Secret Garden (17 page)

He was going to kiss her.
Really
kiss her. As two passionate adults—two people who could potentially embark on a real relationship, as she’d never felt possible for herself.

He kissed her leisurely, sweetly at first, and then deeply. She moved with him as if in a dream, her lips responsive to his and participating fully, learning the shape and movement of his lips, the feel of his mouth. He tasted sweet, like the icing on the cupcakes she’d made. An everyday person, not foreign or unwelcome.

She wanted more of him. Her Colin.

“You’re beautiful, Rhiannon.” He pulled back and gazed at her. “I wish I didn’t have to leave tomorrow.”

It was like a bucket of cold water thrown on her chest.

“I really do hope you’ll come back to visit,” she said.

“Absolutely.” He gave her that crooked smile, but it was with a tinge of sadness this time. “It’s too bad it took a funeral to get us together.”

Oh, no
. She stepped back, pushing her hands through her hair. For these few moments while they were kissing, she’d completely forgotten about what it was she was supposed to be doing. She’d made a terrible mess of this.

“Colin, I need to tell you something.” She looked into his beautiful blue eyes, so happy with her...but in a moment that would change. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

He laughed at her. “That’s impossible, Rhiannon.”

“But you haven’t heard it yet!”

He shrugged, still smiling slightly, as if indulgent with her. “You don’t have to explain any more if you don’t want to.”

Did he think she was talking about the kidnapping? “No, Colin, it’s about you.”

“Me?” His smile drained.

“Jessie wanted to tell you today. She really did. But she couldn’t, so Jamie asked me to tell you instead.”

A crease formed in his forehead. “What do they have to do with us?”

“Nothing. Everything. But this isn’t about
us
,” she said. “Please don’t blame them. You have to understand that all these years while you were away, it was torture for them. Especially with you being a public figure and seeing you on the telly, on the sports channels during the big events...”

“Rhiannon, if you have something to tell me, spit it out.”

“There is no funeral!” she said all at once.

He tilted his head, looking confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Your dad isn’t dead.” She weakly smiled at him, hoping he would be pleased and thankful, but he just stared at her disbelievingly, likely in shock.

“Yes, it’s true. He’s still alive. That’s good news, right?” She nodded, but that just seemed to make him angry.

“Was there a mistake made?” he said between clenched teeth. “Because I was told he died of a heart attack.”

“What? Colin...no. Though I don’t agree with her methods, Jessie was desperate. All she wanted was to get you here, to bring you into her life again. That was always her intent.”

“So it’s all been a hoax.” A sudden deadly calm seemed to spread over him.

“Please don’t look at it that way.” Her voice faltered. “She didn’t intend for it to go on so long—not that that’s an excuse,” she hastened to add.

Shocked, he was staring at her. “You were in on it, too? You scammed me, too, Rhiannon?”

“No! I didn’t even know about it until yesterday.”

His eyes widened.

“Please, Colin,” she whispered.

But he stepped away from her, shook his head and faced one of her landscapes. He bowed his head, put his hand on his forehead. She’d never seen anyone look so betrayed, as if he couldn’t believe what she’d told him. Her heart was breaking and she knew how it must seem from his point of view, that they’d all manipulated him and he’d swallowed it whole, and now he was hurt and angry and embarrassed.

And even this—their visit to her studio, and drawing him, and confiding in him, and
kissing
him with such passion—could be misconstrued as her trying to manipulate him, too. It was the furthest thing from the truth, and it made her flustered...

She wrung her hands. She’d truly started to care for Colin again. And by bringing him to her studio, she’d wanted to make this situation better for him—more personal between them, closer—not further apart. She wanted him to feel good about her.

He turned and stared dully at her. “
Exactly
how long have you known that my father is still alive?”

“Since last night, like I told you,” she said miserably.

“Last night before or after we talked about honesty?” There was anger in his voice.

She winced. “I didn’t know when I promised you that. Jamie told me on our walk back to the castle.”

“So you knew all night after that,” he said quietly. “And you knew this morning when I came and held your hand. And you especially knew this afternoon when I called and spilled my guts to you about the letters I’d found—you knew then, as well.”

“I’m
sorry
!” She hated how this was turning around on her.

“You should have told me as soon as you knew, Rhiannon. I wouldn’t have betrayed you to them.” His eyes bored into hers. “You asked me to be honest with you. You even brought my
childhood
into it—talking about my reaction to my parents’ divorce.” His eyes showed all of his pain.

“I wanted you to know!” she said. “But they asked me not to tell you. Jessie promised Jamie she would tell you today, but then when she couldn’t... Jamie asked me to do it. Colin, I’m sorry—this wasn’t my choice. There’s never been a good time to talk to you about this until now.”

“Sure there were. There have been plenty of great times. How about when I asked you to metaphorically hold my hand through the funeral service?” he said, his voice wavering. “That would have been a particularly good time, Jessie and Jamie be damned.”

“Don’t say that! Please just know that it wasn’t my story to tell. I just... I just want peace,” she said helplessly. “Like you want harmony in your family?
I
want healing—for you and for me, for all of us. I have to stay here in this castle, and you’ll be leaving again tomorrow for all your adventures. I
have
to make my life here. With the people here.”

“You know what, Rhiannon?” He glanced at the door. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got no peace to give anyone. Not you. Not Jessie. Not now.” He turned to leave.

“Wait, Colin!”

But he kept walking. And when he was gone, she sank to the floor, her head in her hands.

She had failed, miserably.

She’d made it worse, not only for her and for Colin, but for Jessie and Jamie, as well.

* * *

I
N HIS LIFE
, Colin did everything he could to avoid pain, but Rhiannon had just delivered a wallop. The lie had completely blindsided him, to the point that he didn’t even have the heart to attempt to turn it around into a good joke. It was just too damn personal.

Colin didn’t want to examine the whys too closely right now. He just needed to get out of here and breathe some air away from the sting of betrayal.

In the driveway, in the confines of his rental car, Colin laid his forehead against the steering wheel. He didn’t want to drive in this mood, but it wasn’t far to his grandparents’ cottage. He made the short run and parked the car. Gazing up at the whitewashed doorway, the garden outside clipped and tidy, he knew he wouldn’t go inside. Not now, anyway.

Instead he dialed Mack’s phone number. Colin’s caddie picked up on the first ring and agreed to meet Colin where he was.

Mack blew in a few minutes later in Bonnie’s car, cracking jokes about driving on the wrong side of the road and nearly crashing into ditches on the roundabouts.

Colin got into the passenger seat and said nothing. Rolled down the window and laid his head back on the seat, letting the cool country air wash over him as they drove the narrow, rural roads.

Mack turned the radio up loud. It was an opportunity for Colin not to speak until they reached that familiar pub on the main street in town.

“Did you get any more news about your inheritance?” Mack asked as he parked Bonnie’s car in an on-street spot behind the pub.

“Inheritance?” Colin said flatly. He nearly laughed aloud. He’d completely forgotten about that. He supposed that was another lie.

“Yeah. I don’t mean to bring it up, but we’re flying home tomorrow.” Mack glanced sideways at Colin. “Do you still want to do the pissing-on-the-grave thing?”

Colin got out of the car. “No,” he said, “I don’t.”

He just wanted to get a drink and not think about anything.

“That’s cool,” Mack said. “It might be a late night. That band from Wednesday night is here again. Remember them?”

Wednesday seemed like ages ago. Colin shook his head. But there would probably be a cover charge, so he reached for his wallet.

“Damn,” he muttered, smacking his empty back pocket. “I think I left my wallet in the trunk of the rental car.”

“No worries. Bonnie’s working the tap tonight.”

“How
old
are we?” Colin said aloud. Chatting up barmaids and snagging complimentary drinks—this was crap they’d pulled back when they were irresponsible kids. He and Mack were in their thirties now.

But Mack had headed inside the pub and was kissing his sweetheart-for-the-weekend on her cheek. Colin found an empty chair and sat with his head in his hands. On principle, he wasn’t drinking anything.

One of the golfers he’d met at his grandmother’s club stopped by and said hello. Because Colin respected the man, he raised his head and did his best to interact in a normal conversation, as if nothing was wrong.

Music started playing in another room; a group of Saturday night revelers streamed in from the street; Mack returned with a lager for him in a tall pint glass.

Usually, the busy pub would have been Colin’s kind of scene. But he wasn’t even in the mood for a beer. He shook his head to the dark Scottish brew that Mack offered him.

Colin had no taste for it anymore. Not any of it. The realization was hitting him hard—all week, his grandparents had been playing him for a joker, but maybe that was because he’d been acting like a joker.

There was no inheritance, obviously. There would be no pissing on graves—indeed, his father wouldn’t even show up. Or call Colin. Or care. That was just the way it was, and not even sweet-hearted Rhiannon-who-wanted-peace could fix that. Colin didn’t want her to fix anything for him. He’d thought that she genuinely cared for him. That she saw beyond the surface of his laid-back act to the man he was beneath.

The man he wanted to be.

Colin closed his eyes and thought of their kiss. The way she’d felt in his arms. The way she’d looked at him, as if he’d actually meant something to her.

In that moment, that she—or anybody else—had been lying to him had been the last thought on his mind.

He watched Mack flirting with Bonnie behind the beer tap. Bonnie tossing her red hair back, laughing, probably not knowing that Mack wouldn’t ever return for her, wouldn’t ever answer her calls again after this weekend. Colin was loyal to his friend—Mack had stuck with him from the beginning, before Colin had become semifamous, and that alone was something important and rare. But Colin didn’t want to be irresponsible like him anymore. What had used to seem laid-back and
light
now just seemed like a cop-out.

What Colin really wanted was to reclaim some self-respect. Get back on the tour and kick some ass. Play to win and grab hold of a real life, one where he could go all out, commit to what he wanted and not be waylaid by what-ifs or past failures.

His timing sucked, however. He was one misstep away from having to give up his dream of a real life on the tour. He could easily end up like McGuff, ringing up purchases in a pro shop, and that was not where Colin wanted to be. Not yet, anyway. He hadn’t truly applied himself yet, hadn’t made his best shot.

If he was honest, all these years he’d been giving it a half-assed effort, getting by on charm and good words. He’d been born gifted with talents—more talents than he probably even knew—and in effect, he’d been squandering them.

For what? A life with no fear? He could pretend that he wasn’t enough, because once, a long time ago, the man who’d been his father, in a fit of pique, had said just as much.

Enough,
Colin thought.
No more.

No more betrayals. No more lies. No more running.

He stood up from the bar stool. Found Mack and patted him on the back, because none of this was Mack’s fault. He’d been a loyal friend, a good guy, ever since Colin first moved to Central Texas. Through high school together and on to university on a golf scholarship, and then to life on the tour as Colin’s caddie. Colin would never blame Mack for his own shortcomings. He blamed himself.

Mack blinked at him. “Are you okay? If you need to lie down, I can give you the key to Bonnie’s place upstairs. She won’t mind. She’s a good kid.”

“A place upstairs?” Colin repeated.

“Yeah, she lives above the pub.”

Something in Colin seemed to snap. A room above a pub? It was so typical of them. And he was tired of it. Tired of being a party guy, and tired of being an underperforming slacker.

He’d learned some positive things on this trip to Scotland. He’d seen a new perspective. Met new role models. Been reintroduced to the grandparents, who, despite their dysfunctional way of showing it, really did appear to care about him.

And there had been the surprise of Rhiannon’s influence. Just watching her open up to him, fight against her agoraphobia from the kidnapping, was making him think. Waking him up. He could still respect her, even though he may have trouble trusting her for a while.

He felt as though he was at a crossroads. Stay the way he’d always been, with Mack, drifting from place to place and bumping into the Bonnies of the world. Never daring to push himself. Always wondering
What if?

Or he could man up and accept the challenge.

“Mack,” he said, “I’ve decided to stay and train in Scotland for the week. You’re welcome to stay with me if you want, but if you don’t, I’ll understand.”