Chapters (43)
- Pronunciation
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Acknowledgments
He met her eye, Gunn’s question still ringing in his ears. The wind pulled her hair back from her face in long silken strands, flying out behind her like a flag of freedom. It coloured her skin pink, fine features hardened a little by time and pain, but still strong, attractive. The little girl of his childhood, the burgeoning woman of his adolescence, both still there in this cynical, funny, intelligent woman he had hurt so carelessly. But you could never go back.
“I showed your dad a photograph of the man they took from the bog,” he said. “I’m pretty certain he recognized him.”
She took her hand away, as if from an electric shock. “So it’s true.”
“Seems like it.”
“I kept hoping they had made a mistake. Mixed up the DNA samples or something. Your parents are the rock you build your life on. It’s a bit of a shock to find that rock is just an illusion.”
“I showed him the Saint Christopher’s medal and he threw it in the sea.” Her consternation was apparent in the creasing of her eyes. “He said someone called Ceit had given it to him, and that they were all Catholics.”
Now disbelief pushed her eyebrows up on her forehead. “He’s demented, Fin. Literally. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
Fin shrugged, not so sure. But he kept his misgivings to himself. He said, “George Gunn is going down to Harris tomorrow to check out your dad’s family. He said I could go along. Should I?”
She nodded. “Yes.” Then added quickly, “But only if you want to, Fin. If you feel you can spare the time. I have to go back to Glasgow for a few days. Exams to sit. Although, God knows, I’m hardly in the right frame of mind for it.” She hesitated. “I’d appreciate it if you would keep an eye on Fionnlagh for me.”
He nodded, and the wind filled the silence between them. It blew among the grasses, forced the sea against the rocks all along the northern cliffs, carried the cries of distant seagulls as they fought to master its gusts and currents. Fin and Marsaili were mercilessly battered by it as they stood on the clifftop, feeling it drag at their clothes, rushing into their mouths when they spoke, snatching their words away. Marsaili put an arm on his to steady herself, and he reached out to slip his fingers through her hair, feeling the soft, cool skin of her neck. She took an almost imperceptible step closer. He could very nearly feel her warmth. How easy it would be to kiss her.
A car horn sounded in the distance, and they turned to see a hand waving from the driver’s window. Marsaili waved back. “Mrs. Macritchie,” she said, and the moment was gone, carried off in the wind with their words.
Nineteen
Nineteen