Page 52 of All My Broken Dreams

Mrs. Cameron swung around to chat with Mrs. Baird on her other side about a recipe for Yorkshire pudding that was a huge success at the last faculty dinner.

Deacon nursed the foul punch made too sweet and not cold enough to quench his thirst. Mrs. Cameron’s words were nagging him, which is what she intended. He had been avoiding Robbie, it was true, but it was for her own good and it looked like it was working. She seemed calmer and more confident in the days after Harry was found.

He was at the funeral today; he just didn’t tell Mrs. Cameron. He got as far as the kirkyard when he saw Robbie flanked by Alastair and Casey approach the chapel. Deason had slipped behind a yew tree to watch her. She was wearing a blackdress he’d never seen before and a smart navy coat. Her hair was done up professionally. That would be Penelope and Millicent’s doing. Deacon wondered why they were taking such a strong interest in a girl who was supposed to be leaving in a few days. He’d never known them to be kind for the sake of being kind.

He had planned to attend, even wearing a clean black suit borrowed from Mrs. Baird. The cook had sized him up when he said he didn’t have anything decent to wear and pulled it from her husband’s closet. She’d combed his hair down and declared he looked presentable.

Deacon got as far as the yew tree and lost his nerve. It didn’t matter if he was there or not. He was only going to see that Robbie was alright and she was.

“You’re dressed for it,” Mrs. Cameron was saying. “You should go pay your respects.”

“He scrubs up well,” Mrs. Baird remarked, eyeing him critically. “Go on with you.I thought that’s what this kit was in aid of. Hop to it, lad. You’ve as much right to be there as any of them.”

“It’s a student party and I’m not a student.”

“It’s a funeral reception. Anyone is welcome to lift a glass to the lad. Just put your head in for a quick hello and offer your condolences. Robbie will appreciate a friendly face and you look so handsome in that suit. The girl should see you in your glad rags.”

Deacon downed the punch and reached for his coat. “I’ll go if only to get away from your endless wittering, but don’t take it into your head I’m doing this because you nagged me into it. I was planning to go to the funeral before I got called away.”

“Of course you were!” Mrs. Cameron smiled knowingly. “Give Robbie our best.”

“We’ll keep a place warm for you,” chirped Mrs. Baird as Deacon left the room.

He had done as Alastair asked and put distance between them. It nearly killed him to do it, but he had done as he was asked. It was making a mess of his sleep and he’d lost his appetite. Not seeing her was becoming more of a burden than seeing her.

Still, he felt a twist of nerves in his gut as he walked through the snow to the local pub.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Robbie stared at the mug, trying to understand how it got in Casey’s possession. “Deacon brought it to you? Why?”

Casey’s brow knitted together. “I’m not sure what it was supposed to accomplish. I recall he said it mattered to you. You thought it was a clue of some kind. He said you were suspicious of us all and thought we had something to do with your brother’s disappearance. I was sure he was mistaken but no one listened to me. Father was alarmed. A false accusation like that could destroy his career, not to mention Fuil Bratach. Deacon produced that mug like it was proof of your intention to pin blame on us. I didn’t believe a word of it, Robbie. You must trust me on that. I knew my cousin was just trying to make himself indispensable to Alastair. He took an innocent mug and turned it into a conspiracy.”

But he didn’t, Robbie thought. Deacon repeated what she’d told him in confidence to Alastair and the others at Dugald Croft. He had betrayed her. Just because Casey Manderville didn’t believe a word of it, it didn’t lessen the damage he could have done.

“Why would he hurt me that way?”

Casey’s blonde locks shook and he sighed. “You must not interpret it like that. Wake doesn’t think his actions through. He’s uneducated–willfully ignorant, I must admit. He’s like a primate, acting on impulse, with no thought to the consequences. He saw a chance to ingratiate himself with my father and he took it. There was no intent to harm you. He wanted to feel important and the mug was his chance.”

“He’s not like that with me,” she said weakly. “He’s really humble … there’s a litter of kittens he’s been taking care of in the morning before he goes to work. Would he do that if he was a selfish person?”

“I don’t know.” Casey sat back, lifting his glass of beer. “Maybe he was trying to impress you. Or trick you. All we know is that Harry left his mug behind. That’s the important thing in all of this. It could be that he left it on purpose as a farewell message to you.”

“Like a suicide note?”

“Yes, something like that,” he said sadly. “I am sorry, Robbie.”

She lifted a sandwich from the heap on the platter, thinking she would force it down over the massive lump in her throat and thus prevent crying. It was vital that she didn’t start because once she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop and this place was packed with strangers who would cringe at a torrent of tears.

In that moment, unbelievably, Deacon walked into the bar. She could see his head above the tops of the others, turning this way and that. Her heart dropped to her stomach. Was he looking for her? Did he actually have the gall to show his face after everything he had done?

He must have felt her staring at him because he turned, locked eyes with her, and in that instant, Robbie experienceddespair, relief, joy and anguish in a rapid-fire kaleidoscope of emotion.

He came toward them, winding his way through the crowd. Astonishingly beautiful. Starkly handsome in a black suit, his thick hair combed back off his forehead so his eyes were visible and his brow was clear.

A memory crowded her brain of those eyes on hers before he slipped between her legs and tongued her to wildness.

Robbie dropped the sandwich.

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