CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LIZZIE
There was an awful lot happening all at once. Learning I was pregnant, Brochan stepping back into my life, telling me he loved me and now dinner with my father. I felt like I was on an amusement park ride and there was a part of me that wanted to get off. Not really, but I wouldn’t mind if the ride slowed down.
Brochan held my hand and I was grateful because despite having seen my father already, knowing now the role he played in my life—being the catalyst for my dreams coming true—I was nervous.
“How did this dinner come about?”
“I stopped in to see him when I first arrived.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t do right by you. Someone had to hold his feet to the fire.”
I smiled to myself and moved closer. “You do realize that’s another grand gesture, right?”
He actually huffed. “I fucking do now.”
I wanted to laugh but he was irritated, so I held it in. “And dinner?”
“He called, told me your mother was in town then asked after you.”
“Wait? Norah is in town?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. He’s got eyes on her.” He looked down at me. “He cares.”
I never knew a person could experience conflicting emotions and in such intensity. Like right now. I was happy my father cared and really pissed that he waited so long to show it.
“It would have been nice if he cared when I was a kid.”
“No question.”
“When I was just starting out, an anonymous benefactor purchased a painting, my first. That sale was what kick started my career.” My eyes found Brochan’s. “It was my father.”
“I know.”
Of course he knew. We arrived at the restaurant. He held the door for me. I reached for his hand. He squeezed, silently telling me I wasn’t alone. My father was already at the table. He stood when we approached.
“Thank you for coming,” he said in way of greeting. Brochan held out my chair before he folded himself in the chair to my left.
“Would you like a drink?” my father asked.
“Water, please.”
The smallest of grins curved Brochan’s lips before he turned to my father. “Glenfiddich, neat.”
Once our orders were placed I gathered up my nerve. If we were going to try for some kind of relationship, he had to own up. I was rather direct when I asked, “Why did you stay away?”
He’d been expecting the question and still he didn’t jump to answer it. He didn’t have a pre-rehearsed one. He got points for that.
“I never wanted children…” He raised his hand when I tried to object. “I know it doesn’t make it right. Having one with the woman I did, it made it easier to pretend I didn’t have a child.”
“How?”
He leveled with me. He got points for that too. “Because in my mind you were your mother’s daughter.”
“I’m not my mother.”
“I know. I spent so long hating her. It’s an unproductive emotion, hate, and look what I missed out on…a chance to know my daughter.”
Was it too early to get emotional from the pregnancy hormones? Because damn if I didn’t feel tears. I changed the subject. “How did you get Norah to back off on the suit?”
“She dropped the suit when I mentioned Heather Craig.”
Brochan’s blank expression was proof he didn’t know who that was either. “Who’s Heather Craig?” I asked.
“She was your mother’s friend in Scotland. She died. Your mother fled Scotland not long after.”
“Are you saying she had something to do with her death?” I should be horrified by the possibility, but I wasn’t.
“One night after too much wine and sex she was rambling on about it. She never said she did it, but she was unnerved, as unnerved as I’ve ever seen her. She said the case was still open, that they were looking for her. I looked into it; the case is closed. It was a suspicious death, but without sufficient evidence it was ruled accidental and closed a few years back.”
“Why does she think the case is still open?” I asked.
“She’s probably too afraid to query it, afraid they’re still looking for her and that by doing so she might give up her location, but she’ll eventually figure out that my threat is empty.”
“You need to keep eyes on her.” Brochan sounded a little scary.
“I will.”
I changed the subject because talking about Norah was giving me a stomachache. “You bought ‘Voices’”. My comment caught him off guard because he hit his glass on his dinner plate. He looked back at me almost shyly. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it quite literally took my breath away.”
My body shook hearing him say words I too had once uttered when looking at Brochan’s home, but my father was saying it about my painting. Brochan started stroking my hand with his thumb.
My father added, “The beauty on that canvas came from within you and that was when I realized you were my child and not hers.”
It didn’t make everything okay, but it helped.
“I wasn’t there for you when you were a child, but I want to be now. If you ever need anything I hope you know you can come to me. I know this is late but...”
“Better late than never.”
We’d just entered the hotel. Cait was crashing again at my apartment. I moved into the room and kicked off my shoes. My father consumed my thoughts on the ride back, but now I was watching Brochan as he removed his jacket. He’d packed a jacket when he came here to make his grand gesture. The stark white cotton of his shirt was snug across the muscles of his back and shoulders. He was elegant and yet I knew he was lethal; it was a seriously sexy combination. I loved him, he loved me, we were having a baby and yet I didn’t know what came next for us.
“What happens now?”
He turned, those pale eyes moving down my body starting those tingles. I grinned. “Not this very moment, I mean what happens next?”
He turned and pushed his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I’d like to go home to Scotland and I’m hoping you want to come with me.”
Relief nearly had my knees going weak. It was what I wanted. He looked nervous; like I was going to say no. “I never wanted to leave Scotland.”
He had no outwardly physical reaction to that, but I knew how much my words meant to him.
“Listening to my father tonight, all the hate and all the ugly, it’s like a cycle. I don’t want to hold onto my anger for my mother, to find myself thirty years from now still holding onto it.” I touched my stomach. “We didn’t have any control over how our lives started, the abuse and the pain, but we have the control now. We’re going to be parents. It’s time to let it go. We can teach by example. Our baby will know what we never did…safety, love, and happiness, and in doing that we stop the cycle.”
I hesitated to finish because I was crossing a line, but for our child’s sake, for his, I did.
“I know what you do, knew it before anything started between us. I understand it, understand why you went down that path, but what you do is another cycle.”
His expression went tight and I felt the wall going up. It hurt, but I kept going. “You’re still reacting, Brochan. And what will you tell your child when they’re old enough to know what you do for a living. I once told you that I admired you for having the courage to be that balance, but maybe it’s time to find balance in a different way.”
“I love you and we’ll make it work if you can’t give it up because I don’t want to lose you. You said once you weren’t looking for the happily ever after, but it’s right there. All you have to do is reach for it.”
Silence followed and for so long I felt cold to the bone. I left him and headed to the bath, I needed a hot shower. Stripping on my way, I climbed under the spray. Maybe I was wrong to say that to him. Asking him to change, that hadn’t been my intention. I just knew there was so much more to him and maybe he too was caught in a cycle.
I heard him enter the bathroom. He stepped into the shower. The water sprayed over him. I stared at the knife wound, one he had gotten protecting me, paralyzed by what came next.
He wiped the water from his face then touched my lips, the lightest brush of his thumb. “You’re right.”
I nearly wept.
“I thought it was control, but I’m still reacting just in a different way.” He touched his lips to mine, nipped my lower one. “I was already retiring.”
I leaned back. “You were?”
“I was growing tired of it all, but now there’s you and the bairn.” His expression grew mischievous when he turned and pressed me against the shower wall. “I’ve been thinking about another line of work. Was told recently that I have a beautiful body.” His hand moved down my back to my ass then over to my thigh. His fingers dug in and tilted my ass up. His legs moved between mine. “A famous artist mentioned how much she’d like to paint it.”
The moan couldn’t be helped because of both the idea of painting a naked Brochan and because his cock was sliding down the crack in my ass heading to where I really wanted him.
His hand moved around my front, over my belly before moving lower. He touched my clit at the same time he pushed into me. My ass lifted more as I bent lower to give him better access. He moved so slowly, taking his time drawing out the orgasm. Right before I came he whispered in my ear.
“I’m ready to cut out the ugly too because I’m surrounded with beauty.”
BROCHAN
We have somewhere to be this morning and after I have the rest of the day planned.” I wanted to stay in bed, though watching Lizzie move around wearing nothing but my tee was giving me some ideas too, like getting her back in this bed so I could lift up that cotton and eat.
Distracted, I didn’t realize she had stopped getting dressed and was staring at me. “I have an OB appointment.”
Lust took a backseat as my eyes moved to her stomach.
“I kind of hoped you would come with me.”
“Absolutely.”
I’d never grow tired of seeing her smile. I climbed from bed. Her smile turned into something a bit more wicked and hungry. She kept talking but her focus wasn’t on my face.
“After, I thought I’d show you around my old stomping grounds.” She was looking at my cock. I fisted it; her eyes flew to my face.
“First one to the shower…” She ran past me. I called after her, “Eats last.”
The shower turned on. “Then hurry up, I’m hungry.”
Hearing the heartbeat of our baby was surreal. Lizzie had a death grip on my hand, I was happy for it because I felt a little unsteady.
The elderly doctor had a soothing bedside manner, though he’d probably delivered countless kids so this wasn’t earth shaking for him as it was for us.
“You’re about eight weeks. The baby has a nice strong heartbeat. You need to start prenatal vitamins. You’ll also want to start coming in for routine exams, just so we can monitor your baby’s development.”
“We’ll be heading home, back to Scotland.” I loved that she thought of my home as hers.
“That’s okay, just make sure you find a doctor at home. I can send the records from today.”
“We have a family physician. I’ll give you his information before we leave.”
“I’ll write the prescription for prenatal vitamins. Make sure you’re drinking lots of water. Despite what you’ve heard, you don’t really need to eat more because you’re carrying. In fact, maintaining a healthy weight during pregnancy will help reduce complications like gestational diabetes. You, however, are a little too thin so try to make sure you’re eating enough during the day. Your baby’s due date is mid May.”
She was too thin because of me. Guilt twisted in my gut but seeing the wonder on Lizzie’s face, I let it go. We were moving on, finding our own version of happy.
We stood outside the doctor’s office. Lizzie reached for my hand. “Wait until we tell Fenella and Finnegan they’re going to be grandparents.”
I could already see her expression and it brought a smile.
“You need to do that more often, smile.”
With her, that was very likely to happen. “Where to now?” I asked.
“We’ll start at the beginning.”
We were on the Upper East Side, standing in front of a high-rise. It was cold, sterile and not at all Lizzie. “I lived here until I was ten.”
“It doesn’t suit you.”
“No, but there’s an urban garden on the roof that was lovely. I never knew who kept the garden, but I escaped to it often. Looking out on the city, all the people going about their lives, it made my world seem not so small.”
Her parents were assholes. At least her father was trying now.
“For the next eight years I was at Stone Crest. That’s not a trip for today. So, I’ll show you where I went to art school then we can get something to eat.”
Her world had been very small. I bet intentionally done by her mother. Holding her close, separating her for the purpose of abusing her. I recognized the pattern since my own father had done the same, or had tried, but I had Fenella and Finnegan. Lizzie had had no one. There was a part of me that wanted to hunt down Norah Calhoun; if anyone deserved to be on the receiving end of my particular skill set, it was definitely Norah. But Lizzie wanted to leave all that behind. That was lucky for Norah because I would have really enjoyed torturing her.
Lunch was at the diner where Lizzie had worked double shifts to afford her apartment that was now her studio. She was taking me to see that next.
“This is where I met Cait. She strolled through that door looking for me. My work made her cry.”
“How long ago was that?”
She thought about it for a second. “Wow, eight years. Funny how time flies.”
I’d hate to not go back to Scotland, but if she wanted to stay. “Are you sure you want to leave this?”
“It was never home. None of the places I lived felt like home. I’ve only ever felt that in Scotland.”
Brianna strikes again.
“Doing this today, there’s something else I want to do. Are you still looking to make a grand gesture?”
“I’m fucking never living that down.”
“Not likely,” she teased.
“Yeah, I think I still have more atoning to do.”
“We’re going to need my father too.”
LIZZIE
“This is where she sent you?” We’d taken my father’s private plane to Vermont to visit Stone Crest Academy. At the moment, we were standing in the exact place I had stood all those years ago watching as my mother drove out of my life.
There was anger in his eyes and guilt. “I didn’t know, Lizzie, but I should have made it my business to know. I’m sorry.”
“I survived it, but I hate thinking of others having to survive it.”
“And you think getting rid of this Ms. Meriwether is the answer.”
“She is still the headmistress and she’s the worst of the lot. Her behavior trickles down.”
“Cut the head off the snake.” Brochan had it exactly right.
“The threat of an investigation might be enough to get her to retire. She’s nearly at retirement age already,” I reasoned.
“If not, I’m prepared to go through with an investigation and a lawsuit,” my father confirmed.
“More importantly, it is crucial that whoever replaces her wants to be there, wants to be the driving force of good for these girls. They need someone to hold their hands not smack them.”
My father had been horrified and furious to hear I’d been a victim of corporal punishment, particularly since it was illegal in Vermont.
My father held open the door. “Let’s make the woman an offer she can’t refuse.”
I had knots in my stomach walking down the hall, memories slamming into me, none of them good. The girls we passed I saw in colors, but they weren’t bright and vibrant. They were dull, as if the color had been washed out. I remembered feeling that way. My hope was to bring some light back to this place.
Ms. Meriwether sat behind the same desk. She was older now, her brown hair mostly gray, the lines on her face cut deep around her mouth and eyes, but she still had that arrogant, dictator-like attitude. As a kid I had feared her, as an adult I realized she was just another bully.
“Lizzie Danton. When my secretary told me of this meeting I must confess I was surprised. We can count a rising artist among our alumni. Are you here to give back to the place that helped you to achieve your success?”
Was she for real? “I am here to give back, just not in that way.”
She linked her fingers. “What can I do for you?”
“You can retire.”
Her cool façade cracked slightly. “Excuse me?”
My father stepped in. “I have a team of investigators on standby.”
“Investigators? Whatever for?”
“Corporal punishment is illegal. I’m sure you know that.”
Her face paled slightly but she rallied. “We do no such thing here, despite what your…daughter might have said.”
“And I’m not about to take your word for that. I’ve already been in touch with the Board of Directors. They were concerned by the reports, more about the potential law suits that will arise when it is learned how you discipline the children here.”
“You can’t threaten me. I have held this post for thirty years.”
Furious, I slammed my hands down on her desk. “And for thirty years you’ve fostered fear. These girls come to you scared and lonely and feeling abandoned and you play on those ugly emotions, perpetuate them so even when they graduate they stay silent about what goes on here. I did. I survived it and I tried to put it in the past, but I’m not covering my eyes anymore. You need to be held accountable, and these girls that are dumped here by parents that can’t be bothered, they need to know they have a family here.”
“How dare you speak to me like that!”
I curled my fists. “You’re lucky I’m only speaking to you, you bitch.”
“Lizzie.” Brochan’s calm voice cooled some of the rage. I stepped back and tried to get a handle on the rest of it.
“You’re missing the point. You are already as good as out. We’re offering you a way to retire with dignity and not be fired with disgrace. A courtesy you don’t deserve, but we are trying to rise above the sewer you’re swimming in.” My father’s voice was ice.
She stood, her chair slamming back against the wall. “I will not be pushed out. I’ll fight this.”
She walked to the door; her hand had just curled around the knob when a knife came flying through the air to land mere centimeters from her head. She jumped back. For the first time since this meeting started, there was fear in her eyes.
Softly spoken and ice cold Brochan said, “We tried it the nice way. Now we’re going to do it my way.”
“Where the hell did the knife come from? You actually carry a knife on you?”
Brochan didn’t answer me, just sipped his whisky.
My father was on his third. “It might have been nice if you mentioned your boyfriend is a…what exactly are you?”
“It’s not important. He’s out of the business,” I said quickly.
He gulped the last of his whisky and poured another. “I will say, for an old woman she ran pretty damn fast.”
I chuckled because he was right, she had run pretty damn fast, after she drafted her resignation letter and signed it.
My father looked over at Brochan. “You wouldn’t have actually done the things you said you would do.”
Brochan replied with a blank stare.
“Holy shit. You would have.” He took another drink. “I’m glad you’re on our side.”
“She’s out, but you really need to make sure whoever replaces her isn’t just like her.”
“The Board doesn’t want the backlash and I’ve been given assurances that I can have someone monitoring the situation to make sure her replacement is working.”
“How did you manage that?” I asked.
“I did what Brochan did, but instead of a knife I used a pen.”
“Stone Crest should help form those girls but through good means not fear. I hope that happens. It wouldn’t have had a chance if not for both of you. Thank you. Oh and I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you you’re going to be a grandfather.”
My father froze, his gaze moving from me to Brochan then he poured himself another drink.
We made plans to meet my father for lunch before we left for Scotland. After the shock of learning he was going to be a granddad, he’d seemed pretty animated. Maybe he’d be for my child what he hadn’t been for me. Time would tell. I had him in my life because of Brochan. He was rocking at the grand gestures.
We reached my apartment. As soon as he closed the door, I pulled off my jacket and yanked off my tee. He dropped the car keys on the table and pushed his hands into his pockets, his focus on my hands that were moving to my jeans.
“Do you know what I realized today?” I asked as I slipped my jeans off.
“What?”
I reached for my bra, my eyes on him. “We’re the lucky ones.” I was over his shoulder and halfway down the hall to my bedroom before my bra hit the floor.
“We’re heading back to Scotland.” We were at Cait and Ethan’s having dinner. I was ready to go home. I wanted to see Fenella and Finnegan, I wanted to see the lane; I wanted to get settled, nesting the book called it.
Cait’s fork stopped midway to her mouth. “When?”
“As soon as we can make the arrangements.”
“I’ve never been to Scotland. Have you Ethan?”
He chuckled, “Can’t say that I have.”
“I bet it’s beautiful.”
“Are you looking for an invitation?” I wanted her to come; I wanted to show her the beauty of Brochan’s home.
“Me? What? No…yes.”
I looked over at Brochan. His expression gave nothing away but he said, “Whatever you want.”
“Can you get off work, Ethan?”
“I’ve over a month of vacation days accumulated. I should use some.”
“So we’re doing it. You don’t mind, do you Brochan?” Cait used her puppy dog eyes.
“No.”
“Hot damn. Scotland. I can’t wait. Oh wait, I need new clothes, plaids and wools and boots. I need new boots.”
Ethan lifted his glass of wine. “Here we go.”