Haunted Ground (10 page)

Aidan leaned back on his elbows and gave an approving nod.  “I like that philosophy.  I think too many people just kind of muddle through, never taking charge of their lives and simply reacting to whatever comes their way.  Well, I’d say that selling your father’s company and moving halfway around the world to pursue your dream certainly puts you center-stage.  Is there anyone else in your play or is this a one-woman show?”

“That remains to be seen,” I replied, hoping that wasn’t the case.  “And what about you, Aidan?  What brought you here?”  I felt a little shy about asking, but he didn’t seem put off by the question.

“This is where my fiancee’s family is from.  I met her at St. Andrew’s University where she was working toward her degree in Finance and I was doing a course in Art History.  She wanted to return home after graduation, so I followed.  My parents weren’t too pleased with me leaving Scotland since I’m their only child.  Our family has lived on Skye for roughly two hundred years, and before that, they lived in the north, but were driven out by the clearances that took place in the nineteenth century.  As a matter of fact, some of my ancestors fought in the Jacobite Uprising of ’45.  My parents regarded my move to England as the act of an unpatriotic traitor, but I was in love, and Scottish independence didn’t figure into that.” 

Aidan stared into the flames, a closed expression on his face.  I knew I shouldn’t pry, but I couldn’t contain my curiosity.  Wouldn’t his fiancee have something to say about him spending the night with me by a bonfire, or was she so secure in his love that she didn’t see me as a threat?  I don’t suppose many women would.  I’d never thought of myself as anything special, although there’d been a few boyfriends who told me I was beautiful.  I never really believed them though. 

“So, why didn’t you invite her tonight?  Or doesn’t she like Pagan rituals?”

Aidan never looked away from the fire, but I could see that he resented the question by the tensing of his shoulders and the way his jaw worked beneath the day-old stubble.  “We’re no longer together, her and I.  She lives in London now, or so I heard from her mother the last time I ran into her in the village.  She also informed me that Noelle is happily seeing someone who not only has family money, but a title that can be found in Burke’s Peerage.”

I would have liked to ask why he chose to stay on in Upper Whitford, but this wasn’t the right time.  Clearly he was still upset about the break-up.  Either way, it was none of my affair.  Aidan had retreated into silence, so I just stared into the flames, suddenly feeling lonely again.

Aidan stared into the leaping flames, suddenly ashamed of himself for his little outburst of self-pity.  He’d sounded so bitter and resentful.  And now Lexi was sitting there, enveloped in silence, the shifting shadows cast by the fire playing over her lovely face and reflecting in her eyes, which were averted from him.  She’d been full of good humor only a few minutes ago, but now she seemed pensive, lost in her own thoughts and maybe recalling her own bad breakup that might have led to her desire to flee New York and start a new life in England.  He hadn’t meant to let his resentment show, but his response to Lexi’s question took him by surprise.  He thought he was doing well, but the bitterness that crept into his voice as he spoke of Noelle reminded him that somewhere deep inside he was still hurting.

Aidan wanted to recapture the easy camaraderie of a few moments ago, but suddenly had no idea what to say.  He felt foolish in the extreme, and Lexi seemed put off by his change in mood.  He didn’t want to think of Noelle; didn’t want to remember.  He’d spent enough time agonizing and second-guessing, wondering if he’d missed any of the signs or sent the wrong signals, but the end result was still the same, and it was time to move on.  He thought he was. 

If Aidan were honest, the whole idea of the bonfire was a bit of a ploy to get to know Lexi better.  Naturally, he would not have suggested it had his clients been some middle-aged couple or an elderly woman, but Lexi was young and beautiful, and spending a few hours with her in front of a roaring fire under a blanket of stars seemed like a good idea.  In truth, he’d been awfully lonely of late, and there was something about this girl that made a tiny crack in the armor he’d worn since the divorce.  She had a warmth and an openness that appealed to him, and that American way of just saying what she meant without coating it in layers of hidden meaning.  He’d had a hard time keeping a straight face at the pub when she blurted out a few suggestive comments without intending to, then watched her blush in embarrassment as she realized how they must have sounded.  It would be fun to get her into that kind of mood again.

“Would you like another beer?” he asked, but Lexi just shook her head, her eyes never leaving the pyre.  She didn’t seem inclined to talk, so he just sat there, silently cursing himself for the fool that he was and an opportunity missed. 

Aidan barely noticed when Lexi’s eyes seemed to grow heavy and she curled up on her side, still watching the flames as she drifted off to sleep beside him.  He pulled a blanket out of his backpack and wrapped it around Lexi, tenderly brushing away a lock of hair that fell into her face.  She looked so childlike in sleep, her lips stretched into an enigmatic smile brought on by a pleasant dream. 

He couldn’t help but be curious about her.  Why would a young woman leave her family and friends to come to a small village in England?  Surely there were plenty of places in the U.S. where one could open up a Bed and Breakfast.  Why here?  Aidan had lived in these kinds of rural settings all his life, but he couldn’t imagine going from the thrumming pulse of New York to a sleepy little village, where the most exciting thing was watching cricket at the pub with a few mates or finding out through the extensive gossip network that someone was having an affair.  Would she get bored once the work was complete?  Maybe she’d get restless and leave this place to return to a life she was accustomed to. 

The thought of Lexi leaving made Aidan suddenly sad.  She was a breath of fresh air who’d reminded him that what he’d been doing for the past year wasn’t living, but just going through the motions in the hope that his emotions wouldn’t get the better of him and stay safely buried where he’d stashed them.  But tonight’s conversation showed that they weren’t buried at all, and that Lexi had the power to unsettle him.  And that maybe it was time he put Noelle firmly behind him and allow himself to rejoin the living.

Aidan wasn’t sure if it was the trilling of birds, the sun in his eyes, or the dampness on his cheek that woke him up, but he held up his hand to block the sun before opening his eyes and was instantly aware of Lexi curled up against him, her back pressed against his chest and the curve of her lovely butt right up against his pelvis.  Aidan’s arm had been protectively curled around Lexi’s waist, and the smell of her hair was still in his nostrils as he carefully sat up, so as not to wake her.

  He’d meant to wake her last night, but she was sleeping so peacefully that he snuggled under the blanket next to her and went to sleep, not wanting to leave her alone on the hillside.  Aidan was still tired, especially after having drunk at least three beers last night, but he needed to get home, shower, change, and get to the bank where he had an appointment in exactly one hour. 

He glanced over at Lexi’s relaxed face.  The bonfire had burnt itself out, tiny spirals of smoke still curling and dissipating in the morning air which was tinged with the acrid smell of ash.  A few charred sticks and pieces of metal remained in the circle of blackened grass
—
all that remained of furniture, rugs and moth-eaten velvet drapes.  Things took so long to make, but were so quickly destroyed, just as in life.  Thinking of destruction brought him back to Noelle.  Speaking of her after all this time was almost cathartic, the floodgates of memory and emotion sweeping over Aidan as he pressed his palms against his eyes in an effort to block her out. 

It’d been almost a year since she left, but the pain was still there, a dull ache that kept reminding him that he wasn’t quite over what happened.  Had it been another man, he might have been able to move on.  Hurt would have turned to anger, and anger would eventually become acceptance and indifference.  But there’d been no other man, at least as far as he knew.  What Noelle had done haunted him, especially since he’d had warning.  Funny that his father should have seen it long before he had.  Angus Mackay had Noelle pegged years ago when they visited Skye the spring before graduation.  Aidan had been besotted; a ring already picked out and a romantic proposal in the works, but Angus had reservations, which angered Aidan.  Why couldn’t his father see how special she was, how smart, beautiful and loving?  But Angus Mackay wasn’t one to mince words, especially not with his only son.

“It’s not love I see in her eyes, son,” Angus said as they sat in his father’s boat with their fishing poles one chilly morning.  Noelle had decided to have a lie-in and then help his mother with lunch, which would center around the catch of the day.

“No?  So what do you see, Da?” Aidan had asked, rankled by his father’s comment.  He felt himself stiffen, his eyes gazing out over the still waters sparkling with the blood-red reflection of the rising sun.  The water lapped at the sides of the boat, the gentle rolling leaving father and son in a state of peaceful drowsiness.  Aidan wanted to enjoy this time with his father and not engage in a discussion that would leave him feeling defensive and angry, but his father wanted to have his say, and when Angus made up his mind to something he wouldn’t be deterred.

“I see ambition.  You will never be her priority, Aidan; not in the way she’s yours.”

“You’re wrong, Da.  She loves me.  As a matter of fact, I’m going to marry her,” Aidan added, sounding like a petulant little boy who wanted to spite his father.  Had he been twenty years younger he probably would have stuck out his tongue, a fact that wasn’t lost on him.  He wanted to be treated as an adult and not a child, but his father made him feel even worse by looking at him as if he were about to commit the biggest mistake of his life.

“Well, son, I can’t stop you, but I can warn you,” his father had replied, and warn him he had.  How right Angus Mackay had been in his assessment of Noelle.  Aidan had known that Noelle had aspirations beyond living in a small village and working in a bank in Lincoln, but he’d had no idea how her ambition would destroy his life.

He hadn’t meant to turn gruff when Lexi asked, but he’d managed to keep the reason for their breakup a secret, which was no easy thing to do in a small village.  What happened had been so deeply personal that he didn’t tell a soul, not even his parents.  He simply told them that they’d grown apart and decided they wanted different things.  Well, that was true on some level, but no one ever knew the depth of Noelle’s betrayal.

Aidan sighed, disgusted with himself for being so maudlin so early in the morning.  It was time to get going if he was to make it to the bank on time.  He gently traced the curve of Lexi’s cheek with his finger and watched her eyelids flutter open, her expression going from one of confusion to surprise and then to embarrassment.  She instantly scooted away from Aidan, quickly realizing that she’d been sleeping in his arms for the past few hours.

“I have to get going,” Aidan said, rising to his feet and giving Lexi his hand to help her up.  “I have an appointment at the bank this morning regarding my business loan.”  He wasn’t sure why he was telling her that, but it seemed rude to just run off without a good reason.

“Oh, of course.  Thank you for the bonfire.  That was fun.  My first Midsummer celebration,” she said, shielding her eyes from the brightness of the sun.  “Well, I’ll see you later then.”

“Yes, you will.  The lads will be there at nine to start stripping the wallpaper,” he added as he began walking down the hill.  He felt a bit foolish, but a sudden smile spread across his face.  This was the closest he’d come in over a year to sleeping with a woma
n
—
it was a start.

I ambled down the hill, eager for a hot shower and a cup of coffee with some toast.  My eyes felt as if they were dusted with sand and my mind was in a fog, as if I’d taken too much cold medicine.  I must admit that I was a little confused by Aidan’s behavior.  There were moments when he was friendly and flirtatious, but those moments were usually followed by a swift withdrawal and forced formality.  He’d been the one to invite me to dinner and to the bonfire, but he seemed uncomfortable when the conversation became too personal.  I suppose I took his actions for overtures of friendship, but maybe he was just being polite; although, I found it hard to believe that he would be making Midsummer bonfires with all his clients or sleeping with them on the hillside snuggled under one blanket.  Maybe we just had our signals crossed, and the best thing under the circumstances would be to tread carefully until I got to know him better. 

I was just about to put Aidan firmly from my mind when I saw a woman sitting on the steps of the house and anxiously glancing at her watch.  I was sure I hadn’t made any appointments with anyone, but I began walking faster all the same, loathe to keep her waiting.  The woman sprang to her feet as I approached, dusting off her tweed skirt and smiling brightly.  She was dressed conservatively, but her modern shoulder-length bob and a colorful scarf gave her a stylish appearance, which made me wonder all the more what she was doing on my doorstep.

“Good morning,” she called out as I approached.

“Good morning.”  I smiled at her, waiting for her to state the purpose of her visit.  She seemed suddenly embarrassed, looking somewhere behind my shoulder.

“Eh, my name is Dorothea Martin.  I used to do for old Mrs. Hughes.”  She looked at me expectantly, but I didn’t quite understand what she meant. 

“Do what, Mrs. Martin?”

“Cooking, cleaning, weekly marketing, and the like.”  She became even more flustered as I finally understood what she was asking me. 

“Are you looking for a job?” I asked, the surprise evident in my voice.

“I heard that you were opening a hotel, so I thought…” her voice trailed off as she stared down at her feet.  I felt sorry for the woman.  She was old enough to be my mother, and clearly in need of work despite her smart suit and tidy appearance. 

“Oh, clever you,” I said, “I hadn’t even thought that far.  I suppose I will need someone once I’m fully operational.  Look, I’m dying for a cup of coffee.  Would you care to join me and we can talk more about it?”

“Oh, yes.  I’d love a cuppa,” she said.  “Why don’t you let me fix you some breakfast?  That cooker is a bit tricky if you don’t know how to use it, and I’ve been battling with it these past twenty years.  Mrs. Hughes always liked a soft-boiled egg in the mornings, with toast, butter, marmalade, and hot tea.”

“That sounds wonderful, but I would prefer coffee.  I just picked some up yesterday.  Instant, I’m afraid.”

Mrs. Martin was already through the door and on her way to the kitchen. 

“I’ll just be a moment,” I said as I walked up the stairs.  I’d have a shower later, but I had to at least brush my teeth and splash some cold water on my face.

The kitchen smelled pleasantly of toasted bread as I returned and took a seat at the old Formica table.  Mrs. Martin had hung her bag over a chair, put on an apron and was pouring milk into a creamer that she found in the cabinet.  She clearly knew her way around, so I let her serve me.  She put a plate in front of me, with an egg in an egg holder in pride of place and poured me and herself some strong coffee.

“Aren’t you going to have some?” I felt awkward eating while she just sat there.

“Oh no, I’ve already had my breakfast, but thank you.  And please, call me Dot.  That’s what Eleanor always called me.”

“So, you knew her well?”  I was curious to learn something of the occupants of the house.  I suppose it was natural since their presence could still be felt all around me, even with most of the furniture gone.

“I’d known Eleanor since I was a girl.  I was friends with Kelly all throughout school.”  She suddenly looked nervous, her hands going to smooth down her skirt.

“Who’s Kelly?”

“Kelly was Eleanor’s youngest,” she replied quietly.  “I still miss her so, even after all these years.”

“Oh?  Did she move away?” I asked as I sliced the top off the egg and dipped my spoon into the runny yolk.  Dot looked momentarily horrified, but I could see that she was dying to talk, so I remained quiet, knowing she’d be unable to resist and fill the silence. 

“I wasn’t going to tell you if you didn’t already know, but I suppose you should be aware, since it might scare off some potential guests.  Kelly was murdered
—
in this very house,” she said, looking pointedly toward the front room.  I turned and stared at the room, now empty and full of sunlight since the curtains had joined the rubbish heap along with the rug and the furniture. 

“Was she killed by an intruder?”

Dot just shook her head, her coffee forgotten.  “Killed by her husband.  While their daughter played by the hearth.”  She shook her head and wiped away a tear that slid down her supple cheek.  “Eleanor never recovered from Kelly’s death.  She suffered a breakdown and hardly left this house for the past twenty-odd years.” 

“What happened to the husband, and the child?”  I wasn’t yet thinking about the effect this might have on my business, but the tragedy that happened in this house made me lose my appetite.

“Neil is enjoying Her Majesty’s hospitality,” she replied tartly, “and Sandra was taken away by Myra.  We never saw her again, but Myra came to visit her mother from time to time.  She took her sister’s death very badly as well.”

It took me a moment to understand what she meant about Neil, but I concluded that he was serving a sentence for the murder of his wife. 

“Why did he kill her?  Was she having an affair?” I asked, curious despite my better judgment.

“Seems he thought the child might not have been his.  Utter nonsense that was, too.  Kelly never had eyes for anyone but him.  We were all at school together and the two of them were a pair since they were fifteen.  His parents had to move away after it happened.  Couldn’t face their friends and neighbors after what their son had done.”

“Is that why the house was on the market for so long?” I asked, mentally raging at Paula Dees for not telling me all this before.  Her explanation had been that with the downward economic spiral, people tended to stay away from large properties that required a hefty monetary infusion, and that the owners were crippled by paying the death duties on the place and only wanted to break even at this point.

“Oh, I reckon so.  People don’t care to live in a place where a murder took place, if you don’t mind my saying.”  She suddenly realized that she’d said too much and busied herself with pouring me a fresh cup of coffee.  “But don’t you worry.  You’re American, so that should be all right.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant by that comment, but decided not to ask.  Was it that as an American I wasn’t as sensitive to other people’s tragedies, or that I wasn’t as sentimental and would proceed with my plans regardless?

“Strange that you resemble her so,” Dot suddenly said as if struck by something. 

“Resemble who?”

“Nobody.  I’m just being a silly old bag.  Anyway, I must be getting on.  Do think about that job, won’t you?”

“Yes, I will,” I replied, feeling bemused by what I’d just learned.