“What kind of dad?”Scottie whispered.“I grew up with a lot of kids living in single mom households.”
“Worst argument ever with Purnell was when Mum convinced her a position at Pratt would be brilliant for our future.We were two months from our wedding, but after that row, we didn’t speak for two days.Finally, I couldn’t take it, went round to her place, apologized on both knees.”He smiled at the memory.“Three weeks later she collapsed at work.She’d been fighting pneumonia.She’d lost weight, but she told me it was for the wedding.She coughed a lot, and by the time her mum drove her to A & E, Accident & Emergency, the bacteria had taken over.I loathe every minute I wasted fighting with her.I don’t think I’ve forgiven myself for it.”
“Michael, you didn’t know.It’s a tall order to live your life as if the person you love could die at any turn.You should talk to Prince John.He knows a bit about grieving a young wife.”
“We’ve chatted.He blamed himself for not being with Princess Holland when she went riding by the cliffs and was thrown from her horse.”
“She was such an excellent horsewoman he didn’t even consider an accident,” Scottie said.“Eventually he realized it wasn’t his fault.He met Gemma and fell in love again.”
He looked up, his soul resting in his blue eyes.“I wasn’t there when Purnell died.I’d gone to play football with the lads.She was asleep, machines bleeping, delivering meds to fight the infection and help her rest.I only intended to be gone a couple of hours but—”
Scottie switched from her rock to his bench.“From all you’ve said about her, I don’t think she’d begrudge you an afternoon on the pitch.”
“She rallied an hour before she died.Sat up, talked to her mum and dad, her sisters and brother.Asked about me.Her mum said I’d gone out to stretch my legs.The match ran long.I raced back to her but not in time.She’d crashed.Somewhere in there, she said, ‘Tell Michael I will miss the life we’d have made together.’”He wadded up his crisps and peanuts package and stuffed them in a side pocket on the rucksack.“There, you’ve toured my personal secret cellar.”Michael hitched his rucksack to his shoulders and started down the path.
Scottie followed.“There’s always treasure in cellars, Michael.”
“Not always.Mostly bugs and cobwebs, maybe a snake or two.Ah, don’t forget bats and rats.”
“The treasure is worth facing those scary things.”She let that be her last word.Any more heartfelt confessions, she’d break.Michael Cross, whether she liked it or not, was a man she could love the rest of her born days.
At the bottom of the trek, a glorious sunset enveloped the peaks of the Highcrest Mountain range and shredded the drifting clouds with gold, orange, and red.
Scottie dug out her phone to capture the scene.“This is the most beautiful place on earth.”
“One of my top three,” Michael said, standing next to her, his shoulder barely touching hers.“I think Emmanuel wants me to forgive my mum.”
“Is that what He said over you?”
“I can’t remember, but I feel different.I have an urge to ring her and say ‘I give up, Mum.I’m done being angry.I forgive you.’”He headed off toward the Range Rover.
As Scottie slipped into the passenger seat, a call came in.Private.“I think it’s Kate.”
But it was Edric on the other end.“You must come.Kate’s in hospital.John and Gemma have just now landed in Port Fressa.Gus and Daffy are somewhere over the Atlantic.She’s asking for you, Scottie.She needs you.”
“I’m on my way.”
Chapter Twenty
Scottie
“Sorry I’m late.”She dragged a chair across the floor to Kate’s bedside in the sterile hospital room on a wing reserved for royals, the same room where she’d met her mother for the first time two years ago.“But you’re not supposed to be here.Your bedroom at Hadsby is so much nicer.”
“I’m a queen, I can do whatever I want.”She patted Scottie’s arm.“You’ve been out and about.Edric said he couldn’t reach you.”
“Michael and I hiked to Wenthelen Chapel.It’s beautiful.”
“The Wenthelen?”Kate perked up a bit.“I’ve not been there in years.The roads have been blocked and in disrepair.I can’t imagine the chapel being in good condition.”
“It was beautiful, Kate.Perfectly maintained.Ancient flagstones, roughhewn beams, carved and polished doors, and an ethereal hush in the nave, the Eye of God watching.”
“Still,” Kate whispered, resting the hand not tethered to a machine against her chest, “I should make the climb when I’m well again.Or pay for the roads to be restored.”
“So what happened?”Scottie raised her mother’s hand to her cheek.“Did you faint?”
“I couldn’t breathe nor manage the pain.”
“It’s been over two years.Shouldn’t you be improving by now?”
