gift, that face, the ability to look serene no matter what the trouble.
Ginny nodded, accepting a small slice of ham and a spoonful of eggs, then helping herself to cantaloupe, as a counterpoint to the protein. She picked up her fork and took a bite of the eggs, taking her time, concentrating on the taste and aroma and texture.
Eating had become a challenge and she’d been shying away from admitting it, but it had to be faced. The pain she felt was psychosomatic, a construct of the emotional pain. Good food was a pleasure, she told herself. Worth the trouble and necessary for health. She nibbled on the cantaloupe.
“How are you holding up, darling?”
Ginny gave her mother half a smile. “Phyllis is dead and I’m suspected of murdering her. What do you think?”
“I think you’re handling it splendidly.”
Ginny frowned. “Jim doesn’t. He thinks I’m a mess.”
“Is that why he wanted to spend the night?”
“He figures if he can catch me in a meltdown, he’ll know better how to manage my condition.”
“Sounds like a physician. Why did you send him home?”
Ginny’s brow wrinkled. “Are you familiar with the term, enabling?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s what he’s been doing. Every time I face an issue, or an obstacle, or a challenge, he’s there, trying to smooth the way.” She scowled. “All he sees is an emotional cripple.”
Her eyes dropped to the kitchen table, her mind returning to the scene that had taken place here, right here. The one that made her stomach ache. She picked up her spoon and poked at the coffee cup, reluctant to admit her worst fear.
Her mother waited patiently, and after a moment, Ginny took a deep breath and asked the question that was haunting her. “What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t bounce back?” She looked up. “Jim’s not imagining it. I am an emotional cripple. I can’t trust myself at work. I can’t force myself to face the ice. I can’t let Jim touch me without fighting down panic.”
Mrs. Forbes nodded. “First, I have full confidence in you and so does Himself. We both think this is temporary. Second, you have the blood of heroes flowing through your veins. That hasn’t changed. You’re just a wiser version of the person you were.”
Ginny studied her mother’s face. The Scottish blood to which she referred included some of the boldest of the Highland clans. Men—and women—who had fought on both sides of the Atlantic and, if the stories were to be believed, never once considered giving in to anyone. Some days it was a lot to live up to.
Her mother continued. “You’re not going to be happy until you take back what Hal took from you and none of us can do that for you. But you don’t have to do it alone. You have me and Himself and Caroline. And you have Jim.”
Ginny squirmed. “I wish he’d lighten up. He’s so serious.”
“I think he feels responsible.”
“He thinks he can fix everything.”
Her mother’s mouth twitched. “He’s too intelligent and too well trained to believe that.” She smiled. “But I think you’re right that he wants to.” She put down her coffee and crossed her arms on the table, looking directly at Ginny. “It hurts him, to see you in pain.”
Ginny scowled. “I don’t like it either.”
“It would be a kindness, to him, if you’d let him feel useful.”
Ginny’s frown deepened. Her role as dutiful daughter and licensed nurse and one of the Loch Lonach community meant she had an obligation to the Laird’s grandson. The question was, did it take precedence over her obligation to herself? She fought down an urge to whine. She was too old for that. Besides, it had never worked with her mother anyway.
She nodded, then rose, and cleared away the dirty dishes. “I’m going over to Phyllis’ house for a condolence call, then out to the Homestead, then lunch with Jim.”
“All right.” Mrs. Forbes rose and held out her arms.
Ginny let herself be hugged and kissed, then said goodbye and headed for the garage. She and her mother had a good relationship, with mutual respect on both sides, but Ginny didn’t tell her mother everything. There was another reason Ginny didn’t want Jim controlling her life. She’d made a promise to herself—to dig out of this blue funk, regain her self-esteem, and prove to the world she was a survivor. On her own. By herself. Whatever the cost.
She sighed heavily. What it would probably cost was her pride and that was the only thing that had kept her going since October, her stubborn, mulish, arrogant, Scottish pride. If that went, what was she going to use for courage?
* * *
Saturday midmorning
Kyle residence
The woman who opened the door to Ginny looked enough like Phyllis to confirm the family relationship: ash blond hair, hazel eyes, lean and lanky build. Ginny shifted the bags of groceries to one hand and held out the other. “I’m Ginny Forbes. We spoke on the phone.”
“Rachel Amante, Phyllis’ sister.” She gave Ginny a wan smile. “This is so kind of you! Please come in.”
Ginny headed for the kitchen. “I’ve brought casseroles and frozen dinners and stuff for the kids.” She set her packages down on the counter and faced the other woman. “I’m so sorry for your loss, and my own. Phyllis and I were in school together. I’m really going to miss her.”
“Who’s there?” The voice was almost as ugly as the expression on the man suddenly appearing in the kitchen doorway.
Ginny looked at the newcomer. He must have been six feet tall and, under better circumstances, a good match for Phyllis. At present, he was unshaven, dressed in rumpled jeans and tee shirt, his spiky blond hair in disarray, his eyes wild. Even from here, Ginny could smell alcohol on his breath.
“Is she from the hospital? Tell her to get out!”
“John, please! She brought food.”
“We don’t need her food!” He stepped toward her and Ginny took a step back. She would gladly have complied with his demand, but he was blocking the exit.
“I’m very sorry to intrude on your grief, Mr. Kyle. I’ll go.”
“Damn right, you will! Coming here again.”
Ginny hadn’t been over before, so she was a bit confused by the accusation.
“It wasn’t her, John. It was the other one.”
John blinked, then swallowed, then seemed to deflate. “Sorry.” He straightened up again immediately and stuck his finger out, pointing it at Ginny. “But you tell that woman not to show her face around here again.”
Ginny nodded. “I’ll do that.” She slipped sideways toward the door and Rachel took the hint, stepping between her and the bereaved man, to let her out.
“Forgive him. He’s very upset.”
Ginny nodded. “Please let me know if I can do anything to help. You have my number.” She took her leave and headed for her car, wondering what had caused the outburst and whether the other person from Hillcrest was someone she knew and whether she had any obligation to do anything about the situation.
* * *
Saturday late morning
Loch Lonach Homestead
The grass was dappled with moving shadows cast by the live oaks that edged the Homestead exercise ground. The earth on which she sat was dry and the insects had retreated. With the sun out, white clouds adrift in a sapphire sky, and the air sweet on her face, it was easy to imagine it was a spring day, rather than deep winter in Texas.
“Ginny?”
She looked up as Caroline approached, in period costume and obviously working. It was equally obvious that Ginny, clad in sweats, was not.
“What are you doing here?”
Ginny motioned toward the field. “Watching the lesson.”
Caroline dropped to the earth, put her hand to her eyes and focused on the closest pair of combatants.
“Oh! That’s Jim, isn’t it?”
Ginny nodded.
Caroline grinned. “Well I can understand why you might want to watch that.”
Both men were wearing white tee shirts, kilts, and body armor in the form of thick padding. They edged warily past one another, then moved in suddenly, the sound of metal on metal punctuating the moment of impact.
Caroline cocked her head to one side. “Are they regimental?”
Ginny grinned. “No, they’re both wearing briefs—black—as per regulations.”
Caroline’s brow furrowed. “Is it my imagination or has he been working out? His muscles look bigger.”
Ginny nodded. “He has figured out he must look the part as well as be able to wield both musket and sword, for which he needs muscles.”
Caroline nodded, watching the blades flash in the sunlight. “Not bad. Who’s he fighting?”
Ginny looked over at her friend and smiled. “Don’t you recognize him?”
Caroline squinted, studying the other man. “Tall, lean, strawberry blonde. He looks familiar.”
“He should. That’s Alan.”
Caroline started. “Alan? My Alan? Well, not mine, but Alan Christie?”
“Yes, dear.”
Caroline’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t think I ever saw him on the field, just indoors. He looks older. What’s Jim teaching him?”
“It’s the other way round. Alan is teaching Jim.”
Again Caroline looked startled. “Really?”
“Alan is our best swordsman. He’s also a gifted instructor.” Ginny watched Caroline’s face undergo a series of adjustments. As recently as last October Caroline had been hiding from Alan, thinking him unsuitable as a companion, even for dinner. She had done some growing up since then and appeared to be doing some more right now.
“Hmmm.” She withdrew her gaze from the field and focused on Ginny. “Speaking of edged weapons, what about you? Are you back on the ice, yet?”
Ginny reached up unconsciously and brushed a wisp of hair away from her left ear, her fingers tracing the scar that had formed as a result of her fall.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Jim was talking helmets and I refuse to wear one.”
“You can understand his position.”
“I can, but it’s not going to happen.”
She’d had a good excuse—two of them—for delaying her return to the ice. Her cracked ribs had needed time to heal, and she’d had to order new skates, since the crime lab had cut her old ones to pieces.
Actually, she had been out to the rink, to be fitted for the new boots then have the new blades positioned. Steve had let her watch and shown her there was no chance they would move. If she fell again, it wouldn’t be the skate’s fault.
“Do you want me to go with you?”
Ginny smiled at her friend. “No, but thanks for the offer.” She needed to go alone, so no one would see how badly she sweated at the prospect.
Caroline’s eyes drifted back to the field. “You haven’t told me yet why you’re here. Is it a secret?”
“Himself asked me to evaluate Jim’s progress.”
Caroline frowned. “That strikes me as awfully cold-blooded, considering.”
Ginny shrugged. “It was never a sure thing.”
“Jim doesn’t know, does he?”
“No, and don’t you tell him.”
“I won’t.” Caroline looked around. “You know what everyone’s going to think, don’t you?”
“That we’re an item.”
“Are you?” Caroline’s voice was carefully neutral.
“I’m off men at present.”
Caroline nodded. “I can understand that. Does Jim?”
Ginny shifted uncomfortably. “We haven’t really talked about it.”
Caroline lifted an eyebrow. “Everyone assumes you and he will end up together.”
Ginny gave a non-committal shrug. “There are a lot of eligible women in town. He doesn’t have to settle for me.”
Caroline turned to face her. “Oh, I think we all know what he wants. The question is what do you want?”
Their conversation was interrupted by the approach of the two combatants. Ginny reached into her bag, pulled out water bottles, and handed them over as Jim and Alan dropped onto the grass. She turned to Alan, who was eyeing Caroline with a tentative smile on his face. “Caroline, I think you and Alan already know one another.”
Caroline nodded and Ginny was amused to see the beginnings of a blush.
“Hello,” Alan said.
“Hello.”
Ginny turned back to Jim, leaving Caroline to fend for herself.
“How did you do out there?”
“He did just fine,” Alan answered her. “Especially since he’s years behind the curve.”
Ginny smiled at the look of annoyance on Jim’s face. He had yet to learn that good-natured teasing was part of the package.
“Well, it isn’t my fault. You have no idea how odd it feels to aim for someone’s liver with the idea of cutting it out of his body without anesthesia.”
Everyone laughed, but it was true that the physicians among them had trouble with the idea of deliberately inflicting mayhem on an enemy, even a hypothetical one.
Jim lowered the water bottle and caught her eye. “Maybe you should learn how to handle a sword,” he teased. “That way you could skewer me if you wanted to.”
“Auch, she knows how,” Alan volunteered. “She just knows she couldn’t beat either one of us with cold steel and has sense enough to use her pistol instead.”
This was true. Ginny was a dead shot with her nine millimeter semi-automatic. So, for that matter, was Caroline.
“Are either of you gentlemen hungry?” Ginny asked.
“I am,” Alan said.
“Me, too.”
“Then may I suggest the four of us go get something to eat?”
“Oh! I can’t!” Caroline said. “I have to be back on duty in ten minutes.”
Alan smiled at her. “I tell you what. Let’s go pick up something from the kitchen and show the tourists how to eat with our fingers.” He rose gracefully and held out a hand to Caroline. She let him pull her to her feet, then waved to Ginny.
“We’ll finish our conversation later.”
Ginny watched the two of them move off in the direction of the compound, chatting easily, and thought how much more mature Alan seemed. She crossed her fingers for her friend.
“What were you talking about?” Jim asked.
Ginny turned her head and looked at him. “You, of course.”
He sighed heavily. “I’m getting tired of being the subject of everyone’s curiosity.”
“I’m afraid you’re stuck with it.” Ginny dimpled suddenly. “She wanted to know if you and Alan were properly dressed under your kilts.”
Jim choked on his water.
“And I was able to assure her I had seen enough to put her fears to rest.”
He was laughing and coughing at the same time.
Ginny watched him long enough to make sure he was in no danger, then got up and held out her hand.
“Come on. It’s lunchtime and you need a shower.”
He rose and stood looking down at her, still laughing. “I knew I had a lot to learn about this place. I just didn’t have any idea what that included.”
“It’s a good thing you’re a fast learner.”
“I have a good teacher.”
“Alan? Yes. He’s as good as they get.”
He stepped toward her. “I wasn’t talking about Alan.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Before you come any closer, you should know there are three people over there watching us.”
“Oh.” He sighed. “It will have to wait, then.” He picked up his jacket, then took her arm and led her off in the direction of the parking lot. When they were out of earshot, he said, “When are you going to let me kiss you, Ginny?”
She felt her throat tighten, but tried to keep her voice light. “You’ve kissed me.”
“As I would a sister, yes. When are you going to let me really kiss you?”
She closed her eyes and tried not to panic. Caroline was right, she needed to decide what she wanted. It wasn’t fair to string Jim along if she had no intention of letting him get close.
“You mean like Hal used to?” Maybe she should let him. It might help her make up her mind.
“If by that you mean as a pale candle is like a roaring fire, then yes.”
She looked up, surprised to find a poet’s soul in this physician’s body. “Are you such a good kisser, then?”
He smiled. “My skill has been admired. Envied, even.” He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “And I guarantee, my bonnie lass, once I have kissed you, you’ll never think of that man again.”
She couldn’t help laughing. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
His lips brushed her ear as he straightened up and Ginny found her mouth dry and her heart racing. She recognized the physiologic response to a perceived threat. Fear, then. Remembered fear or fear of the unknown. Or perhaps it was something else. Whatever it was, it was distracting. She concentrated on not tripping over her own feet.
* * *