by Sharon Booth
Emerald's eyes shone with tears. 'It was all a lie!' She shook her head, appalled. 'He never wanted George. Not at all.'
'No. He wanted to appease his father, so that David would keep his secret.' He shook his head. 'Can you imagine anyone so cruel? All those years he let Beth hope that, one day, she would get pregnant, and all the time he knew it was impossible. My God, what I'd like to do to him.'
Emerald let out a strangled sob. 'But Eliot could have lost George,' she cried. 'I was helping James to destroy the Harlands, because I believed he loved his son and wanted him back. All the time, it was to protect their inheritance. George could have ended up living with a father who had no interest in him, all because of me.'
'Not because of you,' Jed said firmly. 'You made a mistake. An error of judgement. You weren't the only one taken in by the Fullers.'
'But poor George.' Emerald shook her head. 'What if he'd succeeded? What if Fuller had got custody? That poor little boy would have spent the rest of his life trying to get love from a father who didn't even want him.'
Jed reached over and wiped away her tears with his hand. 'I guess this is a bit close to home for you, right?'
Emerald swallowed. 'What do you mean?'
Jed sighed. 'I know how you feel about Dad, Emmy. I get it. You've tried so hard to get his attention, his love. It's not your fault that he doesn't respond the way you want. You know that, right?'
'But what is it about me?' she burst out. 'Why doesn't he love me? Why does he prefer Honey to me? Why does he prefer Eden to me, when she's not even related to him!'
'Is this what it's all been about?' he asked. 'Your hatred for Eden — is it because Dad seems to care about her?'
'There's no seems to about it. He does care for her. He didn't even mention me in that wedding speech, but he sang her praises to everyone. Can you imagine how that felt?'
'No,' Jed admitted. 'I guess I've never experienced anything like that. But that doesn't mean I haven't been hurt, Emmy. It doesn't mean I haven't been through pain, had my heart broken in a different way. You asked me once what I was running away from. I'll tell you. I was running from my feelings. I was devastated. Someone had really screwed me over, acted like I wasn't important, like what mattered to me was of no consequence. She ripped my heart out. Destroyed me. That's what I ran from. I knew I had to find a way to forgive her, make peace with her and with myself, or what future did I have?
'You know, I could have stayed put. I could have made life very difficult for her. I could have told the world what she did, made things awkward and uncomfortable, turned people against her. What good would that have done any of us?'
Emerald sniffed. 'You're a better person than I am.'
'No. Just a bit older, that's all. And maybe I'm luckier than you, because I know who I am. I know my worth. When shit happens — and it happens to everyone — you gotta stay true to yourself. You gotta know what you stand for. Because, if you don't, when the storms hit, they're gonna blow you first one way, then the other, 'til you don't even know where you are, or which way is up any more.'
He hooked his finger under her chin and lifted her face, so she couldn't avoid his gaze any longer. 'I think that's been your problem, Emmy. You don't know who you are, so when people let you down or bad stuff happens, you shift constantly.
'First, you're on one side, then the other. You agreed to organising this wedding because you wanted to win Dad's approval and get funding for the business. But Dad was cruel to you and Eden was your perceived enemy, so you decided to make the wedding a mess — everything Eden would hate.
'But then Eliot was so good to you, so kind. You wanted to help him, so you got Dad to hire a solicitor for him and went against Fuller, even though you were friends with the guy.
'Then Eliot turned on you, and what did you do? Instead of thinking, well, everyone has bad days, and maybe I should have helped more, you went running to Fuller and decided that he was the good guy after all, and you were gonna make the Harlands suffer.' He shook his head. 'If you knew who you were and what you stood for, you'd have made a choice and stuck to it a long time ago. And that's the question, Emerald. Who do you want to be? What sort of a person are you?'
Emerald's vision had gone blurry again. 'I don't know,' she whispered. 'A lost one.'
'The good thing is,' Jed reassured her, 'it's never too late to make the decision. Every moment of every day, you can change. You can get a fresh start. You can say to yourself, right now, this is the person I am, and this is how I want to be, and you can make the right choices. Then, no matter how hard the wind blows, you don't get knocked over. You stand strong and true. Emmy, the simple thing is, it doesn't matter who loves you or who hates you, who is kind to you or who is cruel. The only person who needs to love you and be kind to you, is you.'
'But I'm a horrible person,' she whimpered.
'No, you're not. You need to stop telling yourself that. Come on, Em. All that New Age therapy stuff you've learned! Surely, the first thing they teach you is to love yourself? It all starts there.'
'I don't know how,' she admitted sadly. 'All I see is the bad stuff I've done.'
'But it's past and gone,' he told her firmly. 'Right now, here,' he clicked his fingers, 'new start. Decide to love yourself. Decide to be good to yourself. Decide to do the right thing and listen to your heart, not all the chattering that comes from other people. Trust yourself.'
Emerald rubbed her eyes. 'I'll try,' she promised. 'What are you going to do now? Are you going home to Dad, or to America, or ...?'
'Not America,' he said firmly. 'I'm back in the UK for good. I don't know where we'll end up,' he admitted. 'We have a lot to discuss. I'm lucky. I have money and I can afford to go anywhere, but I need to figure out what I'm going to do with my life, and I need to talk to Beth about where she sees us raising our child. Don't worry,' he added quickly, 'I'm not going to abandon you. For now, I'm gonna carry on working at Fleetsthorpe. The shearing starts in a day or two, and in a couple of weeks they'll start harvesting. It's gonna be busy.'
'And there's the wedding,' Emerald murmured. 'That's next week don't forget.'
'How can I forget?' Jed surveyed her. 'Is everything done? Nothing left to organise?'
She shook her head, feeling sick. 'Everything's in place,' she said faintly, not wanting to think about the formal wedding she had organised out of sheer spite. Eden and Eliot were going to loathe every moment of it.
Jed was right. She couldn't go on like this. She didn't want to hate herself any longer. She was sick of guilt. She needed a fresh start, and it was all up to her, her choice. She had to be true to who she really was, and for the first time, Emerald realised what that meant.
It was time to act from the heart. It was time to be Emerald.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ophelia twirled around, her arms outstretched like a prima ballerina. 'What do you think, then, Dad? Do I pass muster or what?'
'You look daft.' George giggled, earning himself a disgusted look from his sister.
Eliot's eyes twinkled as he glanced across at an amused Eden. 'Well, I don't know. What do you reckon, love? Does she fit the bill, or should we give the job to another little lass?'
Ophelia stopped twirling and glared at her father indignantly. 'Like who?'
Libby nudged her. 'He's having you on, you daft ha'porth.'
He laughed. 'Of course I am! You look proper grand, both of you.'
Eden walked around the two girls, as they stood in the centre of the living room in their new bridesmaid dresses. 'And do they feel comfortable? Not too tight when you put your arms up?'
It was Libby's turn to look indignant. 'What do you mean? Do they look too tight, or summat?'
'Oh, you girls.' Eden shook her head. 'Honestly, I'm trying to have a decent conversation with you. I want you to be comfortable, that's all. I'm not accusing you of getting fat.'
'Hmm. If you say so.' Ophelia smirked. 'Although, Libby is looking a bit porky. Happen it's best sh
e gives up riding. Flora'll collapse soon under her weight.'
She staggered backwards, laughing, as Libby poked her in the ribs.
Eliot shook his head, smoothing George's hair as his son leaned against his knees, watching his sisters in bemusement. 'I dunno. You two are daft as brushes. I don't know why your mum puts up with you.' He gazed across at Eden, who quickly looked away, feeling uncomfortable. She wondered if things would ever feel totally right between them again and found herself asking the same old question that had plagued her for days. Were they really ready to get married? Everything had changed, and it was no use pretending it hadn't. She felt as if they were going through the motions and it hurt her more than she could express.
Pushing the doubts away, she gathered the girls to her and squeezed them both. 'Because they're adorable, and I love them. You both look beautiful. We'll have to think about headdresses.'
'Headdresses!' Ophelia looked horrified. 'You're kidding, right?'
'Don't you want a headdress?' Eden queried, winking at George who was giggling to himself.
'What do you reckon?' Ophelia plonked herself down on the sofa, smoothing down the pretty Duchess satin print dress. 'Bad enough we have to wear a frock, but a headdress!' She squealed as George bounced onto the sofa and wrapped his arms around her neck. 'Don't mucky my dress up, George! Mum'll have our guts for garters.'
'I'm joking,' Eden assured her, ruffling her dark curls affectionately. Goodness knows, she'd been only too aware that Ophelia and Libby weren't the long, chiffon dress types, and had bought simple knee-length dresses with a pretty, summery, floral print. She'd bought them matching shoes, but other than that, she wasn't going to push her luck. She wondered what they'd say if she asked them to carry a posy of flowers each. Libby might be up for it, but Ophelia ...
'There was one thing I were wondering,' Ophelia said suddenly.
Libby sat beside her sister on the sofa, giving Ophelia a slight shake of the head. Ophelia's eyes widened, as she gave Libby a meaningful look and turned back to Eden. 'We were wondering, would it be all right if we wore our lockets?'
'Lockets?'
'You know.' Ophelia glanced over at her father, and Eden did the same, noting that he'd gone very still suddenly. 'The ones you bought us that Christmas, Dad, with Mummy's photo in.' She shrugged. 'I thought — well, it's a special day, and it would be grand if Mummy could be a part of it.' She looked from one to the other, as Libby sat with her head down. 'Libby says I shouldn't ask, it's not the right time, but I reckon Mummy would want to be part of the day, don't you? She'd always want Dad to be happy and —'
Libby kicked her hard on the shin, as Eliot stood and headed out of the room.
'Ow! What was that for?' Ophelia glared at her sister, then looked up at Eden, an appeal in her eyes. 'Have I said summat wrong? It's not bad to want Mummy at the wedding, is it?'
Tears blurred Eden's eyes. 'No, sweetheart. Of course it isn't. Look, why don't you two go and hang those dresses up for me and keep an eye on George. I'm going to check on your dad. Okay?'
'Is he all right?' Libby sounded doubtful, which didn't surprise Eden in the slightest. The girls — and Libby especially — had become attuned to Eliot's moods since the death of his wife and were keen to protect his feelings at all costs.
'I'm sure he's fine,' Eden reassured her, though privately she was wondering exactly how he'd taken Ophelia's request. 'I'll go and talk to him now, okay?'
The girls nodded and went upstairs, Libby holding George's hand. Eden took a deep breath. She'd known this conversation was coming, and the truth was, it was desperately needed. Time to clear the air at last. They'd both been so shocked and scared after their recent crisis that it seemed to her they were now afraid to express any deeper truths to each other, for fear of driving an even bigger wedge between them, but Eden knew things weren't right, and she couldn't go on pretending. This wasn't the basis for a happy marriage.
Eliot wasn't in the house, and Eden wandered through the yard, glancing across at the bunk barn as she went. They had four guests currently, but another eight booked in for the weekend. By August, their bookings had risen sharply, and every bed was taken for the first four weeks of the summer holidays. At least the appalling reviews hadn't put people off. She'd been surprised that morning to discover that three of the negative reviews had disappeared, and that she had a handful of new reviews, all very positive. She had no idea what was going on, but she wasn't going to question it. It was a huge relief, after all.
She found Eliot leaning on a gate at the lower hay meadow, gazing out over the last of the wild flowers. In a couple of weeks mowing would start, providing the good weather held. It was a busy time of year, but a satisfying one, and the children loved it.
First though, they had to get through the shearing. They'd already gathered the sheep on the moors and brought them to the lower fields near the house.
If the weather stayed fine the shearing would be over inside a week, and she smiled to herself, remembering how the children had joined in last year, helping to round up the sheep and herd them into the shearing shed, with even George bouncing up and down on the wool sheets to pack the wool down tightly. Mickey was wonderful at shearing, despite his age, and even Eliot bowed to his superior skills, leaving most of the clipping to him. The farmyard was always chaos at that time of year, but it was enjoyable work.
Then there would be a short lull before harvesting, which was why she'd booked in the wedding before the next round of really hard work started. The wedding was only days away, really. If it went ahead.
Eliot turned to look at her as she approached, and she swallowed hard as she realised his eyes were wet.
'Sorry,' he said as she came to stand by his side. 'I know I said I wouldn't walk out again if we had words, but this were different. I weren't storming off. I just needed some space.'
'It's okay. I understand.' Eden slipped her arm through his, and she felt him relax against her, as if he'd been tensed up waiting for an argument, and her acceptance had given him permission to breathe again. 'But I do think we need to talk,' she said. 'Things aren't right, are they?'
He studied her face, his eyes showing anxiety. 'Is this about Emerald again?'
She smiled. 'No, it's not. All the stuff with Emerald — well, she's gone now. It's done. But there's something else going on, isn't there? There's something between us and I don't know what it is, but I feel like there's a barrier, and it's breaking my heart.'
'It's my fault,' he said, sounding choked. 'It's all my fault.'
'It takes two,' she pointed out. 'It can't be all your fault.'
'But it is.' He leaned heavily on the gate. 'There's summat I haven't told you. Summat I haven't been really honest about.' He massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and finger. 'Truth is, I don't know how to start.'
Eden stayed silent for a moment, but when she saw his grim expression and realised he was making no move to begin, she let out a little sigh and said, 'How about I start for you?'
He looked down at her, startled, as she whispered, 'This is about Jemima, isn't it?'
'How — what do you mean?' His voice was thick with emotion, and her heart went out to him.
'It's okay, Eliot. It's all right to admit you're grieving for her.'
'What's to grieve?' he said harshly. 'She didn't love me anyway.'
Eden pulled him round to face her and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest. 'Yes, she did,' she said. 'She loved you deeply, and you loved her, and that's absolutely fine. Nothing and nobody can take those early years away from you. You have two beautiful daughters to prove it.'
She felt him shudder against her skin and held him tighter. 'What happened later has no bearing on the fact that you loved her enough to marry her, and she loved you enough to marry you. To move to Fleetsthorpe. To give you two children. What came later doesn't erase what happened first. Those memories are yours, to cherish.' She lifted her head, her gaze soft with compass
ion as she saw the battle he was clearly fighting to stay in control of his emotions. 'The problem with you, Eliot, is that you've told yourself she never loved you, so you have no right to grieve for her. You've let what happened at the end colour your reaction to her death, and it's crippling you.'
She could feel him trembling, but he still said nothing. She persisted, determined to reach him. 'You kept disappearing, and I wondered where you were going and why you never said, but then Mrs Edwards mentioned seeing you in Camacker and you came up with that daft story about Adey and the beer, and gradually it dawned on me that you were going to visit Jemima's grave. I'm right aren't I?'
Eliot gripped her tightly. 'It dun't mean I don't love you, Eden. It takes nowt from what we have.'
Relieved that he was finally talking, Eden moved to reassure him. 'I know that! Is that what you were worried about? That I'd see Jemima as some sort of threat? Eliot, she was a huge part of your life. I'd be amazed if you didn't want to visit her grave at times. I'm glad you went to visit her. I'm just surprised and a bit hurt that you didn't feel you could tell me.'
'How could I tell you?' He gazed at her in anguish. 'I've spent over two year telling you me and Jemima meant nowt to each other. How could I tell you I —' He broke off, shaking his head.
'Go on,' she urged. 'Tell me now.'
He slumped against her. 'I don't understand it meself, love,' he confessed. 'I thought I were past all this, but it keeps getting stronger and stronger and — truth is, I don't know how to handle it.'
'Handle what?'
He closed his eyes. 'I miss her sometimes,' he murmured. His eyes flew open and he added fiercely, 'But that dun't affect how much I love you. You have to believe me about that.'
A stab of jealousy pierced her heart, but she ignored it. This was more important than her own stupid insecurities. Eliot needed her to understand, and she did, deep down. 'I do believe you,' she said truthfully, knowing that only her faith in his love was giving her the strength for this conversation. 'Go on. Tell me how you feel about Jemima now. Don't be afraid. Trust me.'
