Wayward Heart

by Cathryn Hein

  When it came time to leave the restaurant, his father had followed him out, hand cupped around Digby’s elbow like a politician on the hustings.

  It had taken all Digby’s strength to keep the weariness from his voice. ‘I’ll pay for dinner, Dad.’

  ‘Thanks, son.’ Releasing Digby’s elbow, his dad had rocked back on his heels and puffed his lower lip out, then glanced back at his wife and children before leaning conspiratorially towards Digby. ‘I’ve been keeping it from Paige, but things have been a bit tough lately with the dollar the way it is. I love Em, and wouldn’t have missed her wedding for the world, but it’s cost a bomb to fly us all down here.’

  ‘Yeah, I can imagine. I wish I could help, but …’ Digby shrugged and held his hands out. ‘You know how James tied everything up. It’s good to see you though. The girls are really growing up.’ And before his father could push any further, Digby had slapped Henry’s shoulder in farewell and hurried towards reception where he settled not only dinner, but the family’s entire stay.

  He’d driven home feeling lower and more burdened than ever, wishing only for a quiet night’s sleep and the fortitude to do the right thing by the people he cared about most.

  Morning found him despairing of both.

  Digby trudged out of the bathroom, gathered up an old pair of jeans and a shirt, and began to dress. Maybe if he’d been able to stay in Jasmine’s comforting hold he’d have slept, but perhaps not. The way she’d traced her fingers over his body in bed, admiring him, continued to spin in his head. She’d made him feel loved, and for a heady while he’d embraced the idea that if he tried hard enough she could replace Felicity.

  But from the moment by the car, when she’d regarded him with yearning and said how much she cared, instead of happiness all he could feel was fear. Fear that he’d let Jas down, that he could never repay her for the solace she’d granted him.

  Jas deserved every last drop of love a man could offer. No matter how much he wished things could be different, Digby could only offer her a part of his. The rest belonged to Felicity.

  With the day still dawning and nothing else to do Digby drove to the cemetery. He sat on Felicity’s grave and watched the sun form a blazing orb in the sky. Everything ached, made worse by the cold granite on which he was seated, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. The urge to lie flat across the slab was enormous, but Digby had given that up months ago, once his desolation had past the worst.

  The sun rose higher, bringing the wedding closer with it. Digby remained where he was, chained by his memories of Felicity. The brightness of her eyes, the golden length of her hair, the husky softness of her voice, the adoring way she’d looked at him. Her slim, sleek body. Skin that shone pearl-like when wet.

  Throat thickening, he stroked the carved letters of her name. ‘This should have been us, Flick.’ He closed his eyes against the sting of encroaching grief. ‘This should have been us.’

  On his arrival home, Digby had hoped to sneak up to his apartment for a rest but Samuel caught him in the driveway.

  ‘Come over for lunch,’ he said. ‘Adrienne’s left us a tart and some salad.’

  ‘Thanks but I’m not really hungry.’ Digby glanced at the sky. ‘I’ll have to start getting ready soon anyway.’

  ‘It’s only eleven-thirty. You’ve got hours yet. Plenty of time for some food.’ He slapped Digby on the back. ‘You can practise your best man speech on me.’

  Unable to think of any other excuse to get out of it, he trailed Samuel into the house.

  Digby picked at his salad, forked tiny pieces of quiche, sipped juice, and tasted nothing. He was sure it was all delicious but his stomach was too tight and tense. Samuel kept trying to draw him into conversation, making jokes and relating stories from his service club. Finally, when Digby remained uncommunicative, Samuel set down his knife and fork and asked him straight out if he was ready for the day.

  ‘As I can be.’

  ‘Are you sure? If you don’t mind me saying, you look like you haven’t slept.’

  ‘I’ll be all right.’

  ‘If you need—’

  Digby held up his hand, his jaw flexed. ‘Samuel, I know you’re trying to be helpful but just leave it. Please.’ He inhaled shakily. ‘I won’t let Josh down. Or anyone else, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ But Samuel didn’t appear convinced.

  With good reason. As the minutes ticked by and the ceremony lurched closer, Digby’s confidence wavered. He showered and shaved, the latter taking far longer than it should have thanks to the tremor in his hands. If he hadn’t had to drive, Digby would have tried a drink. There were out-of-date tranquilisers in the cupboard, prescribed after the accident, that he’d forgotten to toss out. He went as far as taking out the packet and slipping out a sleeve of tablets, before common sense had him shoving them back.

  Harry arrived at two, even more nervous than Digby and in a state over what Summer could have learned about him while she was at Rocking Horse Hill doing the girls’ make-up. Together they drove to the Sinclairs’ to find the groom relaxed and cheerful, and not remotely fazed by the monumental event he was about to participate in.

  ‘I think I hate him,’ Harry said at the church when Josh alighted from Digby’s car, grinning happily as he shook hands with his two brothers-in-law before ducking inside to chat to Reverend Ellis.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Digby, but Josh had never been any different. The bloke was born with balls the size of a bull. It was how he’d originally attracted Em’s attention, simply by being one of the few local blokes confident enough to ask her out.

  Digby stared up at the pink dolomite church. Built in the late 1850s, it had been the site of every Wallace christening, wedding and funeral since. Felicity had loved it when he brought her for a tour. Digby had been so proud, regaling her with his family history: the story behind the organ—Grandpa Philps’s contribution; the structure’s magnificent stained-glass windows—great-great-great Grandma Agnes’s legacy; the rose garden—Granny B’s addition. He’d pointed out the church’s unusual crucifix, another donation. And she’d adored every second.

  He’d ended the tour at the altar, taking Felicity’s hand and walking her down the aisle, beaming lovingly at her as he imagined the day when they’d be treading that same aisle as husband and wife. Except that day had never come. God had snatched Digby’s beautiful angel from him and replaced her with a black hole of grief.

  He blinked hard and rubbed his mouth. Digby couldn’t afford to think of the past, not today, not if he was to hold it together. Yet being here made him feel haunted, as if Felicity’s spirit had seeped inside him at the cemetery and curled foetus-like around his heart, clutching his soul covetously to her belly, never to be released.

  Josh emerged from the church and wandered over. They were early and the grounds were quiet, but soon guests would begin appearing. Digby, along with all of the wedding party, would be under scrutiny.

  Josh studied him for a moment, his mouth pursed. ‘Be happy for us, Dig.’

  ‘I am.’

  Josh regarded him a little longer and nodded, then looked across at the car park. A sedan was pulling up, another turning in behind it. He tilted his head towards the church door. ‘We’d better get into position.’

  The wait at the altar was interminable. Digby tried staring at the floor, at the crucifix, at the beamed ceiling, anything to stop himself remembering Felicity, but she refused to leave his head. His palms were moist, his mouth dry. As every minute ticked over he became more and more lightheaded. He wished he had water. Wished he’d eaten properly. Wished he’d downed the tranquilisers after all.

  Then fear began to writhe. He was going to let Josh down. Fail his family, fail Jas. Just as he had Felicity. If he’d been a better man she’d still be alive and they’d already have had their own day like this, stood at the same altar, proud and thrilled and passionately in love.

  People began to arrive in earnest, bringing the outside warmth with them. The wal
ls vibrated with the echoes of their excited chatter. A hundred scented notes of aftershave and perfume swirled in sickening spirals.

  Digby stared at the cross, sweat prickling his upper lip. Despite the Wallace ties with the church he’d never been religious or spiritual. Science, rationality, nature, ruled his world. God had betrayed him anyway, but in that moment he dragged his faith from the cellar where he’d stashed it and prayed to Jesus and God and whoever else was listening to help him get through this, to be the man he needed to be.

  Just one afternoon, that’s all he needed. One afternoon of courage and strength, but the fear remained relentless: he wasn’t strong enough, he’d never be strong enough. The past had proved it. Felicity died because of him, because he didn’t trust her, because he didn’t drive fast enough, lunge for her hard enough. He’d even deceived darling, kind-hearted Jas, the woman who’d taken him in when he needed comfort, knowing she’d never receive anything in return. And what had he done? Treated her no better than that shit Mike, snatching all of her goodness, making her care, making her want, and giving nothing back, not even hope.

  The world blurred. He began to sway.

  Suddenly Harry was looming over him. ‘You right there, Dig?’

  He swallowed. ‘Yeah.’ He blinked several times and clenched his fists. He had to do this. ‘Yes, I’m right.’

  Josh crowded him from the other side, alarm in his voice. ‘Dig?’

  ‘I’m okay.’

  ‘If you can’t handle it, you’d better say so now.’

  Digby’s fists were clenched so tight his nails were cutting crescents into his palms. No matter how much he blinked, how much he breathed, the tears of his failure kept stinging. He couldn’t allow it. He had to pull himself together for the people he loved. This weakness had gone on long enough.

  Staring at the cross, he said another silent prayer before forcing himself to take two long breaths. ‘I can handle it.’

  Josh glanced at Harry and back at Digby. ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yes.’ And in that moment Digby did feel sure. He held Josh’s gaze. ‘I won’t let you down. Not after what you did for me.’ He swallowed again. ‘And her.’

  Josh scrutinised him, then smiled and embraced Digby in a brief man-hug. ‘You’re a good man, Dig.’

  Digby wished that were true. It wasn’t. But from now on he sure as hell was going to make it so.

  CHAPTER

  23

  One glance at Digby, and Jasmine’s good feeling plummeted into dread. His face was pale and clammy looking, his posture tense and rigid. His hands were held in fists at his side, the skin over his knuckles taut. The planes of his handsome face were starker than ever—jawline carved, cheekbones sliced. His gaze was fixed on the cross above the altar, but from the wideness of his eyes it was as if he was focusing on something else. Something inward. A creature devouring him from the inside that was taking every scrap of his strength to fight.

  Jas threw an anxious glance at Em, hoping she hadn’t noticed. Fortunately Em’s attention was narrowed on Josh, and his on hers. The two of them could have been the only people in the church. As Em’s father stepped back, Josh took her hands in his. His eyes shone with love and he was smiling softly. He leaned forward to whisper something to her, Em smiling secretly in return as she absorbed the words.

  Jas wished she could savour the moment, but all she could think of was Digby and the pain he was clearly suffering. Shuffling closer, she surreptitiously looped her little finger through his in solidarity.

  His eyes closed for several seconds, then he opened them and gave her finger a tiny squeeze, before easing his hand free. Her heart sank at the lost contact only to rise when he tilted slightly towards her to whisper, ‘You look stunning.’

  Jas was so relieved she grinned. ‘You don’t look too bad yourself.’

  Digby let out a self-deprecating chuckle. ‘Liar.’ He nodded towards Reverend Ellis. ‘We’re on.’

  By the time Em and Josh were declared husband and wife Jas was almost blubbering with tears. Their love was so potent it was if they were shedding love hearts and cupids and horn-blowing angels into the air, although that was probably an illusion from the church’s beautiful stained-glass windows. Still, it didn’t stop her from feeling stupidly sentimental over the moment. The bride and groom had waited a long time for this day, endured heartache and tragedy. Today they’d made it to bliss.

  If Em had looked gorgeous walking up the aisle, marriage made her radiant. She was the most ethereal bride. With her lovely dress and the Wallace family’s sapphires sparkling in her ears, matching her blue and white bouquet, the effect was pure understated elegance, and very, very Em.

  Jas sniffed and swiped a crooked finger under each eye before glancing sheepishly at Digby. ‘Sorry. Bit teary. Can’t help it. The way they kept staring at one another.’ She sniffed again. ‘It was just so romantic.’

  To her surprise, he reached an arm around her shoulders and gave her a brief affectionate squeeze. ‘You’re such a sap, but in the best way.’

  Jas sighed and regarded Em and Josh, sniffing again. ‘They’re so lucky to have found one another.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Digby, his voice hollow. ‘They are.’

  Jas could have smacked herself for her insensitivity. God knows how bittersweet Digby was feeling in that moment. There was no doubt he was happy for Josh, perhaps he was even happy for Em, but there was no escaping the fact that, if not for Felicity’s tragic death, this moment would have been his.

  It took forever to leave the church. Everyone wanted a part of Em and Josh’s joy and they were crowded by well-wishers. Granny B fairly preened with pride while Adrienne was as teary as Jas. When they finally managed to escape to Levenham Civic Park for photos, it was a relief to be away from the crush.

  Summer, who was looking ridiculously pretty in a floral sundress and with her hair in a stylishly loose bun, fussed over her charges, her teasing scolds at the state of their make-up taken with good humour. After a morning of chatter and not very subtle questioning at Rocking Horse Hill, Em, Teagan and Jas had decided Summer was a more than suitable match for Harry. She was smart, sweet, and clearly excellent at her job. Even Granny B had approved.

  She laughed when she saw the state of Jasmine’s make-up. ‘Did you cry your way through the ceremony? You’ve hardly any mascara left!’

  Jas winced. From Summer’s dismayed bemusement, things had to be bad. ‘I might have bawled a little bit.’

  ‘A bit?’ said Teagan.

  ‘Okay, a lot then. But it’s not every day you see your best friend married.’

  ‘Our Jas tends to wear her big heart on her sleeve,’ said Em, as Summer deftly touched up her face. ‘Shocking sook.’

  Jas poked her tongue out.

  ‘You have to admit,’ said Teagan, waiting her turn, ‘that was a pretty emotional moment when Josh kissed you.’

  ‘See,’ said Jas, jerking her head at Teagan, ‘even the super cynic here got teary.’

  ‘I never said I got teary.’

  ‘You did so!’

  Teagan managed to look slightly abashed. ‘Only a tiny bit.’

  The admission made them all laugh.

  ‘Do you think,’ said Summer carefully when she’d moved on to Teagan’s face, ‘we could get Digby to put some drops in his eyes? They’re very red.’

  Em regarded Jas, who bit her lip. ‘Sure.’

  The three men were standing apart; Josh was chatting to the photographer and Harry was gawping dopily at Summer, while Digby was staring at one of the park benches, lost in thought.

  Jas went to stand alongside him. ‘Remembering that day?’

  He nodded. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Funny where things lead. If it weren’t for us meeting here you probably wouldn’t have started calling round.’

  He continued to stare. ‘It was the lock on the gate. It bothered me. I couldn’t figure out why you’d want to do that.’

  ‘I’m glad things have turned
out the way they have.’

  He looked at her then, eyes raking her face. ‘Are you?’

  ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?’ She nudged him. ‘Think of all the great sex we would have missed if not for this bench.’ Jas held up the eye drops Summer had given her. ‘Would you mind putting some of this in your eyes? It’ll help reduce the redness.’

  His mouth twitched unhappily. ‘Subtle way of saying I look like shit.’

  ‘Not shit. Just tired.’ She paused. ‘And sad.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He puffed out a breath and smiled at her, then plucked the bottle from her fingers. ‘I think I’ve had enough of being pathetic for one day.’

  ‘You’re not pathetic, Dig. Don’t for one second ever think that.’

  ‘I am.’ He scanned the label and tilted his head back to measure drops into each eye. ‘But not anymore.’

  With photos to be taken, followed by pre-reception drinks in a marquee at Camrick—during which Harry’s clumsy but fervent courtship of Summer provided great entertainment—then on to Levenham’s grandest hotel for the reception, Jas didn’t have many spare minutes to contemplate what lay behind Digby’s statement. Besides, since they’d left the church Digby seemed a lot more together. His best man’s speech was heartfelt and exemplary, his gratitude to Josh palpable and his pleasure in welcoming him to the Wallace family sincere. If Jas noticed a faint coolness in the comments directed towards his sister, no one—bar perhaps Granny B and Em—would have picked up on it. The applause was enthusiastic, and Josh’s embrace of Digby afterwards moving.

  At midnight the bride and groom left the reception in a wave of whoops and applause to walk the short distance to the VIP suite. With the happy couple gone, the remaining guests began to make their departure. Adrienne and Granny B stood at the door, graciously thanking everyone for their attendance. Teagan and Lucas were on the dance floor in a close embrace, moving to their own tune. Harry was standing with his brother Eddie, sucking on a beer and looking distracted, his mind no doubt occupied with planning his next move with Summer.