by Liz Fielding
‘Yes, I see.’ She expected him to kiss her, braced herself, but he didn’t. Just held her hand for a moment as if he would delay her, as if he knew she was running away from him. ‘I’ll call you. Later,’ he said. Then finally, reluctantly, it seemed, he let her go.
She made a brave attempt at a smile, unable to trust herself to speak, and, not stopping to gather up her abandoned tools, she fled.
Dominic didn’t want to let her go. A shiver had gone through him and he had the strongest feeling that if he let go of her hand she would never come back.
Something was wrong; he sensed it.
Burning Sara’s clothes had bothered her and maybe, in retrospect, the timing had been less than perfect. But wishing he’d done it before they had spent the night together wouldn’t make it so and he’d wanted her to see, to know that he’d put the past behind him. That he was committed to the future. That he wanted her to be a part of it.
But it was more than the bonfire.
There was a moment at which she’d withdrawn from him; not physically—he could still feel the warmth, the close comfort of her body against his—but where it truly mattered, inside her head. She’d been relieved when the alarm had rung. Desperate to escape.
Staring into the embers of the fire, he slowly went through the afternoon—word by word, gesture by gesture—until he pinpointed the precise moment. And understood what he’d done.
She wanted to run. It was like being eighteen again and confronted with problems that she had no way of handling. Adults who wanted to manipulate her for their own ends. But she wasn’t going to run away from the mess she’d made this time. That was never the answer.
If she’d had the courage to stand up for herself, for her unborn baby all those years ago, no one could have hurt them. She knew that now. But all the knowledge she’d had then had come out of books. She’d had no emotional back-up system, no one had ever loved her, told her that her worth was more than her name on top of a list of examination results. And so she’d hurt herself.
But Amy had shown her what love was, and being loved had made all the difference. Learning how to love in return had made all the difference.
As Polly came bursting out of school, she bent and scooped her up in a hug. She may not have helped Dominic, but he had taught her something valuable. That no amount of distance could make the problem go away. No amount of time could lessen the damage. That in the end you had to face your demons.
And he’d kept asking her about Polly’s father, too. Perhaps wanting to reassure himself that his perfect, ready-made substitute family wouldn’t be snatched away from him. The day would come, though, when Polly would ask the same question. Who is my daddy? And she had the right to know.
She wasn’t going to run away from Dominic. She’d tell him what she was doing. Not running, but walking back into the past, strong enough now to confront the mistakes she’d made. And maybe it would help him see who Polly was. Not the child his baby might have grown to be, but another man’s little girl. Once she’d done that, she would do her best to sort out the present, be ready to face the future, whatever it held.
She made Polly her tea, talked about school, listened to another hundred or so compelling reasons why she absolutely had to have her birthday party in the village hall and finally left her to draw a picture of a hedgehog for the classroom wall, while she made a telephone call.
It might have been worse. The school secretary was still the same woman who’d guarded the headmaster’s study. And the momentary shocked silence was mute betrayal that she remembered Katie Lovell very well indeed. Which cut down on any need for explanations.
Ten minutes later the phone rang and she picked it up, expecting it to be the headmaster himself. But it was Polly’s grandfather. She listened to him for a long time, and when he’d finished she said, ‘Polly, your grandpa would like to say hello.’
‘My grandpa? Have I got a grandpa? Mark hasn’t got one…’ She took the phone and said, ‘Hello? Are you going to come to my party?’
Kay covered her mouth with her hand, blinked back tears and saw Dominic standing in the kitchen doorway.
‘I did knock…’ He glanced at Polly.
‘She’s talking to her grandfather.’
‘The earl himself?’
She nodded. ‘He’s been waiting all this time for me to call him. Wanting me to call him. Desperate.’ He’d come that day to take her home with him, to look after her. He’d had people trying to find her. Besieged hospitals at the time he knew she was due…
‘And Polly’s father?’ he said, quietly. ‘Has he been waiting, too?’
She frowned. Then, realising what he was getting at, ‘Oh, no…’ She shook her head. ‘This wasn’t about me, Dominic. It was about Polly.’
‘You won’t be seeing him, then.’
‘No. Alexander was killed last year, Dominic. He was with a peace-keeping force somewhere…’ She glanced at Polly, still chatting away as if she’d known her grandfather all her life. ‘What a waste,’ she said, joining Dominic in the porch. ‘If I hadn’t been so stupid he could have known her. She could have known him.’
‘If he hadn’t been so stupid,’ he said. ‘If all those people who were supposed to care had cared a little more. But the truth of the matter is that you were both too young, too frightened…’
Dominic wanted more than anything to hold her, offer her the same comfort that she’d given him. Instead he waited for her to sit down and then sat opposite her, just taking her hands, holding them.
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself, Katherine.’ Then, ‘What made you decide to make the call now?’ He thought he knew, but wanted her to tell him.
‘I needed to confront my fears. I needed to straighten things out. I should have done it sooner.’
‘Regret is inevitable, I suppose. When I look back my deepest regret is the time I spent in late-night meetings when I could have been at home.’
‘Time is something we all squander. If we only knew—’
He stopped her with a touch to her cheek. ‘We can learn from our mistakes. Learn to value each minute as the rarest, most precious thing we have, whether it’s signing a deal worth millions, or dancing in the dark with a woman who, with luck, will still be hearing the same music as you in fifty years. And never, ever taking it for granted.’
She looked up. ‘Dominic, we need to talk.’
‘Later. Polly needs you now. She’ll have questions. But I brought some photographs for you.’ He’d put the envelope on the bench beside him, and now he picked it up, handed it to her. ‘Look at them when you have a minute. Then we’ll talk.’
‘About what?’
‘The past, the future…’ He wanted to wrap her in his arms as if they were chains that could bind her to him. Instead he let her go. ‘Us.’ And he walked quickly away from her, while he still could.
Photographs? She picked up the envelope, opened the flap and peered in. They were large, glossy photographs and she took one out. It was a fashion shot, the kind of thing she saw in Amy’s glossy magazines.
‘Mummy… Oh, I thought Dominic was staying.’
‘Mmm…’
She’d imagined Sara Ravenscar as someone like her. Tall. Fair haired. More polished, of course. A lot more stylish. She’d seen those clothes… But still a gardener with mud beneath her fingernails and on her clothes. That garden hadn’t made itself.
She couldn’t have been further from the truth.
‘Dominic?’ Polly persisted.
‘What? Oh, no, darling. Not this evening.’ Probably not ever.
‘Oh, right…well I’ll tell him tomorrow.’
‘Tell him what?’
‘About grandpa. He wants to say goodbye. Who’s that?”
‘Sara. She was Dominic’s wife.’
Sara Ravenscar had been blessed with the kind of luminescent beauty that marked her out from the crowd. He must have found these while he’d been clearing out and… And what? Realised his mistake? Why
was he showing them to her? All he had to say was…“Goodbye.”
What he’d said was that they’d talk later.
‘Where is she now?’
‘In heaven, sweetheart.’
‘Like Daddy?’
She looked up then. ‘Grandpa told you?’
‘Yes. He’s going to send me a picture. He needs the address.’
‘What? He’s still on the phone? Oh, chickweed!’
She rushed into the kitchen, apologised, promised to send photographs of Polly. Anything just to get off the phone.
Then she tipped the rest of the photographs out onto the kitchen table.
She was so beautiful. Hair like liquid sunshine. Her skin polished and perfect. Long, slender limbs. It was the kind of bone-deep beauty that would have turned heads when she was eighty. When she was twenty she must have stopped the traffic…
‘Did he look like Dominic?’ Polly said.
‘Who?’
‘Daddy.’
‘Oh, no. Not at all. He had fair hair, like you. Why?’
‘I just thought if you’re going to marry Dominic he must be like Daddy, that’s all.’
‘Marry him? Who said I was going to marry him?’
‘Everyone at school was talking about you going to the harvest supper with him. And Amber Gregson said her mummy saw you kissing him.’
Oh, terrific…
‘But maybe it doesn’t matter that he isn’t like my daddy, because you don’t look anything like Sara, do you?’
‘No, darling, I’m afraid I don’t…’ Then, ‘Not one bit.’
Kay picked up the telephone. He answered instantly, as if he’d been waiting, but before he could say a word she said, ‘Why did you think I was Sara? That first morning. In the garden.’
‘A trick of the light,’ he offered. ‘Jet lag. A small miracle. A combination of all the above…’
‘Let’s explore the miracle theory.’
‘That’s certainly my favourite. On the other hand, if I hadn’t been tired beyond thought it would have taken more than a turquoise T-shirt and a straw hat to confuse me.’
‘Right.’
‘In which case I wouldn’t have kissed you. You wouldn’t have followed me into the house. I wouldn’t have been forced to apologise and it would certainly never have occurred to me to engage you as my gardener, Miss Lovell. Miss Kay…Katie…Katherine Lovell.’
‘Just Katherine,’ she said as a smile crept up on her.
He’d said her name as they’d danced onto the village green. Said her name before he kissed her. Said her name over and over as if he’d wanted to impress on her that he knew exactly who he was kissing…
‘Not “just” Katherine,’ he said. ‘Uniquely Katherine. Wonderfully Katherine. Unmistakably Katherine. Perfectly Katherine. Adorably Katherine…’ She turned then, knowing that he was there, in the doorway. He let the hand holding the phone drop to his side and said, ‘I love you, Katherine. Marry me, Katherine.’
And Polly said, ‘You see? I told you. Can I be bridesmaid?’
‘No,’ Kay said. Then, ‘I can’t possibly marry you.’
‘Yes,’ Dominic said. Then, ‘Why not?’
‘Well. People don’t, do they? Not just like that. We’ve only just met.’
‘But all of it has been quality time.’
‘Dominic!’
He raised his eyebrows a fraction. ‘Are you giving me an argument?’
She shook her head and he came a step closer. ‘Marry me, Katherine.’
‘I can’t… I’ve got a business to run. A child to bring up. And what are you going to do with the rest of your life? I don’t want to be married to someone who’s off in the wilds of the Kalahari, or trekking through some snake-infested rainforest every five minutes. I’d never sleep for worrying—’
‘You’d worry?’ He took a step closer.
She swallowed, knowing that she’d just made a huge mistake. ‘I’d worry about anyone…’
Another step.
‘Would you marry me to keep me out of danger?’
‘That’s not fair!’
‘I have no intention of playing fair. I’ll take whatever advantage I can get. So, to recap, your objection to marrying me is that you haven’t known me for long enough and that I might put myself in harm’s way and cause you sleepless nights?’
‘Mmm.’
‘So, if I told you I was going to leave the overseas trips to someone younger, that I was going to stay at home, perhaps invest in a growing concern I’ve become deeply interested in, maybe—with a little help—widen my charitable interests to include young people in need of a helping hand to get them started, that would deal with one objection?’
‘Are you really going to do that?’
‘It’s down to you.’
‘Definitely not fair,’ she said, beginning to wish that she hadn’t been quite so quick to raise the time objection. ‘How can you be so sure?’ she said. ‘I mean marriage?’ Already knowing the answer. Because she already knew—had known from the minute she thought her heart would break. ‘So soon…’
‘How else do you see this relationship continuing while we wait for time to catch up with our feelings? Discreet romantic assignations with early-morning departures that would doubtless keep the village amused and in gossip for a year?’
She shook her head, finding something of great interest on the floor.
‘Or would you prefer to move in with me? Or have me move in with you? What’s the big difference?’
‘Commitment,’ she said.
‘Exactly,’ he said and somehow he was standing up close, her hand in his. ‘Marry me, Katherine.’ And this time his voice was husky with something that reached deep into her, bypassing the let’s-be-sensible-about-this part of her brain and going straight for the heart.
This time she didn’t argue, she didn’t protest, she simply said, ‘When?’
‘When the new summer house is built.’
‘But that might be months…’ she objected. And realised that he was grinning.
‘We’ll choose a ring together, but meantime this is a place-holder.’ He took a box from his pocket, opened it, fastened the watch to her wrist. ‘Just to remind us both never to waste a second.’
‘Here, this way, Polly!’ The hall was filled with shrieks of childish laughter as Polly and her friends played a noisy game that involved keeping a balloon in the air, with Dominic and Jake providing encouragement and the occasional long arm from the sidelines.
‘Men never grow up,’ Amy said. ‘There’s always a little boy in there somewhere just dying to escape.’
‘Great, isn’t it?’ They exchanged a smile. ‘So, when are you going to tell me your secret?’
‘Secret?’ Amy replied innocently.
‘You’ve had a smile welded to your face all day.’
‘I’m a naturally happy person,’ she offered. ‘But maybe the fact that I’m pregnant has added something extra.’
‘No! But that’s wonderful.’ They hugged. ‘I hope it’s a girl this time.’
Amy shook her head. ‘I thought it was important.’ She laid her hand over her waist. ‘Actually, it doesn’t matter a bit. We’ve been trying for another baby for so long that I’m just thrilled—’ The balloon burst with a huge bang and the little girls all shrieked even louder.
And then, as the door opened, they all turned and fell silent as a tall, distinguished-looking man stepped into the room.
‘Is this Miss Polly Lovell’s birthday party?’ he asked. Kay’s heart stopped in her mouth as she recognised the patrician features, the way his hair grew back from his forehead… Just the way Polly’s did. ‘I’m not gatecrashing,’ he said. ‘I did receive an invitation.’
And he held up one of the children’s party invitations she’d printed on the new computer she’d bought with the business loan that Ms Harding had unaccountably offered after all. It had been filled in with Polly’s careful printing—“Grandpa” and “Love, Polly”
—but she couldn’t possibly have managed the address…
How did he know? What on earth would Dominic make of him turning up like this? Then she turned and saw him walking towards them with Polly, suddenly and unaccountably shy, in his arms. And while she struggled to find the right words…any words…he somehow covered the awkward gap with introductions and the link was made. A silent clasping of hands that said everything.
When, having regained her aplomb, Polly dragged her grandpa off to meet her best-friend-Mark and admire her presents—and Grandpa had produced a little gold locket containing a picture of her father to add to her hoard of treasure—Dominic took her hand and murmured, ‘That went well. You get to meet my family next week.’
‘Family?’ Startled, she looked at the distinguished stranger sitting on the floor surrounded by children.
‘What else?’ he said. Then, ‘Make sure he comes to the wedding.’
On a bright January day in a world white with frost, everyone gathered in the village church, scented with early narcissus and wintersweet, to witness the marriage of Katherine Susan Lovell to Dominic Matthew Ravenscar.
Amy was “best woman”, Polly a flower girl all in yellow and white, carrying a basket filled with sprigs of white heather, rosemary and winter pansies.
Kay, in a dress of fine soft cream challis that fell to her feet, a tiny tiara to set off her hair that was, for once, completely under control, noticed none of this. All she could see was Dominic, waiting for her, his hand outstretched to take hers, hold her fast.
As Katherine’s hand slid into his, Dominic felt a moment of pure joy. He’d been wandering alone in the wilderness and she had found him.
Later, alone on the terrace, looking up at the stars, Katherine said, ‘I thought it would take more than a kiss to wake this garden to life. Now I’m not so sure.’
‘Given with a whole heart, my love,’ Dominic replied, ‘a kiss can work miracles.’ And in case she was in any doubt, he kissed her again.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7243-3
A FAMILY OF HIS OWN
First North American Publication 2004.
Copyright © 2004 by Liz Fielding.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
