Page 94 of Christmas at Black Cherry Retreat
Chapter Forty-Four
The blood drained from Fee’s face and Tom yearned to snatch the envelope back.
‘Do you want to sit down?’
Silently she pulled the other chair closer and perched on the edge. With great care she eased open the flap and removed a sheet of paper and another smaller envelope. Fee finished reading the loose page and passed it across to him withoutsaying a word. Tom slipped on his glasses and checked the signature first. Helene Marchand. Pierre’s wife.
‘How did she know where to contact you?’
‘It’s been forwarded from my London flat. You can see it’s dated several weeks ago.’
He scanned over the brief, stilted lines, written in very precise English. Helene explained that the enclosed letter addressed to Fee was foundamong Pierre’s possessions. Because it was without a stamp the authorities included the letter with the box of effects sent to his widow. In the last sentence she asked Fee not to reply or get in touch with her again.
‘I’m guessin’ she knows about the two of you,’ he ventured.
‘I’d say so.’ Her fingers shook as she opened the other letter and started to read. Tom ached to do something,anything to make this easier for Fee.
‘This was written the night before… he died.’ Fee’s voice splintered into shards of pain and Tom crushed down a surge of jealousy. ‘He begins by telling me he loves me because I’m a beautiful, intelligent, fearless woman.’ Tom heard the catch in her breath. ‘He goes on to say he wishes he could spend the rest of his life with me but then admits he’sbeen lying and explains about his wife and son. He doesn’t offer any explanation for our affair apart from wanting me too much.’ Fee sighed and pushed the letter across the desk.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Please.’
Tom fingered the thin sheets of airmail paper. He disliked the idea of reading another man’s love letter but she needed him to. By the time he reached the secondparagraph he pitied and detested the Frenchman in equal measure. Pierre’s love for Fee shone through but near the end of the letter he admitted that he couldn’t justify breaking up his family.
‘He loved you.’ He forced the words out knowing she needed to hear them.
‘But he didn’t love me enough. This is very… freeing.’
For you and me both.
‘When you’re finishedworking I’m ready for bed.’
‘There’s nothing that can’t wait.’ He pushed the pile of bills off to one side. Fee was his priority. Tom didn’t intend to live with any more regrets. He put away his glasses and closed down his computer for the night. ‘Come on let’s go and work on our jet lag.’
Fee scribbled a short note on a piece of scrap paper and placed it on her pillow. Tuggingon last night’s clothes she snatched her camera from the bedside table and crept out of the room. This was her go-to method when she needed time alone to think. From the time she was an unsettled teenager Fee used photography to work through whatever was happening in her life.
With the sun inching up over the lake the sky flooded a glorious shade of purplish-gold, dappling the still, darkwater and for a second she fought to catch her breath. Being present for the start of a new day always affected her because her experiences had shown her what a fragile gift that was. She concentrated on the views around her and with each frame she shot, the tension loosened inside her head. Taking her time she made her way around the lake and as she emerged from the trees Fee spotted Tom sittingon the bench.
‘Working with wood has the same effect on me. Gets it out of my system and sorts out a lot of crap,’ he commented.
She nodded, warmed by his gentle smile and grateful beyond words to have found such an understanding man.
‘I appreciated you leaving the note. I know you’re an independent person and we don’t own each other, but…’
‘I didn’t want you toworry.’ Fee sat down by him, settling into his warmth as he draped his arm around her shoulders.
‘You good now?’
‘Yes. I need time alone sometimes to stay sane.’ Fee smiled. ‘Well. As sane as I’m ever likely to be.’ She sensed him smile. ‘I’m starving. Would you mind doing your chef bit again? Only I’m not up to facing the cafe yet.’
‘Can’t imagine why,’ Tom joked. ‘Youmean eating while being interrogated by my family and any of the other customers who want to stick their oar in isn’t your idea of easing back into the week?’
‘Not exactly.’
They stood up and wandered off back along the path towards the cabins. ‘Are you going to call home to let them know we’re back safely?’
She stopped walking. ‘Why do you call it home? I only lived therebriefly and it was years ago.’
