Saving Nathaniel

by Jillian Brookes-Ward

  'Hell's teeth!' he muttered, and hurriedly left the kitchen to take refuge in his study, out of sight and reach of the furious woman.

  Following that brief exchange, they didn't see or speak to each other for the rest of the day…or the next.

  On Friday morning, Megan approached Rebecca to ask how Nat was faring. She reported that he seemed a little subdued but overall fine, and expressed her own surprise that he didn't seem to be drinking anywhere near as much alcohol, although his tea intake had increased considerably. Satisfied it was safe to do so, Megan showed her the key box.

  'He's been looking for this,' she said when she saw it. 'He's had me turning the house over. What are you doing with it?' She took the box and rattled it. 'He said there were keys in it. What're they for?'

  'It's nothing you need be concerned about,' said Megan. 'Just take it back and leave it on his desk and don't say where it came from.'

  'He's going to ask.'

  'So say you found it. Use your imagination.'

  As soon as the box appeared on his desk, Nat realised Megan must have taken it. He had no clue why she had done it, but his relief at getting it back overrode any annoyance he felt toward her for putting him through days of needless anxiety.

  The next few days stretched out long and empty for him. He spent a lot of time travelling to and from his Aberdeen office, or working or reading in his study. Sometimes he would simply sit and brood. He tried to work out some of his unrest over his feelings for Megan at the gym, receiving only severely aching muscles and a strained hamstring for his pains.

  He still hadn't called her, convinced it was now far too late to be meaningful. He had also managed to convince himself that, although he was in love with her, she couldn't possibly feel the same about him.

  What had come forward for consideration was something far more drastic, something that could be the solution to all his problems - selling up and moving out of the area. He would walk away and leave it all behind. The best solution all round.

  Instead of calling Megan, he made an appointment with the estate agent at their small office in the village square.

  He had no trouble parking. The tourist season hadn't started and there was plenty of space. A few other people milled about the square and he watched them from the car as they passed him by. He had lived in Kirkton for more than seven years and he didn't recognise any of them. Another good reason to leave, he thought.

  Forty-five minutes later, he left the agent's office with the information he wanted safely tucked in his coat pocket. He had nothing planned for the rest of the morning and with time to kill, he strolled around the square, window shopping.

  It was ten minutes past eleven when he reached the door of the coffee shop on the edge of the Green. He had driven past it often, but had never been in. This might be his last opportunity to try it out.

  The little bell over the door tinkled as he entered. He ordered a hot, strong coffee and glanced around for a convenient table. That was when he saw her, sitting alone in the corner, reading a magazine.

  His first instinct was to abandon his coffee and leave before she saw him, but a force much stronger than he moved his feet forward and in a few short steps, he stood in front of her.

  He cleared his throat with a polite, 'Ahem'.

  Chapter 25

  It had been more than a fortnight since Megan's night at the Lodge with Nat – fifteen days and five hours by her calculation, and she hadn't heard a word from him.

  At first, she loitered around the cottage in case he called, but when it became obvious that no contact would be forthcoming, she reluctantly had to accept that he had no interest in her, and blamed herself. She had seduced him and scared him off. Moreover, she believed he was not interested in her because he still loved Joanna.

  'Forget him,' she told herself. 'It was a mistake; another painful, bloody mistake. One day you'll learn.'

  After abandoning her fruitless vigil, she decided the best thing she could do for herself was to keep occupied and concentrate on things over which she actually had some degree of control.

  Without a job to fill her day, although she was now half-heartedly looking for one, she had time to go swimming and attend exercise classes or go walking – anything would do to fill the hours. She joined the local library and withdrew an armful of books she had always intended to read. The garden of Rose Cottage also took up a fair amount of her time, now spring had arrived.

  Keeping her mind busy and off Nathaniel Mackie became her sole preoccupation, and it proved to be very hard work.

  The evenings were the worst. With Rebecca and Paul often busying themselves with each other in the sitting room, she would retreat to her own room at the back of the cottage. She found reading or sewing didn't distract her mind enough and thoughts about Nat would often creep around the unguarded edges. She pushed them aside, but their banishment was only temporary.

  This morning was bright and pleasant and her walk bracing. She took a route around the village on a popularly used path that ran along the old railway line and through the Community Woods. She wished, for a brief moment only, she had a dog.

  A red squirrel, its bright copper coat gleaming in the sunshine and its white chest as crisp as a newly laundered shirt, paused on the path a few yards in front of her. They both stood and eyed each other. Satisfied she was not a threat, the squirrel flicked its bushy red tail and scampered off into the undergrowth.

  Further along the path, she heard a woodpecker somewhere in the depths of the wood, drumming out its virility on the trunk of a hollow tree. The sound echoed around her. The air was filled with the shrill tweeting of myriad songbirds as they became caught up in the timeless springtime competition for mates.

  She followed the route of the well-defined path until it eventually brought her back to the village Green. A tree-ringed grassy oval, it was large enough to host the Highland games every summer and the community bonfire and fireworks in November. Children played football and rugby on it on Saturday mornings and a car boot sale was held there on the last Sunday of every month during the summer.

  Across the Green, she spotted the village coffee shop, The Black Sheep. She had always fancied going in there; it had a cosy, rustic look, and as the walk had stimulated her appetite, now was as good a time as any.

  She crossed the Green to the shop and stepped inside. To accompany the quiet jingle of the little bell above the door, she heard the church clock chime out eleven o'clock. If she had still been at Struan with Nat, it would have been morning coffee time - perfect.

  The aromas of fresh brewed coffee and toasted cinnamon bagels were heavenly, and after ordering both, she took a seat at a table in a corner. The shop wasn't too busy. With the tourist season not yet upon them, her fellow customers were locals. A few of them she recognised.

  She sipped at her drink and nibbled her bagel and perused a free magazine supplied for the convenience of the customers extolling the virtues of the Cairngorms National Park.

  The bell above the door jingled again, but she didn't pay it any attention. A few moments later, a shadow fell across her table, its owner standing between her and the light.

  The shadow attracted her attention with a polite, 'Ahem'.

  Chapter 26

  She looked up, intending to ask the shadow to move, it was blocking her light. When she saw the face attached to the voice, her stomach somersaulted. He was the last person she expected to see.

  She swallowed her mouthful of bagel. 'Nat!'

  'May I sit down?' he asked with a pleasant smile.

  'Please do.' She indicated the chair opposite, but he took the one next to her. Her heart had begun a rapid thrumming in her chest

  He draped his coat over the back of the chair and glanced around the room. 'This is nice. I haven't been in here before.'

  'Me neither.' She wiped her mouth and chin with her napkin. Melted butter was delicious but messy.

  He looked different but she couldn't immediately put her finge
r on what it was. She eyed him closely, and then she knew. He'd had a haircut since she'd seen him last. It made him look younger. She approved.

  'So what brought you here today then?' he asked.

  'I've been for a walk and I got peckish. You?'

  'Business.'

  'Of course, it would be. It's good to see you.'

  'You too.'

  'How've you been?'

  'Pretty good.'

  'You look well.'

  'So do you. You've lost weight.'

  'Flatterer.'

  'You can't blame me for trying.' He gave her a warm smile and her heart soared. She dropped her hand under the table and let it rest lightly on his leg.

  'I've missed you,' she said.

  'Like those fleas?'

  'Like those fleas…'

  She divided her bagel and offered him half. 'I was just thinking about you,' she said. 'Maybe it was my thought waves that drew you in here.'

  'You haven't managed to forget me yet then?'

  'Not a chance. You're going to be a difficult man to forget. Not that I ever would.'

  'Now you are trying to flatter me.' He popped the rest of the bagel in his mouth and licked butter off his fingers.

  She handed him a napkin from the holder on the table. 'Is it working?'

  'I'll let you know.'

  They fell back into an easy flirtatious repartee as if they had never been apart. He took a sip of his coffee and gave himself a foam moustache. Megan smiled her amusement, and he gave her modest thanks as she wiped his face with the napkin. He concentrated on stirring on his coffee, making patterns in the foam with the spoon.

  'I know it was you who took my keys,' he said unexpectedly.

  Megan stopped smiling and dropped her eyes from his face, nodding her affirmation. Rebecca had returned the key box as instructed, over a week ago, without any explanation of how she had come by it. She had left it on his desk and it hadn't been referred to since.

  'Why did you take them?' he asked. 'You did know I could have got into trouble if the Polis had done a spot check on my guns?'

  'No, I…I didn't know about that,' she said, her voice small and timid.

  'So, why did you do it?'

  'I…erm…' She hesitated, screwing the napkin tightly in her hand. 'I was frightened you might try to…hurt yourself.'

  'You mean…shoot myself?' he said, his voice low and astonished.

  She nodded. 'Yes.'

  He stared at her, aghast. 'Oh, Christ, Meg, did you really think I could?'

  'I didn't want to take the chance.'

  'Why ever did you think I would?'

  The stressed napkin began to tear as she wrung it. 'You were in a real state, so depressed,' she said. 'You'd had too much to drink and weren't in your right mind some of the time. I wasn't going to risk it. I shouldn't have done it, I know, but I didn't know what else to do.' Her eyes remained firmly fixed on the table.

  'Look at me, Meg.'

  She wouldn't, and he lifted her chin to look at her properly. 'I wouldn't have done anything, honestly,' he said. 'I'm a miserable drunk, I admit that, and I get over-emotional, but I'd never hurt myself. I'm too much of a coward. Besides which, guns like that make so much noise…'

  She afforded him an intent look. 'Are you making fun of me, Nat?'

  'No...no...I'm not, truly.' He reached out his hand on the tabletop, inviting her to place hers in it. 'I appreciate what you did more than you'll ever know.'

  She put her hand in his and he held it, wrapping his fingers around hers.

  'Meg, listen,' he said, keeping his voice low in case they were overheard. 'About the other night…afterwards, I know I should have called you. It was shamefully remiss of me not to, but I couldn't think of anything to say to you that didn't sound…contrived.'

  She looked at him with disbelief. 'You couldn't think of anything in two weeks? A simple, 'Hello' or, 'I'm fine' or even, 'Get lost' would have been nice.'

  'By the time I'd worked out what I wanted to say I thought it would be too late and you wouldn't want to know. I'm sorry if I let you down.'

  He looked as if he meant it and she immediately forgave him. They suspended their conversation as they finished their coffees. Megan was the first to speak. 'I think you ought to know that Rebecca knows.'

  'About...?'

  'Us...spending the night together.'

  He nodded an understanding 'Ah, I thought as much. That would explain why she hasn't spoken more than a handful of words to me since and each one of them attached to a knife to the bollocks.'

  'Don't be crude.'

  'Sorry.'

  'I didn't mean to say anything because it wasn't any of her business, but she guessed right away. She always does. And when she said some stupid, hurtful things, I had to put her right.'

  'Things about me?'

  'About both of us. She's allowed to do it to me, I'm her sister, but not to you.'

  'What did she say?' he asked, his curiosity piqued.

  'Suffice to say she was rather rude and spiteful and made some dreadful accusations.'

  Nat leaned close to her. 'Then I think we have things we need to talk about, don't you?'

  'I'd rather not, but if you think we should, I don't think this is the proper place to do it, do you?'

  'No. I'll take you for a drive somewhere we can talk in private and then I'll take you home.'

  She agreed. They collected their coats and left the coffee shop, and no-one paid them any attention at all.

  Chapter 27

  At a quiet picnic spot three miles outside the village, Nat pulled into a parking place and switched off the motor.

  They both unfastened their seatbelts but neither attempted to get out of the vehicle.

  Megan stared out of the side window while he rested his elbow on the door and rubbed his hand tensely over his forehead. Minutes passed in silence and the resting engine ticked as it cooled.

  'For a man who wanted to talk, you don't have a lot to say,' she said.

  He suddenly pressed the car's ignition button and re-started the engine. 'This was a bad idea. I'll take you home,' he said.

  She prodded the button with her finger, and the engine died again. 'You'll do no such thing. You brought me out here because you wanted to talk…so talk.'

  He sat back in his seat and fixed his eyes on a point in the distance. There was a long pause as he gathered his thoughts.

  'I have to say, first off, that I'm sorry. I know I've said it a lot in the past and many a time it has been meaningless, but believe me this time, I am truly sorry. I was totally out of order for not calling you and for shutting you out and for ignoring you.'

  'I'm sure you had your reasons,' she said. 'To be honest, when I left you that Sunday morning I never expected to see or hear from you again. I'm just happy to see you today and to know that you are alright.'

  'I didn't mean to be cruel, Meg. I just couldn't find the right words to describe how I felt.'

  'You don't need to explain anything.'

  'I do...and I have something to ask you; something that's been playing on my mind. Will you listen to me now, while I've got you here and I've got the nerve to say it?'

  She smiled wryly. 'It's not like I can go anywhere. It's a long walk home.'

  He sighed deeply, and wiped his hands across his face. She had come to recognise the gesture as his indication that something was troubling him. At first he faltered, 'I really need to know...for you to tell me...' And then he blurted out his question. 'What in God's name possessed you to sleep with me, Meg?'

  The question astounded her. 'Excuse me?'

  'I want to know why you slept with me,' he said. 'What made you do it?'

  She swivelled in her seat and looked at him hard, a frown creasing her brow. 'You want me to give you a reason for wanting to go to bed with you?'

  He kept his eyes fixed on a spot on the horizon. 'Aye, I do.'

  'No! I won't. I don't see why I should have to justify my reasons, justify
myself.'

  'Please, Meg. I have to know.' A small muscle twitched in his tense jaw prompting her blunt answer.

  'Okay. I'll keep it plain and simple - you were there and I wanted to. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Will that do?'

  Nat didn't speak, continuing to stare straight ahead, his lips drawn tightly together.

  'It seemed like you wanted it too,' she added. 'It might have been my imagination, but you actually seemed to be enjoying it at the time. Or did I get that all wrong, too?'

  He turned to face her. 'Oh no, Meg, you're not wrong, absolutely not. I was…I did enjoy it…and you're upset.'

  'Too right I'm upset, Nat. If you'd rather I hadn't slept with you, that's your decision. I'll make damned sure it never happens again, and you can do like you do with a bug on your computer, and wipe the whole sordid episode from your memory.' She rocked back in her seat, her arms folded in a solid peeve.

  Nat shook his head and looked down at his hands. 'It wasn't sordid…not in the least. It was truly beautiful…wonderful...words can't describe it and I don't regret it for a second.'

  His heartfelt admission caused a twisting sensation deep in her chest. 'Then why didn't you ask me to stay? Why did you let me go home and leave you there alone, thinking it had all been some horrible squalid mistake and didn't give a damn?'

  His jaw tightened again. 'Because I was scared. I thought it was all too good to be true.' He fingered his wedding ring, turning it around. 'I've had a couple of women in the last few years but only because I was desperate for company, for some kind of...something. They were just one night stands – sex for the sake of it for me, money for them. With you, it was so much more. It was everything I could ever want or need. It was passionate and sensual and…and so incredibly loving and it scared me to death that you, or anyone, could want me like that.'