The Secret Art of Forgiveness (23 page)

Emily's fingers twisted in her lap as her stepsister's eyes bore into her. They'd spent the last two days nutting out what needed doing for The Judge, organising Wi-Fi at The Hall, getting more roof quotes and visiting the bank manager.

After their early-morning heart-to-heart things between them had reverted back to almost the same as they'd always been – frosty, but a little thawed. Tam, it seemed, didn't react well to letting her guard down and showing weakness. ‘I was just saying we could have author chats, a panel, maybe, as well as a book stall.'

‘Get some bestsellers down here and local artists could do workshops. I bet Matilda knows some people – she's an artist, isn't she? And I've seen adverts for classes over at Greater Duxbury, so there must be more people interested over there.' Sally grinned.

But Tam glared. ‘And where will we house them all? The village green's not big enough to hold stages for bands and different workshops. What would we pay them?'

Emily took a breath and exhaled. What a great relief to be able to throw herself into something positive, instead of mulling over all her problems; The Judge, the roof, Brett.

God, Brett
. His disappointed face kept popping into her head making her deflated and defeated all over again.

Pushing every emotion back she began the pitch she hadn't known she was going to give. ‘I was thinking something along the lines of getting the whole village involved; you know, taking the bones of what you've already organised and then making it bigger.' She hesitated to use the word
better
in case she offended someone. Tam, really. ‘We could have a couple of local bands playing at various venues – like in here, and up at The Hall, at the café, maybe even on the green. A walking tour between all the venues, with a history trail or treasure hunt. It'd be more than a fair; it would be a… a festival. Yes! A festival. Over two days. I have so many ideas: a kids' corner with face painting and fake tattoos, because if the kids are happy, the parents will be, too. At least two, maybe three, stages, offering a variety of music; circus skills; boating on the lake. Gourmet food stalls. Crafts, and clothing for sale. Jewellery. Massage and yoga. Camping. Glamping.' She was going a little overboard, but it certainly beat mulling over her impending marriage.

Tam shook her head. ‘And you want to organise it all in a month? You're crazy.'

‘Maybe. Okay, maybe not the camping or glamping… not this year, anyway.' Just as she did at work, Emily began to feel excitement bubbling up. The doggy speed-dating had been organised in the space of a week and it had gone viral within twenty-four hours of advertising it. Admittedly, she hadn't been the main coordinator and there'd been a team to do it. But here was her team, sitting with pens poised. This could be done, she was sure. Somehow. Although, doing it alongside work and looking after The Judge and fixing the roof would be
tricky. ‘So, who needs sleep? We can do this. I'm sure the local college has some budding bands who'd come along and play just for exposure. A string quartet? A chamber orchestra? We could have a gala performance. Two. Saturday and Sunday. A parade for the kids, with things they made at the workshops?'

‘And authors? You mentioned authors?' Tam was tapping her pencil against the table. ‘We don't have many of those around here. You're getting very carried away, Emily. Ideas are all very well, but the execution is going to be impossible.'

That wasn't a word Emily believed in. ‘Look, you've got the bones of it organised already. If we all pull together we can do whatever we set out to do. Maybe small-scale this year, just to test the waters, and then upscale it next year?' She could leave them a blueprint and be available for questions – New York was only an email away.

‘I could ask around about authors.' It was Jacob. So far he'd been silent throughout the meeting. His eyes darted to Emily. ‘I have some contacts. And I know a couple of bands, too. I did some freelancing for
NME
years back. If you're so enthusiastic about this, then we can't let you down, right?'

Someone on her side. There was a rush of something through her body as she turned to him, and she had a bad feeling it wasn't just gratitude. She was already knee-deep in complications with Brett and yet, here she was, craving to know more about Jacob Taylor. If only there was a turn-off switch for her hormones.

She tried to show him her thanks with a not-too-friendly smile, just to make sure she wasn't encouraging him to instil these weird zings in her. ‘That would be brilliant. See? We must all know someone who could be involved, surely? Ask around. The more fabulous and famous, the better.'

Tam's eyebrows rose. ‘And payment of all these
fabulous
artistes?'

‘A percentage of the takings, or something?'

One of the women who'd been listening joined in. ‘I'm an accountant, I could draw up a contract or something.'

‘But it's not about the money, in the end, is it? It's about the community. About drawing everyone together and celebrating what a wonderful place Little Duxbury is. The Little Duxbury Festival of Culture. What about that? Or just the Little Festival. That's perfect. Oh, this is going to be brilliant. Imagine the children's faces when they're holding up some artwork or musical instrument they've made. Imagine the pride in the college kids' faces when they've entertained a whole village of people. The excitement for the local artists; showing their work, and selling it. Plus, the buzz of giving back by teaching.' She felt like Mel Gibson in
Braveheart
, rallying the troops to go into battle. All she needed now was a blue streak across her face, and wild, matted hair. She ran her hand over her very mischievous curls. Okay, just the blue streak was required. She stood up and looked at each of them in turn. ‘We're going to put Little Duxbury on the map. It's going to be fabulous. Who's with me?'

Slowly, all of them, except one, put their hands up. Tam stiffened, her hands firmly down. ‘Looks like you've got your festival, Emily.' Red-faced, she grabbed her handbag. ‘And it sounds like you don't need me. Good luck.'

Then she hurried out of the door.

‘Oh, crap. I'd better go after her.' Emily went to follow, but was stopped by Greta's hand.

‘Give her time to cool down. She's just pissed off because everyone sided with you.'

‘Damn, and blast. I didn't mean to do that. Now she's going to hate me even more.' That was not what they needed. She hadn't broken through years of thick ice only to have it glaze over again. Plus, there was the teeny tiny issue of when on earth she would find time to organise a festival in among everything else she was doing. She didn't want to be in charge of it, just stir up enthusiasm.

Greta shrugged. ‘She needs to loosen up and realise not everything has to go her way all the time.'

‘She needs to get drunk.' Liam gave a short laugh.

‘She needs to get laid,' Sal joined in.

Sally's eyes flickered to Liam as she said that. There was a definite unrequited simmering going on. The man was either blind, oblivious or very definitely not interested.

He stood and began collecting the glasses. ‘Are we finished here, then?'

‘No. Hell, no. We've only just started. Any more ideas? No? Okay. Right then, action stations! We need to make a list of everything we have to organise; who to contact, who's going to do the contacting. Deadlines for action –' Emily noticed Sally's eyes following Liam as he started towards the bar. Emily called to him, ‘Er, Liam?'

He turned. ‘Yes?'

‘I was wondering whether you'd be in charge of refreshments for the weekend? We need to discuss amounts, what kind to have on offer, and so on. I think a limited selection of different kinds of alcohol works best, obviously soft drinks and maybe approach a coffee cart or two? Actually, organising all that would probably be hard for just one person. Sally? Would you mind helping him?'

Her friend gave her a tiny wink and could barely contain her smile, although she sounded fabulously nonchalant in her reply, ‘I guess not. No, that's fine.'

‘Great. So, if you two could have a meeting or two, and report back next week? Also, if you could approach the cafes and restaurants in the area and see who could contribute to the cooking demos, that would be brilliant. I'm thinking we could use a marquee on the green, or up at The Hall. Actually, we have an outhouse that would be perfect. And we'll need extra tables, chairs and seating.'

‘I'm sure Dad's hired them before, when he was trying to branch into property development and ran a couple of seminars at the office. We can certainly sort that out. No problem.' Sally mouthed,
thank you
the moment Liam's back was turned.

Great. That was one friendship she'd mended. One she'd, hopefully, be instrumental in creating. And one – with Tamara – that she needed to start fixing all over again.

***

Two hours later, Em found herself once again walking the familiar road from the pub back up to The Hall with Jacob. After the noise of the pub, the brain-storming ideas session, and job allocating, it was nice to have an easy silence. There was something about Jacob that meant she didn't need to fill in the quiet times. He seemed more than happy to be there saying nothing. Just being.

Eventually, as the noise from the pub leavers died away behind them he asked her, ‘So, your road map took a detour?'

‘I suppose it did, yes. I agreed to stay on for four more weeks to help Tamara with The Judge. And here I am organising a festival when I know nothing about it.' However, she was born to do this. ‘Thank you so much for putting your hand up to help. I don't suppose you know anyone famous who'd be a draw card? Someone who'd do it on the cheap?'

He shrugged. ‘I don't know. Maybe. I'm mates with Will Godmann. He might be up for a chat session. We could do it interview-style, if he agrees. That might draw some people in.'

‘Oh, my God. The guy who wrote the book about real-life spies that's number one at the moment? Been there for months? The whole establishment went mad about it? The secretive hermit?
That
guy?'

‘Yeah. We go back a long way. He doesn't tend to do the show and tell stuff very often, but he owes me a favour.'

‘Oh. That would be amazing. Now we just need some bands.'

‘Like you said, try the colleges. If I do manage to find someone famous in the short time we have, they'll need some support bands. Remember, though, it's festival season. There are only so many bands to go around. Leave it with me.'

Without thinking she nudged him. ‘You're amazing. Thank you.'

‘So are you. You took that meeting very well. Everyone's revved up about it.' His eyes lingered on hers for a few seconds. There was something unspoken there, between them. Something, like a flame flickering to life, inside her, too.

So, unfortunately, it dawned on Emily that she was revved up about something else entirely.
Please no.

‘It'll be great if we can pull it off.'

‘We will, now we have you on board.'

‘Oh, God, the pressure! Don't put too much faith in me. To be honest, I could really do without it. But, well – I got carried away.' Her hand brushed against his as they walked, and for the briefest second his fingers curled into hers. She held her breath, her whole body trembling as he squeezed her hand, and then let it go. It felt as if she was going to explode with a sudden rush of need that made her limbs feel limp like liquid. Stupid, stupid hormones. It was the slightest of body contacts. It was nothing. It was truly nothing. So why was she feeling like a giddy girl?

He cleared his throat, his voice a little hoarse as he spoke. ‘I noticed you haven't got your ring on.'

‘No.'
Brett.
Poor Brett. ‘We had a fight. Our first one.'

‘Oh. That's not good. What happened? Want to talk about it?' Was it her imagination, or did his step falter?

Now she was looking for signs, to tell her what? That he liked her? That he wanted her? Because that was the single most ludicrous thought she'd ever had. ‘Absolutely not, Mr Taylor. It doesn't seem right to talk to you about it.'

‘Because you feel disloyal?'

‘Yes. That, exactly.' In so many ways. Her head was all over the place. But her body… her body seemed to have a mind of its own when it came to this man. She felt strangely drawn to him. She didn't even know why. It was so… stupid, to feel like this. ‘I don't think it's a good idea at all that I tell you my relationship woes and problems. I have to work it all out for myself.'

‘Okay, that's absolutely fine. Do it by yourself. Seems like you do that a lot.' He shook his head as if frustrated, but he wasn't, she could tell.

She almost laughed. But this wasn't a laughing matter. ‘It's private. You know.'

‘Indeed I do. I wouldn't be going round telling all my secrets to some fly-by-night man I've only met once, or twice, or three… oh, maybe four times.' He smiled softly. ‘But, as someone who's been married before, to someone who's heart wasn't wholly in it – can I give you some advice?'

‘I guess. Yes. I haven't discussed this with anyone and I just don't know what to do.'

He stopped walking and turned to face her. ‘Make sure he's the one, Emily. Because marriage is hard and things can happen that can shake you to the core.'

‘Like what?' Was he opening up a little? And why did she want him to? Hard enough to deal with her own problems, let alone explore someone else's.

He breathed out. Not a gentle sigh, more like an evisceration of a memory. ‘Life happens. It's not all roses, you know, once you get past the aisle and the lovely gown and the special day. You have to know you can survive whatever is thrown at you, together.'

‘I know that. Look at me here. Trying to shoulder everything.'
While my relationship falls apart.