Fragrance of Violets (13 page)

“I’m not blaming you, Abbey. The whole thing was my fault.”

“It seems to me a lot of it was Helen Cardew’s fault.”

“Maybe to start with, but what happened afterwards was my stupidity.”

“I was stupid, too, for letting it destroy our friendship. What you said that night hurt, but I’ve realised how much I hurt you, too, with all the things I said.”

* * * * *

Abbey exhaled. She’d finally admitted it had been her fault as much as Jack’s, and a wave of relief washed through her.

“I’m so sorry, Jack. I ruined everything.”

“I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know.” His face was serious until he gave the grin that made her heart leap. “Can we kiss and make up?”

A tremor ran through her, but she smiled. “Why not?”

She watched, mesmerised, as he leant forward until his mouth met hers. The gentle kiss sent heat coursing through her veins.

He moved away, but they still gazed at each other. When his eyes softened with what she recognised as desire, instinct told her she should move back or turn her head away, anything to stop the irrevocable step they were about to take. But her body refused to accept the warnings from her brain. She wanted his kiss.

When it came, full on her mouth, a kiss from searching, insistent lips, panic gripped her, and she tensed. Only when his tongue gently teased her lower lip did she begin to relax. Hardly aware of what she was doing, she opened her mouth to him as she surrendered, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders. His arms went around her, pressing her to him, and her heightened awareness thrilled to the strength and sexuality of his body.

Her own body blazed with a maelstrom of desires that were made even stronger by all her conflicting emotions. She wanted him, but she was scared. Scared by the depth of her feelings, scared she was about to commit herself to a situation she didn’t know how to handle.

Jack’s tongue found hers and fondled it tenderly, and deep inside her a dam burst, flooding her with a desperate, intense, hungry need for him. Her hands tightened, one moving to the nape of his neck, the other grasping his thick hair. A low, helpless sound escaped from her throat as she ached for him to make love to her. The thought stunned even the mush of a brain she still possessed.

As abruptly as he began the kiss, he broke away.

“Oh God,” he said, staring down at her with eyes that held—what? Lust, anguish, triumph, regret? “Oh God,” he said again.

He stood and took a few steps away from the bench.

“Jack, it’s okay.” She started to stand, too. “It’s okay.”

He turned. “Dammit, Abbey, it’s not okay. It shouldn’t have happened.”

A chill ran through her, and she sank down on the bench again. Of course it shouldn’t. Not when his fiancée had been killed only two months ago.

“I understand,” she said quietly. She felt his guilt as if it was her own, and her own guilt, too, about wanting his kiss to go on forever.

“Do you? Another two minutes and history would have repeated itself, and I’d spend the next ten years regretting it, in the same way as I’ve spent the last ten years regretting what I destroyed between us.”

Abbey stared at him. “But—but Rachel—?”

“This isn’t anything to do with Rachel. This is you and me.”

“Oh.” She tried to get her mind around what he meant.

“I came back here because of you, you know.”

“Oh,” she said again, even more bewildered now.

He studied her for a moment, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. “I seem to be creating that reaction a lot from you. Just
oh
. Is that all you’re going to say?”

“I’m not sure what to say.”

“Why not?”

The tangled thoughts twisted through her mind. The magnetic attraction she’d tried to deny when she realised she could easily fall for the man Jack had become. Her acceptance that she’d said as many hurtful things to him as he had to her. The long-standing resentment which should have been directed toward Helen Cardew. And now some instinct that she shouldn’t even think of intruding on his grief at losing Rachel.

“I’m confused,” she admitted. “About you. About myself. I’m not quite sure where we are.”

“I’m not sure either.” He gave her a half-smile. “I wanted to kiss you the other night, after the drama club.”

“And I wanted to kiss you.”

His eyes widened. “You did?”

“Yes.”

He sat next to her again. “So I’m not imagining it? That there’s something special between us?”

She hesitated. It was what she’d been trying to dismiss, but maybe it was real after all. “No, you’re not imagining it. I think it’s been there since the night you surprised me outside the shop.”

He bent forward to kiss her mouth again, and she felt the same melting sensation in her stomach, but he didn’t prolong the kiss.

“We’ll sort it out, Abbey.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“It can be as easy or difficult as we decide to make it.”

She nodded. “I think we both need time.”

“Time together?”

“I’d like that.”

“So would I. How about dinner tomorrow evening?”

“Yes—oh no, I’m sorry, I can’t. Louise is staying near Kendal with Farrell, her latest boyfriend, and they’re taking Mum and me out to dinner tomorrow.”

* * * * *

“Farrell?” A jerk of unease shot through Jack. It couldn’t be the same one, could it?

“Yes, he’s a literary agent. I met him yesterday. He’s interesting and amusing, and Louise is quite taken with him.”

Dammit, it
had
to be the same Farrell. This was a potentially disastrous complication he couldn’t have foreseen, and he made a mental note to call him the next day. The last thing he wanted was for his agent to let slip that John Tyson was his pen-name. He couldn’t risk Abbey finding out he’d turned her down for the role of Maggie Rycroft. Not yet, not until he managed to fix things.

“How about Sunday evening?” he asked.

“Jack, are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure.”

“What about Rachel? You said this wasn’t anything to do with her but it’s only two months since you lost her.”

“I need to tell you more about what happened between Rachel and me. We’ll talk about it on Sunday. Okay?”

CHAPTER 13

All through the next day, Abbey went over and over in her mind everything Jack had said. A small thrill ran through her each time she relived their kiss, and she smiled at the memory of his strong hand gripping hers as they walked back to Eagle Croft.

She tried to ignore the less welcome fears which threatened to intervene but occasionally she clenched her hands when her stomach clenched with a tight band of anxiety. The momentary panic she felt the night before returned with a sickening jolt. She couldn’t deny the way her body responded to him, the hot surge of desire which overwhelmed her, but was that enough to overcome her deep-seated fear of committing herself to a relationship, of falling in love?

What
was
love anyway? When she played a woman in love on stage or in a film, she didn’t draw on any of her own emotions or memories. Instead, she relied on her imagination, studied the work of other actresses, and used the facial and vocal expressions and techniques she’d learned over the years. The truth was, she had no idea how it felt to be in love with someone.

In the evening, she drove to Louise and Farrell’s hotel with her mother. During their meal, they chatted about the meeting in the church.

Edwina described Jack’s speech and how he presented his cheque and walked out. “Everyone was stunned, of course, but Abbey went after him, and he explained why he’s changed his ideas. Go on, tell them, Abbey.”

Abbey had given her mother brief details about her conversation with Jack, but only the part about the Old School and the village’s history. If Edwina guessed that they talked about far more, she hadn’t asked any questions, not even when Abbey said she was having dinner with him on Sunday evening.

Now she gave a diffident shrug. “He said he started to appreciate his home once he moved away.”

“Is that all?” Louise asked.

“Well, we—we talked about tourists versus local people, and about village history and preserving its heritage.” Abbey caught Louise’s disbelieving narrow-eyed reaction and wished they were alone so she could tell her sister what had really happened. “Are we finished in here?” she asked. “The lounge is more comfortable than these chairs.”

As they moved out of the restaurant into the lounge, she winked at Louise. “Next round’s on me. Come and help me carry the drinks, Lou.”

Louise followed her to the bar counter. “You discussed village history? Come on, sis, your face is saying a lot more. Spill it.”

Abbey ordered their drinks, and glanced around at the table where her mother was deep in conversation with Farrell, before turning back to her sister. “What’s it like to be in love, Louise?”

Louise’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow, what a question!”

“Give me a one sentence answer.”

“One sentence?” Louise blew out her cheeks, furrowed her brow, and nodded. “Okay, your heart seems to beat faster when you’re with him, you think about him all the time, and you want to be with him because you’re aware of a big gap in your life when you’re apart. How’s that for starters?”

Abbey laughed. “I think that was three sentences combined into one.”

“I assume you’re asking this because of Jack?”

Her cheeks burned. “Things changed last night, Lou.” She thought for a moment. “
I
changed. I stopped blaming him for what happened ten years ago.”

“That was one big step for you.”

“Yes, but I’m scared.”

“Of Jack?”

“No, of course not. It’s relationships that scare me. I couldn’t handle being let down or hurt.”

Louise’s features softened with compassion. “It’s a chance you have to take with any relationship, Abbs. Nothing comes with a no heartbreak guarantee. It may be easier to steer clear of emotional involvement, but then you’re also shutting yourself off from knowing the real happiness which could be the most wonderful and fulfilling experience of your life.”

Abbey stared at her sister. “That’s quite profound, Louise.”

Louise laughed. “I suppose I’ve had enough relationships to define my thoughts about them.”

“A lot more than I’ve had.”

“Yeah, I spent too many years searching for another father.”

“Whereas I’m wary about every man turning out to be like Dad.”

“You said it, sis.”

Abbey wrinkled her brow. “What happens if you’re not sure what you feel? If you’re physically attracted, but don’t know if you want it to go any further?”

“Any further? You mean, go to bed with him?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” As she said it, a feathery sensation fluttered in her stomach.

“Stop fighting it, Abbs,” Louise said. “Admit you’re in love with him.”

“Even if I did, what difference will it make? He said he wants to tell me more about Rachel—which probably means he’s going to say he’s not ready for another relationship.”

“Not yet, but once he’s past his grieving, he
will
be ready.”

“And that’s the point where I’d run a mile, because it would get scary.”

“Not if you think about what Farrell said to me, about taking ownership of your life again.”

Abbey shrugged. “Okay.” She gave Louise a quick smile. “Come on, let’s take these drinks over.”

They returned to their seats and chatted generally for the rest of the evening. When they were leaving, Louise gave her a hug. “Take a chance, Abbey—and call me any time you want to talk.”

“I will. Thanks, Louise.”

Take a chance.
It sounded so easy, until she equated it with standing on the edge of a precipice, wondering whether she should jump or whether she should rush back to the safety of the life she’d always known.

* * * * *

Jack had said he’d pick her up at seven on Sunday, and for half the afternoon, Abbey agonised about what to wear.

“Oh, for heavens’ sake,” she muttered irritably as she flicked through the clothes in her wardrobe. Why was it such a big deal? Jack had seen her in school uniform, in hiking gear, in scruffy jeans and teeshirts, even in sailing waterproofs and a huge life-jacket.

He’d also seen her dressed-up, albeit in teenage fashions. Tonight was different, but she had no idea where he was taking her. After changing her mind several times, she decided on her silky pearl grey dress, teaming it with a wide black belt and her black, red and white metallic beads. She took time with her hair, too, using her hot brush to put some order into her unruly natural waves.

When she went downstairs into the living room, her mother smiled. “You look nice, Abbey.”

“Thanks.”

“You and Jack—” Edwina hesitated.

“We’re going out for dinner. We’ve mended a few fences and we’re friends again. You’re okay with that, aren’t you?”

Edwina laughed. “Even if I wasn’t, you’d still do your own thing, Abbey. But yes, after what he said on Friday night, I’m more kindly disposed to him than I was. Just make sure he treats you right, otherwise this Mama Bear will sharpen her claws.”

“Mum, what went wrong between us ten years ago was as much my fault as his. I’ve admitted that now.” She sat down in the armchair across from her mother. “Can I ask you something? About Dad?”

Edwina raised her eyebrows. “What about him?”

She’d said the words on an impulse, and now had to think about what she wanted to ask. “Do you—I’m not sure how to say this—do you still resent him?”

Edwina puffed out her cheeks as she pondered the question. “I was angry about the problems I had so many times in getting any child support payments from him, and I was very angry at the way he abandoned you three girls. There may have been some resentment, but when he walked out, my main feeling was relief. I’d put up with his affairs for long enough.”

Abbey frowned. “Why did you stay with him once you knew about them?”

“I hoped he might grow up. Even though he was a successful financier, I realised after we’d been married for a couple of years that his self-esteem was non-existent. He wanted the best of both worlds, a wife and family to bolster his respectability, and the freedom to boost his ego by being seen around with pretty young things. When I eventually told him to choose, he wasn’t prepared to give up his freedom.”

“And conveniently forgot he’d ever had a wife and family.”

“Sadly, some men are like that.”

Abbey nodded, and leaned forward. “Look, tell me if I’m overstepping the line, but is it because of what Dad did that you’ve never married again?”

Edwina shook her head. “I don’t think so. When he first left, I’ll admit I had a fairly jaundiced view of men, so I wasn’t interested in finding anyone else. I had you three to look after, of course, and when we came up here, I worked part-time with the National Trust as well as helping your grandma in the shop. By the time she died and I took over the shop, I was involved in various other things—the Women’s Institute, the history society, the walking club, running evening classes in Coniston.” She chuckled. “No time for a man in my life.”

“What about now?”

“You mean would I consider marrying again? Well, I wouldn’t say no to Richard Gere, but I’m too set in my ways now.”

“So it’s not because of Dad?”

“No, that’s all in the past.” Her brow creased. “What’s brought all this on? Is it anything to do with Jack?”

“Not really.” Abbey gave a small embarrassed shrug. “Well, yes, in a way.”

“Abbey, most men aren’t as weak and self-serving as your father, you know.”

“I know. I have a lot of good men friends, and of course they’re not like Dad.” She balked at telling her mother her fears about relationships. “Oh, forget it,” she said and gave her mother a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Mum, I’m a big girl now, I can handle it.”

Even as she said it, her inner voice asked,
Can you
? If Jack told her he wasn’t ready for another relationship, part of her would feel relieved but another part would be disappointed. If he said he
was
ready, she didn’t know how she would react.

She went to the door when the knock came promptly at seven. As her eyes took in Jack’s grey chinos, pale blue open neck shirt, and navy jacket, a hundred butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

“You look stunning, Abbey,” he said.

“Thanks.” She grinned. “You don’t look too bad yourself. Come and say hello to Mum. She was very impressed by what you said on Friday night.”

Edwina greeted him cordially, and they spent a few minutes talking about the Old School, and about his parents.

When a car horn tooted outside, Jack glanced at his watch. “That’ll be our taxi. We have a reservation for seven-thirty.”

“Where are we going?” Abbey asked as she followed him outside.

“Hillside Manor. Okay with you?”

“Mmm, yes,
very
nice, and somewhat more upmarket than the Sun Caff where we used to meet.”

Jack laughed. “We’ve both come a long way since then, but of course if you’d prefer the chip shop in Ambleside?”

“Well, if the food’s not up to much at the hotel, we can always call in there on our way home.” She grinned, knowing full well the restaurant at Hillside had featured in the Good Food Guide for as long as she could remember.

They talked casually on the fifteen minute drive to Grasmere, and she tried to ignore her nerve-igniting awareness of Jack’s nearness, intensified by the musky scent of his cologne, masculine and very sexy.

She was sure he was going to tell her his kiss on Friday night had been a mistake and was already steeling herself to accept that he wasn’t ready to move on after Rachel’s death, but it didn’t stop the warm tingle running through her each time his eyes met hers.

When they got out of the taxi, he put his hand on her back as he escorted her to the door of the hotel. Even that was enough to send a wave of heat through her.

They went into the spacious and elegant dining room and their waiter led them to a table near the large window which overlooked the gardens. Although it was dark, strategically placed lamps illuminated the evergreen shrubs and cast shadows across the neat lawns.

After they’d ordered, the waiter brought their wine. Jack held his glass toward her. “To us.”

As she clinked her glass against his, a small warning bell rang in her mind. She took a sip of her drink and tried to ignore her inner trembling. “You—you said you’d tell me about Rachel.”

“I did, didn’t I? But can we leave it until after we’ve eaten? I can’t tell you while we’re being interrupted with servers bringing food and double-checking that we’re enjoying our meals.”

Once they finished their meal, they took their drinks into the lounge where a pianist played quietly in one corner, and sank down on a dark leather couch.

“Okay, you want to know about Rachel,” Jack began.

“Only if you want to tell me.”

He took a gulp of his wine. “I’ve already told you she reminded me of you. Lively and vivacious, and very determined, too. When I first went to L.A., life was a ball for the first six months or so. We both took time out from working and did all kinds of crazy things, like you and I used to do. Sailing and hiking, surfing and rollerblading, celebrity spotting on Rodeo Drive, did the whole Disney thing, and even flew to Las Vegas for a long weekend.” He paused. “I proposed to her in Vegas. I was madly in love with her, or so I thought. We even talked about getting married in one of those chapels there, but she wanted a big wedding with all the trimmings. She had a list a mile long of people to invite.” He took a long drink. “I think that was when I started to realise she wasn’t you.”