Two Kinds Of Truth(10)

The house is clinging to the last remnants of a woman’s touch, though. It’s been years since Jamie and Claire lived here. Callum told me once that Claire’s death affected Jamie so badly that even now, after all these years, he still can’t bear to see pictures of her face without crumbling. I feel a pang of guilt at staying in what was once their home.

Callum comes dashing up the stairs with the suitcases. I push open the bedroom door a little wider, to allow him access. He throws the cases onto the bed.

“Do you want to unpack now or wait ’til later?” he asks, “Only granda has something he wants to show us.”

I don’t even have to think about it.

“Let’s go,” I say, loudly, “there’s nothing I need right now,” and I go to touch his hand, but the warmth I saw in his eyes earlier now disappears and he snatches his hand away.

“Aye, well, let’s get going then.”

I’m stung by his rebuff. It’s as though he still doesn’t want me to touch him, to get close, and a rush of despair sweeps through my gut. There’s so much I want to say to him, but the words simply won’t come.

Instead, I grab my coat and follow him downstairs.

We leave the cottage and Alasdair’s waiting for us by the gate. He looks at me side-on, a glint in his eye, and I wonder what he’s up to, what surprise he has in store for us.

“So, what’s the big secret?” Callum asks, his voice light, carefree.

Alasdair taps the side of his nose and heads towards the stone barn, the one used for storing grain and the farm’s machinery.

As we follow him, I hear birds singing in the surrounding trees, and a gentle yet cold breeze trills through the last of the leaves.

I realise we’re heading for the stables, instantly forgetting Callum’s rejection. The thought of spending time with the horses fills me with utter pleasure.

“I’d like to own my own horse, one day,” I say to granda.

“If ye come and live here, ye can have whichever horse ye want.” He slides back the bolt and I realise I’m holding my breath.

“I want to show ye a new addition to the family,” he explains, and drags open the stable door. I’m already by his side, breathing in the woody smell that invades my nostrils. It’s sweet, like new hay, and I see a flicker of a black ear from one of the stalls.

“You’ve bought a new horse!” I declare with glee, clearly stating the obvious, and Alasdair chuckles.

“Ye dinnae say, lass,” he smirks, and his large hand takes mine and guides me closer to the magnificent beast.

“He’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen,” I say, and he is.

Callum lets out a long whistle and the stallion throws its head and neighs.

“Whoa, steady, me beaut,” Alasdair soothes, and he reaches out and strokes the animal’s soft velvety nose.

“He’s gorgeous,” I have to admit, and turn to look at Cal. I’m surprised that he doesn’t appear the least bit impressed. “Don’t you think so, too?”

I raise my eyebrows and nudge him with my elbow, urging him to say something nice about the horse.

“If I’m honest, I think you’ve wasted your money, granda,” Callum finally says.

My jaw drops at the insult, but Alasdair doesn’t bat an eyelash. He simply continues to stroke the animal, and turns to me, instead.

“Would ye like to pat him?”

He stands aside and waits for me to approach. I’m a little apprehensive. The horse’s black eyes watch me closely; they’re like two large pieces of jet. I want the horse to like me, but I sense he’s wary. When I take a step forward, the animal whinny’s his mistrust.

“Oh, dinnae bother about him, lass,” Alasdair insists. “He just thinks he’s at the top of the peckin’ order.”

Behind me, Callum gives a deep sigh.

“Whatever’s the matter?” I ask, turning my head towards him.

“This isn’t floating my boat,” he huffs and leans against the wooden doorframe.

My brows knit together as I turn my attention back to the horse. Slowly, I lift my hand and brush my fingers against the dark hairs on the stallion’s jawline, soon tickling him under his chin, the skin silky soft beneath the stiffness of his whiskers.

I turn to Alasdair.

“What’s his name?”

“I’ve called him Starsky.”

I can’t hold back the giggle that wells up inside my throat. “No, seriously, what’s his name.”

Alasdair stares at me. “I’m serious, hen; it’s Starsky, after my favourite TV show.”

I laugh, and Alasdair laughs with me, but Callum lets out another huff.

“I’m off to find Jamie, see if he needs a hand.” He shoots out of the stable, back to the farmhouse, I assume, but when I stare at granda, he just chuckles.

“Dinnae mither about him, lass. He’s ne’er had an interest in anything with more than two legs.”

My laugh deepens. I find him incredibly funny. The last time I was here, he managed to tug out a more light-hearted side of me. I want to be like that again.

The light’s fading as we stroll back to the main house, my arm linked with his, his hand patting mine as we talk nonstop about all things equestrian. A loud noise behind me makes me look around, seeing Jamie enter the yard, driving a tractor. He disappears around a corner, heading for one of the sheds.