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The Truth Hurts
Part 2
by Trish
Jarod stood in the center of the room, feeling surrounded and overwhelmed. The feelings were justified, as he was surrounded; by tables covered with nic-nacs and mementos, heavy Victorian furniture and tiny braided rugs that lay on the polished wood, craftily awaiting an opportunity to skid beneath an unsuspecting foot.
The owner of this Highlands bed-and-breakfast, sixty-five year old Violet Penfield never threw anything away, so when he and Parker had first came here seeking answers, she had repressed the urge to run out the front door, and head back to Blue Cove, all because of the feisty old woman.
"Ye canna go, lass," the silver-haired woman had said to her, as she stopped Parker with a gnarled hand on her arm. He had supressed the urge to laugh outright at that moment because he valued his life and the new found relationship that was growing between them even more.
The creaking of a door opening caused Jarod's thoughts to revert to real reason for the return visit to Inverness. The reason that he felt so overwhelmed was because Violet Penfield was dying and had demanded to see both of them. Jarod had tried to arrive as soon as he had received the summons from the old dowager but unfortunately had been unable to wrap up his pretend as an personal attache to the British Ambassador. While still in London, Jarod had a brief conversation with Miss Parker in which he had explained why he was delayed and that he would be arriving in a day or two barring any unforseen complications. He also told her that he hoped to have a few more answers about the photograph and that he would share them with her once he arrived in Inverness.
"Jarod," silhouetted in the doorway was the form of Violet Penfield's grand-daughter, Marley," Ye'll be spending the night here. Grannie's waitin for ye." She was small, barely five feet but with eyes as green as an emerald and she launched herself into Jarod's arms. She jarred him with the impact of her embrace. Jarod's arms went around her shoulders in reflex and they clung for a moment, her face tight against his.
"Marley," he said, taking a deep breath, his expression mingled with uncertainty and sadness.
"Dinna grieve for Grannie," she said firmly, as she pulled out of his arms," An' I dinna want your lass to wring me neck for hugging ye."
"Parker's here," he asked, his eyes locking on the wooden door.
"Nay, dinna she come back from the airport with ye."
"No, she didn't know when I was arriving. I didn't even know myself. Marley, you're sure that she went to the airport to meet me." Panic was starting to set in, as Jarod started thinking of all the possibilities as to why Parker wasn't here at the bed-and-breakfast.
"Ye dinna tell her," Marley looked at Jarod, confusion definately written on her features.
"I haven't talked to Parker since London."
"That canna be right, Jarod. I'll tell ye this, she was wi' Grannie Violet and then Donal said that someon' rang up for her. She dinna tell me anything, I thought it must ha' been ye who rang her."
"Where's Donal, Marley? I need to know about that phone call. I need to talk with Violet, Grannie," Jarod quickly said as Marley's eyebrows arched at Jarod's use of her Grandmother's name.
"Donal's in Elgin til tomorra. An' Grannie's waitin for ye."
Marley nodded and ushered him ahead of her and up the wooden stairs and in to Grannie Violet's bedroom.
The Truth Hurts
Part 2
by Trish
Jarod stood in the center of the room, feeling surrounded and overwhelmed. The feelings were justified, as he was surrounded; by tables covered with nic-nacs and mementos, heavy Victorian furniture and tiny braided rugs that lay on the polished wood, craftily awaiting an opportunity to skid beneath an unsuspecting foot.
The owner of this Highlands bed-and-breakfast, sixty-five year old Violet Penfield never threw anything away, so when he and Parker had first came here seeking answers, she had repressed the urge to run out the front door, and head back to Blue Cove, all because of the feisty old woman.
"Ye canna go, lass," the silver-haired woman had said to her, as she stopped Parker with a gnarled hand on her arm. He had supressed the urge to laugh outright at that moment because he valued his life and the new found relationship that was growing between them even more.
The creaking of a door opening caused Jarod's thoughts to revert to real reason for the return visit to Inverness. The reason that he felt so overwhelmed was because Violet Penfield was dying and had demanded to see both of them. Jarod had tried to arrive as soon as he had received the summons from the old dowager but unfortunately had been unable to wrap up his pretend as an personal attache to the British Ambassador. While still in London, Jarod had a brief conversation with Miss Parker in which he had explained why he was delayed and that he would be arriving in a day or two barring any unforseen complications. He also told her that he hoped to have a few more answers about the photograph and that he would share them with her once he arrived in Inverness.
"Jarod," silhouetted in the doorway was the form of Violet Penfield's grand-daughter, Marley," Ye'll be spending the night here. Grannie's waitin for ye." She was small, barely five feet but with eyes as green as an emerald and she launched herself into Jarod's arms. She jarred him with the impact of her embrace. Jarod's arms went around her shoulders in reflex and they clung for a moment, her face tight against his.
"Marley," he said, taking a deep breath, his expression mingled with uncertainty and sadness.
"Dinna grieve for Grannie," she said firmly, as she pulled out of his arms," An' I dinna want your lass to wring me neck for hugging ye."
"Parker's here," he asked, his eyes locking on the wooden door.
"Nay, dinna she come back from the airport with ye."
"No, she didn't know when I was arriving. I didn't even know myself. Marley, you're sure that she went to the airport to meet me." Panic was starting to set in, as Jarod started thinking of all the possibilities as to why Parker wasn't here at the bed-and-breakfast.
"Ye dinna tell her," Marley looked at Jarod, confusion definately written on her features.
"I haven't talked to Parker since London."
"That canna be right, Jarod. I'll tell ye this, she was wi' Grannie Violet and then Donal said that someon' rang up for her. She dinna tell me anything, I thought it must ha' been ye who rang her."
"Where's Donal, Marley? I need to know about that phone call. I need to talk with Violet, Grannie," Jarod quickly said as Marley's eyebrows arched at Jarod's use of her Grandmother's name.
"Donal's in Elgin til tomorra. An' Grannie's waitin for ye."
Marley nodded and ushered him ahead of her and up the wooden stairs and in to Grannie Violet's bedroom.
