“I don’t think he was trying to keep it from you,” James said from behind her.
The ache squeezing her heart burst loose in a flurry of words. “Hestayed, James. I said I wouldn’t be with him if he was leaving, but he didn’t leave, so—”
He didn’t want me.
The truth set her cold, a stunning icy blast in the middle of the sun-baked street. “He never wanted me.”
Timothy caught up to her, grabbed James’s shoulder and wheezed. “Violet—”
“Andyoutwo!” She whirled on them, pointing a shaking finger at Timothy—herbest friend—then at James. “You knew about this, abouthim, for how long now? Weeks?”
Timothy winced, but James met her glare. “He bought this property three months ago, just after—”
“Just after he left meruined.” She hissed the last word, because hours before it had felt like a blessing, and a gift of independence, but now she felt dirty again, all the shame and humiliation she’d ignored since that April night pouring over her, thick and oily.
Her steps didn’t falter as she stormed around the curve in the road, ignoring the bleached white walls of Hawthorne Maritime. What a fool she’d been, the worst kind of fool, pining for her lost lover when he was building boats in bloody Scotland!
She’d reached the church at the peak of the ascent when Timothy and James joined her once more. “He wanted to write to you.” Timothy’s words crashed around in her ears, and she waved herarms as though she could brush them away, but he continued. “But you told him your affair was over when you left Yorkshire.”
“He’s been desperate to see you, Violet,” James said.
She pressed her eyes shut at James’s voice. The way he said her name was too close to how Callum said it, and it cut too deep. “He can’t be too desperate,” she whispered, more to herself than to them. “He never even tried.”
“Christ, Vi, how can you say that?” Timothy swung his arm behind him, gesturing towards the beach. “He could have kept the company, continued doing everything the same as he’d done for years before, but he didn’t. Callum is choosing to be a better man for you, to show you what is important to him, how he’s learned from you. But he’s too damned foolish—”
“And stubborn,” James cut in. “You can’t forget stubborn.”
“Or grumpy. He’s been so grumpy.”
James moaned. “An absolute bear. And his beard—”
“Stop!” Violet pressed her hands to her chest, where her heart still thrummed, a pulsing ache that spread warmth to her extremities, blooming in her fingertips and toes. She hadn’t cut Callum out, hadn’t even come close. She loved him, even more so now that she’d seen the man she knew he could be, a man unburdened, devoted to the future instead of the past.
“Oh, Tim,” James whispered, grabbing his partner’s hand and clutching it to his chest. “I think… I think she’s forgiving him.”
“Thank god.” Timothy dropped his head back and raised one palm to the heavens as though in worship. “Do you think she can convince him to shave that awful thing on his face?”
“She can try—”
“I need to see him.” The words burst from her mouth before her mind could fully form them, and the men grinned. “But not now. I need to think, I need—” She turned to her friends, one step from dropping to her knees and pleading. “What do I need?”
Timothy smirked. “I think you need your telescope.”
Chapter 40
The hill outside St.Fillan’s was far livelier than a graveyard should be. The last streaks of summer light were fading from the horizon at last—well after the decent hour to be in bed—but the dozen children of Aberdour whom he’d reluctantly come to adore over the past month in the inlet deserved a reward for their hard work.
His mouth curled into a smile when he saw Gracie McCullogh, his foreman’s granddaughter and the reason he’d first visited Aberdour in those bleak days months ago, spotted him before he’d cleared the ancient stone gates. She raced to grab his hand, her russet pigtails swinging. “It’s nearly dark, Uncle Callum!” she cried. At least, that’s what he thought he heard; Gracie had lost both her front teeth in the last week. While the loss made her even more adorable, it threw a wrench in his ability to understand the lass.
“‘Tis late for a wee thing like ye, aye?”
“Och, no,” she boomed, sounding so much like her grandfather Callum laughed aloud.
When he’d sold Taggart Maritime, he’d been the one to break the news to their staff. The haggard foreman had embraced Callum like his own child, insisted on having him over for dinner. One evening turned into a week of hearty family meals, the table so brimming with laughter that Callum had even managed a smile by the last night. Soon McCullogh dragged him to visit his son in Aberdour, across the firth from Edinburgh.There’s a property there I was thinkin’ o’ buying, but I’m too auld to manage it. Can I get yer opinion?
A mere handful of days passed before Callum was handing over the pittance he’d received from selling Taggart Maritime and was the proud owner of a boat repair shop.
Callum looked at the children gathering on the slope just above the graveyard. Finley and Catriona had gathered the youngest—aside from Gracie—onto a flannel blanket. He’d have to keep an eye on those two; Finlay had confessed his affection for the fair Catriona a week prior, and they’d arrived on the beach that day holding hands.
