‘That about sums it up.’ Cal’s face wore a grim expression.
‘Has your father always been tough on you?’ she asked, with a light touch on his arm. She hadn’t missed Amos’ ill-concealed antagonism towards his son.
‘I’ve never been quite the son he wanted,’ he answered, with a shake of his head. ‘My brother’s earned all the brownie points.’ His mouth gave a sardonic twist.
That one sentence summed up a lifetime of paternal disapproval.
She squeezed his arm, throwing me a rapid glance.
Message received.
‘I need a rest after that,’ I said. Anger fueled me. Amos needed a kick up his sagging backside.
Cal wheeled me to my room.
‘Your mum’s lovely,’ I said, gauging his response.
When he ventured nothing more than a ghost of a smile, I pushed on. ‘Darling, who’s disappointed today? Your father’s almost at retirement age and yet in all these years he can’t see you for who you really are: a loving, kind, generous man, at ease within himself, a son to be proud of and a man who’s overcome great sorrow.
‘His own judgmental disposition only sees others as failing, yet he’s the one who’s failing. Failing to be the loving father, failing to accept those who think differently from him.’ I paused, eyes bright with unshed tears. ‘You’re the one who’s disappointed, my love. You’ve offered him your love and he’s deemed it unworthy. His limitations. His flaws. His fault. Not yours.’
He knelt in front of me, wrapped arms around my waist, head on my chest and wept. Heart hurting for him, I rested my cheek on his head, stroking his back.
Something changed that day. Our love took on a new dimension. Acceptance. Maturity. Trust. A wall, protecting each other, depths of love neither of us had experienced before.
That night we agreed, without words, to share a bed. To share our lives. How could we not? And how could we not make love?
No hesitations, no doubts. No frustrations. The timing could never be more perfect. A blending of our bodies, him moving deep inside, our bodies as one, adoring each other. Reaching earth-shattering bliss together. Too many times to keep track.
After that we made decisions that needed no input, disapproval or approbation from anyone.
✽ ✽ ✽
Our next step involved healing my body. Cal spent endless hours massaging recovering muscles, inspiring me, helping me get back on my feet. My wrist underwent another surgery before flexibility began its slow recovery. Long term full strength would take time.
My parents accepted Cal’s presence in their home, encouraging us to explore our next step forward as a couple. Their generosity gave us the time and freedom to find what we wanted.
We hunted online for a property we’d like to buy. Twice we drove out to view and returned home disappointed.
‘I’ve found something,’ I said, slogging through online properties for sale, a few days after our second disappointment.
Cal sat down next to me, zooming in on my find.
‘Promising,’ he murmured. ‘Plenty of land for what we need. Rural Kent and only twenty miles from the sea.’ He hugged me, excitement humming. ‘Let’s go and take a look.’
We organized an appointment and two days later we walked around a three-acre property. Once part of sheep farm, it held a Grade II listed two-bedroom cottage in need of updating, with council permission to extend, and a sturdy barn housed disused stables and a workshop.
Excited, we paid for a full report on the land, the cottage and extension possibilities. Soil reports found no problems for organic farming. Clad in wellington boots, Mum walked with us over the land, pointing out the best areas to plant trees for shelter and hedgerows to protect the fields.
Using money from the sale of our previous houses we made an offer, waiting five excruciating days to hear we were successful.
We had a three month wait before contracts were exchanged.
Shona and Martin’s wedding took our minds off the wait. They succeeded in keeping the guest numbers to a maximum of fifty-five, despite her mother’s urging for two hundred. Held in a rustic barn, costs were kept to a minimum and, as chief bridesmaid, I made sure Audrey’s social climbing pretensions remained unfulfilled.
After that, for a pre-wedding honeymoon, Cal and I flew to Norway, renting a one-bedroom apartment overlooking Sognefjord. Neither of us had been to this part of Europe before. No memories of previous partners to haunt us.
‘I love mountains and fjords more than touring cities and ancient ruins,’ I exclaimed, standing on our terrace overlooking the spectacular fjord and mountains.
‘And I love being with you. Anywhere.’
Turning into his arms, I buried my face in his chest. ‘Always and forever,’ I said, words muffled in his shirt, tears of happiness always near the surface.
He tipped my chin up, smoothing hair off my face. ‘I’ve never been this happy. Ever. I love you.’
Privacy assured, we spent a significant part of our holiday in bed, discovering new ways to express our love.
A week after our return home we became proud owners of our corner of paradise in Kent and moved in straightaway. As an added bonus we lived only twenty miles from a surfing beach at Camber. We drove down to check out the surf.
‘Not quite Australia’s standards,’ he murmured. ‘But still worth giving it a go.’
‘There are other beaches.’ I rose on tiptoe to kiss him. ‘Remember you promised to teach me to surf?’
‘I’ve forgotten nothing about you.’ He kissed my nose. ‘We’ll find the perfect surfboard for you.’
Soon after that, I began work two days a week at Pembury Hospital near Tunbridge Wells and Cal began a distance learning Masters degree in Environmental Building Design through Cardiff University.
In our spare time we planned renovations of the cottage together, built raised vegetable gardens and began ambitious planting of an orchard.
Epilogue
Amonth later Cal and I invited a handful of family and friends to our wedding. In our own home.
Our wedding invitations extended to twelve guests only. My parents, his parents, Shona, Martin, Brigid, Andy, Cal’s uni friend, Jeremy, and his partner, Tim. Newly married, Leah and Sean travelled over from America.
Amos refused the invitation. In his eyes we wouldn’t be married. Only a sanctioned church wedding would do for him.
Sarah missed him. No one else did.
Cal’s friend, Tim, took on the role of marriage celebrant. With fine September weather, our ceremony took place in our lavender garden, hay bales scattered for seating and a long table set up for our feast.
Cal, hair now short and stylish, wore a white shirt and light grey chinos, his deep tan emphasizing blue-grey eyes. My full-length strapless pale lime dress, swirled around my legs, covered with a gossamer-thin layer of lace from shoulder to feet. I wore my hair, now grown long loose and casual.
We recited our vows together, eyes focused only on each other. Everything faded to the background as we stood holding each other’s hands.
‘I vow to take you for my partner in life and my one true love. I will cherish and love you more every day. I will always trust and protect you, laugh with you and cry with you, and love only you through all my life, no matter the difficulties we may face together. I give you my hand, my heart, and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.’
We exchanged rings and sealed our solemn promises with a kiss that augured more for later in the day.
‘I love you,’ we whispered, before turning to our guests.
Sarah and Mum catered for our celebration feast, most of the dishes garnered from fruit and vegetables in their gardens. Lamb had been cooked in a fire pit we dug in the ground, emerging tender and piping hot.
With our penchant for chocolate, our wedding cake had three layers of chocolate cake, mousse and white chocolate ganache. Divine.
Our pièce de résistance came that night. All our gue
sts had gone, leaving us to celebrate in the haven of our bed. My gift to my new husband came as a surprise. I handed him the pregnancy test strip.
‘Positive? Are you sure?’ He sat up in bed, face a picture of surprise and delight.
I giggled. ‘Please tell me you’ve noticed my breasts nearly fell out of my dress today? And that I drank no alcohol.’
‘The alcohol, no. Your beautiful breasts – I couldn’t miss them.’ He bent to kiss each one, lingering to cup and caress. Our lovemaking became a celebration of marriage and our future children, his touch tender and reverent, rock-hard erection stretching and filling me, our rhythm matching faster and faster, peaking and crying out in unison, endless moments filling our universe.
acknowledgements
I’m deeply grateful to my family for their support over the years it’s taken to ready a book for publication. To my husband, David Lawrence and daughter, Naomi Rosamond, for always being there to encourage my journey. To Naomi, in particular, for picking up on any medical advice or suggestions, and for proofreading and picking up typos and missing information. To my son, Jonathan Lawrence and his wife Jessica Lawrence, for brainstorming ideas, workable or not. The energy they provided kept me inspired. To Nicole Nobbs for always supporting and cheering me on, through various trials and tribulations.
Special thanks to MJ Steffens at Slightly Different for her brilliant cover designs, for all her thoughtful input and incredible details. Also to Stephen Smith at Slightly Different for my website design and training.
Special thanks also to Lorna Croft, editor extraordinaire. Advice on editing my manuscript has been invaluable and taken my writing to a higher standard – a standard I hadn’t known I needed, until I saw the improvements I could make through her advice
My thanks also to the Romance Writers New Zealand writers group to which I now belong. To LaVerne Clark, Lorna Croft, Donna Capil, Annika Ohlson-Smith and Marianne Castle. Their support and laughter has been invaluable.
Promises Made- Promises Kept Page 43
