Page 64 of The Vanished

“What did she want?”

“She brought me a Christmas present.”

“What was it?” Geneva asked dispassionately.

“A bottle of Scotch. I expect she pilfered it from your father’s stock. She suggested we open it and have a drink. Get to know one another better.”

“And what did you say to that?”

“I told her to take the bottle and go home.”

“And did she?”

Geneva wasn’t just cold. She was trembling and could barely feel her hands and feet as the magnitude of Honor’s disloyalty began to penetrate the shield of denial she had erected about herself.

Rory didn’t reply, and Geneva could see in his eyes that something had happened between them.

“I need you to tell me.” She sounded imperious even to her own ears, but she was done with allowing other people to toy with her emotions or attempt to manipulate her life choices.

“Honor kissed me. She asked if she could stay.”

“And what did you do?”

“I asked her to leave.”

“I don’t believe you,” Geneva said coldly.

“Why would I lie?”

“Maybe because you want to drive a wedge between us so that I will go with you and not feel guilty about leaving Honor behind.”

“Is that what ye really think?”

Geneva felt the pricking of tears. “I don’t know what to think, or who to trust. I feel like my whole existence is coming apart at the seams. A few more weeks and I might lose my home.”

Rory scoffed. “Deep down ye know exactly whom ye can trust. Just as ye know what the people ye care so much about are capable of. There’s more to life than a moldering pile of stone, Geneva. There’s a whole world out there, full of people, and opportunities, and new experiences. And maybe it’s time ye expanded yer horizons.”

“When will you go?” Geneva asked coolly.

“The first of the year.”

“I will return your ring.”

“I will not accept it. My feelings for ye haven’t changed. I must leave if I’m to seize this opportunity. Ye can join me when ye’re ready.”

“And what am I to do about Honor, especially if what you say is true?” Geneva demanded.

“She’s nearly of age. Ye can’t mother her forever.”

Geneva glanced at the house, just visible through the trees, its weathered walls mellow in the gentle light of the setting sun, and imagined walking away from her childhood home forever. She felt an ache in her heart, but she supposed that was natural, given that this was the only home she’d ever known. Running away to America could be exciting, liberating even, but did she want to go there with Rory, and could she see herself living as the wife of a brewer in some mean flat in Pittsburgh, which in her mind was exactly like Barrow-in-Furness?

She supposed she would welcome the opportunity if she truly loved him, but, even as uncertain as she was of what was to come, Geneva knew in her heart that this didn’t feel right, and everything inside her rebelled at the thought of leaving. And as she gazed into Rory’s serious face, she thought that he had doubts as well.

“I must book my ticket in the next few days,” he said.

Geneva nodded. Rory seemed to think she was nodding in agreement, and reached for her, but released her just as suddenly when a shadowy figure stepped through the trees.

“There you are, Genny. I was looking for you,” Jesse said. “Mr. Sullivan.”