by Sarah Morgan
Posy had to admit she occasionally found her sister exasperating. “I haven’t finished talking about Beth. You make these vague statements, and then you don’t finish them.”
“Because I don’t have all the facts necessary to reach an informed conclusion.”
“You can’t just gossip and speculate like normal people?”
“No.” Hannah plugged in the hair dryer.
“The way your brain works is scary. I used to be so intimidated by you.”
Hannah looked startled. “I intimidated you?”
“You used to look at a set of numbers that made no sense at all to me and make perfect sense of it. I hated that I couldn’t do it, too. I felt inadequate. Why are you laughing? And why use that tone?”
“Because you intimidate me, too.”
That was ridiculous. “How could I possibly intimidate you?”
“Do you want a list?”
Posy discovered that, yes, she did. “Tell me.”
“Well, there’s your athletic ability, to begin with.” Hannah fiddled with the brush. “You’re coordinated and physically strong. You would never fall off a gate.”
“You wouldn’t fall, either, if you wore the right thing on your feet.”
“You climb mountains.”
“Anyone can climb a mountain. The people we rescue come from all walks of life and have different skill sets.”
Hannah gave a half smile. “Exactly. You’re the one rescuing them. You’re brave and capable. You make me feel—” she paused “—cowardly.”
Posy sat back down on the bed. “That’s crazy.”
“You can do any number of practical things, from fixing roofs to delivering lambs.”
“Lambs mostly deliver themselves.”
“You know what I mean.”
Posy didn’t really. She’d never imagined she might intimidate anyone, let alone her sister. “I suppose we have different skills.”
“That’s true. I’m a facts person.” Hannah faced the mirror and turned on the dryer.
“Do you rely on facts to help you figure out relationships?”
Hannah turned the hair dryer off and met her gaze in the mirror. “Excuse me?”
“Relationships.” Posy felt herself turn pink. “I’m not good at them.” Maybe if she opened up, her sister would, too.
Hannah gave a faint smile. “You’re asking me for advice? Is this some sort of joke?”
“No. But you’re smart and logical, and I thought you might—”
“Relationships defy logic. It’s the reason I’m no good at them, either.”
Posy gave a grunt and launched herself off the bed. “Some help you are. In answer to your question about tomorrow, Maggie has made us a venison casserole. She brought it round yesterday when she came to see Mom. We’ll do it with potatoes. Can you do mash? I’ll roast some parsnips in maple syrup. I’ll make a soup. Beth is great at dessert, so I’ll ask her to do something. Whatever happens, we’re not letting stress into the room.” Posy paused, wondering how far she dare push this new relationship. “On that note, I thought we might make something easy tonight.”
“Suits me. What did you have in mind?”
Posy decided to test the water. “How would you feel about pizza?”
“I don’t eat pizza, but the girls will love it, so go ahead and I’ll make myself a salad.”
“You don’t eat pizza? Never?”
Hannah frowned. “You know I don’t. Can I dry my hair now?”
Dancing pizza girl.
“Sure. Dry your hair.”
It had never bothered her before that she and Hannah weren’t particularly close, but suddenly it bothered her a lot.
What did she have to do to get her sister to talk to her?
21
Suzanne
Never before had she seen her family trying so hard to be on their best behavior.
Suzanne sat at the kitchen table, feeling weaker than she was willing to admit. The doctor seemed to think she was past being infectious, but she knew she had a way to go before she was back to her normal self. She should probably have stayed in bed, but there were so few occasions when the whole family was together that she wanted to make the most of it. And anyway, they were the ones doing all the work, trying to coordinate their movements like a synchronized swimming team who had never met before and couldn’t find their rhythm. She found it endearing that they seemed to think she wouldn’t notice how hard they were trying and wondered how long it would be before one of them burst a blood vessel.
For once, no one was sniping. There was no tension in the atmosphere.
At least, not much.
Posy peered into the pan as Hannah worked. “You’re using olive oil in the mash, not butter? Why?”
“I like olive oil.”
“But you don’t even eat carbs.” Posy opened her mouth and closed it again. “Lovely. Delicious. Great choice. If you wanted to—”
“I don’t.”
They moved around the kitchen awkwardly, clattering plates and pans, laying the table, adding ice to jugs of water and occasionally bumping into each other.
If Suzanne hadn’t had such a headache, she would have laughed.
She’d always known how different they were. Their personalities hadn’t changed much from when they were children. There was Hannah, the organized one; Beth, dreaming away as she whipped the cream; and Posy, who bounced through life as if she was on a trampoline.
Why had she ever thought she could control their relationship with each other? The best she could ever have hoped for was to provide the opportunity for them to bond and she’d done that.
Beth opened the fridge. “Posy, did you use the cream?”
“I added some to the soup.”
“That was my cream. For my dessert. I’m about to whip it.”
“You’ll have to whip a little less.” Posy added fresh parsley to the soup and Beth drew a deep breath.
Suzanne waited for the explosion, but instead Beth smiled.
“The cream will be perfect in the soup.”
Suzanne caught Stewart’s eye and he shrugged, indicating that whatever was going on he had nothing to do with it.
He stood up and fetched her a glass of water. “Are you sure you shouldn’t be in bed? We could bring your food up on a tray.”
“I’m tired of being in bed. I’m fine right here.”
She could tell he wanted to argue, but he also knew how much it meant to her having everyone home.
He settled for sitting next to her. “If you’re going to faint, let me know and I’ll catch you.”
“Have I ever fainted?”
He helped himself to bread. “The first time you saw me, you came close. But no one is blaming you for that.”
Normally she would have thought of the perfect comeback, but today her brain refused to cooperate.
Into the pressure cooker of family time walked Luke.
Posy immediately dropped the spoon she was holding.
“It’s snowing again.” Luke stamped the snow off his boots and hung up his coat. “There’s a storm coming in. Perfect writing weather.”
Posy retrieved the spoon and Suzanne noticed that her cheeks were flushed.
She also noticed that her youngest daughter was the only one who didn’t immediately greet Luke. Given that Posy was usually chatty and comfortable with her lodger, Suzanne thought it reasonable to assume that something had changed between them.
Attraction? Affection? Love?
Whatever it was, it pleased her to see it.
That fiasco with Callum had upset Posy badly. It wasn’t easy having a relationship in a small community, and Callum had been clumsy in his handling of the breakup.
To the best of Suzanne’s knowledge, Posy hadn’t been in
volved with anyone seriously since.
“Come on in, Luke.” She gestured to an empty chair. “I’ve barely seen you lately. I hope you’re warm enough over there. Plenty of logs? Is your fridge full?”
In some ways, he reminded her of Stewart at the same age. He had the same athletic build and strength. The same quiet focus and passion for what he did. But it was a passion, she noted, that didn’t tip into obsession.
She liked him.
“The barn is very comfortable. Posy has been looking after me. Something smells good. Can I do anything to help?”
The fact that he offered was enough for Suzanne. “You brought wine. That’s all the help we need.”
“Take a seat, Luke.” Stewart half rose to his feet and gestured to an empty chair. “Welcome to the madhouse. How is the writing going?”
“Ah, the question every writer dreads.” Luke sat down, glancing at Posy as he did so. “It’s coming together slowly. I’m at that stage when I can’t believe the book will ever be finished. I have to look at the books I’ve written before to convince myself it’s possible.”
Beth glanced up from her bowl of whipped cream. “How many books have you written?”
“This is the third.”
“It’s a book about survival?”
“That was book two.” Luke shook his head. “This is Top Climbs in North America.”
Posy served the soup, giving Luke an extra-large portion.
The conversation turned to food, and Christmas, and then Hannah cleared the plates and they moved on to the casserole.
Suzanne wondered if Stewart had been right and she should have stayed in bed. She was starting to feel light-headed.
“The mash tastes funny,” Ruby said, poking at the food on her plate.
“It’s delicious,” Beth said. “Eat.”
“But—”
“How’s Vicky, Mom?” Beth passed the bowl of parsnips across the table. “Is she better?”
Posy dug into her food. “She’s working a half day at the café tomorrow.”
“The mash tastes funny,” Ruby said.
“Eat what you can and leave the rest on your plate.” Jason was clearly embarrassed by his younger daughter. He leaned closer and spoke to her quietly and Suzanne saw Ruby’s cheeks flush and her eyes grow shiny.
Watching her granddaughter took Suzanne’s mind off her aching head and tired limbs.
Posy had been a fussy eater, too. Cheryl and Rob had let her eat whatever she wanted, but Suzanne had been so appalled by the child’s diet it was the first thing she’d changed, and she’d done it without hesitation or guilt.
The only thing she’d never been able to persuade Posy to eat was carrots.
“I can’t figure out why your name is familiar—” Beth was still talking to Luke “—but in the spirit of honesty I must tell you I’ve never read your work, so I know it isn’t that.”
“His books are everywhere.” Posy reached for a jug of water and filled her glass. “Even if you haven’t read them, you will have seen them. That’s probably how you know his name.”
Beth was frowning. “Maybe.”
Suzanne noticed that Hannah was quiet.
Her hair had been blown into a smooth sheet, her skilled application of makeup giving her an air of sophistication.
She remembered Hannah the night of Cheryl and Rob’s death, waiting quietly in the house, cooling Posy’s fevered skin with wet cloths.
The police had offered to talk to the girls, but Suzanne had insisted she should be the one.
Drowning in her own grief, she’d forced herself back to the surface so that she could be a life belt for her best friend’s children.
Hannah had stared into space, until Suzanne had begun to wonder if she’d understood what she’d heard. The therapist she’d talked to briefly had emphasized the importance of using the word dead in the conversation, so she’d done that and winced as she’d said it, feeling as if she was hitting these already-bruised children with a rock.
She hadn’t known which child to deal with first. Each had different needs, and she had her own needs, but those had taken fourth place.
Without Stewart, she would have crumbled. Or would she? She’d been all those children had left, and she never would have let them down. They were her focus. Her reason to drag herself out of bed every morning, to battle the guilt and the depression, to haul herself into each day with a sense of purpose.
They’d been her life belt, too, she realized. Caring for them had forced her to care for herself.
“Wait!” Beth dropped her fork with a clatter and the conversation faded away. “Luke.”
Luke sat still. There was a watchfulness about him that hadn’t been there before. “Yes?”
“Luke Whittaker.”
Posy looked annoyed. “Beth, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but—”
“I know why your name is familiar. You left a message on my phone a couple of months ago. You wanted to talk to me about—” Beth stopped in midflow and her gaze snaked to Suzanne and away again.
Suzanne knew that look. It was the particular one her family used when they were trying not to mention the accident. She didn’t like talking about it, and they respected that.
But why would Beth think Luke had called her? And why was she using that tone? She’d never heard Beth speak so sharply.
She waited for Luke to deny that he’d left a message and laugh at the mistake.
He put his fork down, too. “You didn’t return my call.”
“You didn’t mention it,” Beth said. “When I met you in the café that day, you didn’t say who you were.”
“I introduced myself.”
“But you knew I hadn’t linked your name with that phone call.” Beth stood up quickly, her chair scraping the kitchen floor. Her voice was thickened, but whether from fury or hurt, Suzanne couldn’t tell.
Her brain felt slow, as if she was running behind everyone else struggling to catch up. She had a bad feeling about all this. A very bad feeling.
“He called me, too.” Hannah put her napkin on the table, even though her plate was still half-full. She was calmer than Beth, but her voice was steely. “What are you doing here, Luke?”
“Now wait just a minute.” Posy put her glass down so hard that the water sloshed over the side. “Is this how we speak to guests now? And why would Luke have called you? He doesn’t know you.” She sprang to Luke’s defense, facing her sisters like a little tigress.
That was something Suzanne rarely saw, either. Normally Posy was so easygoing and even tempered, but tonight no one seemed to be their best self.
She’d never seen the three of them so upset.
The harmonious atmosphere was cracking. Her dreams of a perfect Christmas were splintering in front of her.
Whatever Luke’s reason for contacting the girls, she needed to get to the bottom of it. She needed to protect them.
“You’re writing about the accident!” Beth slapped her hand on the table. “That’s what you do, isn’t it? You write about everything to do with mountains. You’re a journalist.”
“I’m not a journalist. I’m a mountaineer and a writer.”
“Journalists are writers. Or do you find it easier to wiggle your way into people’s lives if you hide that fact?” Beth turned to Hannah. “He called you, too? I wish I’d known. We could have compared notes.”
“Beth!” Posy glared at her sister, but Beth ignored her.
“And when neither of us took your call, you headed straight here and targeted Posy. You have some nerve. We’ve had plenty of calls from people like you over the years, but no one has actually gone as far as sleeping with my sister to get the information.”
“Oh thanks.” Posy sounded close to tears. “Always nice when your sister reveals the details of your personal life
at a family dinner. Remind me never to share anything with you ever again.”
“Beth!” Jason’s voice was a sharp reminder that the family included children.
For a moment it seemed as if Beth hadn’t heard him.
He said her name a second time and she turned her head, blinking like someone emerging from a deep sleep.
She saw Ruby’s anxious face and Jason’s taut expression.
“Sorry.” Beth looked conflicted. Apologetic. “Jason—”
“I’d like to sleep with Aunty Posy.” Ruby spoke in a small voice. “Since I lost Bugsy, I don’t like the dark.”
Melly hushed her, sensing adult disharmony. “You can sleep in my bed tonight.”
“Do you promise?” Ruby was the only one round the table who looked happy.
Holding Beth’s gaze, Jason stood up. “I’ll take the girls into the den. We’ll turn the volume on the TV up.” He gave Beth a brief nod and lowered his voice. “Keep it down.”
“I can leave my mash?” Ruby clearly thought Christmas had come early and she danced out of the room without protest.
Suzanne wished she felt half as relaxed. Her heart was pounding. She felt a little sick, and she didn’t think that had anything to do with the remnants of her illness. When she reached for her glass, her hand shook a little. Luke had wanted to talk about the accident? Why? “You had other calls from journalists? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you don’t like talking about what happened, and we respect that.”
They’d been protecting her?
She looked at Luke, but his face was expressionless.
“I can assure you I’m nothing like any other person who might have contacted you in the past.”
Beth’s eyes narrowed. “I suppose you consider your brand of journalism to be vastly superior.” Now that the children were out of the room, the bite was back.
“That’s not the reason.”
Suzanne wondered why her daughter didn’t just ask the reason instead of making assumptions, but Beth seemed to think she already had all the facts. “Did you get the information you needed? Good quotes? When’s the story running?”
Was he really writing a story? The thought of it terrified her. She didn’t want to relive it the way she’d relived it again and again over the years.
