Chapter 10 #2
As the alcohol spread, it infused warmth into her chest. She took another sip as images of the past and present converged, making it hard to separate out her feelings.
There was no way she'd even hint at what she and Ross had done together back at the distillery.
Hamish didn't need to know that. But his concern was touching.
He barely knew her and yet Harper was sure he'd leap to her defense in a heartbeat.
She sorely missed having someone like that in her life, someone who gave a damn.
It made her feel such loss for her father.
Before she could reason her way out of it, she took the note from her pocket and handed it to him.
He frowned curiously as he took it, holding it way out in front of him to read. "So that's the way of it then," he said sadly when he finished. "Thought as much when Ross came home. Lad was so far left of himself... Tried my patience. Ye kept it all this time?"
After swallowing another sip, Harper shook her head. "No. That's the thing. I just found it. It fell out of Mary's notebook."
His eyes went wide, and he waved the paper at her, his voice loud in disbelief. "Ye mean ye never got this?"
Liam appeared, sat down next to Hamish and took the paper out of Hamish's waving hand. A slight buzz had begun in her body and she liked it. It felt good and took the sharp edge of emotion away. Liam finished reading and he, too, gave her a look of shock and regret. "Holy shite."
Hamish elbowed him in the rib.
"Ah ya, Hamish! What'd you wallap me for?" He rubbed his side, looking offended. "All things considered, I think this deserves a holy shite."
Hamish elbowed him again. Harper laughed along with Hamish as Liam rolled his eyes and then turned his attention back to the topic at hand. "You found this with my mother's things?" he asked, obviously having over heard some of what was said.
She nodded and then stared into the amber liquid glistening in her crystal glass. Hamish let out a heavy sigh.
"If you had gotten this..." Liam started.
"No. It's pointless," she said. "All the would haves, might have beens. It doesn't matter now."
"What do you mean it doesn't matter? Ross loved you, Harper. You loved him. And my mother kept you apart."
"Loved. Past tense, Liam. And my father was in on it, too, apparently."
He gave her a doubtful look, not believing the love portion of her statement—which she decided to ignore. "So, wait a minute," he said. "Did you find his notes, too?"
"No. They don't exist. Just that," she gestured toward the paper.
"I think he wanted me to come here and find it .
. . and I don't know. Get closure maybe.
" Find love. Be happy. Trust again. "Whatever.
Can't ask him now, can I?" With that, she grabbed the bottle off the ground, filled her glass, saluted the men, and took a deep drink.
And came up coughing.
Damn. That burned!
"Might want to take it slow," Liam said, wincing when she turned a glare his way.
"You know what, Liam? You look too much like your brother." Which only made her drink more. "And a little advice. Never tell a woman to take it slow when she's upset. Makes her want to drink more. Just sayin'."
Fran and Lucy approached. Harper gave an inward sigh.
She liked everyone just fine, but she certainly didn't want an afternoon pity party.
After pleasantries were exchanged, Lucy pulled two chairs over for her and Fran.
The letter was passed around along with the explanation that Harper never received it and, of course, Ross believing she'd turned her back on him.
Throughout this, Harper continued to drink, listening in and feeling oddly like she was listening about someone else's life, someone else's heartache.
"God. That makes me want to drink." Lucy said. "I'm so sorry, Harper."
Harper shrugged, swinging her glass between her thumb and pointer finger. "What can you do?"
"Why not set things right?" Fran said. "Tell Ross the truth. Seems a terrible thing for him to go on thinking the worst."
"Aye," Hamish said, stroking his beard and flashing a quick look at Fran.
"Might be just what the lad needs," Fran continued. "To get over his old hurts and finally have a normal relationship. Lad is overdue to settle down..."
Harper frowned at the weird look on Hamish's face and the small smile tugging Fran's lips, which was gone so quick Harper wondered if she imagined it.
She didn't see anything warm and fuzzy and wonderful about Ross moving on and finding a normal relationship.
In fact, the idea made her ornery as hell.
"He does deserve to know the truth, Harper," Liam said gently, turning those baby blues on her.
They were right, which did nothing to help her declining disposition.
It was hard reversing twelve years of what she'd believed, to let go of the broken-hearted chip on her shoulder, one that—if she was being honest with herself—she'd used as a crutch more times than she could count.
Losing her virginity to Ross and then being abandoned had shaped her, had changed her.
And, yeah, she was angry. Pissed. All the lost time... All the nights she'd spent thinking and hurting and deep down, wondering what she'd done wrong, why she wasn't good enough, why two people she'd loved—her mother and then Ross—could so easily walk away from her.
It tended to give one a complex.
And she couldn't exactly cling to her crutch anymore, now could she?
Which made the idea of telling Ross the truth even more terrifying.
He hadn't left her. It changed everything, yet it might change nothing at all. Being with Ross today had been ... Well, honestly, it had been mind-blowing. Even now she wanted him, wanted to feel his lips on hers and those big, roughened hands on her bare skin. The way he'd grabbed her hips...
"Harper?"
She jerked. "Sorry?"
"Are ye going to tell him, dear?" Fran asked.
"I'll go with you if you want," Liam offered.
"I think this is something they'd probably want to do alone," Lucy said knowingly and then stood. "When you're ready, of course. How about I make you something to eat?"
Fran joined her. "Aye. You just rest a while and we'll bring everything here to the patio."
"Thanks." Harper smiled and watched them go. Such nice people. They all looked out for each other, took care of each other. She caught Hamish watching her and felt a little embarrassed at what she knew was longing on her face.
"Ye dinnae have much family back home?"
Harper shook her head. "Not anymore, no."
He leaned forward, looking into her eyes with compassion and a gentle smile. "Ye'll always have a place here, lass, ye ken?" Before she could answer, he patted her knee, pushed himself up, his old joints making a popping sound, and then shuffled off after the women.
Liam watched him go with fondness, shaking his head, and rubbing his ribs. "He hits me and comforts you. Doesn't seem fair."
"Oh, please." Harper kicked back on the lounge. "I doubt you need much comforting."
"Hey. Deep down, I'm a sensitive guy." He glanced back at the castle where a group of women—three of Riley's friends who'd come from the States for the engagement party and Riley—were headed out for a walk.
"Let me guess. Trouble with the ladies," she surmised, noticing the way he'd turned serious.
He scoffed, then scratched his head, finally giving a slow boyish grin that Harper couldn't help but laugh at. "You're such a player."
He stared at the group once more, his tone rueful as he said, "So I've been told."
Harper sat up, faced Liam, and set her glass on the ground. "Okay. Let's hear it. Lay it on on me."
"What?"
"Your woman troubles. Come on. It'll make me feel better."
He rolled his eyes. "Your concern is touching."
"Isn't it? Now come on. Tell me."
He reclined on the lounge, crossed his ankles, and tucked his hands behind his head. "It's nothing a little focus and determination can't fix." He glanced over and wiggled his eyebrows at her. "What you call trouble, I call a challenge."
"Right," she said with a laugh. "Good luck with that." Reclining in her chair, the alcohol buzzing through her veins, Harper began to feel much better than she had a few minutes ago.
It was a start, at least.