Page 38 of The Beekeeper's Cottage
She swallowed hard. ‘So what you’re saying is that thirty-odd years of marriage, love, faith, and loyalty, don’t amount to anything. None of those things we shared would make Paul change his mind about the house, but a bloody new starring role would. Well, that’s quite a sobering thought, isn’t it?’
She sat down heavily. ‘Do you know what’s really sad is that I don’t actually believe you, Dominic. I only have your word over the house, and past events have given me no reason to trust my husband. I’m not sure why I should even consider doing so now.’
Dominic’s jaw clenched. ‘If you do this, Grace, I will guarantee it. I’ll get a legal document drawn up, anything.’
She couldn’t believe he was actually waiting for her answer.
‘Get out of my house,’ she said quietly.
‘Please, just think about it. I’m not making any excuses, I know what this sounds like and you’re absolutely right, it’s blackmail by any other name. But, I can also see how it could work, Grace; how we could all win from this situation, turn it into something good. Just think about it. They don’t come until next month so you have a little time and—’
‘Get out of my house!’ she shouted, lurching to her feet again. She took a step towards Dominic. ‘I mean it…’
He backed away, pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘I’m sorry, Grace, I never wanted…’
‘Get out!’
She was shaking with fury as she watched him turn and walk from the room and she stood, rooted to the spot, until she heard the front door close. She walked to the sink, picking up the cups and placing them in the bowl, picking up the dishcloth and putting it down again, clenching and unclenching her fists. A sudden shadow fell across the room and she looked up, startled. Then, before she even knew what she was doing, she had crossed the room and hurled herself at the figure that stood on the threshold to the garden, bursting into noisy choking sobs.
14
Amos wasn’t one for fighting but when he’d heard the shouts from halfway down Grace’s garden he had raced across the lawn fully prepared to do battle. His heart was pounding by the time he reached the patio just in time to see a tall figure leaving the kitchen. He hadn’t stopped to think about how his own presence might be construed and so he was quite relieved to see the man walking away as he neared the house, avoiding any confrontation.
Preoccupied by this thought, he was completely unprepared for finding Grace in his arms and, surprised, he instinctively pulled her close. His emotions reeled. Her hair smelled of apples, her skin was warm and soft, her body firm and yet yielding to his as her head rested snugly against the dip of his shoulder. Amos had spent a lot time away from home, but in this moment he had never felt more like hewashome. Every fibre of his being wanted to stay the way they were forever, just as much as every fibre of his reason told him he had to move. But Grace was upset. Whatever had just occurred had left her stricken and her need for comfort from him was as instinctive as his desire to give it. To withdraw that now, just when she was feeling at her most vulnerable, would surely only compound her pain, and Amos really didn’t think he could do that to her.
Just at the point when he thought he couldn’t wrestle with his emotions any longer, something shifted within Grace and she tore herself from him, gasping as she pushed herself away, her eyes wild, staring. Her hand went to her mouth. She made no move to wipe away her tears, but instead stared at him as if seeing him for the first time.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she stammered. ‘I’ve never…’ And then she trailed off, peering at him. To his immense relief, she suddenly started to laugh. ‘Oh, my God, the look on your face.’ Her hand moved to her cheek. ‘Is that what I look like? Oh, that’sbad… No, it must be worse because I’ve been crying…’ She rubbed her palms across her face, catching the drips on the end of her chin and then wiping her hands down her jeans. She sneaked another glance at him and giggled. ‘I’m such a mess.’
She wasn’t. She looked beautiful.
‘And even though Iamsorry, I’m going to make you take some of the blame. That was spectacularly bad timing on your part, Amos.’
‘Some would argue my timing was no less than exemplary.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Well I suppose you did save me from smashing every piece of crockery I possess. That, or hurling a chair through the window…’ She smiled. ‘So perhaps itwasgood that you turned up when you did. I don’t think I’ve ever been that angry. And I don’t know why I’m laughing, it’s really not funny at all.’ She sniffed and Amos fished in his pocket and pulled out a tissue. It had seen better days but was clean.
‘Here,’ he said. ‘Have a good blow. And before you apologise again, can I just say that I’m sorry too, for barging in. I didn’t mean to intrude. I was on my way up here, as it happens, but I heard shouting and I’m afraid my damsel-in-distress mode came on all of its own accord. I’m usually far too much of a wuss for that to happen, and given that your husband is at least a foot taller than me, I’m glad I just missed him.’
‘My husband?’
‘Yes, the man who just left.’
‘Oh, that wasn’t my husband, that was Dominic – he’s my husband’s boss. Although, given the way he’s just behaved, if he was, I’d be divorcing him too.’ She frowned at him. ‘Tell me, Amos, is there something about me that brings out the worst in the men in my life? Because I’m beginning to wonder. A tattoo on my forehead perhaps that saysuse and abuse…’
Amos smiled. He couldn’t speak for the two idiots Grace was describing, but as far as he was concerned, nothing could be further from the truth.Love and adoreperhaps… He peered at her.
‘Nope, nothing there…’
‘Well, that’s a relief at least.’ She sat down at the table and blew her nose loudly. ‘Very elegant,’ she commented.
Amos joined her. ‘Can I get you anything?’ he asked.
She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m tempted to say the number of a good hitman, but there’s a packet of ginger nuts in the cupboard which will do nicely.’ She smiled a thank you as Amos got to his feet. ‘Just above the mugs.’
He fetched the biscuits and flicked the switch on the kettle to boil the water. He wasn’t sure whether Grace was a dunker of biscuits, but he certainly was.
She smiled at him nervously as he sat back down again. ‘I ought to say, that despite evidence to the contrary, I’m not in the habit of bursting into tears and throwing myself at strange men.’
