What Lies Between (40 page)

When he turned to leave. I hurried around the side of the steading, waited until he was out of sight, then headed around to the front of the house to meet up with him, giving the impression I had come from beyond the gardens. I still didn’t know what was in that folder but I steeled my mind against doubt. This time I would make myself trust. I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t tell me, but I would choose to believe that Ben had a good intention and wait and see what happened.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Ben called out to me as I came into view, his lingering anger palpable from yards away.

“Yes.” I jumped into the truck, eager to find words for the clarity rising from the chaos in my mind. I waited until we were on the main road driving away from Glenbroch. I wasn’t sure yet about John’s part in all this but I was certain about Ben’s.

“Look . . . I know it’s hard for me to trust and things haven’t been easy between us because of that.” I glanced over at him. Easier to say what I wanted to when he was driving. “I think, well, I guess I believe you might be on my side.”

He chuckled. “
Might
be!” Reaching over and taking hold of my hand, he continued, “I am more than on your side, but I’ll take it. Any starting place is better than the alternative: no place at all.”

“How will we complete the repairs?” I asked.

“Leave it to me, Ellie. You have enough to worry about. I’ll sort out the repairs and costs.”

“Ben, I can’t—”

“You agreed to trust me to do what I need to. Let it be.”

He might be determined, but Ben had never gone head to head with his father before, and that’s what it would take. I hoped he was still in one piece when it was over.

The first Saturday in March heralded the opening of the shinty season. The closest thing I’d seen to shinty in the United States was field hockey, although shinty looked to be more free-wheeling. I was torn over my shinty loyalties. Rooting for the Kinlochshiel team felt natural and right. It was Ben’s team and the one my father had played for when he was younger. I also wanted to support Henry, who played for Glengarry. The last thing I wanted was to spark a mini war over which team I cheered for. Around here people came to blows over their sports rivalries.

Bethanne’s voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned to see she had slithered onto the bleacher beside me.

“If you think that sleeping with Ben MacIver will save Glenbroch, you’re a fool. Ben gets distracted around a pretty woman, but it’s never for long. He won’t give an inch when it comes to business, just like his father. Getting close to him won’t help you save Glenbroch. You’ve already lost.”

In the two days since overhearing what sounded like her confession to Ben in the steading, I had managed to avoid running into her. The last thing I wanted was to blow up and tip my hand before I could gather enough evidence to get rid of her. For now she was still my employee, and I wouldn’t stand for her behaving this way to me.

“What is it to you, Bethanne?” I asked, keeping my voice down. “You work for me and don’t forget you’re talking to your boss.” Insubordination would qualify as cause to end her contract.

I was embarrassed at having this confrontation in public, but it would give me the evidence needed if she kept going. People’s attention was fixed on the game, but they could still hear us if they cared to.

“I work for Glenbroch, not you. Ben owns nearly half of it, and will own all of it by summer.”

My threadbare restraint tore apart. “I’ve had enough!”

“
You’ve
had enough?” she retorted, indignant. “I should quit and leave you without help.
I’m
the one who has had enough.”

I clasped my hands as if in prayer. “Please do it. There are plenty of people eager for work right now that wouldn’t be stabbing me in the back every second. Speaking of, what was in the folder you brought to Ben’s house?”

Bethanne’s face transformed from smirking and defiant to flustered as she jumped off the bleachers. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The folder with the scroll design, same as the folders I keep in my office. What was in it?” I stepped down from the bleachers to face her.

She pressed her lips together, then said, “Nothing that concerns you.”

“You’re on thin ice with me, Bethanne. I expect you to tell me now what was in that folder or I will consider your refusal as insubordination.” Just cause was all I needed.

“It was nothing but a report on the cost of the removal of a tree on his property. I decided to hand deliver it. I nicked a folder from your office because I couldn’t find one. You’re paranoid.”

“You nicked a folder? Aside from the fact that the rest of your explanation sounds ridiculous, your attitude and stealing are untenable. And stealing is a violation of your contract. I expect you in the steading Monday morning at eight. We are going to have a formal conversation about your employment.”

“You’re really making your share of enemies around here. Why don’t you take the MacIvers’ cheque and go back to America? You don’t belong here. You’re not one of us.”

Tired of hearing her claim the Highlands as her own, as if she was entitled simply because she had been born here, tired of her in every way possible, I gathered my resolve. “This can’t wait until Monday. You’re fired. Hand over your keys.”

Bethanne didn’t move.

“Hand them over or you won’t see your check.”

“It was a folder. No need to get your knickers in a twist. And you should know, I can sue you for breach of contract.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter because John MacIver will own everything you have. And he’s promised me a job.”

“Quid pro quo, is that it?”

“I know whose side to be on.”

“You and John are in this together!” My anger was turning to rage. “Not only should you be fired, you should be in jail. Whatever your problem is, it’s no longer mine.” I moved close enough to forcefully take the keys if I had to. “Give me the keys—now!”

She grabbed the keys out of her pocket, unclipped the estate set, and shoved them into my chest. “You just made a mistake you’ll regret.”

The look in her eyes told me she meant to make sure I did. She had come close to admitting that John was behind all of this right along with her. If she came near me again, it would be John I’d go after. The shadow that crept over my heart the day I met that man deepened. I wanted John to pay. It was time he suffered the consequences of his bitter greed.

The first week of work after firing Bethanne passed quietly, and I began to look forward to going into the steading. Glenbroch was different without her around. I was feeling lighter and the thoughts of revenge had eased.

Ben had no choice but to let up on his protective watch. He had agreed to cover a week-long tour for Ewan, giving me much-needed time alone, but the tour had ended and he was due back before midnight.

I had just sat down to a cup of tea when Maggie called the cottage to tell me she’d read an internet news article about Jason. A reporter had interviewed him at a food show in Texas.

The reporter ran the story with added comments from a female employee of a restaurant near the show, who claimed Jason had promised her a thousand dollar tip if she would bring him the dessert tray privately. When she’d refused, he had started calling her names and harassing her. The woman told her manager who called Jason a cab and escorted him from the premises.

The reporter questioned if more should have been done; should charges have been filed rather than merely sending Jason back to his hotel? A pang of guilt struck my conscience. Should I have done more? I had only wanted Jason out of my life.

The article did prove he was back in the States, or had been three days ago. With Bethanne gone to Glasgow to take a job she’d found surprisingly fast, my grudging agreement with Ben not to be out in the dark alone was now overkill. Although to Ben’s point, if Bethanne had done what I suspected she had, Glasgow was only a few hours away. I hadn’t mentioned any more doubts or concerns to Ben about his father.

To celebrate my sense of freedom without Jason or Bethanne around, I headed to the steading for a workout on the treadmill. I missed my evening sessions—I could block everything out, listen to my music, and sweat out my frustration.

One of the crew had left a crane blocking the drive to the steading, forcing me to park at the house. The shorter walk down the hill suited me fine. It looked like it would rain soon and I was happy to get into the steading before it broke.

The troubles surrounding me dissipated as I zoned out on the treadmill, staring through the window into nothing. March days were short and even though it was only seven, it was already a deep black night.

By the time I completed my workout, the soft Scottish rain had become an Old Testament-worthy torrent. I pulled on my wellies and long waterproof, shut off the lights, and stepped outside to face the storm. The wind lashed the rain across my eyes and face. The dark sky kept dumping volumes, as if intent on filling the glen to its brim. I had the notion to wait until the rain let up before heading to the Land Rover, but it showed no signs of easing. And I was eager to get back to the cottage for a shower and hot food.

Keeping my head down, I pointed my flashlight just beyond my feet. I shivered as the chill turned icy on my sweat-dampened skin. A flash of light out of the corner of my eye caught my attention, but when I turned to look, nothing was there.

The rain pelted my face, blurring my vision, and I hurried my pace as much as possible with the little light I had. Water rushed and swirled in eddies around my feet, leaving me with little traction. I reached down to grip the tussocky earth—grateful for the thick clumps of grass—and crawled my way up the hill.

The screech of scraping metal pulled my attention from my ascent—until then I had only been able to hear the hammering of the rain on the building’s roof and muted pattering as it hit the ground.

A hulking object flew out of the dark, caught in my peripheral vision a mere second before it hit me, rolling me back down the hill, over a jutting rock. My body came to a stop a few yards from the door of the steading. A heavy, corrugated pipe, the type used in drainage projects, bounced over me, slamming into the side of the building.

Bethanne ordered those pipes.

Hearing more rumbling, I snugged up against the hill and covered my head with my hands. The metal pipes rolled one after the other, hitting the rock above my head and flying over. Others bounced past beside me, ending up at the bottom in a mishmash of a giant’s game of pick-up sticks.

I couldn’t decide whether to get up and run or lie still. Was it over? Whether Bethanne had come up from Glasgow or not, she had admitted John was in it with her. And I didn’t believe for a minute that what had happened was an accident due to the storm.

I drove back to the cottage, called the police, and gave my statement over the phone. They declined to come out in the storm since I was all right and safe in the cottage, instructing me to come in and sign a statement the next day.

Throwing on coal and kindling, I stoked the fire, then opened the cupboard and pulled out the bottle of Old Pulteney Maggie had given me for Christmas. It was one of the things I’d grabbed when I’d been allowed twenty minutes to retrieve personal items to tide me over before they closed off the house for repairs.

The sweet, buttery whisky smoothed the edges of the pain stabbing my muscles, loosened the stiffening in my joints. I gazed at the light dancing through the curvaceous bottle, staring at the beautiful old ship on its label until I could see it rising and falling on the Atlantic’s waves. Tired of all of this, I imagined getting on that ship and sailing away. Even if I could, where would I go? The faraway island of St. Kilda was the only place that came to mind.

I couldn’t indulge negative or defeatist thoughts. It didn’t matter if certain people didn’t want me here. I belonged at Glenbroch and needed to fight for it to the end.

The whisky heated a fury in me. It was time to do something about John MacIver. Anna was away at her sister’s in Wick and had taken Jazz with her. Ben’s text told me he was on the road back from Inverness. John would be in the main house alone. It was the perfect time. I didn’t know what I was going to do or what would happen, but I was determined to end this nightmare before I left his house.

John answered my knock, the change in his expression making it clear he had not expected me to be the cloaked, hooded person standing on his doorstep.

“Anna’s not here.”

“I know. I’m here to see you.”

“Come back at a reasonable business hour.”

“No.” I brushed past him, shook off my dripping overcoat, and hung it on a peg in the mudroom off the entry, leaving my boots on. “I could have been killed out there tonight. Is that what you intended? Is that how far you’ll go?”

“Ms. Jameson, I have no idea what you’re blethering on about. Of course I don’t think you should be running Glenbroch. The estate needs experience at the helm. Now I didn’t much care for your father, but he was born and raised here and this was his family home. He didn’t make a terrible mess of managing the renovation and was flush enough to ensure he paid his people. More than I can say for you. But I have no idea what you’re talking about or how you think I tried to harm you tonight.”

“You and Bethanne are working together; she said as much. Was it her idea or yours to have those drainage pipes come crashing down on me tonight? I barely escaped. Did she pop up here from Glasgow or did you have somebody else do it?”

His eyes widened for a flash of a second, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I was onto his and Bethanne’s scheming or because he was genuinely surprised about the pipes. The hard lines in his face that had dissolved with his surprise quickly reappeared.

“I’ll have Glenbroch in a few months, be sure of that. I’m an investor who thinks long-term. Gerard’s lifestyle and the way he was going at the drink promised good odds that something would catch up with him. Glenbroch should have been mine. That’s the way Helen wanted it. When Gerard came back, he was already sick. It was a matter of time. Didn’t count on you, thought he’d managed to leave this world without a trace left behind him. But it’s not of consequence. My investment will pay off. If you want to sign over Glenbroch now, I’m sure your life will become much easier.”