Chapter 29 Mac #2
“I’m astonished at you, Morag,” Oliphant continued.
I knew him. He was a landlord and owned a small portfolio of property here in Ardnoch and in villages along the coast. He’d grown up with Morag’s father, who was a Sutherland and had distant connections to the Duke of Sutherland.
Oliphant’s family didn’t date back as far as Morag’s or the Adairs, but it was obvious from his attitude that he’d been brought up to believe he was from a superior family.
He had always been a judgmental old bastard.
“It’s everybody’s business what they do. They’ve turned this village and their ancestral name into a walking scandal. First the eldest transforms his family estate into a Hollywood circus and the village with it, and then he marries an upstart American—”
“Mr. Oliphant—”
“Then, then”—his voice rose with agitation—“his brother had an affair with a woman half his age who also happened to be his children’s nanny.
It’s shameful, I tell you. And we let him get away with it, so now the sister is shacking up with her sister-in-law’s father. Have you ever heard anything like it?”
Arro huffed and marched toward the deli counter.
“Arro—”
She waved me off, so I followed at her back to make sure she was all right as she did whatever she needed to do.
“I tell you, they’ve brought shame on the Adair name.”
The deli came into view as we rounded the aisle. And there he was, hunched over his cane, leaning on Morag’s counter.
Morag blanched at the sight of us.
Arro stopped behind the old man, and I behind her. “The only shameful person in this village is you, Mr. Oliphant,” she said calmly.
He startled, almost dropping his cane as he whirled around to peer at us over the glasses perched on his nose. His mouth pinched into a fine line before he sneered, “I’m only saying what everyone is thinking.”
“Not true,” Morag said and smiled softly at us. “I say it’s about time. I’m thrilled for you both.”
“Och, haud yer wheesht, woman.” Oliphant stomped his cane belligerently. “Do not encourage this distasteful misconduct.”
Morag stiffened. “Do not speak to me like that in my own establishment, Mr. Oliphant, or I’ll have to ban you.”
“Don’t talk nonsense.” He dismissed her before saying to Arro, “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”
Arro stiffened. “I have nothing to say to you, Mr. Oliphant. I couldn’t care less what you think of me or my family.
In fact, I doubt we’ve ever wasted a second of our lives thinking about you, and I don’t intend to break that habit.
Now, if you’re done”—she reached back for me, and I stepped up to her side—“we would like to order our food.”
The old man huffed and spluttered and opened his mouth to say something else.
“I wouldn’t,” I warned him, not caring if my tone was threatening and he was just an old man. I didn’t want to listen to any more of his bile.
He stomped his cane once more like a fucking cliché and hurried past us, threatening Morag that he would never spend money in her store again.
“Good riddance,” Morag said, grimacing. “He always was an unpleasant wee man.” She leaned over the counter, smiling widely. “Is it true, then?”
Arro leaned into me. “It’s true.”
Morag looked pleased, which admittedly felt good. “I really am so happy for you both. You make a beautiful couple.”
“Thanks, Morag,” Arro said, sounding a little hoarse, as if the comment had made her emotional.
“You just ignore the gossips. They turn things into a scandal where none exists. They’ll find something else to talk about soon enough. Now, food? The usual?”
By the time we left Morag’s, Arro was subdued. I didn’t know if it was about Oliphant or the fact that we were walking down the street toward my row house.
I gave her room to think, and it was a silent walk.
Once we stopped outside my door, I looked down at her and offered, “We can do this another day.”
“No.” Arro shook her head, looking determined.
“I’m not afraid to go in there anymore. I want this, Mackennon.
I want to make this work. Subconsciously, I knew that before we came into the village today.
I wouldn’t have shared you with everyone, putting ourselves out there to be judged like that, if I didn’t know I was going to fight hard to be in this with you.
A room in a house will not scare me away. ”
Reassured, I let out a shaky exhale.
Arro gave me a tender smile, took the key from my hand, and opened the door.
I followed her in.
And the first words out of her mouth weren’t “I can’t do this” or “The memory is too awful”…
It was, “Jesus, Mackennon, it’s bloody stifling in here.
When was the last time you checked in?” She marched over to the window that faced the street and pushed it outward, letting warm air into the much warmer air in the house.
Grinning over her shoulder, she said, “This way, the nosy bastards can hear everything we’re getting up to. ”
Relief and amusement mingled as I shut the door with my foot and strolled over to her.
“Then let’s give them something to listen to.
” I lifted her over my shoulder, her shrieks of laughter filtering out to the street as I threw her onto the couch and came down over her to tickle the life out of her.
Her screams of hilarity could probably be heard down at the Gloaming.
Just like that, the terrible memory was exorcised by who we’d become.
By who I’d become. And the forgiveness she gave to the man I used to be.