What Lies Between (49 page)

BOOK: What Lies Between

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I looked over at John who kept his eyes turned toward the night sky. Gerard and John were like the best kind of brothers—inseparable, Anna had said, until they fell out.

The simple intention to love brave was coming into sharper focus, becoming more concrete. I figured since the universe held the light of ten thousand galaxies behind every speck of sand I lifted to the dark sky, there had to be light beyond the dark I saw in myself, beyond the dark I saw in others. I needed the courage to act as I believed, not according to the meager limits of what my eyes could see.

Leaning over, I kissed John on the cheek then stepped back and turned my eyes heavenward. We gazed at the deep blue starry night, side by side, quiet settling between us.

“Gerard and I, we got into our share of trouble round here.” John gave me a sideways glance. “Your grandmother, Helen . . . she hung the moon in my world when I was a kid. My mother died when I was young, see. Your grandmother, she was fierce but a good woman, treated me the same as Gerard. I always found an excuse to tag along with him after school.” A hearty smile broke over his face, his eyes distant, as if gazing into the past. “Whenever I walked through the door at Glenbroch, any problem I had didn’t look too bad by the time I left.”

His spontaneous disclosure stirred an ache that stretched as if waking from a long slumber, cracking its protective shell and releasing its bittersweet pain into my system.

“You favor Helen that way,” he said, “but you have your father’s stubbornness, and a good thing it is since you get me as your father-in-law.” An amused look softened his face. “Gerard never took any guff from me either, would fight me to the end over what he believed. Except one time. He walked away just once . . . I won, I suppose. But it’s not true. He wouldn’t tear a woman away from the family and home she loved for his own sake.” John released a long sigh, the moon’s light shining off his eyes. “Of the two of us, he was the better man.”

“I miss him and I barely knew him,” I said, accepting this ache I knew I would always live with. Truth was, I didn’t want it to ever leave, even if I could make it go.

“I miss the old bugger too.” John held out his arm.

I looped my arm through his and we made our way over the rise to the people we loved.

Jazz sank down across my feet as I leaned back against Ben’s chest; the campfire crackled behind us, sharing its heat and illuminating the shadows. Ben pulled closer the woolen blanket shielding us against the wind. We watched in silence as the sun dropped behind smoothed hills and sharp-toothed mountains, its copper-tinged light reflecting off the quiet crests of the water stretching between our hidden bay on Skye and the mainland. A wee point of light shone through the gloaming—the old lighthouse for the Isle of Ornsay. My gaze turned heavenward, rapt in the June night spreading out cloudless, the first light of its many stars visible.

“Ellie, we have so much to learn about each other. It will take our lifetimes.”

Jazz adjusted his position as I turned toward Ben.

Silver flecks in Ben’s eyes glimmered in the translucent glow of the deep blue northern night. “I’m a simple man, Ellie.” His words warmed my skin.

I reared back my head, my brows rising in playful skepticism.

“Aye,” he said, cradling my belly in his hands. “Having you with me, and soon the wee bairns, makes this crazy world clearer, simpler.”

“I do know what you mean.” I grazed his neck with a soft kiss. “I feel that way, too.”

“Knowing you are coming back to our bed at the end of days when you wish you’d never laid eyes on me, and there will be those days . . . it gives me solid ground under my feet,” he said, holding me firm in his gaze. “And you better believe I’ll be in that bed next to you.”

As he drew me snug against him, I nested into the curve of his body. Yes, I could weather whatever lay ahead from the shelter and safety we were creating together, even though I had no idea what the future held.

After the past year, I wasn’t laying bets.

Acknowledgments

To those of you who endured with me in the trenches through the long journey to this book’s publication, your contributions are woven through my life as surely as Ellie’s story is woven through these pages.

Nadine Bauer, your belief in me and this story never wavered and your deep understanding of Ellie helped me be true to who she is. Lorilee Medders, fierce Southern woman, you are a one-of-a-kind gift and generously bless me and my work. Alice Pilcher, your literary sensibility, experience, and unwavering honesty helped me locate the ground beneath my feet when the waves threatened to sweep me out to sea. Kirsten Warren, the Fourth of July in my life, bursting across my sky with energy and enthusiasm and illuminating the dark spaces. Thank you.

Beverly Eaves, for being a rock-solid support for me as a writer and a person. There has always been a you and me . . . and I know there always will be. Linda Gay, for believing that I could overcome the obstacles in my life and for insightful feedback. Phyllis Eagle, librarian extraordinaire, your enthusiasm for this book gave me much-needed confidence. Leslie Murray, for reading my blog, then nearly everything else I wrote and dishing up the straight skinny in the most clarifying way. Robin and Kirsty Pilcher, for taking me in and nourishing me as a writer exactly when I needed it. Early readers Rachel Stephens, Bob Stephens, Patti Tanzer, and Gillian Arnott for enduring first chapters and encouraging me onward. David Burch, Megan Malone, and Phillip Watts Brown for thoughtful (and humorous) creativity. The Incyte Media team for helping with the techie pieces involved in putting an author and a book into the world. David Nemo, president of the Rose City Astronomers, for invaluable assistance with the stargazing scenes. James Doyle of the Highland Stillhouse for helping me find the right whiskies for Ben and Ellie. Many thanks to each one of you.

A debt of gratitude is owed to my army of editors. Vicky Mlyniec, for buoying my confidence in the story and my abilities to deliver what it was meant to be. Kathleen Tracy, for helping me say what I meant to. Katrina Cunningham, for applying your impeccable knowledge of editing standards and helping distill this story into jacket copy. Liz Hunter, my Scottish editor, for helping me buff and smooth the final story and ensure it stayed true to Scotland and its people.
I learned a tremendous amount from each of you.

Darryl Brown, you are a gifted and visionary artist, and I’m phenomenally blessed you took on this project. The book cover is clever and beautiful and delights me every time I look at it.

I could never repay the generosity of spirit and countless kindnesses given me by people across Scotland. You remain in my heart, and I hope the sense of your spirit and your homeland in this story is close to right in your eyes.

Love and gratitude to my children, Rama, Skyler, and Caleb, who cheered me on in this maddening endeavor of writing books. Chase your dreams, work hard with what you’ve been given, persevere, and you will catch each and every one you’re meant to catch. To Kyle who encouraged and believed in me and gave unvarnished input when needed. Soraya—you are a beautiful reminder that dreams do come true . . . so little and already such a bundle of inspiration and light. And to my biggest, and littlest, fan, Jaden, who faithfully inquired how the book was going, and, “Could you read more of it aloud, please?” {Uno, due . . .}

Dear Reader,

Thank you for taking a chance on me, a debut author. I hope you enjoyed
What Lies Between
and that the time you spent immersed in Ellie’s world proved worthwhile.

I write for many reasons; among these is the hope that I might transport a reader to another world and offer a measure of respite from the challenge of everyday life. I also hope to connect from the heart. Writing is solitary—a story can bridge some of the space between people, which makes bringing one to life worth the struggle. I would love to hear from you about your experience within the pages of this book.

The Scottish Highlands brim with legend, myth, and story. Words and images can’t wrap their arms around what this heartrending place does to the soul. Visit if you can, but be advised: the Isle of Skye truly does make one think about all manner of things.

If you enjoyed this story, please spread the word and share your recommendation with people you know. And if you would like to introduce
What Lies Between
to your book club, a reader’s guide and book discount are available. I am happy to visit your club, virtually or in person when possible, talk about the world of Glenbroch, and collaborate on a Scotland-themed club night. Visit www.charlenamiller.com to send me a note. While there, sign up for behind-the-scenes blog posts, videos, photos, live author chats, and more.

One last thing . . . letting others know about your experience is the best way to help fellow readers find this book and get to know Ellie, Ben, Maggie, Jazz, and all of the others in the world of Glenbroch. It would mean so much if you left a review on your favorite online sites. No matter whether you loved it, liked it, or it wasn’t your cup of Scottish tea, authentic reviews, no matter where they fall, are a good thing. Thank you, and I look forward to meeting up again in the next story.

Gaol treun . . .
love brave and true,