The House on the Shore (55 page)

“Never mind.
You were somewhere else far, far away!”

“The picture…”

“What about it?”
Anna
tried not to sound too impatient
.
At this rate she’d never get her packing done.
She began folding a cream coloured blouse.

“Do you recogni
z
e the scenery, Anna?”

“Should I?”

“It’s Tigh na Cladach.
Or rather it’s the bay.
It must have been painted before Tigh na Cladach was built.”

Anna dropped the blouse and yanked the painting out of Morag’s hands.
She examined it more closely.
“Why, you’re right.
I never noticed that before.”

“Didn’t I tell you that man had come looking for a past he didn’t know he had?
I read a book about the glen while in hospital.
It was about the Clearances.
It mentioned something about folk from Loch Hourn sailing to America in 1773.
Do you ever hear from him by the way?”

“Luke?
No.
Not even a
phone call or a
postcard to say he’d arrived home safely.”
When she lifted her eyes, the pain still flickered there.

“I expect it takes a while to sail across the Atlantic.
And I daresay he’s been busy painting.”

Anna bent her head to hide the hurt.
“
Unless
Luke sailed home via Australia, he should have arrived back in Cape Cod
months ago.”

“I’m sorry, lass.
I should have known better than to mention his name.
I’ve got some news that I hope will cheer you up.
It certainly cheered Lachlan and me.”
Morag beamed.
“I’m pregnant!”

Anna dropped the painting on her bed and gathered her friend into her arms.
“Morag
, t
hat’s wonderful news.
Is Lachlan pleased?
That’s a silly question!
He must be delighted.”

“Aye, lass.
That he is.
We’ve
already turned the spare room into a nursery.
By the time you get back from your wee trip, I’ll be as round as a house.
I know at forty-two I’m a
little
old to be a first time mother, but the do
ctor says I’m fit and healthy.”

“But shouldn’t you be taking it easy, especially for the first few months?”

Morag blushed.
“I’m
fourteen
weeks pregnant.
I didn’t want to mention it before in case…well you know—”

“I’m so happy for you both.”

“And it goes without saying that we want you to be godmother.”

Anna hugged her friend tighter.
“I’d love to.
But are you sure you’re fit enough to take me to the airport?”

“Apart from an occasional bout of morning sickness, I’m fine.
Lachlan has it all arranged.
We’ll see you off and then he’s treating me to a night in a posh hotel.
We’re driving back the following day.
Sandy’s looking after Ensay and Rhona, so you needn’t worry on that score.
Now
come on
, you’ll never be ready in time unles
s we
finish
this packing!”

***

During the seven hour flight to New York Anna tried to r
ead the Dan Brown paperback she ha
d
purchased from
the airport shop, but found she couldn’t concentrate.
She put it t
o one side and stared out of the window at the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean.
Her mind reeled with
memories
and dreams.

As the hours ticked by
,
and
the huge plane got close
r to its destination,
Anna became more and more uneasy.
Her fingers tensed in her lap and she moved restlessly in her seat.
By contact
ing
Luke, w
as she about to make the second biggest mistake of her life
?
Would he even agree to see her?

Immigration and customs
provided minimal
distraction,
as did t
he taxi ride from Newark airport to the hotel
, which seemed to take forever
.
Anna
was tired, hungry, and longing for a shower.
Fortunately, t
he meeting with her agent was scheduled for midday the following day, which gave her
chance
to get over her jet
lag.

Finally, the taxi pulled up in front of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Manhattan.
Check-in was a mere formality; her agent had taken care of all the details.
She was about to leave the desk when the concierge handed her an envelope.
Hopeful that Luke had somehow heard of her success, she ripped it open and glanced inside.
It contained an invitation to dinner from her editor.
She sighed and slipped
it
into her handbag.

Her suite was twentieth floor overlooking Central Park.
It was
decorated in shades of
pale pink and lovely, with stunning views of the city,
and
a separate living room, two white tiled bathrooms and two bedrooms, she felt dwarfed by the space.
She sat on the king-size
bed and rubbed the pulsating knot in her temple.

Damn it, Luke
.
Can you not
you pick up a
pen and reply to my letter if only to ask me how I am?
How Morag is?
Would it have been so hard?
Do you hate me that much for turning you down?
Her eyes filled with tears of frustration and exhaustion.
S
he hastily wiped them away.

All she wanted to
do was crawl into bed and sleep, b
ut knew she woul
d never get over her jet
lag if she did.
Instead, she threw open he
r case, pulled out her bathrobe,
shampoo and conditio
ner, and headed for the shower.
Too tired to eat in the hotel’s restaurant, she ordered room service and watched a little TV before
finally
crawling into bed.

The following morning she met with Wanda, her agent, in her Madison Avenue offices.
Wanda’s blonde hair was an impossibly high beehive.
With her black horn-rimmed glasses, sleek black designer suit, and tall spike heels, she was even taller than Anna.
Wanda gave her the slightest whisper of a hug and air-kissed both of her cheeks.

“
Darling, didn't I tell you, we simply adore
d
your
manuscript
?
If
your standard of writing is this good in your next book I can see you
top
ping
the
New York Times
best seller
list
!
”

“
Yes
,
Wanda, you did.
”

“
You Brits.
S
o strai
gh
t
-
laced.
And your accent…
j
ust love it, darling.
I’ve pitched your proposal to all the big houses.
Two might be interested in a
three-book
deal.
That good with you?”

“It’s fantastic.”

“Of course it is.
Now, honey, don’t be so modest.
I’ve set up meetings with them later this week so you can meet the editors and decide
which publisher
you want to work with.
Then, once we’ve got the deal
,
you can scoot back to Scotland and start working.”

Scoot?
Anna never imagined scooting to Scotland, or anywhere else, for that matter.
A
three-book deal sounded like the best thing that had ever happened to her.

Almost.

The rest of the week passed in a whirlwind of meetings.
On Friday, Anna signed a contract, agreeing to deliver three novels in three years.
She didn’t believe for a moment she could do it.
But Wanda insisted.
Anna knew she had to try.

With the meetings safely out of the way,
she
was free to do as she pleased.
On Saturday she hired a car
.
She took a moment to familiari
z
e herself with the controls,
before heading out of the city onto Interstate 95.
Nervous at first, she soon got the hang of driving on the wrong side of the road.
She followed the wide,
three-lane
highway north towards Boston.

And Cape
Cod.

Once out of the city limits, the roads were quiet.
Six hours later, she found an empty parking space
on
Chatham’s picturesque and historic Main Street.
A mixture of upscale boutiques and clapboard houses, it att
racted tourists all year round.

Armed with only the briefest descriptions of Luke’s house, she headed for the nearest coffee shop.
Painted in pale blue and decorated with a variety of seafaring artefacts, including lobster pots and fishing nets
,
t
he small coffee house was busy.

“Excuse me
,” she said to the dark-h
aired woman behind the counter.
“I wonder if you can help.”

“Sure, honey.
You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”

“I’m from Scotland
.”

“Scotland,” the woman repeated mystified.
“We don’t get many Scottish people here.
In fact, I don’t think we’ve ever had one before.
Herb,” she yelled into the kitchen.
“We ever had Scottish people here before?”

“Dunno,” came the reply.

“Well, there you are.
What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for a friend.
He’s an artist.
You may have heard of him.
His name’s Luke Tallantyre.”

“Yeah.
I know Luke.
Tall guy, salt and pepper hair. He
drives one of those big SUVs.
He drops by sometimes.
Haven’t seen him in a while
, though
.”

“I was wondering if you can give me directions to his house.”

“Sure.
You drive on up Main Street and take a right at the end of the road.
Follow it around to the beach.
His is the last house—a big clapboard affair with a tower.
You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.
I appreciate your help.”

“But you won’t find him at home on a nice day like this.
He’ll be off painting some place.”

Anna closed her
eyes feeling utterly miserable.

“Are you
okay
, honey?
You look pale.
Why don’t you take a load off and have a coffee?
It’s not that great, but it’s on the house.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“Cream?
Sugar?
”

“Just cream, thank you.”

Anna quickly slipped a $5 bill in the tip jar on the counter before the wai
tress returned with the coffee.

Half an hour later, after
several
wrong turn
s,
and an occasional drift into the left lane, she slipped out from behind the wheel of the rental car and climbed the weathered steps to the old Coast Guard Station.
The clapboard house was stunning.
Painted in delicate shades of cream and white, with sea-green shutters framing every window, it stood tall
and proud on top of the dunes.

She looked around.
There wasn’t another house in sight
.
It was
a perfect place for an artist to
live and work
.
Suddenly, she understood Luke’s refusal to part with the house after the death of his fiancée.

She wiped the palms of her hands down the side
of her jeans in
a momentary
bout of
panic.
It gnawed away at her confidence.
What if she’d come all this way and Luke refused to see her?
What if his sometimes girlfriend had become more permanent
?
She’d feel like a fool.
Swallowing the last of her pride, she knocked at the door.