The Ghosts of Tullybrae House by Veronica Bale

Author:Veronica Bale [Bale, Veronica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Veronica Bale Books
Published: 2016-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

“EMMIE, LOVE—I don’t mean to be overbearing, but I really wish you’d try to eat a bit more.”

Emmie looked up from her plate, on which she’d been pushing her mashed potatoes around. “Hmm?”

Lamb pointed his fork at her uneaten roast beef dinner. “You’ve hardly gotten any of that down you.”

She dropped her fork onto the table, and her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Lamb. Look at me: I’m making a pig’s ear of our Saturday roast.”

“Stuff the dinner, I’m concerned about you. And it’s no’ just the dinner. You’re on your third glass of wine. That’s more than I’ve ever seen you drink before.”

“It’s not that much,” she argued unconvincingly.

“It is for you. And I daresay, you’re no’ your usual fastidious self—I’m no’ criticizing, mind. Just worried about what’s behind it all.”

Emmie sat back, reflecting on Lamb’s accusations. He was concerned for her; even she could see that. She wanted to allay his concerns, but how could she possibly tell him what was going on in her head?

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately,” she admitted after a while. “I feel so… off kilter.”

“You’re working too hard, I think.”

“That’s just it—I’m not working hard enough. I haven’t made half the progress I did when I first started. I can’t seem to find my steam.”

“Too fast out of the gate, perhaps?”

That wasn’t it, either. But it was a better answer than the truth. “Yeah, maybe.” Reaching for her wine, she tossed back the last of what was in her glass and poured a fourth.

“Careful,” Lamb warned. “You don’t want a sore head in the morning.”

“I’m from Newfoundland. We know how to drink over there. Besides, I’m not having full glasses.”

That wasn’t the truth, either. Newfoundlanders knew how to drink, and were, by unspoken rule, fond of a good kitchen party. But it was a cultural pastime to which Emmie, not a Newfoundlander by birth, had never acclimatized. By the time she went up to bed, she was feeling the wine.

When she finished brushing her teeth, she lingered over the sink, staring at herself in the mirror. She looked haggard. The Highlander was wearing her down. His constant presence was more than curiosity, she understood now. He wanted something from her, something which she couldn’t decipher.

The story of Duntrune’s piper played over in her head. His brave sacrifice for his laird. The skeleton under the flagstones. She remembered Paul’s words: Could it be the piper looking for his lost hands?

Gripping the sink with both hands, Emmie looked deliberately at her reflection in the mirror, and spoke to the Highlander.

“You’re not expecting me to find your lost head, or your leg, or something like that, are you? Because I’m telling you now, I don’t have the stomach for dismemberment.”

For a few seconds there was nothing. Then, out of nowhere, laughter bubbled up from her belly. It was so powerful that her shoulders shook. The Highlander was laughing, too. They were laughing together.

It felt so good to laugh.

Still a little tipsy from the wine, she slipped easily into dreams.

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