Christmas at Butterfly Cove

by Sarah Bennett

  Vivian’s funeral was about as awful as his somewhat limited experience had led him to expect. Poor Mia had turned up looking whiter than Nee’s hair and as miserable as a kicked puppy. Daniel muttered something about a flu bug and kept her tucked close into his side throughout the service. They’d left the wake after less than an hour, and it had surprised everyone, except probably his brother, when Kiki had taken charge of proceedings in her absence.

  Luke had been set to work making endless pots of tea and coffee, while Aaron manned the drinks cabinet, offering sherry or port to those who wanted to take the chill off after an hour in the freezing church. The enticing aroma of mulled wine bubbling from a large saucepan soon filled the air and a noticeable increase in conversational volume soon followed. Nee had been put on sandwich duty, although that involved little more than unwrapping and setting out the trays delivered that morning by a local catering company.

  Returning from his latest round of refills, he paused by the hob to lean over Kiki’s shoulder and inhale the rich red wine and zesty orange fragrance rising from the pan. ‘Smells amazing. Everyone seems happy enough, next door. If you keep spoiling them with treats like this, we’ll never get rid of them.’

  She glanced up at him, a sad smile upon her face. ‘I need to keep busy, and the company seems to be doing Dad good.’

  He nodded and squeezed her shoulder. ‘I get it, Kiki, really. You might want to take a break and rescue Aaron, though. Mrs Hardy from next door has taken a shine to him, or maybe it’s the sherry bottle. Either way, he was looking a bit hemmed in.’

  Kiki laughed, as he’d intended. ‘I’ll just get this transferred into some jugs and then go and see.’

  ‘Here, let me.’ He stepped in, lifting the heavy pan before she could do it, following her careful direction as he poured it into a couple of large ceramic jugs Kiki had set out on two trays together with a selection of mugs.

  ‘Can you do outside, if I take the other tray next door?’ she asked.

  He glanced out the window. ‘Sure.’ A few hardy types had escaped the crowded confines of the house for the kitchen patio, and it was difficult to tell who amongst them were the smokers from the way everyone’s breath frosted in the air. Spotting a lone figure at the far end of the garden, he set his jaw. ‘I’ll just get my coat.’

  Shrugging into his dark wool overcoat, he made sure to grab the silver-coloured down jacket hanging next to it and tucked it under his arm. A slap of cold air hit his face the second he stepped outside the back door, and he muttered imprecations about foolish bloody women under his breath. The tray of mulled wine was greeted with enthusiasm by the occupants of the patio, and he set it on a small, wrought-iron table and left them to sort themselves out. Growing more annoyed with every step, he marched down the neat flagstone path.

  ‘Put this on, you’ll catch your bloody death.’ He thrust the jacket at Nee, who was visibly shivering from the cold. ‘What the hell are you playing…’ The words died on his lips at the look of utter desolation on her face. Bundling her into the coat like a small child, he zipped it up to her chin, then tugged the faux fur-lined hood up for good measure. ‘What is it, sweetheart? What’s wrong?’ Apart from the bloody obvious, of course. ‘Is it your mum?’ He chafed his hands up and down her arms, trying to get her warmed up as quickly as possible.

  She shook her head. ‘I just needed to get out of the house. One of dad’s former colleagues from the university asked when my next exhibition was going to be, and I didn’t know what to tell him.’ She laughed, and there was more than an edge of hysteria to it. ‘I couldn’t tell him the truth, could I?’

  Luke slid his hands up her arms to cup her shoulders, keeping her facing him when she would have otherwise turned away. ‘And what truth is that?’ He kept his voice whisper-quiet.

  ‘That there isn’t going to be one. That there’s no more art, not now, not ever!’ It was as he’d suspected, though her admission still shocked him.

  He pulled her unresisting body closer. ‘Talk to me, darling. Let me help you.’

  A strangled laugh escaped her throat, but she snuggled closer into his chest. ‘Why on earth would you want to?’

  ‘You’re my wife, Nee. We might have rushed into things, but I wasn’t messing around when I exchanged those vows with you.’

  ‘Ah, God. You’re determined to make me feel worse than I already do! You owe me no loyalty and even less consideration for the way I walked out on you.’

  ‘You had your reasons, I’m sure.’ With her tucked into his shoulder, he didn’t have to hide the clench in his jaw. He hoped, whatever they were, he could forgive her as much as his heart wanted to.

  ‘I was horribly selfish. And stupid.’ She sighed.

  ‘Yes, and maybe. I’ll reserve judgment until I know more.’ Her shocked laugh lifted his hopes.

  ‘It made sense at the time, or perhaps I just needed to convince myself it did…’ Her voice trailed off towards the end, as though talking more to herself than him.

  Damn, she was more cryptic than the Sunday crossword. Having first sworn to himself he didn’t care why she’d left, he was now painfully desperate to know – it had to have been more than a simple change of heart. Or maybe that was his pride speaking. It was one of the possibilities his talk with Aaron had raised; Nee saying it had been a mistake to leave could have referred to the manner in which she’d done it.

  Spotting an old wooden bench under the leafless branches of a tree, he loosened his hold on Nee and led her towards it. Testing the wood, he found it cold-damp rather than truly wet and, tucking his coat beneath his legs, settled himself on one end of it. She sat beside him, not close enough for his liking, but he didn’t get chance to slide closer before she popped back onto her feet and began to pace. ‘That bloody email…’ she muttered.

  ‘Email?’

  ‘You don’t understand, Luke! I’d given up all hope of hearing from them and there it was, completely out of the blue. He made me choose, and when it comes to working at the Reinhold, there is no choice. Not if you want to be taken seriously. I tried!’ The words tumbled from her lips, her tone as agitated as the way she stalked up and down before him.

  Tucking his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t reach out and drag her down beside him, Luke tried to fathom his way through what she was telling him. ‘When did you get the email?’

  She threw her hands up, a gesture of pure frustration. ‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you! It came through that evening. You’d fallen asleep, after… well, you know…’ Her cheeks flushed, and he swallowed a smile. Their wedding celebrations had been somewhat enthusiastic. Images floated through his mind of champagne-infused kisses, but he dragged himself back as she continued to speak. ‘I couldn’t sleep so I was just fiddling around on my phone, and there it was. He told me I had a place, and my flight was leaving first thing in the morning.’

  ‘He who?’ Luke didn’t realise he’d said it out loud until her head snapped up.

  ‘Devin.’ So much nuance packed into a single word. Awe, fear, more than a little disgust. He racked his brain trying to recall what he’d read about the Institute during his Google search. He had a vague recollection of an older guy appearing in several photos with A-list celebrities. He couldn’t picture a face, per se, more an impression of the kind of perfect white teeth you only got in America, and a rather bouffant hairdo.

  She heaved a sigh, a deep breath that shuddered her entire frame. ‘He played me from the start, I see that now. I messaged straight back, explained we were literally just married, and he cut me off. Said he was sorry he’d made a mistake in thinking I was serious about my art, and withdrew the offer instantly. I…’ She turned her back to him, leaving him with no way to see her expression thanks to the deep hood of her coat.

  When she spoke again, her voice was so soft he had to strain forward to catch her words. ‘I panicked. Begged him to reconsider, told him working at the Reinhold, studying beneath his guidance, was my dream. I… I told
him I’d do anything for a second chance, and he said the only way to get him to change his mind was to prove my commitment to my art. He said he wasn’t interested in silly girls in love. He wanted serious creatives who had no room for anything in their hearts other than expressing the truth in art.’ She huffed out a breath. ‘Pretentious bastard.’

  Luke had to agree. The guy sounded like a complete arsehole, and not just because he finally had a target for his own hurts and disappointment. Hearing her say it, the admission from her own mouth she’d made a choice and he’d been on the losing side, hurt. Jesus, did it hurt. Like a knife in his guts, and he didn’t know in that moment if he had it in him to put that pain aside and give her a fair hearing. He enjoyed his job, had certain ambitions for his career, but it didn’t set his soul on fire. One of the things about Nee that had drawn him to her had been her absolute passion for art.

  Trying to put himself in her shoes for a moment, he wondered whether, backed into a corner as she seemed to have been, he wouldn’t have done the same thing. He shook his head. He’d never really know. Bracing himself, he asked the one question that might sink his hopes for ever. ‘Is that the only reason you left me?’

  She whipped around, her hood falling back in the process and he could see the tracks of fresh tears on her cheeks. ‘What?’

  He swallowed the taste of bile from the back of his tongue. That wasn’t an emphatic denial, and he had to know. ‘Was the ultimatum the only reason?’

  Chapter Seven

  Nee glanced down at the thin-soled black shoes she was wearing. Tracing a pattern back and forth in the frost-white grass, she kept her eyes averted. ‘I got scared,’ she admitted. ‘Scared I would grow to resent you if I didn’t go; scared we’d rushed into things, that we didn’t really know each other well enough to make such a big commitment. The more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself the email was a sign.’

  She made herself look up, though it was a struggle to meet his eyes, to be honest with him, and with herself. ‘I was just making excuses, though, trying to justify my decision.’ God, this was so hard. Why was he putting them both through it, when it wouldn’t make any difference? It was too late; what was done was done. In coming to support her, he’d only managed to drive home how much she didn’t deserve him. It was why, even after she’d fled New York, she hadn’t dared approach him. He needed to move on, to find someone who could love him unconditionally, someone who would protect that big, generous heart of his, not trample it into the dirt.

  Needing to put an end to the conversation, Nee shoved her freezing hands into her pockets. ‘I’m cold. I’m going to go in.’

  He stood immediately, putting paid to any hopes she had of an easy escape. ‘I shouldn’t have kept you out here so long. We can continue this inside.’

  Shaking her head, she backed away from him. ‘There’s no point in continuing, Luke. This isn’t going to get us anywhere.’

  A stubborn frown shadowed his dark eyes. ‘Don’t keep running away from me. You haven’t told me what happened in New York.’

  No, she hadn’t, and she intended for it to stay that way. He already thought badly enough of her as it was. ‘That’s because it’s none of your business. Not any more.’

  He reached for her. ‘You’re still my wife, Nee.’

  ‘Only on paper, Luke. It’s over. We’re over.’ Shards of pain stabbed beneath her ribcage, as though her heart had shattered into pieces and the splinters dug into her flesh.

  ‘Do you still love me?’

  ‘My feelings for you are irrelevant. I appreciate what you’ve done for me, Luke. Coming here, supporting me when I needed it. I can never repay your kindness.’

  Luke made a chopping motion with his hand, cutting her off. ‘Stop it! I’m not one of the bloody neighbours you can dismiss with pleasantries. Answer the damn question.’

  Frustration welled inside her and she balled her hands into fists. ‘Yes, of course I bloody love you. I’ve never stopped loving you, and probably never will. That’s not the point!’

  Hard hands grabbed her arms, dragging her forward until she tipped off balance and fell against his chest. His mouth crashed down onto hers, in a fierce kiss that curled her numb toes. Taking advantage of her gasp of shock, Luke slipped his tongue between her lips, sending sparks shooting through her numb limbs. She grabbed for his shoulders, intending to regain her footing and push him away, but somehow her fingers ended up clenched tight into the wool of his coat.

  The kiss went on and on, robbing her oxygen, her ability to think, erasing the litany of reasons why this was a terrible idea. When he finally let her come up for air, she tried to gather her scattered wits. For the first time in months, the terrible ache inside her faded. The heat in his brown eyes chased all thoughts of the cold from her mind, and a tender smile teased at the corners of his lips. His head dipped forward, lashes lowering, indicating his intention to deliver another of those brain-scrambling kisses. She turned her head, intent on avoiding his mouth, not realising her mistake until his soft lips began to nibble along the edge of her jaw and down inside the neckline of her jacket. ‘Luke…’

  ‘Shh,’ he murmured against the side of her throat. ‘You talk too much.’

  Her laugh ended on a breathy sigh. ‘You were the one who wanted to talk.’

  ‘I changed my mind. This is much more fun.’ God, how she’d missed his cheeky humour, the easy, teasing banter between them that came as easily as breathing. Her fingers crept into the curls gathered at the nape of his neck and she pressed him closer, just for a second, before tugging at his hair until he lifted his head. He gave her the full effect of his puppy-dog eyes. ‘You’re going to ruin the moment, aren’t you?’

  ‘This doesn’t change anything, you know.’ No matter how much she might want it to.

  The gentle humour in his eyes disappeared in a flash. ‘You love me. You’ve admitted it not just in words, but in the way you kissed me just now. I love you too, so bloody much. I’ve been in hell this past year without you. There’s nothing stopping us from being together…’ His arms around her back slackened. ‘Unless there’s somebody else.’ A look of suspicion crept into his eyes. ‘It’s that guy you mentioned, isn’t it? Devin Whatsisface.’

  A wash of guilt flowed through her, ridiculous given the circumstances, but she couldn’t help it. ‘Not in the way you think.’

  His hold tightened. ‘I don’t know what to think with all your cryptic shit. Just tell me what the hell happened in New York!’

  Pulling free, she paced away to the end of the garden. He wasn’t going to let it go, that much was clear. The gnarled branches of the trees stood stark against the washed-out grey sky, reaching towards her like twisted fingers ready to drag her back to the worst night of her life. Courage, Nee. She’d been picking around the edges for too long; it was time to rip the top off the festering scab and see how bad the wound really was.

  ‘From the moment I arrived, he dictated my every move. There was a strict schedule to be followed, because he had a show to prepare for. I spent most of my waking hours in the studio, which wouldn’t have been too bad if I’d been allowed to work on my own projects, but we had to focus entirely on stuff for the show. From painting backdrops to days recreating hand sculptures from designs he sketched out for me.’ She laughed. ‘All those rich Manhattan folks coughing up a small fortune for one of his pieces and they’re lucky if he did more than dip it in the glaze bucket.’

  Warmth blanketed her back, and she allowed herself to lean into the strength of Luke’s body as the memories swirled before her unseeing eyes. ‘He’s a master of the entire medium, that’s what sets him above the rest of us. From throwing, to hand-shaping, to slip-casting, most of us are adept at one method above the others, but not Devin. Or so I believed, along with everyone else. That’s how he chooses his students, though. Each one of us specialises in different methods so he can pass off our work as his own. He says it doesn’t matter, that people are buying his ‘concept�
��, his ‘vision’ and no one challenges him because, once you’ve worked under him, your own price tag goes up.’

  Luke’s voice sounded soft against her ear. ‘So, no one says anything and he keeps getting away with it.’

  She nodded. ‘Exactly. Anyone who spoke out would be easily dismissed as jealous, or lacking in talent. Who’s going to listen to some no-name beginner over the great Devin Rees?’ As she’d found out for herself.

  Memories surged, carrying her back to that dizzying, crazy time. ‘And when you’re not in the studio, you’re at a party in his loft surrounded by celebrities and critics, or attending premieres and restaurant openings, or whatever event needs a bit of the Devin Rees magic sprinkled on it to make it special. I don’t think I slept a full night for two months straight. We finally got everything ready for the exhibition, and he promised me it was time to look at my own stuff. I was so excited…’ Nee took a deep breath, letting the cold air brace her for the next part.

  ‘I should have suspected something was wrong when I walked in and the lights were low. I even made a joke about the candlelight, and believed him when he said he needed something soothing after so many days in the harsh lights of the studio. That didn’t explain the wine sitting in an ice bucket, though, or the music playing in the background. The fact it was just the two of us, alone in his private space. All those seminars at uni about being aware of your surroundings and looking for hints or triggers, and I waltzed right in. I knew something was off, but I didn’t want to blow my big chance at finally getting started on my art.’ God, she’d been such a bloody idiot.

  Luke’s arm curled across the front of her shoulders, holding her to his chest as he whispered against her hair. ‘Oh, Nee.’

  She could have stopped there. It was obvious from his tone he understood enough of what was coming next. She’d never told anyone, though; not let herself really think about it since the final humiliation of the following morning. Just let it squat in the corner of her mind like some poisonous toad. ‘When I asked him where Amber was, he told me she had a book-club meeting and would be back later.’