by Maggie Cox
‘Saskia’s letter?’ As if snapping out of a trance, he refocused his compelling blue eyes to study Ailsa. ‘Of course … it’s right here.’ Opening the tan leather attaché case that was positioned across his thighs, so he could rest his document on it as he wrote, he extracted a slim, slightly crumpled white envelope. He handed it to her with a grimace. ‘I should have looked at it earlier with you, I know. I’m afraid that work got in the way this morning.’
‘Never mind.’ She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘I’ll look over the list and tell you what she wants, okay?’
‘Good idea.’ About to return to his paperwork, Jake paused. ‘I’m giving my attention to this now so that I can take a few more days off than I’d anticipated taking. I’ll probably finish up tomorrow … just so that you know.’
A flood of warmth poured into her belly. ‘Thanks for telling me.’
Sitting back in her seat, Ailsa started to tear open the envelope. To her surprise, there were two neatly folded sheets of cream vellum. Grinning at the idea that Saskia’s Christmas list was longer than her parents had anticipated, she carefully studied the first sheet of paper. The sight of the familiar childish handwriting in blue coloured pencil stung her eyes. Discreetly wiping them, so that Jake wouldn’t see, she read the short, succinct request for presents that her daughter had written. As she’d expected, the requests were endearingly modest. In her mind, Ailsa added a few ideas of her own. When she turned to the next sheet of paper, what was written on it made her catch her breath.
Dear Mama and Papa
I don’t mind if Father Christmas doesn’t bring me anything on my other list. The present I would like most of all is for you two to get back together. It’s very sad that my baby brother died and I never got to meet him, but I really want us to be a proper family again, with you both living at home with me.
All my love, Saskia
XXX
Biting her lip, Ailsa returned the first sheet of paper to the crumpled envelope and surreptitiously slipped its companion into the pocket of her wool jacket.
‘Can I see?’
Jake’s request jolted her.
‘Of course.’ Trying her best to stay calm, not to betray the stormy feelings that were crashing through her, Ailsa handed him the envelope. Turning her head, she stared out of the window. Scenery flashed by in a blur of trees and tarmac.
Now wasn’t the right time to share with him what was so poignantly written on that second sheet of paper, she decided, Even if her heart leapt with hope at the very idea of fulfilling their daughter’s wish. It would be a grave mistake to presume anything about the future, to pressure him in any way.
Helplessly glancing at his preoccupied chiselled profile as he smilingly read his little girl’s list, she let her gaze fall upon his scar. Not for the first time her stomach clenched with remembered sorrow at how he had come by it. She made herself breathe out slowly. He needed time to get to know her again, she thought. She wouldn’t show him Saskia’s request until he was ready. Jake needed to see that Ailsa had sincerely let go of any grudges from the past—that she forgave him for any of his own transgressions. She had meant it when she’d declared she wanted to move forward in life with a lot more optimism and faith. She kept it to herself that she hoped ultimately that it would be with him.
Serious doubt washed over her as she silently came to such a momentous conclusion. She might be willing to try again to make their relationship work, but could Jake tie himself to a woman who had no prospect of ever bearing the son he craved? Shutting her eyes for a long moment, she prayed that he wouldn’t see it as the most awful negative. Most of all she wanted him to know that her love for him was strong and true, and that if he agreed to be with her again she would never again allow him to doubt it …
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE stunning white house appeared in a wooded clearing at the end of a winding and narrow country road. Its impact was picturesque and magical. Bathed as it was in the familiar blue light common to this part of Europe, its enchanting impression was emphasised even more by the flurry of frozen white drifting steadily down from the sky.
But, however beautiful it was, Ailsa’s attention wasn’t absorbed by the house for long. For standing on the wooden steps that swept down to the curving gravel drive was a small girl dressed in jeans, a long hand-knitted pink cardigan, and a pair of light brown sheepskin-lined fur boots. She was out of the car and running towards the child before the ever-dutiful Alain could get to the passenger door to do the usual honours his job as chauffeur entailed.
‘Mama!’ Calling out to her in delight, Saskia hurried down the steps with her arms held wide.
Raining kisses down on the small blond head the minute they were reunited, Ailsa hugged her daughter tight, her heart pounding with joy and her senses breathing in her longed-for scent even as she sent up a fervent prayer of thanks. ‘My goodness, I think you’ve grown! What on earth has Grandma been feeding you to help you get so tall?’
‘I’ve been eating lots of home-made soup and potatoes.
It’s so lovely to see you, Mama.’ The big china-blue eyes so reminiscent of her handsome father’s sparkled with happiness.
‘It’s lovely to see you too, baby. I’ve missed you so much.’
‘And it’s snowing too! I prayed and prayed for a white Christmas and my prayers have been answered.’ The little girl glanced up at the sky in wonder.
‘We’ve had lots of snow back home too.’
‘Did you and Papa build a snowman?’
Ailsa flushed almost guiltily. ‘No, darling, we didn’t. I’m afraid it was so cold we were too busy just keeping warm.’
‘Hello scamp.’
Jake reached them just as she finished speaking. Now it was his turn to bestow upon Saskia a loving embrace and to smother his child in warmly affectionate kisses. Still keeping hold of his daughter’s small hand, over her head his smiling gaze fell into Ailsa’s. A lock of tarnished gold hair had tumbled onto his still unlined brow, and it made her hand itch to sweep it back for him. She almost didn’t breathe at the unrestrained look of pleasure and satisfaction so evident in his eyes. It struck her forcibly how different he appeared when he was truly happy and not weighed down with grief and regret. How she had missed seeing him like that.
‘Let’s go inside, shall we?’ He started to walk up the steps with Saskia, then stopped to glance round at Ailsa. ‘Come on, slowcoach … No doubt my mother’s busy in the kitchen. She’s been looking forward to seeing you again, Ailsa.’
‘Has she?’ It was hard to keep the doubt from her voice. What must Tilda Larsen think of her, making herself so distant from her son these past few years? Was she perhaps angry that her ex-daughter-in-law had all but cut him out of her life so thoroughly that she’d scarcely even had a conversation with him, even on the telephone? Ailsa could easily see that Jake’s mother might feel aggrieved about that.
‘Of course she has. Come on. It’s cold out here.’
‘What about Alain?’ She swung round at the same time as the luxurious car started to reverse and pull out of the drive.
‘He’s going into the city on an errand for me. Don’t worry—he’ll be back later to take us home.’
‘Grandma, they’re here! Mama and Papa are here!’
Their daughter let go of Jake’s hand and bounded ahead into the house in search of her grandmother. As soon as they stepped over the threshold Ailsa’s senses were submerged in comforting warmth and good smells. She’d visited the Larsen family house many times during her marriage to Jake, and was no less enchanted now by the bright open spaces of the interior, with its blond wood floors, high ceilings and panoramic windows that let in every bit of light available—essential when the days were as short as they were in the wintertime.
After they’d both removed their shoes and hung up their jackets, with his hand placed lightly at her back Jake led Ailsa into the large bespoke kitchen—handmade by a local cabinet-maker when he was a teenager, he’d onc
e told her. The petite, fair-haired woman holding out her arms to them both while Saskia hovered eagerly by her side hardly looked a day older than when Ailsa had last set eyes on her over four years ago. Yes, there were a few more threads of elegant silver weaving through her shoulder-length hair, but her lovely face was as warm and full of life as ever.
Waiting for the couple to reach her, she embraced Jake first of all, murmuring softly, ‘My beautiful, beautiful son …’ Her still stunning blue eyes lovingly drank him in, as though she would never be able to get enough of the sight of him.
Her throat tight, Ailsa forced a wobbly smile to her lips as Tilda turned her attention to her.
‘Welcome home, Ailsa … my beloved daughter.’
It was that one simple word that broke the dam that was already pressing so impossibly behind her lids. Unable to curtail her emotion, she hugged the older woman as affectionately hard as she was being hugged, her fingers pressing into the soft black jersey of her dress with perhaps the greatest need for love and acceptance that she had ever experienced before. As if intuiting this, Tilda held her fast, her hand tenderly patting her back. Then, moving her hands to Ailsa’s shoulders, she gently manouvered her to stand in front of her. The infinitely kind blue glance gently examined her face.
‘Your heart has been darkened by sorrow for too long, my angel. It must be the worst pain of all for a mother to lose a child. I feel for you and for my dear son. I too have known sorrow since losing my Jacob. But our dear ones will not rest peacefully if we spend the rest of our lives in grief. They would want us to live, Ailsa … to live and to love and enjoy the time we have left, no?’
‘You’re right.’ She sniffed, wiping her tears away with the tips of her fingers. ‘Of course you’re right. I was so sorry to hear about Jacob. I know how devoted you were to each other.’
‘It has been hard without him, but every day gets a little easier if I can learn to be at peace—to accept rather than fight what has happened. Having my darling Saskia with me has helped me more than I can say, Ailsa. I thank you for agreeing to let her stay a bit longer with me. Now, Jake, why don’t you take Ailsa into the living room and warm yourselves by the fire? Saskia and I will make you both a hot drink. Later we will have a late lunch of steggt flaesk.’
In the fading light of the afternoon and with the red and orange glow from the fire crackling in the grate, the elegant Christmas tree positioned just to the side of the wide picture windows wore a gentle cloak of illumination even without the benefit of the small white lights coiling through its branches. At the tip of the topmost branch resided a large gold star, and the rest of the tall spruce was dressed with a charming mix of traditional and home-made decorations.
The sight of it warmed every corner of Ailsa’s heart. When she’d been in the children’s home she’d used to dream of a home like this—a home where every important tradition was lovingly and joyfully celebrated. She glanced up. Hanging from the ceiling rose was a traditional Advent wreath, with its four red and white candles—one lit on each of the four Sundays leading up to Christmas Eve. She remembered being completely charmed by it when she’d first heard of the ritual.
Jake lightly caught her hand and led her to the invitingly comfortable sofa nearest to the fire. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, concerned.
‘I’m fine. It was quite emotional for me to have your mother greet me as warmly as that.’
‘Why? Did you expect her not to?’
Discomfited, Ailsa lightly shrugged her shoulders. ‘She hasn’t seen me for over four years … I’ve barely spoken to her. I thought she might be angry that I haven’t communicated very much with you either.’
‘If you expected her to be angry then you don’t know her very well at all.’
Ailsa stayed silent. What could she say when all Jake had done was speak the truth? It made her realise that she’d become very good at keeping the people who had been the closest to her at arm’s length. She prayed she’d never employed that tactic with her little girl and never would.
‘Hey …’ His fingertips grazed the side of her face and the edges of his sculpted lips lifted to form a smile. ‘It’s good to have you here, Ailsa … really good. It’s been a long time.’
In his mind, Jake added, It’s good to have you back where you belong … back with the people who really care about you. He’d often observed over the years they’d been together that sometimes she looked like a lost little girl. A far-away unhappy look would creep into her amber gaze, telling him that she was lost in the past—in the insecure, uncertain world of her childhood. His mother—his father too, in his own gruff way—had given him unstinting care and support throughout his life, and he couldn’t begin to imagine how it must have been for Ailsa to have no one there for her except the staff at the children’s home where she’d been raised.
When he’d fallen in love with her, vowing to marry her just as soon as it could be arranged—yesterday hadn’t been nearly soon enough—he had promised himself that she would never again have to doubt that she was loved and cared for. But when she’d lost their son, Jake had seemingly forgotten that promise. He’d been so wrapped up in his own misery and grief that he’d somehow neglected to convey that one day everything would be all right again … that he would love her until the end of his days come what may. That the fact she could never again have children would not mar their happiness. He should have reassured her that he was totally happy with the precious little family he was already blessed with, and needed nothing else to complete his quota of joy. But he hadn’t reassured her.
Instead he had walked away from their marriage to try and escape his own unbearable hurt.
‘Papa, Grandma has helped me make some coffee for you and some tea for Mama, and we made these biscuits together too. But Grandma said to tell you that you mustn’t eat too many or else you won’t eat your lunch.’
‘How am I supposed to resist them when you’ve made them look so tempting?’ Jake grinned, helping himself to a slim piece of shortbread along with his cup of coffee.
Saskia held the tray towards her mother. ‘Shall I take that for you, sweetheart?’ Ailsa offered, smiling. ‘It looks heavy.’
‘I can manage. I’m getting very good at helping round the home—aren’t I, Grandma?’ The child saw that Tilda had entered the room and come to stand beside her.
‘You are a constant surprise and wonder to me, min skat.’
‘And now that you’ve served us our drinks, my angel, let me put that down for you.’ Leaving his coffee on the small table beside the sofa, Jake relieved his daughter of the tray and set it down on the floor by his feet.
‘Jake? Saskia has made some more shortbread that has yet to come out of the oven. Would you mind going into the kitchen with her and taking it out? While you do that, I will stay here and talk to Ailsa.’
Jake knew a moment’s anxiety that his mother wanted to talk privately with Ailsa, but because he didn’t have a chance to quiz her about it he had to trust that it wasn’t going to be anything upsetting.
‘No problem. Come on, sweetheart, we’ll go and rescue your cookies from the oven before they burn to a crisp!’
Saskia pouted indignantly. ‘They won’t burn, Papa, because Grandma and I put them in at exactly the right temperature. And besides, I’m a very good cook who never burns things. Aren’t I, Grandma?’
‘You certainly learn fast, little one.’
‘Come on, then.’ Fondly ruffling her long fair hair, Jake collected his coffee and followed his happily skipping daughter back into the kitchen.
In the living room, Tilda Larsen sat down beside Ailsa in the seat her son had vacated. Sighing, she proceeded to take the younger woman’s slim hand and hold it firmly in hers. ‘My son looks happy,’ she started. ‘At peace with life for once instead of being in a battle with it. My intuition tells me that’s because of you, Ailsa.’
Could she dare to believe that what she was hearing was true? Once again hope lit within her, and, having
learned that Tilda was anything but disappointed or angry with her, Ailsa allowed herself to relax and let down her guard. ‘It’s been—it’s been nice spending the past few days together,’ she admitted softly. ‘And we’ve talked … really talked … for the first time since the divorce. I think that it’s helped both of us.’
‘That is good … very good. But now, my dear, I am going to speak my mind.’ Still holding onto her hand, Tilda gazed steadily into her eyes. ‘You should never have divorced. I can see that it shocks you to hear me say that, but please do me the honour of just listening for a moment, will you?’
With her stomach plummeting to her boots, Ailsa grew tense again. ‘All right …’
‘It was nobody’s fault—neither yours nor my son’s. You were both so heartbroken that it was a wonder you could make a decision about anything. It was certainly not the time to make a decision to divorce. I knew you were both struggling with your relationship … how could I not when I saw my son so busy with work and not his family? It was the same behaviour that my own husband exhibited throughout our married life. It makes it very hard for a woman to cope. I knew that Jacob loved me, but it didn’t come easily to him to demonstrate it. I know that Jake found the way his father was very difficult to deal with. Do you know even on his deathbed my Jacob was worrying about the business—about how our son would handle things? They had clashed many times about the innovations Jake wanted to make. My husband was old school … he believed in learning to do a thing and sticking to that method for the rest of his life.’
Tilda sighed softly, shaking her head. ‘After the accident you both needed much more support than you believed. But again—because of your great grief—neither of you was open to receiving it. It grieves me to say it, but in the years since you have separated my son has become a changed man … a man I can’t seem to reach no matter how hard I try. It isn’t just the tragic death of the baby or the harsh wound on his face that has altered him. Without you in his life, Ailsa, he is like a ship without a rudder. He’s become more and more isolated and alone. The only thing that makes life worth living, he told me once, is Saskia. It’s only when he’s with her that he becomes animated … alive. Now … I am going to ask you something and I want you to tell me the absolute truth. Don’t say what you think I want to hear … do you understand?’
