Page 40 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle (Coorie Castle Crafts #2)

The gusty wind caught Freya’s hair, tugging and snapping at it until it streamed out behind her like a pennant.

She wished she’d thought to tie it up, but when Mack had messaged her to ask whether she fancied a walk to blow away the cobwebs – and told her that if she did, he’d be there in ten minutes – she’d only had time to change and make sure Dad didn’t need anything.

Since Freya had discovered his secret, nearly a week ago, her father had been much less argumentative (though he still had his moments). He seemed to have resigned himself to the inevitability of her being there.

After a few more attempts at trying to persuade her that he could manage on his own if he had a bit of help with his shopping and maybe a cleaner to come in once a week, he’d finally stopped trying.

Freya had made it clear that she wasn’t going anywhere, and that nothing he could do or say would make her change her mind.

She’d continued to stand resolute, even when he’d threatened to go into a nursing home. As if she’d let that happen!

It wasn’t a day for being out on the loch. The wind whipped the sea, churning the surface into racing white horses, as wave after white-topped wave battered the shore. Mack, understandably, had decided to cancel today’s excursions.

He asked, ‘How have you been? I haven’t seen you all week.’

‘Oh, you know… Taking one day at a time. Dad’s improving slowly.’

‘Not Vinnie. You. How are you ?’

‘Fine.’ It was her stock response these days whenever anyone asked.

‘I don’t think you are,’ he observed.

Freya squinted into the distance, ignoring the breathtaking view as she struggled to hold back unexpected and unwelcome tears. ‘I will be,’ she said eventually.

‘I know you will.’ Mack stopped walking and turned to face her. She stopped too and when he took hold of her hands, his touch sent tingles up her arms.

He was the one – the only – light in the twilight that her life had suddenly become, and even that glow was dim.

Just because they’d shared some passionate kisses didn’t mean he loved her.

He liked her and he certainly fancied her, or he wouldn’t have kissed her the way he had, but lust didn’t equate to a relationship.

However, it was the quiet hope that love might blossom one day which had kept her going these past few days, that something positive might rise out of the ashes of her hopes and dreams for the future.

Mack was studying her intently, and she blushed under his scrutiny.

‘Can I ask you something?’ he said. ‘If your dad didn’t have Parkinson’s, would you have definitely gone to America?’

‘Yes.’ She didn’t hesitate. There was no question that she would. ‘But he has and I’m not, so I don’t want to dwell on what might have been. I can’t afford the headspace. I’ve got too many other things to think about.’

‘Such as?’

‘How I’m going to earn a living, for a start. I need to work, but there’s not much call for a ceramics professor on Skye, and the craft centre already has a resident potter.’

‘I’ve seen your website – you sell things on there, don’t you?’

‘Yes, but I’m not sure as to its sustainability. I’ve always had a day job alongside.’

‘Maybe it’s time to take the plunge? Those pieces in the byre… They’re beautiful, Freya.’

She hesitated. ‘I could, I suppose, but I can’t do it without a studio, and there’s nothing suitable nearby.

I thought about begging for some kiln time from Rob, but that wouldn’t be fair on either of us.

And even if I do manage to find a studio, I keep asking myself whether there’d be any point.

All my contacts are in London, as are all the galleries. ’

‘Are you saying that you’re thinking of giving up ceramics?’

‘Maybe. I don’t know. To be honest, I can’t think straight at the minute.’

He was gazing intently at her, his eyes searching hers, and she wished she knew what he was looking for.

‘I’ve got a proposition for you,’ he said, his voice low, his tone urgent. ‘Don’t say anything until you’ve heard me out. Promise?’

‘OK, I won’t say anything,’ she promised.

But when he said, ‘Angus, Graham and the others are a good bunch,’ she nearly changed her mind. Where was he going with this?

Mack gave her a warning look, and she subsided.

‘They took another excursion out on their own yesterday,’ he continued. ‘That’s the fifth one this week – and you’re wondering why I’m telling you this.’

Mindful of her promise, she merely nodded.

‘I wanted to make sure the guys could manage without me most of the time.’ He gave a wry chuckle. ‘To be honest, they can manage without me all of the time, which is rather disappointing, because I thought I was indispensable.’

Freya couldn’t resist. ‘Why would you want them to manage without you?’

His eyes darkened, the blue turning to navy as he blurted, ‘You’ve got to go to New York, Freya.

If you don’t, you’ll be forever wondering what it might have led to.

I’ll look after your dad. That’s what I’m trying to say.

This is your time, Freya. I won’t be putting my life on hold.

I’ll be doing much the same as I always do, just a bit less of it, that’s all.

I’ve been reading up on Parkinson’s: it could be years before he needs full-time care.

When his hip has healed, he probably won’t be as mobile as he was before, and he mightn’t be able to do all the things he once did, but that’s where I’d come in.

I’ll do his shopping – actually, I’ll take him shopping, because I expect he’d like to choose his own groceries.

I’ll do the things around the house he can’t; I’ll drive him to his doctor and hospital appointments; I’ll—’

‘Stop! Please, just stop. You can’t.’ She drew in a shaky breath, feeling like she’d been punched in the solar plexus. There wasn’t enough air, despite the stiff breeze blowing across her face.

The whole thing was surreal. She must be hallucinating or dreaming.

But Mack didn’t stop. ‘I’m not suggesting you stay there forever.

At some point, Vinnie will need more care than I’ll be able to give him, but right now, he’ll be fine.

New York is only a flight away. You can come home for a couple of days whenever you want.

Hell, I’ll even bring him over to visit you. ’

She shook her head. ‘No, you can’t. It’s not right. Your boat, your…’ She stopped, bewildered. ‘You’re offering to put your life on hold to care for my father, while I bugger off to the States?’

Mack hung his head and dropped his gaze. ‘Yes.’

‘I… I don’t know what to say.’ What could she say? The idea was preposterous. It was unthinkable. Her father was her responsibility, not Mack’s.

He thought he’d got it all worked out and maybe he had, because he’d certainly done his research, but she couldn’t possibly agree to it.

‘No,’ she said.

His head shot up. ‘Please, you must.’

‘Mack, if I were to go to the States, I’d want to give it my best shot. There’d be no half measures.’

‘I understand.’

‘It wouldn’t be a short-term thing. I would be gone years, not months.’

‘I expect nothing less.’

‘You can’t look after my father for that length of time. You’re being ridiculous! What if you meet someone and fall in love?’

‘I won’t.’

‘You can’t possibly know that.’

‘Believe me, Freya, I do. I’m in love with you . You’re the only woman for me. If I can’t have you, I don’t want anyone else.’

Freya froze, her heart thudding. ‘You love me?’

This was too much: finding out that her dad had a serious, debilitating disease and realising that she wouldn’t go to New York, then now being told that she could go after all, if she wanted, and that the man who could make this happen was in love with her— She felt overwhelmed.

‘I can’t deal with this,’ she said, backing away and shaking her head in disbelief. She turned on her heel, walking fast.

‘Freya! Stop.’

She carried on walking.

He didn’t try to follow. When he called after her, ‘At least think about it,’ she ignored him.

Hurrying home, she didn’t want to think about it, but she thought about it anyway, because Mack was offering Freya her life back. He was giving her a way to escape this island for a second time. And the temptation to take it was so incredibly great.

‘Freya, is that you?’

‘Yes, Dad.’ She hung her coat in the tiny cupboard under the stairs and kicked off her boots.

‘I didn’t expect you back so soon,’ he called. He was in the sitting room, watching TV. ‘Where did you go?’

‘Not far, a walk down by the loch. Tea?’ Hopefully, the time it took to make it would give her a few more minutes to compose herself, because she hadn’t done a very good job of it on the way home.

She squeezed her eyelids shut, a pulse throbbing at her temple. Freya wished Mack hadn’t said anything. But he had and now she couldn’t stop thinking about it, her emotions swinging from hope to despair, from temptation to denial.

What should she do? What could she do? What was she brave enough to do?

It’s too late , she told herself. She had already turned down the offer from the Black and White Art Academy. Jocasta Black wouldn’t be amused if she sent another email telling her she’d changed her mind and would like the job after all.

But if Freya explained…?

Her dad appeared in the doorway, making her jump.

‘I thought you were making a cup of tea?’ he said, then he saw her face. ‘Freya? What’s wrong?’

‘Mack is in love with me.’ The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.

‘Is that all? I thought something awful had happened.’

‘ You know? ’ If Mack had spoken to her dad about this before—

She gasped. Had they cooked it up between them? She wouldn’t put it past her dad to have talked Mack into this hare-brained scheme. No wonder her father had gone quiet lately; he’d been busy hatching this!

‘I guessed,’ Vinnie said. ‘He looks at you the way you look at him.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Me and your mother used to look at each other like that. You make a lovely couple.’

Freya slumped into a chair. ‘He’s got this idea.’

She worried at her lip, wondering if it was wise to tell her dad. If he hadn’t been in on it before, he’d be all for it once he knew. She would hardly get an unbiased opinion. But she was so confused, she had to talk it over with someone, and this affected him too…

When she’d finished telling him, she waited for him to list all the reasons why she should agree to Mack’s plan, but he didn’t say a word.

Instead, he filled the kettle and took two mugs off the wooden tree. Today was one of his better days, the tremor in his hand barely noticeable and his gait less of a shuffle.

He waited until they had a cuppa in front of them before he spoke.

‘Love is a funny thing,’ he said. ‘You can’t make it happen, and you can’t make it go away. It’s just there. Sometimes it’s the most beautiful thing in the world and it brings you more joy than you can ever imagine. And sometimes it brings you more pain than one person should ever have to bear.’

His eyes grew damp and Freya knew he was thinking about her mum. She reached across the table and clasped his hand, and he smiled tearily.

Clearing his throat, he carried on. ‘Love is a precious gift; hold on to it as hard as you can. But holding on also means letting go. That’s when you know it’s true love.

I love you with every fibre of my being, Freya.

I want you to be happy. If that means letting you live the life you want to live, even if it is halfway across the world, so be it.

It hurt to think of you so far away in London.

It hurt not to see you every day. But that’s nothing compared to the joy I feel knowing you’re living your best life.

If Mack loves you enough to let you go, then he loves you with all his heart. It’s a rare thing, that kind of love.’

Freya sat there, tears trickling down her face.

Her father’s words touched her soul; their truth was seared on her heart, and she knew what she had to do. There was only one option. Maybe there had only ever been one, but she’d had to leave Skye and come back to realise it.

Freya found Mack sitting on the lawn at the rear of his house. The

reason she knew where he was, and the reason she didn’t bother ringing

the doorbell, was because he was playing The Rolling Stones at full

volume again. The front door was unlocked, so she went inside. A bottle

of whisky, half-full, sat on the worktop, and she grabbed it, along with

a fresh tumbler, and took them outside.

Mack’s eyes were closed, his head tilted back to rest on the same wooden lawn chair he’d sat in the last time she’d drunk whisky with him, and he was nursing another glass of pale amber.

After sitting down next to him, Freya poured herself a generous dram. There was no need to ration it: she wouldn’t be driving anywhere and neither would she be walking.

Without opening his eyes, he turned the volume down.

‘What are we drinking to?’ he asked. His voice was gruff.

‘The future.’

‘And which future would that be?’

‘The one where we spend the rest of our lives together.’ She took a sip. It was seriously smooth whisky and she congratulated herself on her good taste.

Mack opened first one eye, then the other. A slow sexy smile spread across his face, his mouth quirking up on one side.

Without taking his gaze from her, he raised his glass. ‘Before I drink this, I want to check a couple of details. One, are you or are you not going to America?’

‘I’m not. I thought that was obvious.’

‘Nothing is ever obvious when it comes to you, Freya, and I want to make sure of my facts. Second, would you like me to convert my byre into a pottery studio?’

She bit her lip. ‘You know I would.’

‘Good, that’s settled.’

‘Aren’t you going to ask me anything else?’

‘No, I don’t think so. Should I?’

‘You haven’t asked me whether I love you.’

His eyes twinkled and he smiled that smile again, the one that warmed her from the inside out. ‘Do you?’

‘Yes. I love you with all my heart. I think I always have and I know I always will.’

Freya took the tumbler from his hand and placed it on the table. She was going to show Mack that she loved him with her heart, her body and her soul, and if it took all night…