Chapter 13
13
ROSS
‘It’s so cold out there,’ Ivy observed as she practically fell through the door of Ross’s house. She slumped onto the ground and pulled off her boots and his over-large coat, simultaneously stroking Snowball and Moose and chuckling as they both arrived within seconds of them coming in to greet them, demanding attention. She looked relaxed and Ross realised she was getting used to the wild boar now.
‘Yep!’ he agreed, unsettled that he hadn’t been able to take Ivy back to the resort. ‘You can sleep in the spare room – it’s already made up.’ He sucked in a breath and saw Ivy nod as she pulled off her snowsuit, then got up, taking time to silently study the photos on the wall before making her way further inside. Ross followed after, taking off his coat, gloves and hat too, unsure of what to expect now they were alone and back in the warm. Would Ivy ask about Miriam and Simon again? Could he avoid talking about them?
‘Do you want some whisky?’ he asked, trying to relax as he made his way into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of single malt.
‘Yes please,’ Ivy said, taking a seat on the long sofa and grabbing a blanket to rest across her knees. He handed her a glass and went to light the fire. He wasn’t tired and wouldn’t be for ages. The journey to and from Grizzle’s and the feelings Ivy’s visit had roused would probably keep him up for hours.
He watched her take a small sip and smile. ‘This is the same brand as your grandmother drinks, did you know that?’ she asked softly. ‘Perhaps you’re more similar than you thought.’
Stunned, Ross shook his head before turning his back, and started to add wood to the grate, his stomach tense. He’d spent years locking his family out of his life. Because it was easier. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the comparisons Ivy was drawing. Was even less sure about the odd feelings of hope they were stirring.
Something suddenly buzzed and Ivy grabbed her mobile from her pocket, read the screen and tutted.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
She twisted the phone round so he could see. ‘Your grandmother. She wants an update. She’s asking when you’re going to talk to her. I’m showing you so you can see how much she really wants you home. This isn’t about etiquette, Ross. I genuinely think she wants to make amends.’
He reluctantly looked closer and then barked out an involuntary laugh. ‘Her contact name is Cruella de Vil?’
‘It was a joke,’ Ivy shot back, her cheeks flaming charmingly as she started to tap on the screen. ‘She just…sometimes… Argh . You weren’t supposed to see that,’ she fussed, obviously embarrassed. ‘Sorry, look, I’ve changed it. Can we pretend you never saw it?’ She showed him the screen again and this time the contact read Miriam Ballentine .
‘I don’t think I’ll ever forget.’ But Ross knew he liked Ivy more because of it. Because it meant she had seen a little of the woman his grandmother was. Hadn’t blindly decided he was the bad guy here. Why that mattered, he didn’t know. ‘But I’m hardly going to tell her,’ he said gently, as her blush deepened and he felt the barrier he’d erected between them wavering. ‘The moniker is apt. I know she’s my grandmother, but…’
Ivy nodded, recovering her composure. ‘I’m sure she’s a difficult woman to know.’
‘You’re being very diplomatic.’ He shook his head. ‘Miriam knows what she wants and she always gets it,’ he said. ‘She’s not very forgiving and she doesn’t know how to love.’ He winced. ‘Sorry, I don’t want to speak ill of her. She’s an impressive woman – she kept the castle and estate going after my parents died. That’s important to her.’ It was important to him too. His family legacy mattered even if he was only ever going to enjoy it from afar.
Ivy cocked her head, her forest-green eyes penetrating. ‘Did you ever consider she might be different if you met her now?’ She continued to gaze at him. ‘Whatever happened between you…perhaps she has regrets. Maybe things between you can be fixed. If you spoke, don’t you think you could find some common ground?’
Did he really want to put himself through that? Her rejection had hurt, why would he choose to open himself up again?
‘You’re very persistent,’ he said.
‘My mother always says things are impossible until they’re done.’ Ivy’s lips pinched. ‘And I do believe almost anything can be made better if you put your mind to it.’
Her voice grew heavy and Ross turned to look at her, suddenly realising there were a lot of things about Ivy’s life she hadn’t shared. He didn’t know much about her, aside from she was kind, her mother was important to her, and she worked for his grandmother. Suddenly that didn’t seem like enough.
‘Like what?’ he found himself asking, regretting the words instantly because getting to know Ivy better might just make everything worse. He wanted her to leave tomorrow, didn’t he? If so, why was he encouraging her to share her stories?
She stared into her drink, looking troubled. ‘I don’t know…But I think it’s worth considering how you might feel if your grandmother wasn’t around one day and you’d decided you wanted to make up when it was too late.’
‘I…’
Ross rocked back in his seat. It wasn’t something he’d ever considered. Perhaps he should have after what had happened with his parents. But Miriam had always been indestructible. A force of nature. Could he imagine a world without her in it?
Ivy nodded, reading him. ‘It’s something to think about, isn’t it?’
‘Did that happen to you?’ he asked quietly.
‘I…’ Ivy stared at him as pain flickered across her eyes. ‘Not exactly and this isn’t about me,’ she deflected.
He nodded, swallowing his disappointment, watching Ivy knock back the rest of her drink before shifting the blanket back from her knees.
‘Just think about it,’ she said. ‘It’s getting late and I’m tired. I hope you don’t mind if I turn in?’
‘The spare room’s on the right at the top of the stairs,’ he said. ‘There are some of my T-shirts in the wardrobe and a new toothbrush in the en-suite. Please help yourself.’ Then he watched her head for the stairs, feeling oddly disappointed and hollow all at once.
It was for the best though. He knew that. Tomorrow she’d go back to Hawthorn Castle to tell his grandmother he wasn’t interested in being Laird. Then he’d go back to living his life. But as Ivy disappeared from view, Ross found himself gazing at the spot where she’d been sitting, wondering if things would go back to normal, or if she’d managed to stir up a whole host of feelings that he was going to find it difficult to forget.
Something crashed over Ross’s head and he began to choke, spewing mouthfuls of unwelcome liquid from his throat before it got as far as his lungs. It was cold. Colder than the snow he loved to ski through in the winter. Chillier than the ice pop his brother had once shoved down the back of his T-shirt when they’d been fighting. But Ross wasn’t shivering. Why was that?
He tried to curl his fingers under his life jacket but they wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, the waterproof coat his mam had insisted he wore while they were sailing in the storm attempted to sink his arm like it was an anchor.
Every inch of his body wanted to give up and sleep – but he wasn’t ready to admit defeat. He thought about his grandmother, imagined her barking orders, insisting that it was his duty to fight and stay alert, his obligation to survive – and he was too terrified of Miriam Ballentine not to do as he was told. More afraid of her than Mother Nature it seemed…
He squinted into the waves again, searching desperately for his parents who’d been swept out of sight as their boat sank. But it was so dark and he could see nothing but black waves the size of skyscrapers. Even the flashes of lightning that haphazardly lit the sky didn’t pick them out. ‘Mam? Da? Please answer me,’ he screamed into the wind, hoping they’d hear, choking again when water forced its way down his throat.
Then Ross thought he heard a voice above the roar of wind. ‘Mam?’ He squinted, but the waves spat water into his eyes. Then, he could just make out something in the far distance, that looked like lights. Was it his parents? Or was it the white light someone had once told him about in school – the one you sometimes saw just before you died?
For a moment Ross wished his big brother was here, holding his hand. Even though Ross was far too old for that and would have punched his brother in the face if he’d tried to touch him at any other time. But Simon would know what to do, he was so like their da. He’d have fixed whatever was wrong with the boat, mended the life jacket and somehow got them all to safety. He wouldn’t just be floating, alone, afraid for his parents, watching the odd lights which seemed to be getting closer. He wouldn’t be waiting to die.
And Simon would never have taken the life jacket.
Ross swallowed the bile and self-hatred as it rose into his mouth. His parents had to be out there somewhere, he had to find them…Give his mother back the life jacket he should never have taken. He blinked as hot tears spilled from his eyes, mixing with salt water as he frantically searched the waves continuing to throw him up and down.
Where was she? Where was Da? What had he done?
Ross woke covered in sweat. He lay staring at the ceiling of his bedroom waiting for his heartbeat to settle, for the nausea to dissipate. He hadn’t had ‘the dream’ in almost a year. Had believed he might never have it again. At least he’d hoped time had finally given him a reprieve and allowed him to put the past behind him. But perhaps all the talk of Miriam and his brother – of expectation and duty, of long-buried guilt and pain – had stirred up everything? Or perhaps it was just Ivy?
He studied the ceiling, imagining he could see a face staring down at him. Long ago he’d thought it looked just like his grandmother giving him one of her long disapproving looks. He’d repainted it then, tried to emulsion over the shadows under her eyes, the regal nose that was bunched as if she were trying to avoid a bad smell, but it hadn’t worked. Because she was there again, giving him that look – the one she’d tried to hide during the months after he’d been rescued from the water. The look that said it was all his fault. The same one he fancied Simon had given him every time he was caught off guard.
Even when Simon had crept into his bedroom to talk to him in the middle of the night to share his grief, Ross had known his brother blamed him. He’d seen the accusation in his whisky-coloured eyes, had heard it in his voice, even as Simon delivered words that said the opposite. It didn’t matter how many times his brother had tried to deny it, Ross had known .
Neither Simon nor Miriam had ever said they blamed him, but the knowledge was there at his core, gnawing at his heart…It was the reason Ross had spent so much time outside. Why the gardens had become his solace, the place he felt at peace. And it was why he’d left Hawthorn Castle: because he couldn’t bear to stay. Couldn’t stand to be reminded of what they’d all lost because of him.
Ross felt disoriented as Ivy’s words spun around his mind, confusing him, making him wonder for the first time if his version of events was true. Even if it wasn’t – shouldn’t he think about the very real chance of forgiveness? Ross pondered the idea as he continued to stare at the ceiling. Then he shook his head. His grandmother didn’t want him; he had to stay away.