Chapter 22
“It took me forever to find you. This is one hell of a hiding spot,” Brooke’s voice aired annoyance at having to look for her friend. “I’ve got everything we need right here in the bag: ice cream, those lemon cookies you love, and tequila”—she pulled one last item from the shopping bag—“and limes. Wouldn’t want to get the scurvy. One complete broken heart kit at your service.”
“Ian won’t come in here. It’s the only place I could think of to be alone. The kitchen is empty this late.” Claire picked herself off the floor and moved to the table in the kitchen of the keep. “I can’t drink, Brooke. I’m pregnant.”
With a quick eye roll, Brooke said, “Don’t be stupid. You’re dreaming, so you can do whatever you want.” She poured a shot and handed it to her with a wedge of lime. “A toast! To all the assholes! May they rot in hell for what they’ve done to us.”
Claire threw back the shot and grimaced at the way it burned down her throat. “What do I do now? I’m not sure what to do.” Even Claire knew she was pathetic with a voice choked with tears and sobs.
“Well, if you were at home I’d say we grab dinner, drink ourselves into oblivion, or maybe just stay up late watching movies. Since we are not together, you are going to have to do whatever you can. Look on the bright side, you don’t have to tell your mom you’re knocked up.” Brooke offered a big grin before she cracked into the mint chocolate chip ice cream.
“That is the first happy thought I’ve had in a while.” Taking a bite of the cookie, Claire added, “I almost had forgotten how good these are. Seriously, Brooke, what do I do now? It hurts in a way I never thought possible. I can’t breathe. I can’t see. I feel like I’ve died inside.”
Brooke slammed down another shot and smacked the table with the shot glass. “It’s not that hard, Claire. You do what women have always done, you move on. Of course, in your case that’s literal. Hagan will take you to his family. He’s a good guy, and he will only do right by you. As for the rest, time heals all wounds, they say. You know what? They’re right. It will take time, but you’ll be okay.”
With laughter through her tears, Claire said, “You had to mention time.” She took a moment to compose herself. “It’s not just me now.” She helped herself to one more shot of tequila with a quick hit of lime. “I thought Ian was the one, Brooke. I really did. How could I have been so wrong? Everything about him was so perfect. Seriously, I thought he was the one.”
“We always do. Well, you don’t, but I do.” Brooke’s voice became more cynical, “You should have already been through this, a heartbreak. It sucks, but it’s real. You’ve spent so long avoiding real.”
Taken aback by the tone of voice Brooke used, she retorted, “What exactly does that mean? My pain isn’t real enough for you? Too bad because it sure as hell feels real to me.” Claire could feel she was about to burst into a renewed round of tears. “I don’t know what to think anymore. This morning I thought I had it all figured out. I discover I’m pregnant, and then I’m told to leave. It hurts so much!”
With a serious look that did not belong on her face, Brooke leaned towards her. “You forgot, Claire. That’s been the problem all along. You forgot.”
Stunned by her friend, Claire retorted, “I know that now. I forgot I could have gotten pregnant. Someone help me, I sound like some bad after school special.”
Brooke stepped away from her and melted into the shadows of the kitchen. She taunted, “You think that’s what you forgot? You could not be more wrong.”
Before her eyes, Brooke’s face and clothes morphed. Claire now stared into her own face. This version of her was from home; her hair was pulled back in the usual ponytail. She wore her black uniform from the martial arts studio and her black belt bearing its two stripes in gold thread. Her image of her mocked her. “You forgot, Claire.”
She hated the shift in the dream, but she was compelled to ask, “What did I forget?” This was the singular question, the one that had plagued her dreams for weeks.
With her hands flat on the table, the illusion leaned over the table, and said, “You forgot who you are. You forgot what you want, what you need, and mostly what you deserve.”
Not to be taunted by her own image, Claire said, “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. You wanted him, too. You love him as much as I do, admit it.”
“Yes, I do. I also know it was wrong from the start. You knew that, too. It’s why we stayed away from him and why we ran away from him that drunken night when he offered what little he could. We knew all along that the people here came first. Isn’t that why we didn’t walk in here as Mrs. Laird? We knew it was wrong.”
She stared at her reflection, amazed at the conviction and disappointed she was right. “So I forgot it was wrong? Fine, my morals took a holiday.”
Cold and dark laughter came from her image. “That’s only the tip of the iceberg. We forgot who we are, how we live, and what standards we use to make decisions.” The image stared into the real Claire. “We’re not like everyone else are we? We never have been. We have always worked hard and tried to do our best, no matter what. Why were we still a virgin when everyone else was sleeping around? We wanted it all, and we wanted it to matter. Not just sex, but love and commitment.” The image lifted the strap of the black belt. “This is more than physical achievement. This represents our goals and perseverance. We threw it all away.”
“If I wanted a speech from Michael on black belt integrity, I’d be seeing him now.”
“Be glad it’s just us and not Michael. Believe me, I know we’re not in the mood for a lecture on integrity, honor, and our indomitable spirit.” The illusion paused to frame her thoughts. “Honestly, I’m not sure we have much of any of those things left in us today. But part of it explains where it all went wrong. It’s why we never settled for some guy when everyone else did. We wanted it all. We were raised to want it all. Well, we failed. We settled for less, content to live a lie.”
“I did not fail. I loved him. It wasn’t a conscious choice I made. It just happened.”
The image answered with cold clarity. “So weak. We have no choice in how we feel. We did have a choice in sleeping with him. Now we pay for that mistake, and we pay hard. Now when every part of us just wants to give up, we have to fight. We will have to build a new life for us and for the child.”
Claire turned away from her image. “I know that.” She felt the tears roll down her cheeks. “I just can’t do it now. It hurts too much. I thought it hurt when I lost home and when I knew I was stuck here. Now I feel like I’ve died. I have nothing left. How do I go on knowing I’ve lost him?”
“Lost him? We never had him. Ian was never ours to lose. We lost our home, our family and friends, but never Ian. How many times did he ask you to say you were his? Never once did he say he belonged to you. Ian never belonged to you, and he knew it.” The image took a long drink from the bottle of tequila on the table. “Ian belongs to Mairi, in all of her crazy glory.”
Claire could feel the truth in every word spoken. This is what she forgot. She placed a hand to her flat stomach and knew she had to do better. “How do we do this? I mean, how do I go on? There is nothing left.”
“Of course there is something left. You are still you, heartache and all. The pain is real, and it will be for a long time. But we are so much stronger than that. We earned our place here, and we can do the same with Hagan’s people. We start over, and we learn from our mistakes.” The image turned to look at the floor near the kitchen fire. “But first you need to get up off the floor. It’s almost dawn, and the women will be here soon to start cooking. Do you want them to find you huddled and broken?”
“I thought I was standing at the table.” Claire looked to see her body in the fetal position on the floor tucked against the wall with bare feet, and the disgust at being found this way took over.
Her reflection aired its final thought. “I refuse to curl up and die because Ian broke my heart. Be sad tomorrow when we are alone. We can mourn when we’re gone from here. Today, let’s be strong. Find whatever is left of our spirit and carry it with us. Let’s ride out of here with our head high and our back straight. I promise we can fall apart later.” The vision offered a weak smile and a hand to Claire on the floor.
She rose to her feet and shook the dream from her mind. Claire focused on making her way to the baths. One step at a time. She would survive this morning one step at a time.
She was nowhere. Ian had spent the night chasing a ghost, a very fast ghost. Claire had eluded him the whole night. He wondered where she could she go with no boots to protect her feet. He had searched most of the night just wanting to talk, to explain, or even to have her voice her anger at him. He wanted only to be near her. Near dawn, he had gone to wait in her chamber only to be told to leave by Neala. The housekeeper would not speak with him either. She simply packed Claire’s belongings into saddlebags and took the boots from his hands as she simultaneously pushed him out into the cold corridor.
Prepared to enter his chamber, he found his dagger placed just outside his door. The bitter and painful truth of this morning had been made more real. The dagger, the symbol of his lairdship and the one item that bound Claire to him, had been placed on the floor in the corridor for him to find in morning’s light. How wrong this now feels in my hands, Ian mused. The eye of the dragon mocked him as well. He turned the dagger only to find the eye on the other side held no answers.
The dagger’s weight was a curse on his hip. Ian walked downstairs and outside into the courtyard. The crowd gathered should not have been so surprising. There were many in his clan who adored Claire. Seeing them all here to say their farewells, his chest filled with pain.
The women and young lasses took their turns at parting words, and each received a warm embrace. The men then offered their parting words and received the same warmth from her. Neala and Aliana stood by her side through it all with faces contorted by tears and grief. Wee Cerwyn snuggled in Claire’s arms, blissfully unaware of the sorrow felt by those gathered.
The sight of Finella as she approached the women tugged at his heart; she never left the kitchens for anyone or anything. The small woman handed over a large bag to the lad with the horses and saw the provisions stowed to her approval. Then Finella made her way to her. Ian’s eyes followed as the small older woman pulled Claire’s head down to place a kiss on her forehead. The embrace exchanged, this was the one that was hardest to watch.
“We are ready to leave, with your permission, of course, Laird.”
Ian had no idea when Hagan had walked to his side. “Do we need such formality, brother? This day is hard enough to bear.” He paused to once again watch Claire be embraced by a sobbing Aliana. “You will see to it that she is well cared for?” He placed a bag of coins into Hagan’s hand. “She will have needs. I would see some of them met.”
Hagan glared at the bag. “For my wife and son’s sake, I will see to it she is cared for. My brother will welcome her for them and for me.”
Hagan’s words had stung, and Ian did not have the fortitude to challenge their meaning. He moved forward as Claire mounted her mare and noticed everything at once: the sunlight in her hair, the cloak on her shoulders, the green of her gown, her foreign trews beneath the skirts, and the way she faltered on horseback. He ran to reach out to hold her steady with his hands on her waist and thigh.
So many words had danced in his mind during the night, but now faced with the lass, none of them were to be found. No words could ever hope to ease the pain of parting. “Claire, I . . .” The abrupt movement of the horse stopped Ian’s words. She had pulled away from him and out of his reach.
Claire turned enough to face him, but her eyes locked on the sea in the distance. “Goodbye, Laird.” Without waiting for reply, she rode for the gate. Ian waited until she and Hagan were long gone from sight and then stood in the courtyard alone.