Coming Home to Brightwater Bay

by Holly Hepburn

  ‘Surprise,’ he said, as the sun appeared from behind a cloud to turn his long golden hair into a halo. ‘How’s my favourite Valkyrie?’

  She reached into the car to gather up her shopping and slowly walked towards him, her heart thudding. ‘Hello, Magnús. I didn’t know you were back on Orkney.’

  ‘I was reminded of some urgent business that needed my attention,’ he said, slamming the car door. ‘Can I help you carry your shopping?’

  Merry still wasn’t a hundred per cent sure she wasn’t imagining him – all six foot five of him – but her gut seemed convinced; it had begun tying itself in knots the moment she’d spotted the truck. ‘I can manage.’

  His gaze was level. ‘I know you can manage. I’m asking if you will permit me to help.’

  A cynical part of Merry’s brain suggested that it would be much harder for her to get Magnús to leave if he’d already gained access to the croft; for example, by carrying her shopping into the kitchen. But that wasn’t Magnús’s way. If he wanted to come in, he’d simply ask. And Merry was pretty certain her treacherous mouth would say yes, so she might as well save them all some time and invite him inside now.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, handing over the heaviest bag. ‘There are a couple more bags in the Mini, if you don’t mind.’

  His fingers brushed hers as he took the bag handle and she felt an all-too-familiar stab deep inside; apparently, he was real. She focused on finding her keys and pushing the right one into the door lock. What she needed was the kind of mental boost only coffee could give, and she needed it fast.

  Merry left the shopping where Magnús had placed the bags, in the middle of the kitchen floor, and put some coffee on. Then she carried two mugs through to the living room, where Magnús now sat, looking as relaxed as ever, in his usual armchair. He took the drink she offered with a grateful tip of his head and placed it carefully on the table in front of them.

  ‘You look well,’ he said. ‘It’s very good to see you.’

  Merry ignored the swarm of butterflies released in her stomach by the compliment and sat on the end of the small sofa, as far away from Magnús as possible. ‘You look great too,’ she replied, because anything else would have been a lie. ‘How are things back at home?’

  ‘Slowly improving,’ he said. ‘To the point where I felt comfortable enough leaving my mother and sister alone for a couple of days, at any rate.’

  ‘That’s good,’ she replied. ‘I’m glad she’s getting better.’

  He looked around, taking in the pile of books stacked up beside the bookshelf. ‘I see you’ve started packing. Have you decided what you will take and what you’ll leave behind yet?’

  She’d found it hard to decide on anything when it came to leaving Orkney but she wasn’t about to explain that now. Taking a deep breath, Merry decided on the direct approach. ‘Not really. What can I help you with, Magnús?’

  He nodded, as though the blunt question had been exactly what he’d been expecting. ‘I heard your interview on Radio Orkney. You and Jess work well together – I can understand why you are best friends.’

  Which was very nice but didn’t answer her question, Merry thought. She waited.

  ‘As you know, it’s been a difficult few months for me,’ he went on. ‘I don’t mind telling you that my mother’s illness scared me. It reminded me that our time on earth is short and the thought of losing her sent me into a panic. I made some choices that seemed right at the time but that I now regret. And one of those regrets is breaking up with you.’

  Merry’s head began to whirl the moment Magnús finished his last sentence. She had always admired his decision to put his family first and return home to Reykjavik to care for his mother, even though it had hurt at the time. But his absolute determination to do the right thing, by both Merry and his family, had been so undeniably him that it had somehow made it easier for Merry to let him go. And now here he was, telling her that he regretted his decision to end their relationship, that perhaps it hadn’t been the right thing after all. It was almost enough to blow her mind.

  ‘I’m not sure you had much option,’ she managed, surprised by how even her voice sounded. ‘We went over this at the time, remember? You had no idea how long your mum would need you, and decided it was better to make a clean break of things between us rather than keep me dangling. Which I am very glad for, by the way.’

  Magnús watched her carefully. ‘I do remember. And I am certain, at the time, that it seemed like the most logical and sensible thing to have done. But what I am saying now is that I was wrong.’

  She nodded slowly. ‘When did you realize?’

  ‘Almost immediately,’ he said. ‘But I was not selfish enough to disturb your peace of mind, plus I was afraid you might have moved on, so I buried the thoughts and got on with the task of nursing my mother.’

  ‘What changed?’ Merry asked, even though she already knew the answer.

  ‘Hearing you talk on the radio,’ Magnús said simply. ‘You mentioned a kiss on a starlit night and I knew you meant the night we spent watching the Merry Dancers. And it gave me hope that perhaps it was not too late, that I might be able to put right the mistake I had made.’

  The memory of kissing Magnús underneath a blanket of the aurora made Merry’s cheeks burn. ‘But the interview was weeks ago,’ she said, trying to get her racing heart under control.

  Magnús sighed. ‘I know. It has taken me this long to summon up the courage to come and see you. We are not all brave Valkyries like you, Merry. I knew there was a good chance you would say no, and then my hopes would be dashed.’

  Merry stared at him for what felt like an eternity. How many times after he’d left had she longed to see him again, dreamed of a moment just like this when they could fall into each other’s arms. Now here he was, a few metres away from her, his green eyes fixed solemnly on hers, and the desire to kiss him was almost overwhelming. All she had to do was get to her feet and cross the room.

  All she had to do was say yes.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  ‘I don’t know.’

  The words were out of Merry’s mouth before she could stop them. Part of her brain recoiled incredulously – the part that was urging her legs to move – but another part was replaying everything that had happened with a much more objective eye. And it was that considering, sensible part of her brain that had confessed that she didn’t know how to react to Magnús’s revelation.

  A wary expression crossed his face, although Merry didn’t think he was surprised. ‘Of course, this is not something I expect you to decide now,’ he said. ‘You should take your time and be guided by what you want, as much as what I want. But just as I regret the decision to break off my relationship with you, I know I would also very much regret it if I didn’t ask for another chance.’

  Merry watched as he drained his coffee and stood up. ‘You’re leaving?’

  He nodded. ‘For now, to allow you the time and space to think. But I will be on Orkney for another day, at least. If you want to talk more, or decide you would also like to try again, then you know how to contact me.’

  He moved towards the front door. Merry followed him, feeling strangely light-headed and confused. ‘And if I decide I don’t want to try again?’

  ‘Then I will be very sorry but at least I will have the satisfaction of knowing I tried,’ he said and paused in the doorway. ‘And just in case you have forgotten how that kiss felt…’

  Cupping her cheek with one calloused hand, he lowered his head to hers and planted the softest of kisses on her lips. Instantly, Merry felt heat rush through her veins and every part of her seemed to burn at once. But no sooner had the kiss begun than it ended and she was left longing for more.

  Magnús stepped back, his eyes stormy, and she knew he’d been just as affected as her. ‘Be well, Merry. I hope to hear from you soon.’

  He walked away, leaving her leaning against the doorframe, weak-kneed. So that was the kind of kiss that left the
recipient trembling, she thought, as the engine of the pick-up truck roared into life. And even as she stepped back and closed the door, her mouth still tingling and her body still yearning for more, the part of her that was a writer was storing the sensations away for use in a story someday.

  Maybe that was the way to approach this, she thought as she wandered back to the sofa; maybe she should think it through as though Magnús was the hero in one of her stories. Except that in the world of romantic fiction there was no decision to be made; her readers would be shouting yes even before the kiss. The trouble was that this was real life and emotions were not as easily rewritten. And Merry’s feelings were as tangled as it was possible to be.

  What she needed was a friend to offer steady but impartial advice. But all she had was herself.

  * * *

  Merry spent a sleepless night tossing and turning, replaying the scene over and over in her mind until she wanted to cry with bewilderment. More than anything, she wished she could message Jess, to reap the benefit of her forthright but trustworthy wisdom. But that wasn’t an option now and she’d deliberately left her phone in the living room, so that she wouldn’t be tempted to contact her. This time, she had to work out her path alone.

  Or did she? She might not be able to talk to Jess but she did have friends on Orkney. When she arrived at the farmhouse just after eleven o’clock, Clare took one look at her pale face and puffy eyes and ushered Hugh from the kitchen. He took the dismissal in his stride, glancing from Clare to Merry without comment and pausing only to squeeze Merry’s shoulder as he left the room.

  ‘Don’t take this the wrong way but you look like hell,’ Clare said the moment the door closed. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Everything,’ Merry said dully. ‘Or maybe nothing. I actually can’t tell.’

  Clare eyed her sharply, then reached for the cake tin. ‘Right. You cut the Battenberg, I’ll make the tea and let’s see if we can’t sort this out.’

  She listened while Merry poured everything out: the ongoing silence from Jess, Niall’s revelation about Andrew, Merry’s mixed feelings about returning to London. When she reached the part about Magnús, Clare’s eyes became saucers but she didn’t interrupt, not even when Merry described the kiss. She waited until Merry had finished speaking, then sat back in her seat and puffed out a long breath.

  ‘I don’t know where to begin,’ she said, with a small shake of her head.

  Merry sighed. ‘Me neither.’

  Clare took a mouthful of cake and chewed in an absent-minded way. ‘And you’ve heard nothing from Jess? Not even when you apologized?’

  Merry shifted on her chair. ‘Well, I haven’t exactly apologized.’

  ‘Okay,’ Clare said carefully. ‘Do you think maybe that might be a good place to start? It’s pretty clear now that there’s nothing going on between her and Niall.’

  ‘Is it?’ Merry replied, raising her chin. ‘Obviously, Niall doesn’t see her that way but that doesn’t mean Jess doesn’t fancy him.’

  The other woman stared at her. ‘You know her best, of course. But she’s been back in London for a few weeks now – is it really likely she’s still carrying a torch for Niall when they live seven hundred miles apart?’

  The answer was no, Merry knew. When it came to dating, Jess had the attention span of a goldfish and rarely maintained interest in one man for more than a month. And it seemed unlikely she and Niall were still in touch, given his questions to Merry the day they’d visited the lighthouse. So even if Jess had been interested in Niall, that interest had almost certainly faded by now.

  ‘What I’m getting at here,’ Clare went on in a gentle tone, ‘is whether it’s worth potentially losing your best friend over something that probably isn’t true. Especially since you know there’s no way Niall sees Jess as anything more than a friend.’

  She was right, Merry knew, and the realization made her want to groan. ‘I’m such an idiot.’

  ‘No, you’re a human being,’ Clare said. ‘We all make mistakes and I’m sure Jess will understand. But I think you need to say sorry if you want to repair the damage to your friendship. The sooner the better.’

  Merry nodded gratefully. ‘Okay. I will.’

  ‘As for whether you’re ready to go back to London, who says you have to?’

  ‘I’m only meant to be here for six months,’ Merry said. ‘I’m sure the Literary Society would take a dim view if I refused to leave at the start of August.’

  Clare shrugged. ‘We’ve got a spare room – you could stay with us until you find somewhere else to live. But, actually, the croft stays empty for half the year – the Writer in Residence scheme only runs from February to August, so it’s not as though someone else will be moving in when you vacate. You might find the Literary Society is open to you extending your stay, if you offer to pay rent and don’t mind the long winter nights.’

  Merry’s jaw dropped a little. It was such a simple solution – why hadn’t she thought of it? ‘But why hasn’t Niall suggested it?’ she asked, still trying to get her head around the idea.

  ‘Maybe he doesn’t know you’re thinking about staying,’ Clare said. ‘Have you ever actually told him?’

  It was another good point, Merry acknowledged – had she? She’d certainly said she’d miss Orkney when she left, and Niall had always been so good at reading between the lines that perhaps she’d expected him to understand without ever expressly mentioning that she might stay. ‘I don’t know,’ she told Clare. ‘It’s possible I haven’t.’

  ‘So that’s another conversation you need to have,’ Clare said with some satisfaction. ‘And with a bit of luck, you can sort something out and then that problem will be solved. Which leaves us with Magnús.’ She stopped and took a long sip of tea, watching Merry over the top of her mug. ‘What are you going to do about him?’

  ‘Honestly? I have no idea.’

  Clare pursed her lips and lifted her hands as though ticking off options. ‘Let’s think it through. One, you stay on Orkney and restart things with Magnús, seeing each other when he comes here or you go to Reykjavik.’

  That had been the suggestion Merry had made to Magnús when he’d first announced he was moving back to Iceland to look after his mother. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘It’s not the easiest journey but it could work if we put the effort in.’

  ‘Option two, you go back to London and restart things.’

  ‘That could work as well,’ Merry said. ‘In fact, getting to Reykjavik from London might be easier than from here. But it would mean leaving Orkney…’

  She trailed off as the familiar bubble of reluctance rose up inside her.

  ‘That’s true,’ Clare said. ‘And I think we’ve established you’re going to stay. So that means the final option is staying on Orkney and not restarting things with Magnús. How does that make you feel?’

  Wrapping her hands around the mug of tea, Merry gave it some thought. Seeing Magnús had certainly reminded her of the physical attraction between them and she knew there’d been much more to their relationship than that. He was kind and thoughtful and generous and caring… In short, the perfect boyfriend. Dating him again would be no hardship, even if it had to be long-distance for now, and she had no doubt she could fall in love with him, given time. So, what was stopping her from accepting his offer, she wondered yet again. Why wasn’t her heart singing a big joyful YES?

  She sighed and met Clare’s eyes. ‘I think he’s too late,’ she said slowly, feeling her way around the admission for the first time. ‘I think maybe there’s someone else I like more.’

  Her friend watched her for a moment, then nodded. ‘I think so too. Although just for the sake of clarity, I have to check you don’t mean Alex here.’

  The comment was so unexpected that Merry let out an involuntary snort of laughter. ‘No,’ she said, blinking. ‘I definitely don’t mean Alex.’

  Clare sat back in her seat. ‘Good, because I didn’t want to have to slap you. And for what it’s w
orth, I think the someone you like likes you too.’

  But Merry shook her head. ‘No, he doesn’t. He’s made that pretty clear.’

  ‘Has he?’ Clare asked sceptically. ‘Or have you just decided he’s not interested because that meant you didn’t have to confront your own feelings?’

  Ouch, Merry thought as the observation hit home. She grimaced at Clare. ‘Have I ever mentioned you have a lot in common with Jess sometimes?’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Clare said, grinning. ‘But seriously, I’ve known Niall a long time and I’ve never seen him as obviously smitten as he is now. I don’t know why he hasn’t told you how he feels – maybe it’s a work thing, because you’re our Writer in Residence and that makes you somehow off limits. But I bet if you stay on after the residency ends, you’ll discover how he really feels.’

  The thought of having a conversation like that with Niall, of perhaps going on a date and maybe even kissing him, unleashed a fury of butterflies in Merry’s stomach. ‘But what if you’re wrong?’

  Clare spread her hands. ‘Then I’m wrong. But here’s the thing – do you want to go through life regretting the chances you didn’t take?’

  Merry thought back to Magnús, and what might have been if he’d taken a risk on their relationship. ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t want to regret anything.’

  ‘Well, then,’ Clare said. ‘I think my work here is done. Do you feel better?’

  ‘I do,’ Merry said, smiling. ‘A tiny bit terrified but definitely better. Thank you.’

  Clare returned her smile. ‘Good. And in return, you can help me muck out the llamas. What size wellies do you take?’

  Chapter Twenty-eight