A Finer End

“Oh, no, please. Not …” Searching his face, she said, “There’s more, isn’t there? And worse. Faith—” The fragmented memory came back to her. “We were talking, in the café, Faith and I … she said something about her archaeology class. It was only when I was walking up the hill afterwards that I realized she must have known Andrew—she was a Somerfield student—and in that case why had she never mentioned it, in all the time I’d known her? And Andrew, when I told him about the girl who had left school because she was pregnant, he never said he knew her … Fiona! That’s why I was coming to see you. I needed to talk.” Winnie met Kincaid’s eyes again. “You said Andrew was badly hurt—how?”

“A head injury,” Duncan said reluctantly.

“Andrew tried to hurt Faith.”

Kincaid could only nod.

Winnie’s face became expressionless. “I must see him. Will you drive me to hospital, please?”

Gemma and Kincaid found Nick Carlisle haunting the corridor outside Faith’s room. He hurried towards them.

“How is she?” asked Gemma.

“They think they’ve got the bleeding stopped, but she’s awfully weak. She’s resting now.”

“And the baby?”

Nick’s smile lit his face. “She’s fine. Perfectly healthy, they say. Gemma … The doctor said you probably saved Faith’s life—and the baby’s. If there’s anything—”

“You’d have done the same,” Gemma told him. “I just got there first.” Somehow she understood that his gratitude was mixed with envy. He had wanted to be Faith’s savior, the hero of the day. “Perhaps it’s just as well, you know, that things worked out the way they did. Gratitude is a burden you’d not want to come between you two. You’ve a clean slate now.”

“I wish I did,” Nick said softly, his expression bleak, and Gemma recalled what she had learned of his past.

“Will they let us see her?” she asked.

“I’ll find out.” Kincaid went to the desk, leaning over to speak to the dark-haired nurse. Gemma saw him flash his most effective smile, then he returned to them.

“Just one of us, for five minutes, and that’s a special dispensation. You go in, Gemma. I’ll stay with Nick.”

She eased open the door. The girl lay in the hospital bed, eyes closed, her dark lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. The baby lay in a cot beside her, only the top of her fuzzy head visible beneath a teddy-bear blanket.

Just as Gemma started to turn away, unwilling to wake her, Faith opened her eyes. Going to the bedside, Gemma murmured, “She’s lovely. Have you decided what to call her?”

“Bridget.”

“Bridget … wasn’t she a local saint?”

“Andrew … he always liked the story about St. Bridget’s Chapel at Beckery; that all who passed through the hole in the chapel’s side would be forgiven their sins.…”

“It suits her,” Gemma said softly. “And you were very brave, you know.”

“Was I? I was so scared. I didn’t know—”

“You can’t know, until you’ve been through it. The nice thing is, you forget quickly.” Gemma smiled. “Now, you get some rest—”

“I wanted to thank you. If you hadn’t … Garnet knew what was going to happen, didn’t she? On the Tor. Do you think somehow she knew about Andrew too?”

“I think Garnet loved you,” Gemma told the girl gently, “and that’s all that matters.”

•  •  •

Andrew had been rushed into surgery; there the hemorrhaging caused by the blows to his temple had been surgically evacuated to relieve the pressure on his brain. Now, his doctor had informed Winnie, they could only wait.

She had insisted that Jack stay behind in Glastonbury. Her undivided attention seemed a small penance for what she owed her brother. How could she have been so blind, so self-absorbed, that she had not seen his peril? As she sat beside Andrew’s bed, her heart was gripped with fear for her brother—and for herself.

Could she bring herself to forgive him for what he had done? Even more difficult, could she find the strength to love him, knowing the secrets he had kept from her?

And if Andrew survived this, would he be able to live with his own terrible knowledge?

He stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. To her profound relief, he knew her instantly, and smiled. Then she saw the shadow of returning memory in his eyes and, with it, a recoil of horror and shame.

“Andrew, it’s going to be all right, I promise. We’re going to work through this together.”

He turned his face away.

Gemma and Kincaid found their way back to the ICU visitor’s area and sat down to wait for Winnie. Kincaid fidgeted, frowning abstractedly as he studied a bright print on the wall.

“What is it?” Gemma pressed. “Surely you don’t think Faith is to blame for hurting Andrew—”

“Of course not. It’s just that Greely’s inclined to consider the case tidily wrapped up. Convenient for him, but I don’t like it.”

“He assumes Garnet saw Andrew in the lane the night of Winnie’s accident, and later confronted him.”

“Right. And that would fit nicely—except for the fact that Andrew’s alibi for the time of Winnie’s accident checked out. And if he were willing to kill Faith to keep his sister from finding out about their relationship, why would he have tried to hurt Winnie?”