Page 13 of Christmas at Black Cherry Retreat
Chapter Seven
Fee’s hands shook as she buttered the bread. Anyone would think she hadn’t seen a fit man engaged in physical activity before – men have muscles, they sweat, they look hot – so what? She was nearly forty and hadn’t exactly been in a convent for the last twenty years so why was she behaving like a fifteen-year-old girl with her first crush?
She had noclue what combination of lettuce, tomato, pickle, mustard, butter or mayonnaise Tom preferred and it hadn’t occurred to her to ask.
She covered all bases and put a little of everything on the sandwich before adding a handful of crisps to the side of the plate. If she didn’t make one for herself too he’d conclude she was even more peculiar. Unwilling to get into a discussion about the dietaryrestrictions she was supposed to follow with her stress-induced ulcer she used the same wholegrain bread but only added a scrape of low-fat margarine and lean turkey.
She rubbed at the low-grade headache pulsing in her forehead. This was all so damn complicated.
‘Is everything alright?’ Tom popped his head in around the door and she plastered on a smile.
‘I’m sorry I’vebeen so long,’ she apologised. ‘I’m not good at the whole kitchen thing but it’s ready now.’
‘You want me to take the plates out for you?’
‘Thanks. Will lemonade be okay to drink?’
‘Sure, it’s my favourite. Can you manage?’
‘Of course.’ She bristled, hating how she always seemed incompetent around him.
Tom rested his hand on her arm. ‘Fee, that’s me bein’polite. Don’t take everythin’ to heart.’
His kindness broke through her thin veneer of control. She could deal with the violence of war, face up to seeing people with terrible injuries without flinching, stay calm as homes were reduced to rubble and objectively take pictures of it all. But let a starving child offer to share his meagre meal, or a woman insist on washing Fee’s dusty feetin a shallow bowl of precious water and she crumbled. In the end it’d stopped her functioning and drove her to the excesses which had almost killed her.
‘Are you okay?’
Fee bit back a sob, but a fat, hot tear rolled down her cheek and soon she was crying so hard she couldn’t catch her breath.
‘Steady. I’ve got you.’ Tom wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up againsthis solid chest – the rhythm of his steady heartbeat pushing back the panic.
She stared up into his warm, compassionate eyes and he loosened his grasp and allowed his hands to drop away.
‘You’re not in a good place right now, honey. I’ve been there myself and got through it, but it leaves you different, I know.’
The sorrow lacing through his words broke through her self-absorption.It hadn’t occurred to her that she wasn’t the only screwed-up one here and finding out people’s stories was what she did for a living. It wouldn’t be long before Tom told her his, although revealing her own was quite another thing.
‘How about we go back to where we were and eat lunch?’ he suggested and Fee managed to nod, her throat too tight with emotion to speak. ‘You get our drinksand I’ll carry the food out.’
After he left she poured lemonade into two tall glasses and went to join him.
Tom rocked in the chair and waited.
‘Here we go.’
He’d caught a drift of Fee’s fresh, lemony scent before she spoke, but tried to glance up as if he hadn’t realised she was there. ‘Thanks.’ Tom took the glass from her outstretched hand and gulped down halfin one long swallow.
‘I’m sorry for… you know… in there.’
‘No problem. Sit down and eat. Forget it.’
‘Forget it?’ Her voice rose. ‘Do you think I go around weeping over strange men every day?’
Tom set his glass down on the table. Why did women always pull everything apart? ‘Fee. Don’t do this to yourself. Please.’ He chose his words with care. She wasn’t awarethat he knew anything about her past and it might be wiser if she didn’t for the time being. ‘You’re human.’ He tried for a smile. ‘Don’t blab this to the rest of the world but I’ve cried a few times since I was a little kid.’ In fact more than a few since he lost Gina but he wasn’t going there with the conversation.
‘Thanks for trying to make me feel better.’ Her tight smile was evenmore forced than his own. ‘Let’s eat our sandwiches and talk about the weather.’
‘I can do that.’
