Page 100 of A Recipe for Love
‘Whichever you think.’
‘But you think cocktails is a good idea?’
‘I don’t know.’ That was the best he could offer. He didn’t know what was a good idea. He didn’t know what to do for the best.
‘I was just asking.’ There was an edge to her voice that he wasn’t used to hearing.
‘I’m sorry. I’m just tired.’ He rolled towards her and reached a hand to her arm. ‘Can we talk about it in the morning?’
Adam woke early, or at least he would have described himself as having woken early if anyone had asked. In reality, he’d barely slept at all, as he had barely slept each and every night since his father’s death. He’d managed some rest on those precious few days in Edinburgh but as soon as he arrived back at Lowbridge sleep had eluded him once again.
Eventually, tiring of waiting for Bella to wake up and break the silence with her chatter and warmth, he climbed quietly out of bed and dressed before heading down the front stairs and out of the main door as silently as he could manage. Without thinking he walked around the side of the castle and up the path to the top of the cliff. That was the place he felt closest to his father – not in the estate office staring uselessly at rows of figures, not with his grandmother or his stepmother who could have shared stories and reminiscences of their own, not with the fiancée who he never got the chance to introduce to his dad – but outside, where he could touch the land that Alexander had loved so much.
There was nothing in the world that Adam Lowbridge wouldn’t have given for one more conversation with his father. One more talk might be the key to everything. Adam knew he was failing. He was failing the estate. He was failing his family. He was letting down his father’s memory, and now that Bella was throwing so much energy into the life of Lowbridge, he was letting her down as well.
He sat on the ground for what could have been minutes or could have been hours and stared out towards Raasay across the loch, and cried for the uselessness of not being able to ask his dad what to do, and whether he would forgive him for the choice he was considering.
Eventually Adam stood and turned back towards the house. There was a figure standing in front of the locked gate into the walled garden. Adam watched for a second. He hadn’t been near the garden for weeks. His grandmother had suggested that he did numerous times but he’d always found an excuse.
He walked down the hillside towards the stranger. It was a woman, and she was bending down, apparently placing something on the ground next to the wall. As he got closer he saw that it was a loosely tied bunch of wildflowers. As he got closer still the woman turned and he caught a glimpse of the shape of her face.
Adam stopped. The woman turned fully towards him and gasped. ‘Adam,’ she murmured, not quite a statement but not really a question either.
Adam didn’t have the words to say, so instead he ran and closed the space between them, letting her wrap her arms around him for a moment, before his bodied tensed and he stepped back. ‘Mum,’ he said. ‘What are you doing here?’
Chapter Seventeen
Adam’s mother took a deep breath in. ‘I got your message.’
‘I sent that a month ago.’
‘I wasn’t sure if you’d want me here.’
The exhilaration of seeing her was hardening into something more familiar. ‘Well if only there’d been some way of finding out.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He scanned her face, as he always did when she popped back into his life, for some sign of regret or sorrow or guilt for having missed all of the moments when Adam had needed somebody. ‘I wanted to pay my respects though.’
They both glanced down at the tiny bouquet, insignificant looking against the solidity of the castle wall.
‘This seemed like the best place. I think he loved this garden more than any of us.’
Adam wouldn’t let that pass. ‘Not more than he loved us. No.’
‘Maybe not you.’
‘How would you know?’
‘What do you mean?’
What did she think he meant? ‘You weren’t here.’
She wrapped her coat around herself against the early morning nip in the air. ‘I got here yesterday, stayed at the pub at Locharron. Didn’t really want to see anyone who might remember.’
Adam folded his arms. He wasn’t going to offer sympathy for the social awkwardness of wandering back into a community that might well have views about a mother who abandoned her child.
The thought of that last conversation that he would never be able to have with his father lingered in Adam’s head. There was another conversation he’d never been able to have. ‘Why did you go?’
‘Oh sweetie, you don’t want to…’
