Bridge of Hope (26 page)

I was turning into a fucking hormonal woman.

We set out on the journey that I knew would be painful for her. I was glad I was there to help pick up the pieces if she needed me to. And I guessed she
would
need me to. We travelled in silence for much of the journey and I didn’t mind. Mallory needed time to think and I respected that. I wasn’t about to push her into talking inane crap like I usually did. Silence in company was always something I struggled with. But with Mallory silence was a little more comfortable.

As we travelled I caught sight of the Buckle rising proudly from the moorland with the sun highlighting its summit. I could feel Mallory’s eyes on me when she realised where we were, but I stayed silent. This wasn’t about me. I felt sure that she was willing me to speak, but my eyes stayed firmly on the road ahead and I kept my trap shut.

The second stop we made was at Glencoe Visitor Centre. I stayed with the Landy whilst Mallory went off and did what she needed to do. When I next caught sight of her, she was all red eyed and puffy, I was leaning with my arms folded, soaking up the early August sun.

She lifted her hands and rubbed them over her eyes. “C’mon, breakfast is on me. The café should be open by now,” she called to me from the edge of the car park. Deciding I could definitely eat, I jogged over to her and we made our way into the little café. I ordered bacon sandwiches and coffee, and we sat at a table by the window. We had a fantastic view of the mountains where they rose in their rugged splendour from the mossy ground and stretched towards the clouds like long-lost lovers, yearning to touch but unable to reach far enough.

As I sat there I began to compare my relationship with Mairi to the one Mallory had with Sam. I realised I’d been silent for a while and glanced up to find Mallory studying me with concern etched on her face.

Moving my gaze away from the view, I lifted my coffee cup but placed it down again with a sigh. “You know, I’m kind of jealous of the relationship you had with Sam. And I don’t mean because I have feelings for you or anything. I mean because of how intensely you loved each other.” Why I’d said the thing about feelings, fuck only knows. But it was out there so I waited to see what she would say.

“Your love for Mairi was intense,” she replied with a furrowed brow.

Was it, though?
“The thing with Mairi was… she was adventurous. She was always looking for that next natural high. I supported her, of course I did, but since I lost her, I’ve often wondered how long it would have taken for her to move on anyway.”
Why am I saying this? Why am I saying it
now
?

“Greg, you can’t think that way. I’m sure she loved you just the same.”

I was filled with doubt. “Na. The more I’ve looked back, since meeting you and witnessing how strong things were for you guys, the more I got to analysing my relationship. You see, Mairi was a good deal younger than me. If I’m honest, I think maybe things were one-sided.” The waitress chose that moment to bring our food and it gave me a chance to think about what I was saying. “I think that all along I feared she’d leave. Her being killed like that almost suspends her in time. It makes me look at how wonderful things were. I was always happy in the Highlands. It’s where I belong, where I feel safe and at home. Mairi was always looking to the horizon. I reckon it wouldn’t have been too long before she found someone else on one of her trips. You know… someone who was a bit more adventurous, like her.” Sadness washed over me and Mallory just sat there listening intently.

I felt like a shit. “Sorry. This day isn’t about me. I’m waffling on.”

“No… no it’s fine. I—I’m just shocked to hear that you feel that way.”

“I’m just being realistic. What you and Sam had… I
want
that. It was real and genuine… It was true love.”

The problem was, slowly it was dawning on me that I wanted it with
her
. With Mallory. It was a pointless hope. I knew that. And yet I had loved Mairi with all of my broken, cynical, damaged heart. “Don’t get me wrong, I would have married her after the first date. And all the emotions I felt…
feel
… are still real. Nothing can change that.”

That much was true. But why then did I feel torn in two, sitting here talking about my past with Mairi but desperately, and unreasonably, hoping for a future with the woman before me? Guilt at my emotional betrayal began to needle at me from within as I was drawn to the stunning, compassionate blue gaze belonging to my friend across the table.

My
friend
.

Chapter Thirty-Five

The Ardnamurchan peninsula had always been a favourite place of mine, and with the amber hues of the summer day glistening across it, the place just came to life. After taking the Corran car ferry, we drove on a little farther through the shadows that danced on the road, made by the sun casting its glow through the Douglas fir trees. We parked up and walked toward the water’s edge at Loch Shiel where the Glenfinnan monument stood proudly peering out toward the famous viaduct.

Mallory asked to be alone and once again I respected her wishes. I waited at the base of the monument as she walked over and sat on a huge, gnarled tree stump and hugged the urn close to her body. She delved into the pot and raised her hand in the air, letting the cloud of ashes fly free on the warm, gentle breeze. Her head dropped and her shoulders shuddered. I stood by feeling helpless and wishing I had the strength or supernatural ability to take away her pain but also knowing that she needed this time to be alone with her memories.

Eventually, with a tear-streaked face, she arrived by my side and we set off back toward the car. I slipped my arm around her shoulder in what I hoped was a comforting gesture. She nestled into my side, clearly needing the closeness of human contact. She was doing so well, and in a way I admired her.

We spent lunchtime in a little pub by Fort Augustus. I was absolutely starving and ordered the steak pie. Mallory was distant throughout lunch and getting her to open up was difficult. I guessed the stop off at Glenfinnan had been emotionally draining.

The next stop was Fort Augustus itself, but we didn’t stay long. Mallory was heartbroken when we strolled over to the ice-cream parlour that she had been to with Sam only to discover it had changed use. It was as if she couldn’t get away fast enough.

After a quiet journey just listening to the music I had brought, Mallory gazed out the window. I couldn’t see her eyes but I was sure they were filled with sadness. I parked the Landy up at Eilean Donan Castle, which was perched on a spit of land stretching out into Loch Duich. The imposing structure fascinated me, and as Mallory walked up on to the footbridge, I took out my camera and began snapping away.

Trying to be as discreet as possible, I zoomed in on Mallory’s face as her gaze trailed over the view beyond the loch. Watching her through the lens, I could see the pain in her eyes and the crease in her brow as the tears left glistening trails down her flushed cheeks. I clicked the shutter release without really thinking. Even in her grief she was beautiful. She had a warm heart that was filled with anguish, and in that moment I knew I would do
anything
to help her find happiness. Even if it wasn’t with me. Which it most likely wouldn’t be. A fact I would have to get used to.

She began to walk away from the castle with her head down, and I made my way toward her. “Hey, are you alright?”

“I’m okay. I found that bit so hard.” Her trembling lower lip and swollen eyes told me she was anything but okay.

I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close. “Hey, shhhh, it’s okay. You’ve done so well. You’ve been so brave. I’m proud of you.” I kissed the top of her head and ran my hand over the waves of her thick, dark hair.

Poor wee girl
.

We walked back to the car with our arms around each other.
Just friends
. I racked my brain for the right words but as usual nothing came to mind and so I stayed silent. We climbed back into the car and began the three-and-a-half-hour journey back to Clachan Seil. Mallory leaned against the window again, her eyes sometimes closed and sometimes trained on the heather-covered moors and rugged mountains beyond the glass.

“So, it’s been a nice day, weather-wise, eh?” I said, keeping my eyes focussed on the road ahead. Small talk was never my forte and here I was proving that fact by talking about the fucking weather
. Smooth as always, McBradden.

Without moving her head she replied, “I really appreciate you bringing me, Greg. I think I would have hated to make the journey alone.”

“Aye, well, Josie would’ve come, surely?” I glanced across but she was still staring out the window.

“She offered. I just thought that… well
you
know how I feel about it all. You’ve lost someone you were in love with.” She raised her hand and swiped at a tear that had dared to escape.

Sadness washed over me and my heart squeezed for her… for us both. “Well, that’s true. I loved her more than anything.”

She turned in her seat and looked right at me with a determined gaze. “And Greg, all that stuff you said before about being unsure of her feelings for you… there’s no point torturing yourself over that. You loved her. You maybe will never know the true depth of her feelings. So you just go with how
you
feel about
her.
What’s the point in dwelling on whether she did or didn’t love you the
same
?” Turning away again, she rested her head back against the glass.

She had a point.

Mallory eventually became very quiet, and I could tell by the steady rhythm of her breathing that she had fallen asleep. Every so often I glanced over at her and I became very much aware of the sense of protectiveness that was beginning to surface from deep within me. I was going to have to be extremely careful. I was already losing what was left of my heart to her.

~~~

I pulled up outside her cottage and switched off the engine. Leaning over I gently squeezed her shoulder to rouse her from slumber and her eyelids fluttered open.

“Hey, sleepyhead. We’re home,” I whispered.

Sitting up, she smoothed her hair and sheepishly lifted her eyes to meet mine. She smiled and opened the car door. As she climbed down from the vehicle, she inhaled a lungful of the evening air.

“I won’t invite you in, if you don’t mind. I hope that’s not unfair of me. I have a job to do before I go in. Then I just want to go to bed and cry myself to sleep.”

“Hey, no bother. You take care and give me a call if you need me, okay?” I hoped she knew that I sincerely meant that. I would be there for her no matter what time of day or night. The connection I felt to her, even if was one-sided, was deepening with every passing day; and although the thought of unrequited love terrified me, it was a price I was willing to pay just to help her.

“Thanks again, Greg. I can’t express how much today has meant to me.”

“You’re very welcome. I’m glad I was able to help. Goodnight, sweet Mallory. Sleep well, eh?” She smiled and I started the engine, turned, and pulled away. As I drove, I saw her walking toward the bridge. Another of her special places.

In my heart I held onto the wish that someday the bridge could become more than a sad memory. More than somewhere to cry. I wanted, more than anything, for it to become her bridge of hope.

Chapter Thirty-Six

During the following week Mallory and I shared a shift at the pub and she announced she was going down to Yorkshire to visit with Josie and Brad. My stomach knotted at the prospect of her deciding to stay there and not return, but I couldn’t voice my worries. It would’ve been completely inappropriate in light of our recent journey. It was already August and I was dreading the following weeks. It was probably best that Mallory was going away. She didn’t need to cope with her friend falling apart on her. I wished her a safe journey and kept my mouth shut about everything else.

I walked around in a daze for a few days. There were photos of Mairi strewn over every surface of my house, and I’d taken to drinking whiskey again. Although I was no alcoholic, I knew I was walking a fine line and vowed that as soon as the anniversary was out of the way, things would change. I had hoped that the little beach memorial Mallory and I had shared would’ve made the anniversary of losing Mairi easier to deal with, but of course it didn’t.

Then Mallory was due back in Clachan and I couldn’t bear to see her. I was a mess. I’d worked one shift at the pub but Stella watched me with eagle eyes the whole time. Every so often I’d pull my brow in and say, “Stella, I’m fine.” Of course it was a blatant lie and she knew it.

To say I was confused was a total understatement. Here I was a year on from the death of the woman I loved, still grieving, but having all these intense feelings for someone who was incapable of loving me back. She just couldn’t
see
me that way. And I couldn’t blame her for that. I felt so guilty, like I was betraying Mairi’s memory by feeling
anything
for anybody else, let alone someone who was going through the
exact same thing
as me. How fucking stupid could I be?