Hope Everlastin' Book 4 (18 page)

"Did you die soon efter the
wall was sealed? I have to know."

Lachlan's response was a
barely perceivable shake of his head. The translucent eyes shut
tightly. They opened to reveal such anguish that even Taryn was
choked up with tears.

"The takin’ o' any life is
grievous enough," said Robert Ingliss, independent now of Roan, his
metallic voice softly echoing in the room. "But the takin’ o' a
mon's life by his own kin can have no forgiveness. Do I regret
havin’ money to take care o' ma wife and children, and live in this
house? No. Do I regret losin’ a brither to obtain it all...aye, I
do.

"I inherited our faither's
greed and his black heart. I couldna have carried through wi' wha'
I did if I'd been a mon o' honor."

Lachlan looked down at his
shiny boots for a few seconds then looked into the eyes of his
past. "Aye, greed was in part yer motivation, Robbie, but I know
too weel ma—
our
—faither's cunnin’. Twas the honorable part o' you who couldna
rest durin’ yer life efter tha' night, nor rest in
daith."

Lachlan glanced at Laura.
"Tessa protected her body and her love for you in the only way she
felt she could." His gaze swerved to Robbie's image. "No' that' I
condone her betrayal, for I did love her, Robbie. At least I
thought I did till ma Beth came along. I know now tha' wha' I truly
felt for Tessa was only infatuation."

Roan/Robert nodded, and a
sigh passed Roan's lips. "For Roan, and for the eternal peace I
long for, I say to you now wha' should have been spoken long ago. I
regret ma weaknesses and ma lack o' compassion. I regret turnin’ on
a mon who opened his home to me, and who trusted me to be the mon I
claimed to be.

"Forgive me, Lachlan. I
pray you forgive me and mine for all we did to you."

A shudder coursed through
Lachlan. Tilting back his head, he closed his eyes and locked his
teeth. For one hundred and fifty-three years he had nurtured a
sickening hollowness in his gut over the betrayal, and now it was
gone. He was at last free of its presence. He couldn't understand
why, but hearing of his father's betrayal only hurt a little. He'd
never expected much from his father, but he had liked Robbie
Ingliss before that tragic night.

When he again looked into
the translucent eyes, and beyond into Roan's, he realized that the
past was very nearly that—gone and no part of his future. Immensely
relieved it was over and the truth was out, he said, "I do forgive
you, Robbie Ingliss Baird, and I wish you and Tessa peace and
happiness in the ither world. Give ma regards to our faither," he
added wryly. "Och, better yet, tell him for me to take a dive off a
high cloud, but no' one over Baird House."

The ghostly lips mouthed a
"Thank you," before the spectral features faded away into
nothingness.

Roan swayed. Gripping him
by the shoulders, Lachlan said calmly, "Tis over, Roan. We're both
free." He glanced at Laura and corrected, "We three are free o' the
past."

"Ma stomach's churnin’,"
Roan said, a sickly pallor to his skin.

"Tis unmonly to purge one's
innards in the company o' ladies," Lachlan said merrily. He gave
Roan's right shoulder a hearty clap. "Roan, ma friend! Are you no'
feelin’ just a wee different, for the better, I mean? Lighter,
perhaps?" He laughed and gave Roan a shake. "No mair Robbie
swirlin’ around in yer subconscious!"

Roan blinked in
bewilderment. "I do feel different."

"Unburdened. No
guilt."

Roan nodded then frowned.
"You and Robbie, brithers. No wonder his soul couldna
rest."

"Aye."

Roan’s frown smoothed out,
but returned with more intensity. "How could you bring yerself to
forgive him, Lannie?" He grimaced and placed a hand over his
hammering heart. "And yer faither—fegs, the
bastard!"

"Roan, I dinna care abou'
any o' it no mair. It wasna hard to forgive Robbie or Tessa. Twas
anither time. Ma mind and ma heart belong to the here and the now,
and lettin’ go was the easiest thing I've ever done. But how are
you farin’? Ye're still a wee pale."

"I'm fine. So there won’t
be anymair o' these visitations?"

"You're free,
laddie."

Roan gulped and glanced at
his sister. She was staring at him as if he were a stranger, and it
dawned on him that she had no idea about what had transpired. He
offered a smile of heartfelt appreciation to Lachlan, then sat on
the coffee table and took Taryn's hands into his own. Her skin was
like ice, and he readily noted her unease with his touch, but he
didn't care.

"Laura and I are the
reincarnations o' Tessa and Robert," he said with a goofy
grin.

"Right," she
smirked.

"I'm serious,
Taryn."

She looked up at Lachlan.
He nodded.

"You're all nuts." Pulling
her hands away, she nervously patted the tight French braid at the
back of her head. "Ghosts and reincarnation? Have you any idea how
ludicrous this all sounds?"

Roan and Lachlan exchange a
conspiratorial glance.

"It'll seem the norm when
you've been around here awhile."

"Any more secrets I should
know about?" she asked bitterly.

"No," Roan lied quickly,
thinking of Deliah.

"Thank God! And here I
thought I'd brought you this shocking revelation." Her sarcasm was
so strong, Roan had to laugh.

"It shocked the truth ou'.
It was the proddin’ I needed."

"Wait a minute," she said,
holding up her hands. "Does this mean you and Laura don't have your
own souls? I thought the soul and the spirit were the
same."

For the first time, Winston
spoke up. "They are, in a sense. A soul can be fractured upon
leaving the body."

Taryn cast him a
disgruntled look, and interjected, "Fractured. Oh, that explains
everything. Thank you."

Winston smiled tolerantly.
"Please, permit me to finish. Someone living a long time with
emotional or physical pain, or an unexpected death in which the
person's subconscious hasn't had time to prepare for the departure,
can cause fragmentation. Guilt tormented Robert and Tessa for most
o' their lives and, when they died, segments o' their souls carried
over to Laura and Roan in search o' absolution they couldn't grant
themselves. But they're whole now. Your brother and Laura can live
ou' their lives in peace."

"I have a headache." Taryn
rose to her feet. "A major headache. If you all don't mind, I think
I'll go to my room and take a long nap."

As soon as she was out of
the room, Winston's mouth formed a rueful grin. "I can't believe
she's your sister."

Roan nodded. "No' to blow
ma own horn, but we are verra different."

"Blow to your heart's
content," Beth said, her tone sickeningly-sweet, the smile
accompanying it verifying her dislike of the woman. She stepped to
Lachlan's side and placed an arm about his middle. "A few days
around her, and I may start fantasizing about plunging the dirk
into
her
heart."

Lachlan chuckled and
planted a kiss on her flushed cheek. "Retract yer claws,
lass."

Beth grunted. "If you give
her the opportunity to lip-lock with you again, darling, you'll
wish you were back in the afterlife."

"There is only one pair o'
lips for me," he said. His attention was drawn to Roan, who was
staring at Laura somberly, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Roan?"

Roan swung his gaze to
Lachlan.

"Tis over," said
Lachlan.

With a sigh of despair,
Roan shuffled out of the room.

Beth turned to Laura. She'd
been appalled when Tessa had gone into her tirade. It had taken all
of her willpower to not jump to Lachlan's defense, not to tell the
woman that Beth thought her to be a pathetic excuse for a human
being. She was glad now she hadn't. Everything that was said had
needed saying, but she knew that an aftermath of shame would shadow
Laura and Roan for some time to come.

"You okay,
Laura?"

The green eyes were dull
and the corners of her mouth drooped. With a single nod, she
murmured, "I'll be with the boys." Laura left the library as
lethargic as Roan had been moments ago.

Beth linked her arms
through one of Lachlan's and leaned her head against him. "This has
been one helluva a day, already."

"Aye, it has," Lachlan said
softly. He asked Winston, "How soon can you find ou' if Beth's
daith is on record here?"

"First thing in the
morning, if that's all right. I promised Deliah we'd spend this
afternoon together." He looked sheepish, and added, "You
know."

Grinning, Lachlan nodded
then smacked a palm to his brow. "Fegs, I nearly forgot! I gave
Reith some money for clothes. I was supposed to get him a ride to
town this morn."

Standing, Winston said, "I
hope you're no' asking me to let you use ma car."

Lachlan's expression went
deadpan. "Are you insultin’ ma drivin’ skills?"

"Absolutely."

Beth chuckled and winked at
Winston. He returned the gesture then said good-naturedly to
Lachlan, "I saw him earlier at the carriage house. He told me to
tell you he'd already gone to town."

Sighing woefully at his
forgetfulness, he asked Winston, "Did you spare the lad a
grillin’?"

Winston feigned a lot of
affront, a hand resting over his heart. "Me? Perish the
thought."

"The birds like him."
Lachlan's statement took Winston aback, prompting the laird to
explain, "They dinna easily trust strangers."

"Ah." Winston passed a look
of amusement to Beth. "Lachlan, then far be it for me to question
the wisdom o' a feathered friend."

"Speaking of clothes," Beth
piped up, "Deliah could use a wardrobe of her own."

"I know," said Winston.
"She's never been off this land. It's time she learned to—" He
grinned impishly. "—spread her wings."

Lachlan groaned and
gestured for Winston to leave then drew Beth into his embrace and
kissed her.

* * *

By dusk the drizzle had
abated but dampness clung oppressively to the air. Laura was lost
in her thoughts as she stood staring at the headstone bearing
Lachlan's name. She could not shake from her mind Tessa's vicious
words, or the hatred that had burst inside Laura like an atom
bomb.

What a fool she'd been to
think she had come to terms with her past life. She couldn't tell
Roan the disgust she felt for herself. Couldn't ask him why he had
avoided her since leaving the library, because she knew why. As
Robert, he had loved a monster, and she couldn't convince herself
that a part of that vile woman didn't still exist in herself. It
wasn't over. Not by far. The ache in her heart would stay with her
for the rest of her life.

With a cry of anguish, she
rammed the bottom of one booted foot into the granite. It toppled
on impact, causing muddy water to splash along the curvature at the
top. If she thought the action would purge her, she was wrong.
Self-loathing clamped onto her mind and squeezed unmercifully. She
wept from fear of who and what she really was. From fear that the
person she had always thought herself to be was just another
lie.

"Tis too chilly to be ou'
wi’ou' a coat," said a gentle voice from behind her.

She whirled and stared
blearily through tears at a handsome young stranger, who proffered
a double-knitted, navy blue sweater. His appearance disoriented
her, and she stared at the article of clothing as if afraid it
would leap out and devour her. The young man closed the distance.
She didn't move, only tried to understand why he stepped around her
and draped the wool over her shoulders. When he again stood in
front of her, she found herself looking into the most beautiful
turquoise eyes she had ever seen. She read compassion in their
depths, and a small measure of curiosity.

"I be Reith,
ma'am."

"Lachlan hired you," she
stated in a husky tone.

He nodded.

Swallowing past the
tightness in her throat, she started to look behind her at the
fallen stone, but stopped herself.

"The ground be loose from
the rain," he said diplomatically. "I be sure the marker has
toppled afore."

"I kicked it." She didn't
know why the words spilled past her lips, but she didn't regret
telling the truth.

"Aye, I saw. I canna
imagine why a lovely womon would feel the need to come ou' in this
chill and vent her pain on a cold slab o' granite, but I suggest,
ma'am, ye dinna give it anither thought. I'll right it. No one need
know ye were here."

She couldn't stop herself
from spilling the story of her former life, neither coloring her
part in Lachlan's murder, nor softening the abject bitch she had
been. The words poured from her as if siphoned from the well of her
soul, her sobs hitching her voice now and then. The young man
listened with no apparent shock or revulsion. He stood not in
judgment of her, but as someone who somehow understood her torment.
When at last she finished, she drew up one of the sweater sleeves
and buried her face into the coarse yarn.