by Kate Hewitt
“Something private, eh, Sam? You’re one with the lasses, hey?”
“It’s not like that.” Sam glowered briefly at the man before turning his implacable gaze back on Rachel. “I can’t leave the pub. You can say whatever it is you need to here.”
Coward. Rachel knew he could leave the pub; there was naught but two old farmers in it and he’d left it before. He just didn’t want to give her a chance to say something emotional, to talk about that kiss.
Courage rushed through her along with adrenalin, and she drew herself up. If Sam thought he could outmanoeuvre her, he had another thing coming. Several, in fact.
“All right, fine,” she said, giving him a level look. “I want to talk about us.”
Sam flinched in surprise. “Rachel—”
“And about the way you kissed me a week ago now.”
One of the farmers chuckled, a dry, rasping sound, while the other one lifted up his empty pint glass.
“Pull me another, Sam. I’m staying for this.”
“Rachel,” Sam hissed, grabbing the empty glass and pulling a pint of Guinness glaring at Rachel all the while. “Now is not the time—”
“Now is the time,” she retorted. Weirdly she was almost enjoying this now. “I’ve already spent a week settling in my own mind what I feel for you, and now I need to know what you feel for me.”
Colour flared in Sam’s face. “I already told you—”
“You told me I deserved better than you,” Rachel said steadily. Inside her, everything trembled. “And I disagree.”
Sam shook his head, his lips pressed together. “That doesn’t matter.”
“So I don’t get a say?”
“No.”
She stared at him, hardly able to believe the conversation might be over before it had begun. That was it? Sam folded his arms, his jaw set, as he waited her out. Rachel felt like screaming, sobbing, and stamping her foot all at once.
“Ach, Sam,” one of the farmers said as he took a sip of his Guinness. “You’re being a bit hard on the lass.”
“Yes, you are,” Rachel said fiercely. “Do you think I haven’t thought this through, Sam? Do you think I haven’t realised what this means?”
“You don’t really care about me, Rachel.” His voice was quiet and sad and so very certain.
“You can’t tell me what I feel.”
“She’s right there, lad,” another farmer chimed in. Rachel had never been so grateful for the stony-faced old codgers and their tersely given wisdom.
Sam was starting to look as if he seriously regretted having this conversation in the pub, but Rachel wasn’t letting him off the hook now.
“I care about you,” she declared. One of the farmers whistled under his breath. “At the beginning I told myself I wouldn’t. I didn’t want to, because I thought I knew what I wanted my life to look like—”
“I know what you want your life to look like,” Sam cut her off, the words exploding out of him. “I saw it that first day, when I drove you to the big pile on the fells. You want things I could never, ever give you, Rachel.”
“And I told you last week that it had never been about the things. It was about what they represented, Sam. Happiness and…” she would say it “…love.”
Something flickered across his face and then was gone. “I can’t give you those things, either.”
“Are you sure about that? Because I think you can.”
He stared at her for a long moment, his jaw bunching, torment in his eyes. Rachel longed to reach out and hug him but she wasn’t brave enough, and there was still a bar between them, as well as a lot of other things besides.
“Look at me, Rachel,” he finally said in a low voice. “Look at my life. This pub barely breaks even and I live in a grotty flat—”
“Your flat is not grotty. It’s cleaner than mine.”
“And you know why it’s so clean?” Sam growled. “Because I picked up the habit of keeping things tidy in prison. Did you forget that detail?”
“I haven’t forgotten anything, Sam,” Rachel said softly. “Not one thing.”
“And what about Nathan? You know what he’s like. You want to sign up for that? What happened to your five kids, all piled in the Range Rover?”
“I’m letting go of my old dreams because I have new ones now,” Rachel answered, her voice growing stronger with every word. “New ones that are about you, and Nathan, and the life we could have together if we were both willing to give it a chance. I’m not saying it would be easy, but my mother had some wise words for me the other day. She said loving someone was hard and right, and that when you get past the fun, easy stuff, that’s when love grows. So I’m asking you for a chance to find out if that’s true.” Her heart was beating so hard it hurt. “That’s all I’m asking for, Sam,” she whispered. “A chance to find out if we have a chance.”
Sam stared at her for a long moment. Why did the man have to be so darned inscrutable? Why couldn’t she tell what he was thinking, at least a little bit?
“All I’ve wanted,” he finally said, his voice low, “is a life like yours. A family like yours.” He shook his head. “But I learned a long time ago that it wasn’t for me.”
“Why not?” Rachel asked, her throat and heart both aching.
“Because I’ve made too many mistakes, and I can’t handle another one. I say yes to you, Rachel, and then six weeks or six months or even six years down the road and you’ve had enough. I couldn’t…I couldn’t take that.” He lowered his head, his gaze on the old, scarred wood of the bar. “I can’t risk it.”
It felt as if Rachel’s heart was both contracting and expanding as Sam’s painfully honest admission reverberated through her. “Everything is a risk, Sam,” she said, her voice aching along with her throat and heart. “Everything. You could walk out of here right now and be hit by a car. You could fall in love with the safest person in the world and realise it wasn’t right.” Like I did. “Or you could decide something—someone—is worth taking a risk for, to figure out if forever is possible. This isn’t easy for me, either.” She waited, her gaze fastened on his lowered head, willing him to look up and see her. “I spent this last week thinking and praying about it, and I know now I’m willing to take that risk with you. I want to take it, even if I’m terrified. But I guess the real question is…” her voice and her courage nearly failed her now “…are you willing to take that risk with me?”
The ensuing silence felt endless, an agony of waiting and utter unknowing. She’d gambled everything. She’d put her heart right out there; she hadn’t stayed safe. She’d thrown her already-trampled dreams in the dust and was reaching for new ones…but what if Sam wasn’t with her on this? What if he decided it—she—simply wasn’t worth it?
Then he looked up. “Rachel,” he said, and she couldn’t tell anything from his tone, but she liked the way he said her name. She loved it.
“Yes.” She stood there, waiting, her heart in her eyes, in her mouth, on her sleeve. And she knew in that moment that this was worth it—Sam was, because her mum had been right. Love wasn’t easy, or safe, but it was so worth it. She hadn’t had that with Dan; she hadn’t felt this way, as if everything rested on this moment. As if she’d found the thing she was made for, the person she was meant to be.
Still Sam didn’t say anything, but he looked at her, and there was so much emotion in his eyes that that was nearly enough.
Then one of the farmers pulled the brim of his flat cap down low on his face and muttered, “I think this is when you kiss her, lad.”
“I’m not doing that in front of you lot,” Sam answered, and then he came around the bar and reached for Rachel’s hand. In a daze, she followed him out to the dank little courtyard where it had all begun. Still holding her hand, he turned to her, his expression fierce and almost frightening.
“Did you mean all that, back there in the pub?”
Rachel gulped. Nodded. “Yes. I did.”
“All of it—about me, about
caring, about taking a chance?”
Her heart felt as if it were beating its way up her throat. “Yes, Sam—”
“Even though things will be complicated? Even though Nathan can be a right pain in the—”
“Yes.”
“Even though there will be social workers and assessments and my prison record will come out—”
“Assessments?” A smile bloomed across her face. “Do you mean—”
“Yes, I do.” He took her by both shoulders, gazing at her with such startling intensity Rachel felt as if she were under a microscope. She felt scrutinised but also beloved. “Tell me you meant it, Rachel.”
“I meant it.” She understood in that moment, with a sudden, breathless clarity, that she meant it in a way she never had with Dan. Dan had been right all along—something had been missing between them, something important, and for the first time she knew absolutely to the tips of her toes and the depths of her soul that he’d been right to call it off. And she was right to be here, smiling at Sam, waiting for his answer.
And she got it—in his kiss. His mouth came down on hers and Rachel’s eyes fluttered closed as the whole world seemed to right itself.
Sam’s arms came around her and he held her tightly, as if he would never let her go, and Rachel hoped he wouldn’t. Then a voice, sounding grumpy, was heard from the pub.
“Hey, can we get some service in here?”
Epilogue
CHURCH BELLS PEALED out, the notes seeming to shimmer on the crystalline air as they echoed through the village and settled on the snowy pasture. It was three days before Christmas and Anna and Simon were about to get married.
Rachel stood in the porch of the church, trying not to shiver in the freezing air as she adjusted Anna’s veil. Next to her Roger smiled with a suspicious glint in his eye, and then got out his handkerchief to discreetly wipe away the stray tear. He and Ruth had returned to Thornthwaite a week ago, and it had been a joyous reunion, full of new beginnings—Miriam, nearly eight months pregnant now, and Esther, only two months along. And then of course they’d re-introduced themselves to Sam and met Nathan. The Holley family was expanding in all sorts of ways, and they would all be spending Christmas together in three days’ time.
The last two months had been the best of Rachel’s life, but also some of the most challenging. Her mum had certainly been right. Navigating a new relationship was fraught, especially with so many obstacles to overcome. A few weeks ago, the results of Nathan’s assessment had finally come in and he’d been officially diagnosed with partial Foetal Alcohol Syndrome, something that had devastated Sam even as both he and Rachel had acknowledged this was a step forward, and they could now begin to work on strategies and therapies to help Nathan. Sam was also applying for permanent custody of Nathan, with his sister’s approval; the hearing would be sometime in the new year.
Rachel and Miriam had both moved out of the flat above The Bell—Miriam to go her own, unexpected way, and Rachel into a small terraced cottage on the high street she’d bought after Fellview had sold. It had a garden for Bailey and a little more space for her. It made sense, in this new period of life, to put down roots, and to give her and Sam a bit of breathing space as they tried to go about romance the normal way and date like two people who had only known each other for a few months, which was what they were, even if it didn’t always feel that way. It felt like so much more.
Already her family were good-naturedly hinting at wedding bells for her and Sam—when would there be another vicarage wedding? For now, Rachel was happy with this one. She had new dreams, fragile, barely birthed ones, and she wanted to see how they grew.
“Are we going to get going with this?” Esther asked as she came into the porch, dressed in a crimson sheath dress. “Otherwise I might need to have a snack in the middle of the service. I’m constantly starving.” Esther was eight weeks’ pregnant and not quite glowing yet, but joy seeped from every pore. Rachel knew how longed-for this baby was.
“And I might go into labour,” Miriam said with a smile and a theatrical groan. Her own dress was the same shade of scarlet, but with a much-needed Empire waist and flowing skirt. “I look like a red whale in this dress.”
Anna smiled at them all, looking lovely in her simple gown, her lace veil flowing over her shoulders. “You all look beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”
“As do you,” Rachel said. “You’re radiant, Anna.” She’d never seen her sister look so happy, and she was glad.
“I feel radiant,” Anna admitted. “I feel like the best is about to begin.” Which was how Rachel felt—perhaps how they all felt. She glanced at Miriam, wondering what lay ahead for her youngest sister.
From the church the organ music started to swell.
“Shall we, my dears?” Roger asked, looking around at his four daughters, and Anna nodded.
“Yes, let’s get this party started.” She gave a nervous giggle.
The three sisters lined up in order of age—first Miriam, and then Rachel, and then Esther, and then Anna and Roger behind. Ruth had already been seated by Will. As Rachel took her turn to walk down the aisle, she searched the pews for Sam and Nathan. Her gaze caught on Dan, who smiled at her, and she smiled back. A while back they’d reached an understanding, and they were friends again. Truly friends.
Then she saw Sam, and her smile became a full-watt beam of joy as he grinned back at her, love shining in his eyes. No, it hadn’t been easy these last two months, but it had been wonderful. Still smiling, Rachel started down the aisle.
The End
Read the last Holley Sisters story,
A Vicarage Homecoming, about Miriam, out soon!
The Holley Sisters of Thornthwaite Series
Book 1: A Vicarage Christmas
Anna’s story
Buy now!
Book 2: A Vicarage Reunion
Esther’s story
Buy now!
Book 3: A Vicarage Wedding
Rachel’s story
View the entire series!
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About the Author
After spending three years as a diehard New Yorker, Kate Hewitt now lives in the Lake District in England with her husband, their five children, and a Golden Retriever. She enjoys such novel things as long country walks and chatting with people in the street, and her children love the freedom of village life—although she often has to ring four or five people to figure out where they’ve gone off to.
She writes women’s fiction as well as contemporary romance under the name Kate Hewitt, and whatever the genre she enjoys delivering a compelling and intensely emotional story.
You can find out more about Katharine on her website at kate-hewitt.com, on Facebook and on Twitter @katehewitt1.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapt
er Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
The Holley Sisters of Thornthwaite series
About the Author
