I slept for most of the day. Somehow, the intake of food had sent me into hibernation mode. Or perhaps that was the trauma I was dodging.
Eventually, I woke fully and used the little bathroom, the only room aside from the big, open living space. I got the power going, took a shower, and washed my too-thick hair.
The water worked wonders, and my stress rinsed away with the suds. The events of the past few days began to take on a different hue.
Yeah, I really needed to apologise to Cameron.
From my carry-on bag, I extracted underwear, yoga pants, and a shirt, then dressed. I’d only brought a couple of changes of clothes with me, so I didn’t have the burden of choice. Then I ambled around the bothy. I’d barely taken notice of my surroundings, so caught up was I in my twisted consciousness.
The place was simple but beautifully made. Stone walls, a solid wood door, and thick window frames. Clean, soft bedding occupied the comfortable double bed I’d barely touched. The two-person sofa at the bottom of it had been my bed for the last couple of days, aside from when I’d slept on the floor. The fire still smouldered, giving off plenty of warmth. The tiny kitchen area had a sink and implements for basic cooking, and shelves held books.
The perfect bolthole.
I peered out of the window. I had no way of contacting Cameron. Now I knew Leo’s wife was in labour, I wasn’t about to call him. I just had to wait it out and hope that the stand-in guy came back. I seemed to be his responsibility.
Pottering around, I tidied my temporary home.
Really, I should read my messages, but I couldn’t bring myself to. Any news article now could floor me, especially if it lauded my ex over me, as the press often did.
No to all that.
The real world had to stay at bay for a while longer, for the sake of my already tenuous sanity.
Nor could I go outside. Not alone. The thought of being seen, whether I’d been followed here or not, terrified me. Being confronted at every turn was part of my daily life, but not now.
I didn’t have the resilience to handle it.
When my dad got sick, photographers would ambush me and tell me he died, angling for a shot of me breaking down. But I’d learned from the cradle to conceal every emotion that I didn’t want them to see. I was a pro at presenting a model version of myself. Except somehow, I’d lost the knack.
By the time the setting sun tinged the sky pink, I lifted my head to the crunch of tyres on rock, followed by the bark of a dog and a man’s answering command.
Cameron.
I wondered what his pet’s name was. I hadn’t asked.
This time, I was quick to open the door.
The Highlander, towering over me at six-two or three, brushed strands of tousled dark blond hair from his eyes. He was handsome, kinda. Maybe not so much as the conventionally pretty people in my home town. Even the waiters and bar staff in LA were beautiful human beings.
But too often, beautiful people in the movie business relied on their looks as their only asset, learning ways to exploit that to get by. I should know as, to some extent, I was one of them.
“You’re up,” he observed.
I liked the way he didn’t ogle me. Everyone usually did. They examined me for differences to the characters they’d met on the screen.
Cameron’s gaze merely rested on mine, a line between his eyebrows showing concern.
“I am.”
The dog gave a happy bark and nudged at my hands. I ruffled her fur, then sank to my haunches and gave her a proper hug. When was the last time I’d had a hug? Even from a dog, it felt good.
“What’s her name?” I asked.
“Ellie,” Cameron answered. A strange expression crossed his face.
I smiled at the animal. “Well, I’m Elise. Our names are similar.” I peered up at her owner, chagrin in my moves. “I owe you an apology. When I arrived here…”
“No apology needed. You’re our guest. Ye dinna have to behave in any particular way.”
“Oh no. Don’t excuse me from the bounds of basic human decency. I was a brat. Can we start over?” I pressed my fingertips to my chest. “I’m Elise. You’re Cameron. I’m a friend of your cousin’s.”
“Viola’s my cousin. Leo’s her husband. But the point stands.” His lips twisted into wry amusement. “I’m glad to meet ye. I wanted to check if there was anything else ye needed.”
Was this kindness or over-interest I should worry about? I hoped the former.
“What do you do here?” I ignored his question. There were things I needed, but I didn’t want to ask. The distraction of talking to another human felt good. “I saw you in a red jumpsuit with a team of people. Is that a military thing?”
Cameron raised a fair eyebrow. “Ah, then ye did see me. See that thing on the end of your arm? If you lift it and shake it around, that’s called waving.”
Warmth rose to my cheeks, but he continued.
“I’m part of the local mountain rescue operation. We were on a training exercise. I led half of the crew home while the others went on a call-out.”
Mountain rescue! A shiver ran down my spine. I knew we were in the mountains but I hadn’t considered the dangers. I peered behind him at the view.
“You climb those? And save people stuck up on the rocks?”
“Aye, or hurt and lost in the hills.” He gestured with his head to the open heath behind him. “Come for a walk? We won’t go far, but I’ll show ye what’s around. For when you’re ready to explore.”
I worked my jaw, unsure. “I haven’t been outside in days,” I confided.
His keen gaze took me to pieces. “Then now’s a good time to go.”
He was right, and there was nothing stopping me. The colourful sky was fading to grey, night drawing near. We had little daylight left, and the fact had me feeling safer.
More, I wouldn’t be alone.
If anyone ambushed me, I had a body to hide behind.
“Okay,” I said slowly.
Cameron blinked, as if surprised his proposal had been accepted, and I grabbed my sweatshirt, raised the hood, and stepped onto the flagstones.
The Scot gave an encouraging smile. “Just to the end of the track then back.”
Not far for him but huge for me.
Outside the safety of my sanctuary, I peeked at my surroundings. The wide-open landscape clung to the rich greens, browns, and oranges from the day, tall thistles grew near my door though the flowers hadn’t yet opened, and farther on, purple heather sprang up in clumps. Beyond, hills rolled and tall mountains loomed.
Cameron set a slow pace, and I kept beside him, skipping my gaze from the view to all the places a photographer could be hiding. But there was no flash of glass, no movement at all.
I knew the fading light would be terrible to attempt a photograph, so new confidence added a spring to my step.
“This place is beautiful,” I managed.
“I think so, too.”
“Were you born here?”
“Aye. It’s McRae territory for as far as ye can see. My uncles Callum and Gordain own the two parcels of land that make up the estate, and almost all my kin live locally. My parents have a crofthouse naw far down the track.”
I could see why Leo liked it. A real family location. I couldn’t imagine what that was like. Back in LA, it was only me and Mom. Everyone else who surrounded us were hangers-on. After Dad died…
I blinked back a sudden sting of tears, my emotions too close to the surface. Volatile. Even after a year, the pain of my father’s death hadn’t faded.
“Ye asked what I do here,” Cameron said, distracting me from my inward thoughts.
He gestured to a slope dotted with tiny trees, splinted by sticks. “I manage the land. This is a recent tree planting programme we completed. Scots pines and native trees. It’ll be a forest by the time I’m an old man. A home for wee beasties.”
“You planted all those?”
“I organised a grant for the saplings then had teams do the work. But, aye, I likely planted more than most.”
I goggled at the thought. The solidity of laying down a whole forest.
“That mountain,” he continued, as if making such a mark on the land wasn’t a huge achievement, “is called Mhic Raith. On the other side is a snowboarding centre. In the winter, it’s a hive of activity. Right now, in spring, it’s a walking centre. If ye want to take a hike, I can grab some kit and take ye up there. Ye can find your way back to the bothy easily enough. It’s a good walk.”
I never walked anywhere. I ran occasionally in the hills near home, but that was to keep in shape.
Cameron glanced down at me, then added, “I can find a car if ye want to go for a drive instead.”
“Never learned.” I kicked a loose pebble, sending it skimming down the darkening track.
“How old are ye?”
“Twenty-two, but I didn’t go to regular school so no Drivers’ Ed. We’ve always had a driver on staff, or a car service depending on the city.”
He gave a grunt of acknowledgement, but I could tell I hadn’t impressed him with my lack of skill.
“I imagine it’s important out here,” I tried. “Not so much where I’m from.”
We reached the end of the dirt path, and a crossroads faced us.
Cameron’s phone buzzed in his pocket. “Sorry, I should get this,” he murmured. He answered the call, turning from me with a finger in his ear.
I shuffled away a few steps to give him privacy. Ellie the dog flopped against my legs, a whine telling me she wanted an ear scratch. I gave it up, crouching to snuggle her.
Cameron gave a laugh. “Christ, man. That’s amazing. A boy! How are they doing?”
A boy? That had to be Leo’s baby. I’d only met Viola, his wife, briefly when she’d needed help and I’d stepped in. But I’d liked her a lot.
Another minute and Cameron got off the call, joy shining in his expression. He grinned at me. “Viola’s had the bairn. A wee lad. No name yet, but Christ, I’m glad she’s okay.”
He seemed so happy, and it wasn’t even his child.
“You must have been worried about her.”
“Aye, we all were. She’s struggled the past few weeks. I dinna think it was the easiest of pregnancies.”
I cringed at the memory of how self-centred I’d been when I’d last seen Leo. I had no idea any of this was going on.
“I’ll email my manager and get a gift basket sent.”
Cameron wrinkled his nose. “Buy a card, write it yourself.”
Oh. I guessed the rules were different here.
“Thanks,” I mumbled. “Would it be okay if I went home now? I appreciate you showing me around.”
We turned, and Cameron escorted me back to the bothy. We hadn’t gone far, but it was enough for my first excursion in days.
At the door, he held up his phone. “Take my number in case ye need anything. I’ll make a run out to the shops if we don’t have it.”
Dutifully, I took note of his digits and, against my better judgement, dialled his number so he had mine.
This was an act of trust I rarely gave. But Cameron felt like a lifeline in a dark and fearful place. If he sold my number, well, that was another lesson for me to learn.
He left, and I fed the fire then set myself up on the couch.
For a long while, I stared at the flames, trying to centre myself. Meditation had never worked for me, my mind too busy, but sitting quietly helped.
If I had a guitar, hours could pass without me noticing. Dad had taught me to play, and occasionally I toyed with songwriting. It made me feel closer to him, lessening the sharp loss of his death.
But I didn’t, and I wasn’t about to message Leo to ask to borrow one. No, I had to cope alone.
Summoning my strength, I grabbed my phone. By now, and by rights, pictures of what I’d done would be everywhere. I huddled into the cushions and opened my app that collected all the reports on my name.
The typical headlines appeared.
Regarding a dress I wore more than once.
On a guy, total stranger, I was rumoured to be seeing.
Nothing about a car, or a revenge act.
I stared and scrolled further. It hadn’t been reported. Jeez.
Apprehension filled me anew. It was only a matter of time until that story broke. My hope was that the fuss would’ve been over and done with while I’d been out of it.
Fuck.
I had to hide for a couple more days.
Moving on, I opened my personal email account and sighed at the billion and one messages from my manager. Typically, I would speak to Janelle multiple times a day. She always had something to discuss. I counted her as family.
The moment I started opening my messages, she’d know I was back in contact.
I’d never pulled a disappearing act before, and she’d be worried.
I started at the top, reading about the gown I’d wear to my next premiere, travel arrangements for the indie movie I was shooting in Europe in a week, and the myriad other minor business matters.
As I was typing a reply, covering the most pressing issues, or at least those I could handle, a new message popped in.
Janelle: Thank the Lord and baby Jesus. I thought you were dead! You just vanished. Listen, if you need some time to yourself, take it. Now is a great time for a vacation because you’ll be in Prague, then we have a hot mess of work coming our way. Your agent has been riding my ass about reading scripts. But honey, even if you aren’t ready for that, you have to tell me where you are. As a minimum, you need to stay visible for your fans. I’ve thrown a couple of old pictures up online, but please, for my mental health, take some more. Don’t disappear altogether or I’ll have a riot on my hands (not to mention the fines).
I hunched in on myself. The fact I was contractually obliged to post on social media a minimum of once a day had been my mother’s lawyer’s doing. A publicist had recommended it as giving a boost to movie hype. But I was between publicity teams, so the buck stopped with me.
I wrote a brief reply, saying I’d do better, then continued with the rest of my messages. Mom had written about an opportunity coming up for her studio. I was beyond proud of her. In a world full of old dudes running Hollywood, she had carved out a corner for herself, and I supported her as best I could.
Well, more than that.
I supported her with every penny I made, too. When I’d been seventeen, and Mom still responsible for my assets, I’d agreed she could invest my earnings in her company. It had been a good investment, and my lawyers had supported it. I owned a large stake in a thriving business. Yet on the other hand, I had nothing in my name but the shares. I didn’t own my home, or even a car.
Well, there was one house in my name, but I couldn’t live there, nor did I consider it mine.
Mom’s email outlined her business proposals, assuming I would fund them from my next two movies for her company, the second and third in a dystopian romance trilogy.
Previously, particularly when Dad had been sick, I wouldn’t have hesitated to agree.
But something stayed my hand.
Instead, I wrote a quick reply, telling her I was okay and I’d read it over.
I perused the rest of my messages, distracted by the strange sense of warning. The only person who had objected to the deal had been Dad, but I’d stopped telling him for fear of stressing him out.
Distracted, I kept scrolling. My email box was filled to the brim with unopened emails, but one caught my eye.
Your father, was the subject title.
Elise. I’m missing you, precious girl. Why aren’t you where you’re supposed to be? I need to see your pretty face. All your fans do.
Did you know your father was a filthy pervert?
I have photos of him in Los Cabos, and enough evidence to set the internet on fire. If you want to keep these out of circulation, you’ll come out of hiding, sweet thing.
Super fan.
What the fuck?
I read the message again, my heartbeat accelerating. What a horrible thing to send. Who the hell would do this?
Janelle handled the majority of my fan mail, including the occasional death threat. Abuse was a fact of life for anyone in the public eye, more so for women. But this was my private business email address. Few people had this.
And those words…
Dad wasn’t perfect. His relationship with Mom had been short and unhappy, but I knew him. He was kind and loving. He’d never hurt anyone.
The good feeling I’d regained left in a flash. My hands shook once more. I exited my email app and found an album on my phone with photos of my father. One I’d constructed, where every picture made me smile.
And I stared and stared, until my eyes could no longer see.
