Because realizing there are more reasons why it was for your own good that I broke your heart hurts like hell. No Sally, no Jason, even with Fiona dead you had more in those years from her than you’d ever get from me.
Because I need a moment away from all that is you and your beautiful children to get my head together so I can deal with the day.
All of this Isabella thought but did not say.
“I just would,” she said instead.
“You’re coming with us,” he repeated.
“Prentice –”
“Sally wants you with us.”
Isabella snapped her mouth shut.
Well then, who could argue with that?
“I’ll get my purse,” she muttered and to her dismay, he barely shifted to the side so she had to squeeze by him, sucking in her belly and breath to get around him and her br**sts still brushed his chest when she went by.
A heady thrill jolted through her body at that slight touch. A thrill he’d given her before, many a time. A thrill that she remembered like the last one she’d had was only yesterday.
Her fists tightened, her nails bit into her palms and she hurried to her room.
* * * * *
Fiona
Fiona floated with her family (and Isabella) to the front door.
Prentice was furious. Jason seemed confused. Sally was simply tired.
Isabella was wearing a brave face but the hideousness of the day had taken its toll. She was pale and there was a tightness about her eyes that was heartbreaking.
And her hands were clenched into permanent fists.
Fiona had been born in her village and she’d been proud of being a member of its community her whole life.
Until that day.
She knew, because she felt it herself, that everyone had felt duped by Isabella, not just Prentice. They all loved her, including Fiona. It got worse when she never returned even after the terrible accident that tore Annie and Dougal apart. That feeling had intensified further as she’d publicly moved on, living the high life of international fame and celebrity.
But, even if only for Annie’s sake, they could at least attempt to be polite.
Instead of vicious.
At Annie’s request, the minute Isabella hit Fergus’s house, she ran to the kitchen to start making dozens and dozens of Annie’s favorite cookies. The picnic was catered including a luncheon and then an American-style bonfire that night, roasting hot dogs on sticks and making s’mores which Fiona had never had but thought they looked delicious.
Isabella let Sally help but the making of cookies put Prentice in a bad mood which drove him to broody, something which Isabella ignored, in fact, she seemed to be doing her best to ignore Prentice as much as she could which, in turn (strangely, Fiona thought) was something Prentice seemed to be working at not allowing.
Fiona knew why the cookies made Prentice broody.
Isabella used to send him cookies from America, not to mention make them weekly for him when she was in Scotland. He’d told Fiona that when he told her about Isabella.
What Fiona didn’t understand was, if Prentice had “moved on” as he’d told Dougal he had, why the cookies would make him broody at all?
That day Isabella didn’t make them for Prentice, however. She made them for Annie and Dougal’s guests.
And the minute those guests (at least the villagers, Sally and Jason ate around a million of them and Prentice wasn’t far behind) found out she’d made them, they avoided them.
Pointedly.
Not only that, one villager, Hattie Fennick, actually made a point to take a bite then spit it out right when Isabella was watching her. Hattie had always been a cow, especially around Fiona who Hattie made no bones about not liking. Then again, she didn’t like pretty much everyone including Prentice, who Fiona had known for years Hattie had a raging crush on even after she hooked up with her husband Nigel but Prentice had never shown an interest or shown that he knew she existed at all unless he was vaguely irritated by something she’d done which made her act even more of a cow.
And that wasn’t all.
They made nasty comments, some of them loud, most of them when Isabella was in earshot.
They at least shielded Annie from it; she didn’t hear a word for which Fiona was grateful. They’d also been careful around Jason and Sally (Sally was oblivious, as usual; Jason had overheard a few things, which pissed Fiona off). The rest of the time they ignored her, cast her dirty looks or walked away when she approached.
Although they shielded Annie, they hadn’t any qualms about doing their worst in front of Fergus, Mikey, Dougal or Prentice.
Which made all four men livid even Dougal, probably on Annie’s behalf.
The picnic had started at two o’clock. It was now ten. Eight hours of torture for Isabella.
At first, Fiona had been shocked at how she coped. She acted for all the world as if she didn’t give one whit and spent her time talking with Fergus, Mikey, Annie, Sally and Old Lady Kilbride who wasn’t capable of hating anyone and had always stuck up for Isabella, unpopularly saying, “We don’t know. There are always two sides to every story.”
Isabella even spent time with Jason which was surprising since Hattie also commented loudly within Isabella’s (and Prentice’s) earshot, “God, the nerve of the woman. Fiona’s children. Jason. Who’s been devastated. The absolute nerve.”
But as the hours slid by, it had begun to wear, her façade slipped, as anyone’s would, and Fergus, Mikey, Dougal, Jason and, most especially Prentice, noticed.
Fiona was back to not hating her. In fact, she felt sorry for her. She had no idea what she would do if she’d been alive at the picnic rather than dead and haunting it but she hoped she wouldn’t have done that.
Of course, she did realize that, as a ghost, she had access to information that the villagers couldn’t know, but still.
They hit the great room and Isabella turned immediately toward the hall.
“I’m going to call it a night,” she said softly, her hands still fists.
Prentice opened his mouth to speak but Sally got there before him.
“Will you read me a story?” Sally asked, her voice tired.
“Sally –” Prentice began but Isabella talked over him.
Without hesitation, she switched directions, unfisted a hand and held it out to Sally, saying, “Of course, honey.”
Sally took Isabella’s hand and they walked up the stairs. Prentice’s eyes followed them, his face tight.
“Dad –” Jason began when the two females disappeared.
Prentice looked at his son. “Not now, mate.”