Keepsakes from the Cottage by the Loch (Loch Cameron #6)

Chapter 6

SIX

‘Hi, Ramsay.’ Tara gulped and tried to arrange a smile on her face in what she hoped looked like a natural way, though this felt anything but natural.

‘Tara. It’s so good to see you.’ His face had lit up, and now she could see the Ramsay she knew. She knew those sparkling eyes and the sense of mischief that lay behind them. Mischievous, but never cruel. Ramsay was the most kind hearted boy – man, now – she had ever known. He wouldn’t so much as squish a spider if there was one in the bath, or skittering along the kitchen floor. No, he was one of those people who would carefully scoop it up on a piece of paper or under a glass and shake it gently outside.

‘I… yeah. Sorry, it’s just a bit of a shock,’ Tara replied. She was aware that she was staring at him and realised it must look rude, but she couldn’t help it: here was a face that she never thought she’d see again. Ramsay had been such an important person to her for so long that it had taken her years to get used to the fact she didn’t see his face anymore. Her brain and her heart were resistant to the loss: Ramsay’s face was a pattern that they had incorporated within them, and, after he’d gone, Tara had spent months – years – looking for his face in vain. If she saw someone who looked vaguely like Ramsay, she would stare at that face, taking comfort from the temporary familiarity; feeling a sense of perhaps, maybe, an edge of possibility that it might actually be him. Ramsay was just right , as far as her brain and her heart were concerned. His was a pattern that she had missed so deeply.

‘Here.’ He handed her the cake box. ‘You should check it’s okay.’

‘I’m sure it’s fine.’ She took it, and her fingers grazed his. As soon as their skin touched, Tara felt Ramsay’s familiar energy. It wasn’t ever something you could properly describe, that instinctive combination of smell and feel and taste and that indefinable something about a person. She’d forgotten how Ramsay felt. There was something warm and comfortable about him; manly and protective, now, especially that he seemed to have grown into himself as a man, more than the limber young dancer she remembered.

The touch of him made her remember another day. A time when he had held her close and told her that he would never let go.

Her hand went to her neck: to the necklace that she still wore every day. Luckily, it was hidden under her sweatshirt. She felt strangely protective of it, not wanting him to see that she still wore it.

It was New Year’s Eve. She remembered how cold it had been on Queen’s Point that night. They had gone to sit in one of their favourite places – an old wooden bench at the end of the Point, past all the cottages, on the stony pathway that led all the way over to Gyle Head. They’d watched the fireworks at midnight, cuddled up to each other for warmth under two blankets, exchanging hot chocolate from a flask. When she kissed him to welcome in the new year, Ramsay had tasted of cocoa and the toasted cheese sandwiches she’d made in the Inn’s kitchen and brought up with them, wrapped in foil.

‘Happy new year,’ she’d breathed, after they kissed. ‘Are you sure you didn’t want to go to the Inn for Hogmanay? It would have been warmer.’ She’d snuggled up to Ramsay’s shoulder as he’d tightened his arm around her. Her parents were hosting their usual new year’s party, and there was a bonfire planned, as well as a ceilidh and lots of delicious food. Tara had spent two days helping Dotty prepare it all. She was nineteen, that year.

‘No way. It’s nicer up here. I only want to be with you, anyway.’ He’d kissed the top of her head. ‘But, Tara? I had something I wanted to ask you.’

‘What?’ She’d sat up, noticing his serious tone. It was amazing how well she remembered everything about that night, still, ten years later. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Very okay,’ he’d chuckled. He’d untucked the blanket from around his own shoulders and knelt down in front of her on the cold ground. Tara Ballantyne, will you be my wife? He’d handed her his half of the necklace then. You have my whole heart.

Those words had never left her. The memory of his face as he’d said it. The cold air around them and the moonlight on the loch. Of course, she had said yes.

She was so full of love for him, and in love with the idea of their future together. They wanted the same things: to win the international Highland dance competition, travel, then get good jobs – structural engineering for him, teaching for her. Tara had fantasised about teaching at the same little primary school in the village that they had both gone to. Then, a home in Loch Cameron. Two children. All the simple happiness that anyone wants.

‘Right. Okay. Wow, Tara! I can’t believe it’s you!’ Ramsay laughed suddenly, and she couldn’t help but smile with him. In that moment, the fact that he’d just disappeared from her life so many years ago was eclipsed by the rawness and sudden impact of being in his presence again. As if no time had passed. She blushed, realising that she had been remembering that moment so clearly: the moment when Ramsay proposed to her, and she’d said yes.

‘It’s me.’ She made a tah-dah gesture with her hands, which was difficult as she was holding the bags and the box still. She set the bags down on the street carefully to rest her arm, and wrapped both arms protectively around the cake box.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked. ‘I mean. I can see you’re shopping. But, you don’t live here, right? I mean, since I’ve been back, I haven’t seen you around…’ He trailed off. ‘Sorry. I just can’t quite take it in. It’s weird, right?’

‘It is,’ Tara agreed. She wanted to reach out and touch his face: his cheek, his beard, his lips. ‘I’m here for the summer, helping Mum and Dad. Mum broke her leg – a fall. I’m helping at the Inn until she can get around. I’m a teacher, so I get the summers free,’ she added.

‘Right. Ah, I’m sorry to hear about your mum.’ Ramsay frowned. ‘I’ve wanted to go in and say hello since I’ve been back, but… I guess I didn’t think I’d get a warm welcome.’ He bit his lip.

‘How long have you…?’ she asked. Part of her wanted to berate him for what he’d done, but she was so pleased to see him again that she just couldn’t. Not right now. It was all still too unreal.

‘About a month. It’s weird being back.’ He looked around him. ‘Like, in so many ways, it just hasn’t changed, you know? Same people. Same gossip. I’ve had a few looks, some people have said hi, but I’ve been keeping myself to myself.’

‘How come you’re…’ how come you’re back? was the question that Tara wanted to ask, but Ramsay frowned and reached into his pocket, bringing out his phone, which was buzzing.

‘Sorry. Got to get this,’ he said, smiling apologetically. He turned away as he answered, stepping away from her. ‘Hello, Ramsay Fraser.’

Tara took him in from behind. He had always been tall, and even though he had filled out now, he still had that athletic grace from the years of dancing. Highland dancing involved a lot of jumps and twirls, often on tiptoe, and it not only kept you very fit but made your legs incredibly strong. She and Ramsay had also done a lot of ballet together, and she thought about the times he had lifted her into the air; of his strong hands on her waist, supporting her. She shivered involuntarily.

‘Okay. I’ll be there shortly.’ He finished the phone call, looking distracted. ‘Sorry. I’ve got to go. But we should catch up.’

‘Sure. You know where I am, I guess.’ She shrugged.

‘Okay. Great. Soon, then.’ He waved and jogged off through the crowd. It seemed as though he was suddenly desperate to get away and Tara wondered if she had said something wrong. Or whether it was just the sudden realisation on his part of what they would have to say to each other: the truth that he owed her.

But, perhaps there was a truth that Tara also owed him. That was the thought that she really didn’t want to face, and yet it was the one that had never stopped bothering her, since the day Ramsay had disappeared from Loch Cameron. Had it been her fault? And, if it had, what had happened to Ramsay, all those years ago? Had she been responsible for something so terrible that he had cut himself off from everything that was good in his life?

Tara didn’t know. But he was here, which was completely unexpected. And she was in equal parts elated, guilty and angry.

She walked back to the Inn with the bags and the cake box, bewildered by her feelings. But, one thing was true: she was also relieved, because there was a part of her that had always wondered whether Ramsay had finally either lashed out at his father in a way that he couldn’t recover from – or, his dad had finally hurt him badly. As a child of an abusive family, Ramsay had always been at risk, despite the fact that Dotty and Eric had tried their best to protect him. And when he had gone missing – despite the letter she’d had – Tara knew that her parents had thought the same dark thoughts as she had.

The fact that Ramsay was alive was a huge relief to Tara. Because, there had always been a possibility that he might not have been.