by Sharon Booth
'Ah. I thought there must be a reason, since you're there nearly every day.'
Beth sighed. 'Not this again. Are we going to have yet another argument? Because if we are —'
She felt a tremor of shock as his hand rested on her thigh. 'I don't want to argue, darling. It was a simple question, which you answered. End of.'
'Oh.' She sipped her coffee, wondering if she was having some sort of weird hallucination. None of this conversation felt real.
'How is everyone at the farm, anyway?'
Okay, so this was beyond weird! Beth narrowed her eyes. What was James up to? 'Everyone's fine. Busy, of course, what with the bunk barns to get ready, and the wedding to plan, all on top of lambing season. Everyone's taking it in turns to spend the nights in the lambing shed, so they're all exhausted.'
'Oh yes. And then there's all the children to care for. Must be hectic.'
'Yes. Yes, it must.'
James sipped his own coffee. 'How — how is little George?'
Beth stilled, her heart thudding in her chest. 'George?' What on earth was he doing, asking after George? Not once, in all these years, had he ever enquired about the little boy. 'George?' She repeated it, not quite sure that she'd heard him right.
'Yes. George. Is he doing okay? How's he getting on at nursery?'
She blinked, confused. 'He's okay. He starts school in September.'
James nodded. 'Yes, I suppose he's at that age now. Amazing. And, is he doing well? Does he like going to nursery?'
'He does. He's got lots of friends there, anyway.'
'Excellent. I'm glad to hear it.' He didn't sound particularly glad. He sounded quite wistful, in fact. Beth's heart skipped again. She put her mug on the table beside the book and fixed her husband with a stare. 'James, what's this all about? You never ask after George.'
'I know, I know. Delicate subject isn't it? I don't know. I suppose it's because my cousin Owen and his wife have had another baby boy. It makes you think, doesn't it?'
Beth's hand flew to her mouth. 'Are you saying — are you having second thoughts? About having a baby, I mean?'
He gave a mirthless laugh. 'Having a baby? That's not exactly working out for us, is it?'
'No, but ...' She hesitated, almost afraid to voice the question. 'Are you perhaps thinking that we should explore other options?'
'Other options?'
She turned to face him, unable to keep the eagerness from her voice. 'Another round of IVF, perhaps?'
Her stomach plummeted as he tutted and drained the last of his coffee before slamming the mug down on the hard, wooden floor. 'Don't you think I've got enough to worry about without all this IVF and adoption stuff you keep going on about? We gave the treatment two chances, remember? It didn't work. And what you seem to forget is, I already have a son. A living, breathing little boy who I never get to see and can never have any contact with.'
She took a sharp breath. He sounded so resentful, so hurt. Since when had not seeing George been an issue for him? 'You never wanted to see George before,' she protested, stung. 'You had no desire to be a father to him, to have any contact.'
'How could I? How could I possibly inflict that on you when I'd already done so much to hurt you? You tell me, what sort of man would that make me?'
Beth didn't know how to respond. He'd completely thrown her. She nibbled her thumbnail. 'I didn't know.'
He slumped, clearly repentant. 'I'm so sorry, darling. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. It's been building up for ages, knowing Owen was about to be a father again and knowing I already am a father but having to pretend none of it matters.'
'I don't understand. I thought George didn't matter to you?'
'How could he not matter? He's my own flesh and blood. Oh, I know what I said, but it was all such a damn mess when Jemima was killed. I panicked. God knows, I'd done enough to hurt you already. I couldn't live with myself if I asked you to endure even more pain.'
'Are you honestly telling me that you care about George and miss him?' she murmured, hardly able to believe what she was hearing.
His fingers plucked at a cushion. 'I've always cared about him. I'm only human. Most of the time I push it away, try to pretend it doesn't matter. It's just sometimes ...' He shook his head. 'I'm sorry, darling. Forget I said anything. It was unfair of me to bring this up. Father had a letter from Uncle Scott boasting about his new grandson. It brought it all back, stirred up the longing again. I'll be fine in a little while. It will all be back under control.' He smiled at her, but she could see it was an effort.
'Are you — are you thinking about getting George back?'
'Of course not.' James squeezed her hand. 'I know I've left that far too late. It wouldn't be fair on Harland, for one thing, and as for George — well, he doesn't know me from Adam, does he? Breaks my heart, but there it is. Don't worry about it. I've come this far and I'm sure I can carry on. Forget it.' He stood up, smoothing his trousers. 'Go on, get back to your book. I have work to do anyway.'
He leaned over, gave her a peck on the cheek and walked towards the door, as Beth watched him, feeling too stunned to reply.
At the door, he stopped and turned around. 'Beth?'
'Yes?'
'Could you — I mean, would you keep me informed? You don't have to go into great detail, just let me know how he's doing, eh? The little things, so I can build up a picture of him. I know it's not much, but it's the best I'm going to get, and it would mean the world to me.'
'Of course. Of course I will.'
He nodded and left the room, leaving Beth sitting open-mouthed on the sofa, the book completely forgotten as she contemplated this latest twist in their lives that was far stranger than any fiction.
****
Jed stepped back and scrutinised the paintwork, checking for any smears or missed bits, or areas where the plaster was showing through the new cream paint. 'Not bad at all,' he said, feeling quite satisfied. It had been a long day, but it was worth it. The largest bunk room was looking fresh and clean and he'd made a good job of it. Tomorrow, he would start on the second largest. Maybe it wouldn't seem so daunting.
'I think you should call it a day.' Eden said, as he wiped his forehead with the back of his arm and put the lid back on the emulsion tin. 'I'm going to head over and start tea. The kids will be starving, and Eliot will be back soon. Wherever he is.'
Jed shrugged. 'Maybe he couldn't sleep with all this activity outside. Maybe he's gone for a nap in the Land Rover instead.'
'It wouldn't surprise me,' she admitted. 'But I wish he'd try harder. He's going to be up all night again with the ewes, and he needed a couple of hours rest in a decent bed.' She frowned. 'I'd have thought if he couldn't settle he'd have come back to the lambing shed to make sure I was getting on all right.'
Jed had spotted Eliot driving off, not long after Eden had informed him that she would be in the shed if he needed her, taking over from Eliot for a while, as he was going to bed.
'I hope Emerald's survived.' Jed couldn't help but laugh. Because it was Saturday, the children weren't at school or nursery, so his sister had been roped into keeping an eye on George, while he painted, and the girls helped out in the lambing shed.
'I'm more worried about George,' Eden said. 'I can't imagine what he's been allowed to get away with today while she sat on her backside watching television or scrolling through Facebook, no doubt with Bella on her knee. That cat adores her, weirdly enough.'
'Hey, don't be too hard on her,' Jed said, wondering as he did so why he always felt the compulsion to defend her. He had no doubt that Eden was right, and Emerald would hardly have gone out of her way to entertain the boy. Even so, he couldn't help but stick up for his little sister. 'She may have been great with him. Hey, if he had any complaints I'm pretty sure you'd have heard them from here, right?'
He could tell by Eden's amused expression that he was right. George was always very vocal in his opinions. 'I suppose so.' She stretched and yawned. 'I'll get over there
and start cooking. Thanks for this, Jed. Great job. Will you be okay to clean up in here? Tea will be at least half an hour.'
'Fine, no problem. You head back, and I'll finish up here.'
She gave him a grateful smile. 'I do appreciate this, you know. It's ever so good of you to help.'
'Don't be silly,' he assured her. 'I'm having a great time.'
She gave him a knowing look. 'Sure you are.'
He laughed and waved his paintbrush at her as she headed out of the barn. Okay, this wasn't what he'd expected when he'd flown to the UK from the States, but so what? Maybe painting a bunk barn wasn't the best career move in the world, but it was what he needed right now. The bigger the distraction the better.
He collected the trays, rollers and brushes and carried them to the sink in the adjacent bathroom. His thoughts wandered, as he'd feared they would, back to America and to JoJo. What was she doing right now? The band would be gearing up for their forthcoming European tour. There'd been bad feeling between himself and a couple of his ex-bandmates when he told them he was leaving Raven's Wing. He knew they were thinking commercially. He was a big part of the band, and they were afraid his departure would have a negative impact on sales of their music and on tickets. He also knew that the other band members, Ron and Shane, understood his reasons for leaving and were sympathetic to him, although sad to see him leave.
JoJo hadn't expressed an opinion. By the time he left, they weren't even speaking, which would have been unthinkable a year ago. A lot could happen in a year. He ran the paintbrushes under the tap, scrubbed out the tray, all the while picturing her standing there on stage, messed-up blonde curls, dark eyes, tiny frame somehow managing to fill the stage, so strong was her presence. Raven's Wing didn't need him. It would evolve, become JoJo's band. He had a feeling she would take it to even greater heights. It was what she wanted, after all. More than anything. Well, good for her. He realised he didn't care anymore — not about her, at any rate.
'Penny for them.'
He jumped, startled, as he heard Beth's voice behind him. It was so different to JoJo's — soft and yet clipped. JoJo's drawl would fill this room. Her singing voice, so distinctive and raw, could fill a concert hall, whereas he doubted Beth would make herself heard in a living room. They couldn't be more different, he realised, as he turned and smiled at his visitor, who was looking cool and pretty and terribly English in a printed cotton dress.
'If you're here to help we were finishing up for the day,' he told her. 'Was that the plan, huh? Come over here and show willing, knowing it would be too late?' To his horror, her eyes filled with tears and he watched, not knowing quite how to react as she fought for composure. 'Hey, Beth, I was kidding. Don't mind me. I think before I speak sometimes. I'm real sorry.'
She shook her head, gulping down the tears. 'Don't be silly. It's not you, honestly. Been a tough day and I thought — I don't know what I thought. I wanted to come here and get myself together somehow. It has that effect, doesn't it? Fleetsthorpe, I mean. Sort of gives you comfort. Respite.'
He supposed it did in a strange way. But what did Beth need respite from? She looked lost, broken. There was something so fragile about her that she brought out the nurturing side of him. It was good to be needed. JoJo had never needed him, he reflected. She always had everything under control. Life on her terms. 'Is there something I can do?'
'Not really.' She laughed suddenly, her eyes still brimming with unshed tears. 'Not unless you can turn the clock back five or six years and change the course of our lives.'
Oh! If he could do that, how different would he have done things himself? There was no use wishing. It was what it was, and he had to make the best of it — as did Beth. 'I can't do that, unfortunately,' he told her, turning off the taps and drying his hands on a towel that had been thrown over the side of the newly-fitted bath. 'What I can do is listen, and I'm more than happy to do that if you want to talk.'
He saw the doubt in her eyes. He couldn't blame her. She barely knew him, after all. How could she possibly know that she could trust him? How could she be aware that, even though he'd only known her for a few weeks, he was already certain that he would never let her down and wanted nothing more than to see her smile.
She had a beautiful smile, he thought. It was a pity she didn't reveal it more often. She seemed to have the weight of the world on her shoulders.
He took her arm and led her back into the dormitory, where Eden had put a couple of fold-up chairs, so any workers could take a break and drink their tea in relative comfort. He unfolded them and motioned to her to take one. She sat, looking pensive as he sat opposite her. 'You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to,' he said, 'but I promise whatever you do tell me will go no further.'
'Why on earth would you want to listen to my problems?' she queried.
'I don't know. Maybe to take my mind off my own?'
'You have problems? I thought yours were all sorted.' She sounded curious. 'You didn't want to be in a band anymore, so you left, right?'
'Right. But that's just the bit in the middle. The real problem is all the stuff that led up to me making the decision, and then what happens next. I mean, what do I do now? Not much call for an ex-musician who never qualified for anything in his life. I was never one for schooling, always preferred to be outdoors riding, fishing, building stuff. Try making a resume out of that.'
She shrugged. 'Still more use than me. I did my exams. I wouldn't have dared not. Though, what have I ever done with them? I left school, went to university, got a job working for a friend of my father's, met James, married him, moved to Yorkshire and have spent the last eight years being a professional wife. Not much of a CV, is it?'
'Guess we make a real pair then.' he winked at her, then, realising what he'd said, he cleared his throat and changed the subject. 'So, what are you seeking respite from? Is there anything I can do?'
'No, I'm afraid not. Like I said, only a time machine would help.' She chewed her lip, seeming to consider whether to pursue the conversation or not. 'Did you know about my husband and Eliot's wife?' she blurted out.
He gaped at her. 'James and Eden?'
'No, no. His wife — his late wife. Jemima. She and James, they had an affair.'
He drew in a sharp breath. 'No, I didn't. Jeez, that's got to be awkward all round.' He considered for a moment. 'Is that why your husband never comes to the farm?'
'Yes. There's no love lost between Eliot and James as you can imagine. It was all very messy at the time. Still is really.'
He waited, not wanting to push her as bit by bit, she filled him in on the whole sorry story. He sat, feeling quite stunned, particularly when she revealed the truth about George.
'And Eliot took him in, brought him up as his own? Wow.' He thought about the implications of that, and how much it must have cost Eliot to raise the child born to the woman who had betrayed him and a man he must loathe. He tried to remember if there'd been anything to give the truth away, any sort of clue that all was not as it seemed, but he couldn't think of a single instance when Eliot hadn't demonstrated that he loved George just as much as his daughters. He had to admit, the taciturn farmer had shot up in his estimation.
Then his thoughts turned to Beth and he gave her a sympathetic smile. 'That must have been so tough on you. Yet you stayed?'
It came out as a question because, frankly, he couldn't understand why she had. She didn't seem happy, that was for sure, and given what had happened who could blame her? How would you even start to get over that, when you had the living reminder of all that pain and anguish every time you visited Fleetsthorpe? And yet, she did visit Fleetsthorpe. Frequently. It was very strange.
'I've tried to put it behind me, really I have. I know James is sorry and I know we have to move on, but it's so difficult. And now —' She broke off, staring out of the window, probably seeing nothing except whatever it was that was hurting so much.
'Now?' he probed gently. 'Has something else happened?'
/> 'He never wanted George,' she said, her voice thick with emotion. 'Never. Not from the moment he was born. He was happy for Eliot to take him on as his own. At least — at least that's what I thought.'
'But now he's changed his mind?' Jed really hoped not. It would be a disaster all round if this Fuller guy decided he wanted his son after all. Eliot would fight every inch of the way, quite rightly, and Beth would be caught up in the middle of it all.
'He doesn't intend to fight for George,' she assured him, obviously noting the look of horror on his face. 'He knows he's left that far too late. But it turns out he's been missing his son all this time, wanting to be part of his life, and he only kept away for my sake.'
'Really?' Jed hoped that hadn't sounded as cynical as he meant it. He found it impossible to believe that someone like James Fuller would be so noble. From what he'd heard of the guy, he did what made him happy and to hell with anyone else. His affair with Jemima was proof of that.
'So it seems.' She tucked her hair behind her ears and folded her arms. 'I've kept him away from his son all this time, as if it isn't bad enough that I —'
The tears began to fall freely. Jed was paralysed, not sure what on earth he should do for the best. He hardly knew her, after all, and she might not take kindly to him demonstrating any affection for her, but hell, she was in a real state and if it was Emerald or Scarlet taking on so, he hoped someone would be there to give them a hug if they needed it. He threw caution to the wind and went over to her, crouching down to wrap his arms around her and pull her into a comforting embrace. 'It's okay. It's okay.' As he stroked her hair, he was uncomfortably aware that this was far from a brotherly hug. He was ashamed to admit that he liked holding her so close. Hell, this was dangerous territory!
'You don't understand,' she whimpered into his chest. 'I've already stopped him from being a father, and now it's because of me that he can't have George. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?'
He froze. 'Stopped him from being a father? How?'
It felt like he held his breath forever until she answered, 'I can't have children. At least, we can't have children together. We've had tests, lots of them. They couldn't find anything wrong with us, said it was one of those things. We tried IVF twice but that didn't work either. Then Georgie came along, so you see, it's clearly my fault. James can't have children with me, and now he's lost his own son, all because he was putting me first. Can you imagine how bad I feel about that?'
