Heart in the Highlands by Heidi Kimball

Chapter Thirty-Four

The weight of the inky sky seemed to push down on Callum, chaining him into place. He moved in a dreamlike state, his limbs heavy, as he drowned in Katie’s revelations. They swept over him like ocean water, filling his lungs and numbing his core. Each time he opened his mouth to gasp in air he was dragged down further, deeper.

He ran to his beloved hills and laid back on the grass, staring up at the vast expanse of sky. Usually the stars would center him, calm him, as he came to grips with his emotions. Warm and bright, he’d always pictured them as little pieces of the sun scattered throughout the night sky. But not tonight. Tonight the stars seemed like cold shards of ice.

He closed his eyes, doing his best to shut out the pain of Katie’s words. He’d had a son. One he’d never gotten to hold. One he’d never gotten to mourn. How could Katie have kept the truth from him? She might have allowed him the chance, at least, to see his son’s grave.

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt so bad if there were the possibility of more children, but that was gone too. He’d never fault Katie for that, though she shouldn’t have allowed him to hope . . . all these months he’d believed they might yet have a houseful of children. Siblings for Charlotte.

An heir.

Having a son had never mattered to Callum before, but now that he was denied the possibility? Now that he’d not be able to pass down this land that he loved so much? He was surprised to realize how much it did matter, yet he was powerless to change it. Was this the same helplessness that had made his father what he was? Barren years and the slowly extinguishing hope of continuing the line?

A horrific thought hit Callum like the ringing strike of an anvil. Perhaps if he’d not left, and Katie had been here, where she belonged, perhaps with a better doctor . . .

Callum sat up, groaning, tugging at his hair.

He had tried to grasp that hazy image of a family that had eluded him for so long . . . and just when he’d believed it was his, that he finally might have a bit of happiness, it was ripped away. He shifted to his knees. His chest cracked open. Perhaps his life was meant to be one of loss. Whether of his own making or whether it came about by happenstance, it seemed he was destined to be denied all he’d ever wanted.

He got to his feet and began to walk. Destination didn’t matter. He didn’t feel the cold night air or hear the bleating of newborn lambs. He wasn’t aware of anything save the grief that seemed to be pressing against his lungs, trying to still his beating heart.

Kate began to shake. She was . . . empty. With Callum’s warmth gone, she’d gone ice-cold, her entire body trembling with the loss of him. Grief that had long been suppressed rose up inside her, clawing its way free.

She’d ruined everything. She’d held herself back from Callum for so long, waiting for him to make things right. Waiting for him to change. Waiting for perfection. But in truth, the fault lay in her. She was too flawed, too scarred, too afraid to love. She was too fragile to bear more heartbreak. And she’d been too afraid to tell him the truth.

She gulped in air like she’d been underwater, needing warmth, light, touch. Kate crawled across the hay, reaching for Charlotte and the little lamb in her arms. Charlotte stirred, letting out a little puff of air as Kate gathered her up. She was so warm. Her dark lashes fanned against her cheeks, and Kate buried her face in Charlotte’s silky hair, determined not to wake her.

Over Charlotte’s head Kate glimpsed the cord that had slipped from Callum’s hands as he’d left, lying in the straw. The one meant for their handfast.

Silent tears coursed down her cheeks. He’d left, just as she’d known he would. Because who had ever stayed? Not her parents. Not Callum. Not Grandfather, ultimately. Not her baby boy. The tears kept coming. Tears of grief and loss and loneliness.

She drew Charlotte closer. But not even her daughter would stay. Even-tually she would grow up, marry, and create a family of her own. Kate shuddered in a breath. And another. And another.

Until finally, beautiful, merciful sleep carried her away.

Callum didn’t know how far he’d walked. Two miles? Ten? It couldn’t have been more than an hour or two since he’d left Katie, but his mouth was dry, his limbs spent. He looked around to get his bearings and discovered he was not far from the kirk. Much too far from home to avoid the coming storm.

For the past half hour an army of clouds had been marching across the sky, and now a slanting rain had begun to fall. It pricked at his skin and quickly soaked through his clothing, but it did nothing to distract him from the awful reality of Katie’s words.

The rain pounded against the wool of his coat, against his face and his neck, and he wished to pound back, to scream at the heavens for the vast injustice he’d been done. His son was long gone. The possibility of more children had been stolen away. Callum squeezed his eyes closed against the pain, as if his tears would matter in the rain.

But it was the water that seemed to pour from the very heavens that brought him to his senses. As the deluge slowed, he dashed the rain from his eyes and looked up.

It was under this same sky he’d first spoken his vows. And this very night he’d been ready and willing to make his vows afresh. But when Katie had confessed the truth, he’d come untethered. The broken look she’d given him, evidence of the grief she’d carried on her own these years, compounded with his own anguish—it had been more than he could bear. So he’d run. Fled.

Again.

Yet leaving her hadn’t assuaged his grief. It had deepened it.

Would he never learn?

Was he truly so fallible? So inconstant and changeable that he’d abandoned Katie in her moment of greatest need?

His leaving four and a half years ago had put her through some form of purgatory. A hell she had endured without him. No matter how much her revelations had gutted him, he should have stayed by her side and assured her of his love.

He could still make this right. Help her understand that his grief didn’t alter his love for her in the slightest. Protectiveness swelled within him, a determination to shield her from any more heartbreak. To bring light and love and joy to her life in whatever way he could.

He could put off his grief, mourn later.

He could hold her now.

Within a few quick strides, feeling the squelch of the mud beneath his boots, he was headed toward the main road. But not a quarter mile in he stopped in his tracks. Would Katie still be in the lambing shed where he’d left her? She’d likely returned home hours ago. Even if she wasn’t there, there was something in the shed he desperately needed. He turned back, within a few minutes reaching the sole inn Edinbane boasted.

He made his way through the front door of the old place to find it eerily silent. Jack had fallen asleep in a chair behind the counter. He jerked awake at the thump of Callum’s boots. “What are ye doing here at this hour?”

“I need a horse,” Callum said, getting straight to the point.

Jack blinked. “Ye look as though ye could use a bath, a meal, and sleep besides.”

“Not tonight.” Callum shook his head. “Tonight all I need is a horse.”

A smirk edged up the corner of Jack’s mouth. “All I’ve got is Auld Boy.”

Callum sighed, glancing up at the heavens. He would do whatever it took to get to Katie, including riding an undignified plow horse. Auld Boy had once brought Katie to him, and the same old nag would now take Callum to her.