Christmas at the Log Fire Cabin

by Catherine Ferguson

  ‘Magic?’ I laugh. ‘Well, I’m not sure I can lay claim to being a magician, but it’s a lovely thought, Clem. Mind you, I’ve always believed in the healing warmth of a kitchen, as the heart of the house.’

  She nods happily. ‘You will stay for the fireworks? And have a drink and some food with us?’

  ‘I’d love that. Thank you.’

  We all gather in the living room, helping ourselves from the buffet I’ve laid out on the dining table. I’m driving so I stick to the fruit punch, having first established it doesn’t contain any lemonade that might possibly be vodka!

  At one point, I glance around, and it hits me how happy and relaxed everyone seems to be. A weight settles in my stomach. I’ve been telling myself that it doesn’t matter if I see Jed or not because I’m not going to be acting on my feelings for him. And anyway, he’s with Katerina. But finding him gone has made me feel as wobbly and lost as I felt when Harrison dropped me off and drove on to spend the night at the Pretty Flamingo Hotel.

  I’m in love with Jed.

  And there’s nothing I can do about that, except wait it out and hope that one day, the feeling might fade. Emotion swells inside. I make an excuse and retreat to the kitchen, then I grab my coat and slip through the patio doors, standing just outside in the snow, looking out across the lake. It’s very dark and I can’t make out the cottage on the opposite bank, but the light flooding out from the cabin means that I can actually see a few yards in front of me.

  I think about Harrison and how sad it is that we just couldn’t work as a couple. Because I do realise that now. I’ve been thinking about practically nothing else since we broke up, and I know now that I was just kidding myself, wanting to believe that we could be happy together. I skated over the obvious signs that we were basically incompatible because I was so enamoured with the idea that I was loved. Martin had made me believe I didn’t deserve love, but here was an attractive, intelligent man with a lot of caring ways telling me I actually was worthy. And that was everything to me.

  But then things started to change in my life, which upset the fragile balance of our relationship and brought it crashing down.

  I swallow hard as fresh tears well up.

  I will get through this, though. I actually quite like myself now, which is a real revelation. I’ve been growing more confident and braver by the day, and the new business will throw up even more new challenges and adventures that I will have to rise to. And actually, it feels quite exciting, as well as a little nerve-racking. I couldn’t have imagined doing something like this a year ago. Even six months ago …

  ‘Aren’t you cold out here?’ A familiar voice reaches me from the shadows and when I turn, Jed is standing close by. My heart lurches painfully then starts beating at a million miles an hour.

  I smile at him, sneaking a look behind him, wanting to know if he’s brought Katerina. But there’s no one else in sight. ‘It was warm in the kitchen,’ I say. ‘I just wanted some air.’

  He nods, standing several feet away from me as if he’s keeping his distance. ‘I was so sorry about Harrison … the break-up. Are you okay?’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll be all right. I suppose it just takes time.’

  ‘True. And when you’re finally over it, you’ll be amazed at how hopeful you feel about life.’

  I smile shyly at him. He sounds as if he’s talking from experience. ‘How is Katerina?’ I’ve got to know. I can’t keep torturing myself, dreaming up all these possible scenarios – like I did with Mark.

  He looks thoughtful. ‘Katerina is … fine. She’ll be flying back to Australia tomorrow.’

  ‘For good?’ It’s out before I can stop it.

  ‘Er, well, I’m not sure about that.’ His lips twitch. ‘But she’s taken another two-year contract. If that helps?’

  I glance at him. Is he making fun of me? There’s a definite glint in those gorgeous green eyes but it’s frustratingly impossible to tell how he feels about me.

  ‘It’s good to see you,’ he says.

  ‘You, too.’

  He moves as if to hug me, then he stops.

  We lock eyes and my head starts to spin crazily as it always does when I’m close to Jed Turner.

  ‘Listen,’ he says, ‘I know it’s probably far too soon after your break-up for you to want to …’

  I nod, my heart drumming fast. ‘Far too soon,’ I murmur, transfixed by his mouth.

  He nods. ‘You’ll have to get over Harrison first. Lay that relationship properly to rest. And I have absolutely no intention of being that transitional guy whose only function is to help you get over your heartbreak.’

  His gaze drops to my lips and suddenly they feel all bee-stung and beautiful, which is weird. ‘You could never be that transitional guy,’ I tell him, astonished at my bravery. What happened to meek and mild Poppy?

  ‘Maybe.’ He shrugs but I can tell he’s secretly pleased. ‘All I’m saying is I’ll wait. Until you’re ready. Am I being too presumptuous?’

  My knees are so weak I think I might have to sit down. I shake my head and murmur, ‘Not at all.’

  I love Jed Turner. I really, really love him! I can see it so clearly now that Harrison is no longer in my life. I think I was a goner the instant I spotted him at the station that time. Or maybe I fell in love with his glorious voice, who knows? All I do know is that he seems to have feelings for me, and that’s just the most incredible thing ever.

  I’m not sure how I feel about him ‘waiting’, though. Although I suppose it’s probably for the best.

  ‘We could always date.’

  He frowns. ‘Sorry?’

  I shrug. ‘We could go on dates because that’s not being in a proper relationship, is it? Then I’d be able to – you know – get over the break-up in my own time.’

  ‘While casually dating.’ He weighs it up. ‘You know, you might be on to something there, Poppy.’

  ‘Glad you think so.’

  ‘I do.’

  Oh God, we’re moving closer to one another. He’s so within grabbing distance. We could do all sorts of things if we were ‘just dating’.

  He runs a hand through his hair and gives me one of his slow, heart-stopping smiles. ‘What are you doing to me, Poppy Ainsworth? Are you saying we can definitely see each other? Because this distance between us here feels as wide as the English Channel.’

  ‘If we’re going to “date”, it would be really weird if we didn’t get very close now and again,’ I say slowly, looking into his eyes.

  ‘Like this, you mean?’ He bridges the gap and slides his hands around my waist, then kisses the tip of my nose.

  A delicious shiver runs through my entire body. Heart hammering, I pretend to consider. ‘Maybe you should be a bit more decisive than that.’

  He pulls me against him with a low groan. ‘Better?’

  ‘Much better.’ My voice comes out as a squeak. ‘I like this dating business.’

  ‘Me, too,’ he says, a second before he brings his mouth down hard on mine.

  We kiss like we’re never going to let go, and somehow I end up pressed against the wall of the cabin, feeling all of Jed Turner’s delicious weight against me. I think just once of Harrison, hoping he’s happy with his Spanish dancer, then I abandon myself to Jed’s touch, aware of nothing else in the world.

  When we come up for air, we smile at each other rather bashfully and I lean against his beautiful chest with a little blissed-out sigh. Something wet lands on my nose and I look up at the night sky. It’s started to snow again. A few flakes drifting down, just in time for New Year.

  I smile up at Jed. ‘So you were in London today?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Business or pleasure?’

  ‘Neither, really. I was looking for someone.’

  ‘Really?’ I pull away so I can look at him.

  ‘Yes. You know him, actually. I took a photo.’ He pulls out his phone and starts searching.

  I stare at him, a strange feeling in t
he pit of my stomach.

  He passes me the phone and I stare at the picture of a man.

  He has olive skin and hair that’s almost black, just like mine. Except that his is brushed with grey at the temples. But it’s the eyes that I remember. Warm, smiling, the same dark brown as mine.

  I look up at Jed in wonder. ‘My dad.’

  He nods.

  ‘But how …?’ My head is whirling with questions but I can’t seem to form the words.

  ‘How did I find him?’

  I nod, desperate to learn everything Jed can tell me. This amazing new development is truly like the icing on the cake of my day!

  Jed smiles at me, his eyes full of warmth. ‘After you told me about your real dad that time, I kept thinking about your situation. It’s pretty similar to Ryan’s, really, and I know what it meant to him to meet his biological dad.’ He shrugs. ‘I can speak a little Italian. Just enough to make myself understood. So I phoned round the big five-star hotels in Naples, hoping I might strike lucky.’

  ‘Wow! What did you say?’

  ‘That a family member was trying to track down an Alessandro Bianchi, who used to work in the kitchens there.’

  ‘Did anyone remember him?’

  He shakes his head. ‘It was so long ago … but I left my name and number just in case. And then a few days ago, I got a call from the head chef at one of the hotels, saying he worked alongside Alessandro when they were just starting out in their careers. He remembered that Al, as he called him, was always talking about moving to England when the opportunity arose.’

  ‘Really?’ He’d wanted to live in England!

  ‘The guy gave me the name of a five-star hotel in Florence where your dad went to work as a chef de partie after he left Naples.’

  ‘And you phoned the Florence hotel?’ My heart is beating so fast, I feel like I might faint.

  Sensing I’m overwhelmed, Jed steers me gently over to a stone bench and I snuggle against him in the cold night air, loving the protective feel of his arm around me.

  ‘Yes, so the receptionist at the Florence hotel remembered him straight away. She said he’d moved to England a year earlier to take up a new job as a head chef – and she gave me the name of the hotel in London.’

  ‘Oh my God.’ My voice is barely above a whisper. ‘So he’s actually living in England now.’

  Jed rubs a hand over his face. ‘Listen, Poppy, I hope you don’t mind that I did all this?’

  ‘No, of course I don’t. I couldn’t be happier.’

  ‘Good. I would have involved you earlier – I was just afraid my search might lead up a blind alley and I didn’t want you having your hopes built up, only to be dashed all over again.’

  ‘So, is that why you went to London yesterday? To find him and talk to him?’ I need to know, but part of me dreads hearing something bad. I didn’t reply to any of the letters Alessandro sent me. What if he doesn’t want to know me any more?

  Jed nods. ‘He’s a great guy. We had a good long chat. And when I told him you were desperate to contact him again, his face lit up and he didn’t stop smiling for the rest of our conversation.’

  ‘So … he actually wants to see me?’

  ‘Of course he wants to see you.’ Jed smiles, gently brushing my face with his thumb to wipe away a tear. ‘You’re his daughter and he’s never stopped thinking about you. And your mum.’

  ‘She’d like to see him too. I’m sure of it.’ I gaze up at him. ‘Thank you so much for this. I can hardly believe it.’

  Jed pulls me into a hug, and the emotion that was choking me up starts to spill out. I weep happy (and copious) tears into Jed’s jacket, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. He just holds me closer. And being crushed against him feels just as incredible as finding my real dad at last.

  Finally, I pull away and look up at him. ‘So is he … is my dad coming here?’

  Jed nods. ‘He’s got a few days off after New Year and he wants to see you.’ He fishes something out of his pocket. ‘He asked me to give you this. He’s kept it all this time.’

  I take it. It’s a small, square Christmas card, handmade, with a child’s drawing of two people having a snowball fight and ‘Happy Xmas!’ emblazoned across the top in red glitter. Over the years, the glitter has grown somewhat sparse. I hold the card in my hands as if it’s a precious, ancient manuscript. Opening it, I read the words, ‘Love from Poppy.’

  I gasp. ‘I made this for him when he was here that Christmas! I can’t believe he’s held onto it for all these years.’

  Jed grins. ‘He asked if we had snow here.’

  ‘He did? Why?’

  ‘He said he’d very much like to have another snowball fight, although he accepts that you might have honed your snowball-throwing skills just a little since you were twelve!’

  I laugh in delight. ‘He remembers that snowball fight?’

  Jed smiles, looking equally delighted, and then leans down for another kiss.

  When we finally draw apart, I gaze up at him coyly. ‘Are we on a date, then?’

  ‘A date? Oh, yes.’ Jed nods solemnly. ‘Which means I get to kiss you very thoroughly at midnight.’

  Just as he says the words, there’s a loud crack and then fireworks begin sizzling and exploding overhead. Nestled in the crook of Jed’s arm, I gaze upwards, laughing as Ryan and Clemmy’s glorious display lights up the entire night sky.

  ‘Forgot to tell you,’ murmurs Jed close to my ear, ‘Bob likes your food so much, he wants to hire you.’

  ‘He does? Oh my God, can this day possibly get any better?’

  ‘My feelings exactly.’

  Jed pulls me against him once more. And as the snowflakes drift down around us, I mould myself against him, revelling in the heat and solidity of his body and sinking ever deeper into his kiss. The technicolour explosions going off around us really are the perfect reflection of how I’m feeling inside.

  This could very well turn out to be my best year yet …

  Acknowledgements

  Huge thanks as always to Heather Holden-Brown, my wonderful agent. Heather, your unfailing enthusiasm for my books has hauled me out of several pits of self-doubt, so thank you!

  A million thanks also to the incredible team at Avon, particularly my lovely, super-talented and endlessly patient editor, Phoebe Morgan.

  And of course, my family and friends. Your love and encouragement make this publishing adventure of mine even more rewarding and exciting than it already is. I couldn’t have achieved my dream without you!

  By The Same Author

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  About the Author

  Catherine Ferguson burst onto the writing scene at the age of nine, anonymously penning a weekly magazine for her five-year-old brother (mysteriously titled the ‘Willy’ comic) and fooling him completely by posting it through the letterbox every Thursday.

  Catherine’s continuing love of writing saw her study English at Dundee University and spend her twenties writing for various teenage magazines including Jackie and Blue Jeans and meeting pop stars. She worked as Fiction Editor at Patches magazine (little sister to Jackie) before getting serious and becoming a sub-editor on the Dundee Courier & Advertiser.

  This is her sixth novel. She lives with her son in Northumberland.

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