Christmas at Butterfly Cove

by Sarah Bennett

  ‘She came down about ten minutes ago to make a start on lunch. Some kind of curried turkey soup from the looks of it. George is on prep duty, and I saw him chopping fresh chillies.’

  Daniel’s stomach gave an appreciative rumble. Everything his wife cooked tasted amazing, but her homemade soups were like ambrosia from the gods. ‘I should probably go in and lend her a hand.’

  Richard sipped his coffee, warm eyes studying him until Daniel wanted to look away. ‘If that’s what you want, but I’m sure they can manage between them. I thought we might take a walk.’ He paused long enough to drain his mug. ‘Have a chat, perhaps.’

  With a tilt of his head, Daniel finished his own drink. ‘Do I look like I need it?’

  The older man slung an arm around his shoulder as they began to amble towards the beach. ‘Just a bit, son.’

  Daniel leaned in to Richard, just a little, grateful all over again for the blessing of this strong, sure man who could read him so well. With the baby on the way, he’d been feeling the loss of his parents as keenly as when they’d first died. And having everyone else’s parents around had only cemented the feeling. Their child would never lack for doting grandparents, even if George was the only blood relation who could technically claim the title. And knowing how excited Richard and Madeline were at the prospect of another little one to spoil, it seemed churlish of him to feel so depressed about it. His aggravation with everything and everybody was all tied up in a hot tangle of guilt over having all these wonderful people in his life and still feeling like something was missing.

  Digging out the path had been another job Daniel had used to keep himself occupied, so they had no problem navigating their way to the end of the garden. It hadn’t snowed since Boxing Day, but the Arctic front had well and truly settled over their part of the country, and even the bright sunshine couldn’t get the temperature above freezing. Leaving their mugs on the top step, they made their way down to the beach. The layer of snow was thinning over the sand, and a clear demarcation line showed the high-tide mark.

  A dark pebble shone on the sand in front of him, and Daniel chucked it into the sea, startling a hardy gull who’d been bobbing around on the gentle waves. The bird took off with a disgruntled squawk, and he followed the white speck as it crossed the azure blue of the sky. ‘I miss Mam and Dad,’ he said, more to the departing bird than the man beside him.

  ‘I bet you do. We try so hard to make a show of having a wonderful time, but I always feel the ghosts more closely at this time of year. It’s hard not to regret what could have been.’ Richard blinked a couple of times, then nudged his shoulder. ‘But we’re not here to talk about me.’

  ‘We can be if you want.’ Damn, he’d been so busy feeling sorry for himself, he hadn’t taken note of anyone else’s feelings. He should have realised that beneath their obvious joy about the baby, memories of the ones Richard and Madeline had lost in their younger days would be stirring. Turning to face the older man, he held out his arms. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how this might affect you too.’

  Richard shook his head. ‘We couldn’t be happier, and that’s the honest truth. You know what you and Mia mean to us both.’ He stepped forward and the two of them clung to each other. Taking and giving the comfort they both needed, acknowledging both their losses and how very much they had gained through their friendship. The gull squawked overhead, his cry joined by another, and Daniel lifted his head to watch the pair swoop and dive over the waves together.

  They walked the length of the curving beach and back, enjoying the bracing sea air, chatting a little when something caught the attention of one or other of them. The peace and quiet, broken only by the hush of waves on the shore, the odd cry of the gulls, did wonders to settle his mood. Reaching the base of the steps, Daniel paused to tap the sand and snow combination from the tread of his boots, casting one final look over his shoulder at the slowly encroaching tide. ‘I hope they’re not getting too carried away with plans for the party. With the way things are between Luke and Nee, I’m not sure we wouldn’t be better calling the whole thing off.’

  ‘Or perhaps it might be the perfect distraction everyone needs. Nee will come out of her room eventually and it might upset her more to discover plans were changed because of her. I know you’re a bit disappointed with the way things have turned out this week, but part of family life is embracing the messy bits and helping each other find a way through.’ Richard clapped a hand on his shoulder as they climbed back up the steps. ‘Besides, Madeline spent a good hour or more sewing a toy parrot on the shoulder of my costume, and quite likes the look of me in an eye patch.’

  Daniel laughed at the mental image of Richard as a swashbuckler. ‘If you’re coming as a pirate, dare I ask what she’s chosen for a costume?’

  There was a distinct gleam in Richard’s eyes as he raised his eyebrows suggestively. ‘She’s based the costumes on some old romance novel she loves. The cover’s falling to bits, where she’s read it so often. I’m the base pirate, and she’s the lady heroine he kidnaps for ransom and falls in love with. I haven’t seen her finished outfit, but there’s a lot of petticoats. Have you got your costume sorted?’

  ‘I tried to talk Mia into coming as Catwoman, but she was having none of it, and I think Matty might have already pipped me to the post when it comes to being Batman, so unless I can think of anything more inspired, I’m sticking on a flannel shirt and going as a lumberjack.’ He stroked the slightly unkempt beard on his chin. ‘It’s been the perfect excuse not to trim this for a few days.’

  They collected their mugs from where they’d left them earlier and walked the short distance back to the house. With the trees and bushes still covered in snow, it was like something out of a holiday movie set, complete with glittering lights shining on the tree in front of the French windows which led to the dining room. If the weather for New Year’s Eve was going to stay fine, he might dig out the external lights they’d strung through the trees for the wedding. He could even fire up the barbecue for a few post-midnight burgers, which would save Mia some of the cooking…

  Filled with renewed enthusiasm for the party, he ushered Richard through the back door, eager to find out what the ladies had been planning. The sight of his sister-in-law stopped him dead in his tracks. Purple shadows bruised the skin beneath her eyes, and her limp hair had been pushed away from her face with a spotted scarf. The oversized T-shirt she wore was spattered in paint and charcoal smudges, as were the leggings she wore underneath it, and the bare skin on her forearms. Once he looked past the obvious exhaustion in her eyes, he noticed something else – a spark which reminded him so much of his wife. An inner confidence, a substance to her which had been sadly lacking.

  He’d never understood the connection between her and Luke before. Brash and forthright, his friend had always seemed a bit too much for the quiet, subdued woman. Luke had personality in bucketloads, and would need a woman who could stand toe to toe with him. Kiki’s innate sweetness worked well with Aaron’s more gentle nature, but the younger Spenser needed a woman more like his Mia in temperament. She’d told him stories of Nee’s antics as a child, and for the first time he could see traces of the girl who’d set her face to the world with plans to conquer it.

  ‘Oh, there you are!’ Nee surprised him further by addressing him over the others in the room. ‘Do you think I can borrow you for a few minutes?’

  ‘Erm, sure.’ He followed her out of the kitchen, exchanging shrugs of bemusement with Mia on his way out.

  She led the way to the Harem suite of rooms and paused just outside the door to the sitting room. ‘Look,’ she said, wringing her hands together in front of her, ‘I asked you rather than Mia or any of the others because I didn’t want to upset any of them, and what with you being something of an artist yourself, I thought you might understand a bit better.’

  Not sure what to expect, he reached past her to nudge open the door. He understood instantly why she might not want Mia to see what l
ay beyond. Schooling his face not to reflect the tumult of emotions whirling inside him, he took a step inside and tried to absorb the images assailing him.

  In the centre of the room stood a large portrait—more a caricature, really—of the grinning man he recognised from the newspaper article that had kicked off all the trouble. Scrawled across the image were the most lurid insults, swear words and terms of abuse in bold red letters. He blinked a couple of times over the imaginative combinations she’d come up with, and mentally added a few new words to his own vocabulary.

  The vitriol pouring from the piece told him more than he needed to know about the reason behind Nee’s flight from New York. Pain screamed from every brushstroke, every ugly, scribbled word. It was too potent to look at for long without feeling like a voyeur, so he turned his attention to the other pictures in the room. There was a series of charcoal sketches illustrating the descent of a vibrant, beautiful woman into a slow spiral of self-destruction. The proud jut of her chin, a feature she’d passed down to her daughters, revealed the identity of the woman as Vivian. Each image catalogued the slow ravages caused by a lifetime addiction to alcohol until she was nothing more than a sparrow-thin collection of bones under stretched skin in a hospital bed. Having faced his own demons down, Daniel held a deep sympathy for the woman, but not enough to forgive the indelible scars she’d left on each of her children.

  There were other sketches and drawings too, including a still life of a champagne bottle, a wedding band and, he noticed with a wince, a brittle, withered rose. Feeling the weight of the trust Nee must have in him to share these most intimate secrets, he searched for the right words. A response that would assure her he would protect the information and do whatever he could to help her. Not that he had any idea what that might be.

  Nee stepped up beside him, tracing the outline of the bottle with one finger. ‘I want to burn them.’

  Staggered at the suggestion, he opened his mouth to protest at the wanton destruction of such raw, impactful art. Here was life in all its bitter glory, a testament to the savagery of existence hiding behind the smiling façade most people showed to the world.

  Easy to see the value when it wasn’t one’s own damage out on display. He closed his jaw with a snap. Nee was his family and he would do whatever she needed. ‘If you’re sure that’s what you want then we can take them down to the barns. There’s a small forge I built for the ironworkers.’ Wrestling with his better judgment, he couldn’t help adding. ‘Or I can crate them up for you. Stick them in storage for now and you can revisit them later.’

  She shook her head. ‘I know what you’re saying, but this isn’t for anyone else. I’ve kept so much bottled up inside me and I needed to purge it. I’m sure I could get an exhibition, sell the lot, because our society is so fascinated by the misery of others, and the old me would have jumped at the chance. I’ve chased fame before, thought the only thing I needed in my life was acclamation and recognition from the great and the good of the art community.’ A bitter smile twisted her mouth. ‘But I discovered to my cost that they’re not that great, and some are certainly not good. I was so busy running towards what I thought would sate the aching need inside me, I missed the fact I already had it – from Mia and Kiki, and then from Luke.’

  Knowing all too well how she was feeling, Daniel hooked an arm around her shoulder and pulled her tight against his side so he could press a kiss to the top of her head. ‘The adulation and sparkle blinds you at first, sweetheart.’

  She nodded against his neck. ‘You’ve been there.’

  He laughed. ‘Been there, done that, puked my guts up in your sister’s rhododendron bushes.’ When she gave him a quizzical look, he told her about his ungainly arrival at Butterfly Cove, adding at the end, ‘And for the lucky ones like you and me, rock bottom isn’t the worst place to land when you’ve got the right person to help you up.’

  ‘Like Mia.’

  He nodded to the ring dangling from the chain around her neck. ‘Like Luke.’

  Her fingers raised to close around it and she gripped it like a talisman. ‘Yes.’ He watched her eyes lose focus and waited quietly until she roused herself from whatever memory she’d drifted off into. ‘Right, I’d better give you a hand with these.’

  ‘No, leave them. I can do it.’ She’d been running on adrenaline for a couple of days, and he could tell from the way she swayed on her feet that a crash was imminent. ‘Why don’t you have a nice hot shower and tuck yourself into bed? I’ll clear all this away, and you can trust me to do as you’ve asked. Once I’ve put them away in the barns, I’ll send Mia up with some soup.’

  Nee worried at her bottom lip, a nervous trait all three of the sisters shared. ‘Is she very mad at me for refusing to see her?’

  God, she looked so young, so vulnerable. The nine years between them felt like a generation. ‘She’s not mad at you; no one is. We were just a bit worried, that’s all. A bit of a kip will probably do you the world of good.’ He winked at her. ‘Besides, once you set foot back downstairs, you’re bound to get roped into preparations for the big New Year’s bash so you’ll need all your strength.’

  ‘Oh. I’d forgotten about that…’ Her attention drifted away once more.

  Taking her gently by the shoulder, he turned her to face the bathroom. ‘Shower. Soup. Sleep.’ With a little push, he got her at least moving in the right direction.

  She paused on the threshold. ‘There’s one piece on the easel in the corner. Leave that one, please.’

  ‘Of course.’

  As soon as the door closed behind her, he set to work. He put the largest picture on the floor and quickly stacked all the others on top of it. Pens, charcoal and pots of paint littered the surfaces, and he was relieved to see she’d torn pages out of a sketchbook to protect the surfaces beneath them. He soon had the supplies gathered up, lids secured and stacked in a neat pile next to the chaise.

  Kneeling down, he furled the pictures into a tight roll, which he tucked under his arm before closing the door behind him. With only one set of keys, there would be no chance of anyone nosing around in the barns and stumbling across them, so he would wait until after the New Year to destroy them. Starting up the forge would only invite questions, and he wasn’t sure how much of this Nee wanted to share.

  With everything gathered up, only the easel in the corner remained. A cloth covered whatever picture Nee had asked him to leave behind, and the tips of his fingers itched with the need to take a quick peek. He rubbed the pads together to dispel the sensation; Nee had trusted him with so many secrets, he owed it to her to let her keep this one. Checking one last time the bundle under his arm was secure, he backed out of the sitting room and closed the door. The sound of water spattering against tiles reassured him that Nee was following the first of his suggestions, so he left her to it.

  Full of delicious soup and freshly baked bread, Daniel dropped his spoon into his empty bowl with a happy sigh. Madeline and Richard had headed home as soon as they’d finished eating. George and Maggie had gone to see them off, and had then volunteered to tidy up in the kitchen. A footstep scuffed on the parquet flooring behind him, and he angled his body towards Mia as she wandered into the dining room. He patted his thigh and she settled on it, leaning against his chest to rest her head under his chin. ‘How is she?’

  ‘Better, I think. I wanted to stay and make sure she had enough to eat, but she’s sleeping now.’

  He curled his arm around her waist to settle her more firmly on his lap. ‘Best thing for her. So, what’s on the agenda for this afternoon?’

  ‘As little as possible,’ she said, hopefully.

  He liked the sound of that. Pressing his lips to her ear, he lowered his voice to a husky whisper. ‘Fancy a nap?’

  ‘You’ve no shame,’ she said, but there was laughter in her words.

  ‘Absolutely none.’ She was definitely considering the idea, so he added an extra bit of persuasion. ‘I hid the rest of that chocolate gelato in the back
of the freezer.’

  Quicker than a flash, she hopped off his lap. ‘I’ll be waiting upstairs, don’t be long!’ He decided to pretend at least a smidgen of the lust shining in her eyes was reserved for him.

  To his surprise, the kitchen stood empty. The washing-up was only half done and breadcrumbs still littered the chopping board on the counter. With a shrug, he added his bowl and spoon to the soapy water in the sink, and retrieved the luxury ice cream. He was almost to the door when a noise came from the pantry. Ready to dismiss it, his mind well and truly fixed on dessert, he took another step. There it was again, a funny little gasp.

  Thinking perhaps Mia’s dad had gone in there to fetch something and was having trouble breathing, he hurried over to check. The words of concern died on his lips, and he cursed himself for not ignoring the sound. If George was having difficulty catching his breath, it was only because his lips were glued to Maggie’s. Closing his eyes, he prayed silently for it to be some wild figment of his imagination before cracking them open again.

  Nope. Not his imagination, for even in his wildest dreams (nightmares?) he couldn’t have conjured the image of Maggie scrabbling at the back of George’s second-best cardigan whilst wearing a pair of leopard-print washing-up gloves. It was enough to put a man off his gelato, for God’s sake.

  Thankfully, they were too wrapped up in each other to notice him, so he beat a hasty retreat, wondering if there was such a thing as mind-bleach, and just how much he’d need to use to scrub the vision from his poor brain.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Exhausted after almost no sleep in two days, Nee must have fallen asleep mid-conversation with Mia, for when she awoke, it was pitch dark and she was alone in her room. The muscles in her thighs ached from being locked into one position for too long, and she stretched them gingerly, wincing when her toes hit the cold, empty patch in the bed next to her. Luke’s self-imposed exile might have been the catalyst to get her working again, but she’d grown used to sleeping beside him in just those first couple of nights. Stretching her arms and legs out like a starfish, she moved them up and down, to spread a bit of warmth into the bedding outside the little spot she’d been huddled in.