Laying a Ghost (29 page)

“Yes, you said that before,” Sinclair answered. “I just took it that that would be a hobby of sorts, I suppose. I didn’t realize you meant it was all you’d be doing.” It was clear it didn’t meet with his approval. He shrugged. “There’s the church records and such, if you’d like to take a look at them. Just let me know when you’re wanting to see them and I’ll get Mrs. Sinclair to show you. And the old people on the island will spend hours telling you stories if you let them -- in fact, it’s getting them to stop that’s the hard part!”

He laughed at that, but Nick didn’t feel inclined to join him.

Instead, he awkwardly tucked his hands into his pockets and nodded. “I should probably get going.” He tried to sound reluctant to do so. “It’s going to take me a month to get the house cleaned up, so no point in putting it off.”

“Always better to push your work in front of you than to drag it behind you.” Sinclair produced the platitude without a trace of self-consciousness. “I won’t say goodbye though; I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” His eyes twinkled. “Sunday service is at nine, in case you were wondering.”

“Thank you. I’ll let you know. About the records, I mean.” Nick smiled. “Have a good day. It looks like it’s going to be a nice one.”

Sinclair squinted up at the sky and shook his head. “There’s rain forecast for all of next week.” He turned away. “Enjoy this while you can, Mr. Kelley. It won’t last forever.”

* * * * *

His mother’s birthday party was in full swing before John realized that he still hadn’t seen Nick.

She’d had her hair done that afternoon, and was wearing the new outfit Janet had persuaded her to buy. He’d made her blush by telling her that she looked beautiful and not a day over forty-five, which delighted her enough that the small lie was well worth it.

People were drinking wine and whiskey, most of it served by Carson, who was grinning and talking to everyone who came within earshot between stealing glances in John’s mother’s direction, making sure that she was having a good time. John’s Uncle Collum had arrived early on the ferry from
Mull
, where he’d gone to live after his brother had died. For the first time in a while, his face was smiling as he gathered Anne up in a hug and then set about finding some of his old cronies with an eye to a card game in a quiet corner.

John was across the room when he saw Nick slip inside, shutting the door behind him. There were twenty people between them, and Nick was immediately set upon by Sheila, who’d been talking to some of her girlfriends on that side of the room. John was able to watch as Nick greeted her, smiling and shaking her hand and accepting the kiss on the cheek she no doubt couldn’t resist bestowing upon him.

Even though John was determined to end the pretense within the next few days, as far as his mother was concerned at least, the habit of concealment was too ingrained for him not to approve of the impression Nick was making as he was swept into a crowd of women, all ripe for a flirtation with a good-looking stranger who combined the exotic with the familiar, given his accent, which they were no doubt exclaiming over, and his family connections.

He watched Nick have a drink pressed into his hand by Moira, who’d probably spun their brief encounter in the shop that first day into something requiring a background of violins to do it justice. John smiled as Nick said something that had the women bursting out into laughter that rang out over the music -- and then realized that he’d done nothing but watch Nick since he walked in, with God knows what expression on his face.

“Is that young Nick Kelley then?” He turned and found his mother looking not at him but at Nick, her face unreadable, a faint question in her eyes.

“Aye, it is.”

“Do you want to rescue him?”

“I don’t think he’s in any danger.” John repressed the urge to do just that. “Unless he goes deaf from the giggling.”

“You could do it because I’d like to meet him,” his mother pointed out. “Not that I’d want to inconvenience you just for the sake of pleasing an old woman on her birthday.”

John grinned, unable to take her manipulation as anything more than amusing in that moment. “Or for the sake of pleasing a woman who’s not a bit old. Aye, I’ll go get him.”

Still, as he crossed the room, dodging people in the midst of conversation, he was painfully aware of what the proper way to interact with Nick in public would be, especially with this many people around. He couldn’t help but wince at the way Nick’s eyes warmed when Nick spotted him.

“Glad you could make it.” John used a little more formality than normal.

Nick’s expression lost some of its eagerness, but he carried on smiling. “It was very kind of your mother to invite me.” Nick stressed the words “your mother” just a little. “Speaking of which, I should tell her that in person --”

John nodded. “That’s why I came over. She’s asking to meet you.”

“Och, away with you,” said Moira shrilly, grabbing hold of Nick’s arm. “He’s having fun with us, aren’t you, Nicky?”

John had never liked Moira much, and she knew it. Spiteful, gossipy, and when she’d had a few -- and she certainly had tonight, judging by the way she was swaying as she clung determinedly to “Nicky’s” arm -- all her worst qualities were intensified.

But it took seeing her with her hands all over Nick to make John realize how deep his dislike went.

“I really am.” Nick patted Moira’s hands where they were clinging to his arm and then somehow managed to detach himself from her grasp. “It’s nice to see you again, Moira. But I should go and say happy birthday to Mrs. McIntyre, don’t you think? I wouldn’t want to be rude.”

Moira made a sound of protest, but let him go. “As long as you promise to come back and have some drinks with us, right, girls?”

Appearing from the crowd, Sheila said, “Come on now, girls, what do we need a man for? We’ll have us a fine time without any of them, won’t we? We spend far too much time taking care of them as it is.”

John threw her a grateful glance as he and Nick started to make their way across the room.

“Are they always like that?” Nick’s tone made it clear that he was less pleased about it than he’d seemed.

“You’ll notice they didn’t try and hang on to
me,
” John said dryly, the background noise giving them a certain privacy. Walking beside Nick and being careful not to even brush against him wasn’t easy. Not when he hadn’t seen him all day. “Don’t let it bother you; you’re new and they’re out to enjoy themselves, that’s all.” He gave Nick a sidelong glance and couldn’t resist teasing him. “It doesn’t hurt that you’re a good-looking man of the world, and they think they’re in with a chance, of course.” He grinned, shaking his head. “‘Nicky’? Is that something you’d like me to call you, then? You’ve only to say, you know.”

“I think we’d better stick with ‘Nick,’ unless there are certain occasions on which you’re inclined to use my full name,” Nick said blandly. There was no time for John to respond -- they’d reached his mother, and Nick was offering her his hand gallantly. “Mrs. McIntyre, I’m Dominic Kelley. Thank you so much for having me.”

John’s mother seemed pleasantly flustered, fluttering her eyelashes like a young girl. “Mr. Kelley, it’s lovely to meet you. I knew your dear uncle well; it’s always nice to have family return to the island.”

“I’ve been wanting to come here for a long time. I’m looking forward to learning more about my family history, which I understand from John is also yours.”

“Indeed it is, and I knew your mother well, of course.” John watched his mother’s face soften with sympathy. “I’m so sorry for your loss. She was -- oh, she was such a lively soul. Never still. This island wasn’t the place for her, but I do hope you find it welcoming.”

“It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for.” Nick’s voice rang with sincerity, as if he’d never spoken truer words. “And John’s been great, introducing me to people and helping me figure out how to get the house fixed up. I’m hoping to stay on permanently.”

His mother gave the smile that transfigured her face. “I’m very glad to hear that. Very glad, indeed.”

John wondered if it was the praise of him that she meant, or Nick’s promise to stay. Both, maybe.

Carson
appeared at her side. “Anne? Stella wanted me to tell you that she’s ready to start serving the food, if you think it’s time.”

Carson
gave Nick a nod and a smile, but most of his attention was focused on Anne, and John felt an awareness stir to life that
Carson
really didn’t see anyone else when his mother was in the room. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, somehow. He didn’t mind the idea of them together -- of course he didn’t -- but that depth of feeling toward his mother seemed like something only his father had the right to feel. Telling himself not to be ridiculous, John gave
Carson
a more-than-usually warm smile and a clap on the shoulder that had him blinking in pleased surprise.

“Aye, now would be fine.” Anne glanced at John, with a flush rising in her face. “Excuse me, Nick; I’ll be sure to find you again later so we can talk.”

“I’d like that.” Nick waited until Anne and
Carson
had left to talk to Stella and then turned to John. “I had no idea there’d be so many people here.”

John shrugged, not at all surprised by the turnout. “It’s a party -- and my mother knows everyone on the island.” He met Nick’s eyes. “I’m glad you came. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Do I look as nervous as I feel?” Nick asked, grinning. In truth, he looked perfectly at ease, as if he already knew everyone and attended parties like this all the time.

“You look fine.” John gave Nick a quizzical look. “And I feel as if I need someone to introduce
us
. I’ve been thinking ‘Nick’ was short for ‘Nicholas.’”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I used my full name like that.” Nick brushed his hair back out of his eyes. “No one’s ever called me anything but Nick. I guess it just felt more formal, or something.”

“I like it.” John glanced around and saw more than a few eyes on them. Time for them to mingle with the guests before Moira decided to swoop down on them again. “Want to meet some more distant relatives then?”

“If I don’t, people are going to start looking at us funny, aren’t they?” Nick looked around. “Or are they already? Yeah, sure, let’s make the rounds before anyone starts to suspect anything.” He sounded conspiratorial and not unhappy about it, but the fact that he was thinking it at all made John feel somewhat guilty.

They began to thread through the crowds, with John stopping to introduce Nick now and then to people he knew well, most of whom remembered Nick’s mother, and all of whom seemed genuinely pleased to meet him. Nick was managing to keep his smile unforced and to make each repetition of his pleasure at being on the island and determination to stay sound fresh.

It was all going well.

“And that’s Sandy Dalgliesh over there.” John led Nick over to the far corner of the room, wondering how long it would be before they could leave without people commenting. Hours, probably. The crowd around the buffet table was thinning out, and he’d decided to make this the last introduction before they went to get some food. He’d been hearing about this menu for weeks and he wasn’t sure he felt like eating it after the endless discussions, but Nick might be hungry.

He had to lean in close to shout in Nick’s ear over the noise, putting his hand on Nick’s shoulder as he did so. It was an automatic, unthinking action, but it was the first time he’d touched him since he’d arrived. John felt the shock of it go through him and knew that Nick had felt it too. He kept his hand in place, deliberately controlling his reaction, his fingers tightening slightly and then relaxing; as close to a caress as he could manage. “He’s lived next door to my parents all my life. You’ll like him; he’s the one to go to if you want to hear stories about the island.”

He stepped back, feeling the heat rise in his face and curling the fingers that had touched Nick protectively into a loose fist.

Nick nodded. “Maybe not here, though,” he said loudly, leaning in a bit but not touching John. “But you could introduce us so I could talk to him another time?”

It was the most genuine interest Nick had shown, so John tipped his head in
Sandy
’s direction and they moved toward the man.
Sandy
was laughing at something someone passing by had said, but he smiled broadly at John as he and Nick approached, showing off his missing teeth and reaching out to clap John on the shoulder.

“How are ye then, John? Lovely job you’ve done with this party.”

“Fine, thanks,
Sandy
. And I’ll be sure to pass on your compliments to Janet and Stella, who are the ones that deserve it after all their hard work.” John glanced at Nick. “Can I introduce you to Nick Kelley? He’s Ian’s nephew, fresh from
America
and planning to fix up Rossneath.”

Sandy
turned his grin to Nick, reaching out a callused hand. “Nice to meet ye, lad.” Nick put his hand in
Sandy
’s. “It’s good to know the house won’t be empty -- always a shame when that happens. Why, I remember the day your uncle went off to the mainland, thinking ...”

Whatever it was
Sandy
had been saying or planning to say trailed off at the expression on Nick’s face, one of slow dawning realization. Nick was trembling, his breath quick and unsteady as he stared at Sandy with his eyes slightly unfocused, as if it weren’t really Sandy he was looking at but something much further away.

“It’s the kettle,” Nick gasped, his hand tightening on
Sandy
’s to the point where even John could see it.

Sandy
looked puzzled, but not yet concerned. “What, lad? Speak up.”

“The
kettle
.” Nick’s voice was louder and held a hint of hysteria. “Something ... I can’t tell. You get ... and you’re ...” He dropped
Sandy
’s hand, backing away, and then bolted for the door before John could do anything to stop him.