Remember Me at Willoughby Close (Return to Willoughby Close Book 4)

by Kate Hewitt

  *

  “I like her.”

  Elin gave James a wry smile that he returned, albeit with a bit of effort. It was six o’clock on Saturday morning, and he and Elin were alone in the kitchen. His dad and Jack would already be out in the barn; his mother would bustle in soon, ready to make a full fry-up for the whole family. Everyone else was understandably asleep. Still a farmer’s son, James had never got out of the habit of getting up early.

  “I do, too,” he said as he poured himself a cup of coffee. The kitchen was full of pale morning light, the only sound the comforting rumble of the Rayburn and the gentle snoring of the dogs sprawled out on the floor.

  “Much more than Helen,” Elin continued. “She was always looking at you as if she was thinking of ways you could improve. Laura seems real. Genuine, I mean.”

  “Yes,” James agreed briefly, taking a sip of his coffee.

  Elin cocked her head and gave him a considering look. “Why don’t you seem more pleased?”

  James hesitated, unsure how to answer. He was pleased, of course he was. He was thrilled. But last night had thrown up way too many questions. Part of him just wanted things to be simple—he liked her, she liked him. Easy. But then Laura had started talking about babies and him being a stepdad and James’s mind had gone into overload.

  Yes, he wanted children, he always had, but he hadn’t thought about the specifics. Like Laura having his baby, a prospect that filled him with both physical and emotional yearning, but also scared him half to death.

  And what about being an actual stepfather? He hadn’t considered that angle before. He saw himself as more an uncle or even big brother kind of guy, a buddy, but if he and Laura…if he and Laura stayed together, actually married, then yes, he needed to think about those kinds of things…which blew his mind.

  “It’s complicated,” he told Elin.

  “Every relationship is complicated,” she returned. “Because every relationship has two human beings in it.”

  “Still.”

  “Still what?” Elin raised her eyebrows in challenge, as if she suspected he was the one dragging his feet.

  “It’s not what you think,” he explained a bit tersely. “Laura’s the one who is cautious. Her husband died just a little over a year ago, and she has her kids to think about. I understand that.” Even if he didn’t completely like it. Even if he was feeling a little cautious now, too.

  “And you’re ready to sign on the dotted line?” His sister’s features softened with sympathy, making James grimace. Why was he the one who was ready to commit, who wanted to go all in? Except did he even want to, anymore?

  “I suppose I’m a bit naïve when it comes to relationships,” he told his sister on a sigh. “Or maybe just simplistic. I think if two people like each other, that’s it, no problem. Everything can be worked out.” Except when it couldn’t.

  “That’s a good way to be, James,” Elin told him.

  “Even if it hurts and I stay single forever?” he only half-joked.

  “Laura being cautious is one thing,” she answered after a moment, her eyes crinkled in concern. “But do you feel like this weekend has been too much for her? It’s making her rethink the relationship? I know we can be a bit full on.”

  “I hope it hasn’t,” James answered frankly. Even with all the questions Laura had fired at him last night, all the possibilities, responsibilities, uncertainties…he still wanted to keep going. He knew that absolutely, and it both fired him with purpose and made him afraid.

  The last week had been just about the best of his life. He wasn’t ready to throw it all in just because it might get a bit tricky, or even a lot tricky. He knew that, and he was willing to fight for her. For them.

  But what if Laura didn’t feel the same?

  *

  By Sunday afternoon, when they were driving back to Wychwood, James was tense and exhausted and also relieved to be going home. Nothing terrible had happened, fortunately, but then nothing terrible ever did. His family didn’t fight or even shout. There were no falling-outs or arguments. Everyone got along, no matter what, and silence was the preferred indication of disapproval, although so rarely acknowledged.

  His mum and sisters, at least, had made Laura feel welcome, although Janet Hill had looked at her with the same sort of affectionate bafflement she regarded her son. As if they both were unusual specimens, creatures from another universe who didn’t live and breathe by the farming calendar.

  His father and brother had been a bit less welcoming, although not intentionally so. At least, James didn’t think so. They just were who they were—strong, silent men whose conversation revolved around the farm and not much else. James sometimes wondered how Jack had managed to date and marry a woman like Emma, who was also from a farming background but charming and sociable, and then he wondered why, if Jack could, he couldn’t.

  Still, he and Laura made it through—three meals a day with the whole family, a tour of the barns and lambing sheds on Saturday afternoon followed by a trip into Shrewsbury with his sisters, church on Sunday, an enormous roast dinner, and then another tramp through muddy fields. Laura had been game for it all, always friendly and interested, chatting to his sisters, engaging as best as she could with his parents, but James couldn’t help but feel as if a veil had come down over her eyes, her heart, if that wasn’t being too fanciful. He felt like he didn’t know what she was thinking about anything, including him, and that made him feel vulnerable in a way he really didn’t like.

  A gusty sigh of relief blew through him as they turned off the single-track lane onto the main road to Shrewsbury. “So,” he made himself ask. “How bad was it?”

  “What a question.” She was looking out the window so he couldn’t gauge her expression, not that he could really look, as he was driving. “Do you want to try rephrasing that?”

  “Or you could just tell me.” Where had that faint edge in his voice come from? They were finally alone, away from the farm. He didn’t want to pick anything close to a fight. He wanted to commiserate, to grow closer together…if they could.

  “I think it was far worse for you than me,” Laura said quietly, her face still to the window. “I actually had a nice time, James. Your family is lovely, just as you said.”

  That simple statement, made so sincerely, should have brought relief, the tension bracketing his shoulder blades finally starting to loosen. But it didn’t. Instead that perverse irritability sharpened to a honed point. So he was the problem, was he? Well, he’d known that all along.

  Fortunately he still possessed the self-control and maturity not to reply with his hurt feelings. He kept his gaze on the road as the silence between them stretched on.

  This trip had been a big, big mistake. And he was kicking himself all over the place for having so stupidly suggested it.

  “When do Sam and Maggie get back?” he asked when they’d passed Shrewsbury.

  Laura glanced at the clock. “Their flight lands at Heathrow at seven. They’ll be tired for school tomorrow.”

  “Happy to be home, though.”

  “I hope so.”

  Silence. When had it become so hard to talk to each other? “I’m sorry,” James said after another fraught fifteen minutes had passed by. “I feel like I messed up this weekend.”

  “Oh James, you didn’t.” Laura reached over to place a hand on his arm, and her warm smile felt like the best thing he’d seen all day. “You didn’t,” she said again, and he waited for more, braced himself for it. “It’s just…” Uh-oh. “We’ve jumped into the deep end, haven’t we? And I feel like I was emotionally ready to go about ankle-deep, if that.” Ouch. “So it’s hard to adjust to the…intensity. I’m not saying I don’t want to, or that I don’t care about you…” Cringe. “It’s just hard.” She sighed, defeated by her own explanation.

  What could he say to any of that?

  “I guess I know what you mean.”

  The smile he’d found so warm now held far too much sympathy.
“I’m sorry, James. I wish I was ready to jump in with both feet or head first or whatever, but…just give me some time, okay? To get things straight in my head, before I give a relationship—our relationship—a chance.” He swallowed, nodded, and she squeezed his arm. “Not oodles and oodles of time. Just…a bit. Time and space, to sort myself out.”

  Again, what could he say? What choice did he have? No, I’m not going to give you any time. You have to decide right now that you love me and want to have my children.

  “Sure,” James said, and managed a weak smile. “No problem.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Come on, Perry.”

  With a sympathetic smile for her tired dog, Laura looped the lead about Perry’s head before setting outside into a crisp, sunny day that held the faint promise of spring. It was Monday morning, and Maggie and Sam had headed off to school, exhausted from both their flight home and holiday but mostly cheerful, and Laura was feeling at a distinct loose end.

  It was hard enough having to process the weekend in Shropshire, something she wasn’t even sure she was ready to do, but it was just as hard not to have a job to go to. She’d only been a teaching assistant at Wychwood Primary for five weeks, but she’d settled into a rhythm there, and having seven hours stretch in front of her so emptily made her feel a bit out of sorts. A bit lonely. Especially considering how she’d left things with James last night, when he’d dropped her off at Willoughby Close with an unhappy smile and a kiss on the cheek.

  Laura wasn’t even sure if anything had actually gone wrong between them, but things definitely didn’t feel right. The two and a half hours in the car had been suffused with a silent misery and tension that she didn’t fully understand. What were they arguing about, really? Nothing, she thought, and everything. They’d backed each other into a corner, having to make or at least consider decisions neither of them felt ready for. She knew she didn’t, and she didn’t expect James was, either. No wonder things had felt fraught.

  She’d asked for the old cliché of time and space, but she didn’t know whether either would actually help straighten out her own head. Her feelings were in a ferment and she couldn’t imagine them ever settling down. But one day, surely, with a little breathing room, a little perspective…

  Her children’s arrival back home had been a welcome distraction from thinking about all that; they’d both been bubbling with excitement about the trip, and yet had still managed to get into an argument within the first five minutes back. Laura had been both delighted and exasperated, suspecting they’d been on their best behaviour while with their grandparents and now needed to let off some steam.

  “It seems like it was a really nice break,” she’d ventured when she’d gone up to Maggie’s room to have a private debrief.

  Maggie was, as usual, on her phone. “It was all right.”

  High praise indeed, then. Laura had picked up a few dirty clothes from the floor before perching on the edge of her daughter’s bed. “And how about things at school?” she’d asked. “Everything going okay there? You looking forward to going back tomorrow?”

  Maggie had shrugged, eyes still on her screen. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “I love you, Maggie.” It was, perhaps, a non sequitur, but one Laura felt compelled to keep saying. She had a feeling her daughter couldn’t hear it enough, no matter how indifferent she pretended to be, and in truth Laura didn’t have much other wisdom to offer.

  Maggie had grunted in reply, and Laura had left it at that. Small steps, slowly moving forward. At least she hoped so.

  Perry trotted faithfully after her now as she headed out of Willoughby Close towards the woods that flanked the manor house. They were due there on the weekend for a Sunday roast with Alice and Henry; when she’d seen Alice the other day, she’d assured her she could bring ‘someone’—this said with smiling emphasis—if she liked. So word of her going on a date had clearly gotten around, which Laura supposed she should have expected it to. She told Alice she wouldn’t be bringing anyone; she’d meant what she said about time and space and she certainly wasn’t ready to tell either Sam or Maggie about James yet. Not until she knew her own mind, anyway, although who knew when that would be?

  The wood was damp and green, the first tiny shoots visible on the trees, the ground carpeted with bright-headed crocuses. Laura let Perry off the lead so he could snuffle among the mulchy carpet of old leaves. In the shadows of the trees, the air was still decidedly chilly, and she hunched her shoulders against a breeze that was more winter than spring.

  The sensible thing to do, she told herself as pragmatically as she could, was to have a reasonable discussion with Maggie and Sam about her the possibility of her dating in general, and see how they felt about it. Then she could mention James, making sure to reassure them that it didn’t change their family dynamics, she loved them both utterly, and in any case it was very early days—something she needed to remind herself of, as well.

  She could picture the chapter in one of the many books on grief and healing that she’d been given or recommended, although most had remained unread. It had simply been too difficult to relive her own experience through the pages of a book.

  But really, would Sam or Maggie even object to her dating? Sam might be pleased, or even thrilled. And Maggie… A sigh escaped her as she considered her daughter. She really had no idea how Maggie would react. Two months on from discovering she’d been self-harming and taking her back to counselling and although she felt more positive than she had, she still wasn’t sure how Maggie was doing. If only her daughter would open up to her a little. If only Laura could make her.

  Perhaps telling her about James would help with that, make Maggie see it was possible to move on. But considering her own ambivalence, that didn’t seem like the wisest thing to do. No, she couldn’t tell Maggie or Sam about James until she’d decided for herself what future she could have with James.

  But how was she supposed to do that? Flip a coin?

  “Hey.”

  Laura stopped in her tracks as a figure loomed out of the forested shadows towards her. Perry’s ears pricked although he didn’t bother with a bark. As the figure came closer, she saw it was Ava’s husband Jace.

  “Hey,” she answered with a smile. “How’s life with little Zoe?”

  “Great.” He grinned, his eyes glinting with good humour. He had the same effortless sex appeal as his wife, Laura couldn’t help but notice. Really, they both should be models or something. “If a bit tiring.”

  “That’s to be expected, I suppose.”

  “How are you?” Jace cocked his head as his gaze swept over her in a way that felt both thorough and knowing. “Ava mentioned you’d been widowed. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.” As ever, the exchange about Tim’s death felt stilted. “It’s been fifteen months now.” She lifted her chin, unsure whether to smile or not. “I feel as if we’re starting to get back to normal, if there ever was a normal. Or is one, after a death. I still don’t know.”

  “There’s a new normal, I guess. Learning how to relate to each other in new ways.”

  “Yes.” This was quite emo, for a guy like Jace, a man’s man who looked like he slept in his work boots. “That’s true.”

  “It can be hard sometimes,” Jace said slowly, “when you’re not sure if you should have a second chance at everything. Life, love, the works.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “Ava and I both got second chances, but I think we felt we didn’t deserve them. It took a while to realise we could accept them anyway, through grace, whether we deserved them or not.”

  A blush scorched Laura’s face as she absorbed his words. How did he know she was struggling with guilt? That she wondered if she deserved to be happy? How could he possibly tell, when she hadn’t even fully acknowledged such feelings to herself? Unable to form a reply, she simply stared.

  “Sorry if I’m offering advice that isn’t wanted or needed,” he continued. “I’ve just…I’ve seen that look on your face on Ava’s,
once upon a time.”

  “The look on my face?” Laura stared at him in surprise. She hadn’t realised she’d been so revealing.

  “A sort of stricken smile,” Jace answered with a shrug. “Like you’re putting a brave face on it all, but inside things feel really different. I get it.”

  “I know Ava was widowed,” Laura said slowly. “But why didn’t you feel like you deserved a second chance?” The question didn’t feel nearly as nosy as it might have done, if Jace hadn’t been so shockingly perceptive.

  He hesitated, then said, “When I was out at the pub I got in a fight. I punched a guy and he hit his head and died. I spent seven years in prison for it.”

  Laura stared at him in shock. “Oh…”

  Jace smiled crookedly. “Yeah. It happened to be Henry Trent’s younger brother, in case it comes up in conversation. It usually doesn’t, but you never know.”

  “Henry’s…”

  “Yeah, I know. He was a hothead, but so was I.” Jace sighed and scuffed one boot through a drift of dead leaves. “Henry and I have managed to make it up, although I doubt we’ll ever be each other’s favourite people. But if I can have a second chance, so can you.”

  Quite suddenly Laura felt near tears. “Thanks,” she said quietly. “I still don’t really know how you knew I needed to hear that, but…thanks.”

  She hadn’t even realised she’d needed to hear it. She hadn’t let herself think too much about how guilty she still felt. But she was grateful that Jace, of all people, had managed to see in her face what she hadn’t acknowledged was in her heart.

  *

  “Hey, Mr Hill.”

  Sam’s grin was as infectious as ever as he stood in front of James’s desk at the end of the first day back after half-term.

  “Hey, Sam. Looks like you got a ski tan. Did you have a nice time?”