Come Fill Up My Cup

Murray Munden Jean

Description

On a trip to Scotland, Robin Lindsay, a 40 something Canadian widow, meets James Maclachlan, a Scottish widower. James is still haunted by his poor relationship with his wife who died under mysterious circumstances nearly 10 years ago, leaving a young daughter and an infant son. The couple fall in love, but events emerging from the past, and a violent murder in the present, complicate matters.

Informations

• Publié par: Book Venture Publishing LLC
• Date de parution: 09 octobre 2018
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781641667173
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Jean Murray Munden
Copyright © 2018 by Jean Murray Munden.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
BookVenture Publishing LLC 1000 Country Lane Ste 300 Ishpeming MI 49849 www.bookventure.com Hotline: [phone] Fax: [phone]
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Printed in the United States of America
Library of Congress Control Number APPLIED ISBN-13: Softcover 978-1-64166-714-2 Hardcover 978-1-64166-715-9 Pdf 978-1-64166-716-6 ePub 978-1-64166-717-3 Kindle 978-1-64166-718-0
Rev. date: 09/20/2018
Chapter 1
Robin and James, 1996
James stood at the window and watched the storm approach. A black curtain of rain had obliterated the soft green hills to the west and was now rapidly moving toward their side of the valley. A sudden gust of wind rattled the windowpane, and lightning flashed in the distance, followed by a rumble of thunder. Another flash, much closer, followed; and more thunder reverberated. He marveled how fast the weather could change in the Highlands. Just yesterday morning, when he left his home south of Inverness, the sky had been blue with a few wisps of cloud caressing the tops of the mountains—a perfect autumn day.
“As my sister would say, this is going to be a real humdinger of a storm,” he remarked to his aunt, who was sitting in her big easy chair by the firepl ace.
Sarah Donaldson smiled at him.
“You and Katharine always did enjoy a thunderstorm,” she remar ked.
“I remember once when Kath and I were small, and we were at the nursery window, noses pressed against the glass, watching the lightning. Nanny kept telling us to come away, that it was dangerous, but we just scoffed and counted the seconds between the lightning and the thunder. Then there was a huge bolt that must have hit something close by because it made a tremendous crash and lit up the whole sky. You never saw two kids move so fast across the room to Nanny’s lap!” He smiled reminiscen tly.
“With this wind we’re bound to have a power outage,” Sarah said, putting aside her knitting and getting to her feet. “I had better hunt up candles and torches. I think the paraffin lamp is in the back porch. Would you mind fetching it for me, Jamie, plea se?”
Out on the porch, James shuddered at the deafening noise the rain was making on the metal roof. He found the lamp and a tin of fuel and was no sooner inside when there was a bright flash of lightning and a simultaneous crash of thunder. A moment later the lights flickered and went out.
“Talk about famous last words,” he said as he fumbled with the lamp. “Are you a female Prospero and have magicked up this storm? That must have hit something near by.”
Sarah was peering out the front window. “I think it must be the old oak tree that Thomas planted all these forty years ago,” she said slowly. “It could have brought down the lin es.”
By the firelight she lit candles and then went into the kitchen, blessing her big old coal-burning cooker, which would keep the room warm as well as the supper hot. She stirred the soup and then ladled out two bowls, sliced bread, and put out cheese and pickles. Calling her nephew, they sat down at the kitchen table and enjoyed the simple meal. Afterwards, they went into the sitting room where James poured her a small single malt whisky. “For digestion,” he said with a sm ile.
“I am going to wash up the dishes, check Kelly and the horses, and then get ready for bed,” she announced when she had finished her drink. “You stay up and enjoy the storm. I have a feeling there will be some tidying up to do in the yard tomorr ow.”
She lingered over the few dishes they had used, this time blessing the extra-large hot water tank she had installed when she opened her bed and breakfast. As she wiped the dishes carefully and put them away, she thought of James and his visit. He didn’t get out this way very often; he was kept busy with the farm and the distillery. Her brother Robert, James’s father, had run the whisky business in the past; but the last few years Sarah thought that he’d been depending more and more on James. She sighed. Since their troubles eight or nine years ago, James had immersed himself in the family business and hadn’t had much time for socializing, with family or otherwise. Therefore, he had surprised her the other day when he had telephoned and offered to spend a couple of nights with her, provided she wasn’t busy with her paying guests. He had business in Fort William, he said, and was she free? Sarah welcomed him. She was fond of her nephew and continued to worry about him as though he were the son she had never had. He seemed to be recovered from his losses after all these years, but sometimes she wondered. Katharine had remarked once that her brother had buried all those awful memories with his mother and his wife. He never discussed that time with her. It wasn’t as though they weren’t fond of each other, she had continued. They were the best of friends, but that part of his life he had shut away. As for Sarah, she missed Fee dreadfully. Her sister-in-law had been her best friend and also her best support when Thomas died so unexpectedly fifteen years ago. While she had become accustomed to being without Thomas—her horses and her guests kept her busy and happy—she was still not used to life without Fee on the end of the telephone line. They phoned each other at least once a week; and several times a year Fee would drive over in the Mini to spend a day gossiping, riding, or simply to be a shoulder to cry on. She remembered how Fee had escaped a visit from Claire’s mother one time (“Can’t abide that woman,” Fee had declared.) and another time Fee had whisked her off to Edinburgh for a few days of shopping and spa visiting after Thomas had gone. Sarah sig hed.
James told her last night that Janet had suggested he visit his aunt. “Somebody has need of you,” she’d said. Janet was the family housekeeper and had been brought up with James and Katharine, and at times it seemed she had “the sight.” Sarah had smiled and said lightly that she always needed him but privately wondered what on earth Janet had me ant.
She rinsed and wrung out her dishcloth, put on her roomy sou’wester that had belonged to Thomas, and dashed across the cobbled yard to the stables. All was well as she thought it would be, but as she went in and passed through the sitting room on her way to the front hall stairs, James remarked, “I thought I saw headlights out there, across the valley. Nobody but a fool would be out in this weath er!”
* ****
“What a fool I am!” exclaimed the woman in the car. “How on earth did I get myself into this predicame nt?”
Robin was alone. There was no one to comment so she answered herself, “Well, I know very well. I stayed too long at that pub, mislaid my map somewhere, and then when I did ask for directions, I couldn’t understand a word that the man was saying. And did I ask him to slow down and repeat himself? Oh no, I just smiled like an idiot and drove o ff!”
And missed that all-important first t urn.
Tim, who had joked about the “wee daft roads” when they had visited Scotland before—and this was certainly one of them: the narrow, twisty damned thing—would have understood the man. And if by chance he hadn’t, he would have smiled his charming smile and asked for a map. Why couldn’t Tim be here to help her? She hadn’t realized how difficult it was to be both driver and navigator, especially after dark and on the wrong side of the road. Damn this right-hand drive car, damn this horrible road, damn this storm, damn all Scots who couldn’t speak proper English, and damn Tim for dying in that ghastly way.
Tears of grief and fright were running down her cheeks unchecked. Robin’s hands remained clutched to the steering wheel. She stopped the car and tried to collect herself. Her stomach was churning with fear. The evening suddenly had become pitch-dark, and there was not a light to be seen. She told herself that a car was probably the safest place to be in a thunderstorm, but it didn’t make her feel any better. Where could she have left her map? She had traced her route with a bright-pink marking pen, and she should have been nearly to Oban by now, not lost in the wilds of Scotland. After taking a few deep breaths, she put the car in gear and commenced to crawl along, looking for a place to turn around. She would make her way back to Speam and find a room for the night. As she turned a rather sharp corner, she saw by the headlights the large tree that was lying across the road, completely blocking it. She slammed on the brakes and came to a halt only a few feet away. Well, she’d have to turn around now. She put the car in reverse and promptly backed into the ditch. Her rear wheels spun in the soft turf as she tried to go forward. The rain had made a mire of the area. Robin’s heart s ank.
“Now what the hell do I do?”
She turned off the ignition and the headlights and peered out the rain-washed window. The bank rose quite steeply away from the road, but she thought she could see a faint light above her. Was there a house up on the hill? She struggled into her jacket, found the flashlight and her shoulder bag, and got out of the car. She gasped as the wind grabbed her. There was another flash of lightning, and it lit up a sign that was swinging madly in the wind. She crossed the road and shone her flashlight o