Winter wishes, p.28
Winter Wishes, page 28
part #3 of Polwenna Bay Series
It was wonderful. Magical. Incredible. Just as she’d always known it would be.
And she never wanted his kisses to end. It really was the happiest of Christmas Eves.
Chapter 26
Tara stood in the churchyard watching the snow whirl in across the sea from a flat grey sky. She huddled deeper into her coat, dug her fingers further into her pockets and tried desperately to ignore the growing sensation that the whole world was being buried alive. The snow had blurred the lines between the sea and the beach, and as the flakes became thicker the village’s jaunty Christmas lights and the glowing windows of the cottages were gradually being erased.
Speaking to Jules just now had been one of the hardest things Tara had ever had to do, but also one of the best. Tara had steeled herself for a reaction of horror and disgust, but she hadn’t found that at all. She hadn’t seen judgement in the other woman’s eyes but instead compassion and warmth. You made a mistake, Jules had said, and you’ve paid for it terribly. And in setting Danny free, Tara realised suddenly, she had done exactly the same for herself. They could both move on now. Ivy was right: putting others first really did change you.
Before the snowfall had thickened Tara had stood by the churchyard gate and watched Jules run out of the vicarage, towards the village. From this vantage point she had seen Jules join the figures by the village green and had watched as one dressed in black had peeled away to join her. Tara wasn’t sure whether it was snow or tears that had smudged her vision when she’d seen the two of them embrace. Her pang of loss had mingled with a strange glow of contentment that she had done the right thing, and she knew this would help soothe her aching loneliness.
By the time she’d wiped her tears away with a gloved thumb, the snow was starting to blow in horizontally. Blinking, Tara could only make out more whiteness. Unable to face returning to her empty cottage, she’d decided to turn left and walk back through Fernside Woods, past Mariners’ View and back down over the cliffs. After all, Morgan was spending the night at Seaspray – she couldn’t have denied him that – so there was nobody who would mind or even notice if she stayed out for a little while longer. Everyone was with their families or together with friends in the pub, drinking mulled wine and settling in for a Christmas Eve session. Waving to Little Rog Pollard, who was valiantly sweeping the path to the church in readiness for Midnight Mass, Tara had set off on a stomp that would hopefully clear her head and put her in a better frame of mind.
The lane that led from St Wenn’s to Fernside was a tunnel of snow. The trees were laden with it, and the fresh white carpeting creaked beneath her boots. Except for this there was an eerie silence, as though everything had been paused. Emerging from the woods, she realised that the world as she knew it had vanished completely. The snow was now billowing in clouds and stinging her face: a blizzard had surrounded her, as quiet and as deadly as an advancing army.
Where was she?
Unnerved and disorientated, Tara glanced left and then right. The sharp wind bore down on her, stinging her face and making her eyes water. Should she turn left here? Or was it further on? And if so, how much further? She knew that she needed to change direction where the cliff path began, but in the blankness it was impossible to see where that path started. Tara had no idea where she was. The lights of Mariners were hidden, but she knew that only feet away the cold sea frothed and foamed over needle-sharp rocks. Her heart started to race. Was she literally footsteps away from tumbling into oblivion, or was the solid path hiding somewhere beneath the whiteness?
How could she tell?
Her lungs were on fire and every breath she took burned. The more the snow swirled, the less certain she became. Her steps were increasingly tentative. Should she turn now? Or carry on straight ahead? As she was trying to decide, another heavy flurry came, bewildering her all the more. For a moment she thought she could see the lights of the village just ahead, and she almost increased her speed before fear made her hesitate. What if the welcoming glimmer wasn’t Mariners but the Eddystone light luring her to her doom like the wreckers of old? Instead of stepping onto the firm path and safety, she would spin into the snow, falling and falling with the air rushing over her and her own terror rising to meet her, as sharp and as certain as the rocks below…
Tara’s heart was rattling against her ribs and her breath came in short gasps as the cold snatched at her lungs. She paused and forced herself to be calm. The cliffs that she knew so well could turn from friend to enemy in the blink of an eye or the flurry of a snowstorm. To panic here could be fatal. All she had to do was stop and retrace her steps. That was the sensible option: just turn around and follow her footprints back to Fernside and safety.
But the elements had other ideas; all traces of her walk from the woods had already been erased by the ceaseless snowfall. Blinking in the whiteness, Tara realised with growing alarm that her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her: her footprints really had vanished. She tried to tell herself that there might yet be a little shimmer of the pattern from the sole of her boots, but all evidence of her passage through the empty world had faded away.
Tara spun on her heel. Which way to safety? How could she get home before the cold began to seep into her bones and her eyes grew dangerously heavy? How long did she have before she was buried alive in this swirling snow? And who would even notice that she wasn’t there? Nobody would miss her.
Nobody would care. She was like Ivy.
In her indecision the heel of her boot slithered and Tara fell forwards, slamming her knee into the granite lurking beneath the snowfall. She heard the rip of denim and the rush of air passing her lips as she gasped. Crimson bloomed against the whiteness, just as shocking as the stabbing pain. Tears stung her eyes and for a moment she knelt on the path, too defeated and too afraid to move as the snow pillowed around her, blanketing her world in white. Then she pitched forward and curled into the duvet-like softness. She was so, so tired and so desperately sad.
The tumbling flakes swirled and blurred. Faces and figures seemed to lurch out of the emptiness, fading and dissolving just as she began to hope that there really was someone out there. She was lost in a nightmare in which she was plummeting into thick nothingness, her screams destined to die in her throat. Nobody would ever hear her sobbing. In despair she closed her eyes…
“Tara! Tara! It’s OK. You’re safe now.”
Tara’s eyes opened slowly as a dog bounded through the whiteness, the snow clinging to its chocolate fur. A rough tongue licked her face and then a figure emerged from the swirling storm. Strong hands on Tara’s shoulders pulled her upwards until she was engulfed in the warmth of human contact.
“Good boy, Watson! You found her! Well done!”
It was Richard who was holding onto her so tightly. His face was close to hers and she could feel the warmth of his skin and his heart beating through his thick fleece. Eyes the same grey as the sky locked with her own as Watson’s shrill barks of excitement shattered the stillness.
Had she stumbled over the cliff edge and not noticed? Or was she free-falling right now? Tara’s stomach was certainly somersaulting – and her pulse was skittering too – as, astonished, she drank in the sight of Richard. His sandy hair was ruffled, his skin glowed from the cold and his nose was pink, but he’d never looked so beautiful to her.
“Richard?” she whispered, her hands rising to cup his face in disbelief. Was he real or a snowy dream? “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” he said simply, his voice softer than the falling flakes as he rested his forehead against hers. “And I’ve found you, thank God. I’ve been frantic.”
Now she knew it was a dream, for how would he have noticed she was gone? It was Christmas Eve and everyone was excited, wrapping presents by their wood burners or out sledging or busy preparing the next day’s dinner. People were with their loved ones, which was just how it should be at Christmas. Who would have realised that she was missing? Nobody in Polwenna Bay, that was for sure, and certainly not Richard. No, he was with Amanda.
“Why would you be frantic? I’ve only been gone for ten minutes.”
“Tara, it’s more like almost an hour! There’s a blizzard going on, in case you hadn’t noticed, and you’re out in the freezing cold and all alone. What were you thinking?”
She shook her head. “I just wanted to walk home, but the weather came in so fast and I was so confused out here. It all looks the same.”
Richard was pulling her to her feet. “It certainly does. It’s bloody treacherous to be up on the cliffs in this weather. Thank God Little Rog had the sense to ask Danny what you were playing at by going for a walk in the snow, or we’d have had no idea you were out here. I came straight out to find you.”
“I’m fine,” Tara protested.
“You’re very far from fine,” he said, in a voice that wouldn’t be argued with. “You’ve fallen, you’re disorientated and above all you’re desperately cold, possibly hypothermic. Oh Christ, Tara, don’t you realise how serious this could have been?”
Tara was starting to. “I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”
“It’s not that.” He shook his head. “Oh, Tara, don’t you understand? I could have lost you.”
She stared up at him. Snow dusted his eyelashes.
“Lost me?”
“Lost you,” Richard said quietly. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. “I’m taking you home, Tara, and I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
A million and one questions were flittering through Tara’s mind, whirling and spinning like the snowflakes tumbling from the now darkening sky.
“There’s something I need to know,” she began, but he shook his head.
“I need you to do something for me first.” Releasing her, Richard rummaged through his rucksack and pulled out a flask. Pouring a cup of hot tea, he said, “I do think you’re mildly hypothermic. I need you to drink this – and I’ve also got some Dairy Milk here, to help you get your strength back.”
“Yes, Doctor,” Tara teased, but he was looking so serious that she did as she was told. Besides, after a lifetime of dieting this was no time to turn down a medicinal chocolate bar.
The tea was sweet and hot. While Richard called Danny to let him know she was safe, Tara sipped it and little by little her energy levels began to rise. By the time she’d finished two cups, the sleepy sensation was retreating and she felt far more like her old self.
The shaking hands and racing heart she wasn’t sure she could explain away quite so easily, though…
“Your knee has quite a nasty cut but I don’t think it needs stitches,” Richard was telling her, frowning thoughtfully as he peered at the injury. “I’ll dress it once we’re back.”
Tara had totally forgotten about her knee. The sensation of Richard’s strong and skilled fingers on her leg was working miracles in terms of pain relief. Nurofen should be very afraid.
Once her tea was finished and she’d eaten several squares of the Dairy Milk, Richard took her hand and slowly they picked their way back through the snow, following Watson away from the cliffs and towards the village. As Richard’s fingers knitted with hers, Tara dredged up her courage to broach the topic she feared the most.
“Richard, are you seeing Amanda?”
“What?” Richard stopped so abruptly that she cannoned into him. “Absolutely not! What on earth makes you think that?”
Err, apart from that she clearly fancies you rotten and wishes me on the moon? Tara thought.
Aloud she said, “She answered your mobile the other day.”
“I left it in Casa Rosa and she picked it up for me,” Richard said simply. “Thankfully it’s just my personal mobile, not my work one.”
His fingers squeezed hers. “My mind wasn’t actually on the phone that day, though. I had something else I was thinking about – and, before you ask, it wasn’t Amanda.”
Tara was appalled by the surge of relief that came from learning this. Her heart had been shredded at just the thought of Richard being with Amanda; the reality would have been unbearable. She was about to ask him what it was that his mind had been dwelling on, when his eyes, those kind eyes that spoke so much about the goodness and true worth of the man, locked with hers. Then his warm mouth met hers and Tara found that she already knew the answer. It was the sweetest and tenderest of kisses and, as she melted into him like the snowflakes that were melting on his coat, she knew that no kiss before had ever felt so right. She wanted to kiss him and kiss him until the world and the snow faded away.
Eventually they broke apart and smiled at one another wonderingly. Richard reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. She felt the heat of his mouth through her glove, and the strength of her longing to feel his lips on hers again made her dizzy. Richard, mild-mannered Dr Richard, kissed in such a way that it turned her bones to lava. Without doubt, a passionate nature lay beneath his gentle exterior.
“Tara, I’m not very good at this,” he said softly. “I’m not a war hero, or particularly handsome, or dashing – no, don’t try and speak, let me finish – and I don’t have a huge house and lots of money. But what I do have is a heart that’s spilling over with love for you.”
She was lost for words. Richard might not have the medals or the uniform or the scars to mark him out as a hero, but in her eyes this was exactly what he was. He’d rescued her in so many ways that, if she were to try to explain it, she wouldn’t even know where to begin.
“I knew from the first moment I met you by that well that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. It doesn’t make sense, I know, but everything inside me was telling me so.” He raised his eyes skywards in embarrassment. “I even went back and wished for you. Does that sound crazy?”
She touched his cheek. “No crazier than if I told you that I wished for true love that very same day, and moments later you arrived. Well, technically I suppose Watson arrived first, but I don’t think we’ll count him!”
“I wouldn’t. He has terrible breath!”
They smiled at one another, but the smile quickly started to slip from Tara’s lips as a new and horrible fear took hold. Richard didn’t really know her, did her? Not the real her, the one who had betrayed Danny all those years ago. If he knew what sort of a person she’d been, would he still be here beneath this snowy Christmas Eve sky, telling her that he was in love with her? Or would he run back to Amanda as fast as he could?
Tara knew that if Richard really wanted to be with her then he had to know the truth. There could be no more secrets.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” she said. “It’s going to be hard to hear and it could change everything. You might not feel the same way about me afterwards – but I need you to know.”
A shadow crossed his face. “You still love Danny, don’t you?”
She thought about this for a moment. “I’ll always love Danny, but I’m not in love with him anymore. If I’m honest I haven’t been in love with him for a very long time.”
He nodded. “But there’s someone else you love. Caspar?”
“Caspar!” Tara’s exclamation was so loud it was a miracle she didn’t cause an avalanche. “Hardly. No, it isn’t another man. Not like that, anyway. It’s Morgan, my son.” She stopped and inhaled shakily. This was it. Time to tell the truth. “Richard, I’m not the person you think I am. I’m a bad person. I—”
He put his finger on her lips.
“Tara, I think I can guess what you’re trying to tell me, and I don’t need to know any more than that – not unless or until there’s a time and a place when you feel it’s right. That’s in the past. That’s who you were then. I love the woman standing here now. The wonderful mother. The good friend. The brave woman who risked her neck to save a grumpy pensioner. I’m in love with her and nothing you or anyone else can do or say will change that. I love you, Tara. You.”
He knew. He’d worked it out for himself and he still loved her? Tara was blown away.
“The question is, though,” he added quietly, “whether you could come to love me?”
Come to love him? In answer she rose onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his.
“I already love you,” she said softly. “It crept up on me slowly, until I couldn’t hide from it or escape it anymore – a bit like this snowstorm. I love you, Richard Penwarren, and you are my hero in every way.” She bent down and patted the dog. “You too, of course, Watson.”
And suddenly the cold and the snow and the darkness melted away, because Richard was kissing her and kissing her and kissing her. Then, hand in hand, they walked through the still white world and into the cottage, where they shut the door and curled up in front of the wood burner, the heat of their feelings and the passion of their kisses warming them almost as much as the flames. They talked and kissed and talked some more until their lips ached with smiling and kissing and their eyes grey heavy with the heat of the fire.
Bathed in the glow of Richard’s love and the Christmas-tree lights, Tara lay in his arms and gazed drowsily through the window towards St Wenn’s. The snow had finally stopped and she could just make out the church, a gentle beacon of light in the darkness as the villagers gathered for Midnight Mass. She thought about Jules and Danny, and her heart was glad for them. There was Yuletide magic in the air tonight, that was for sure.
“Happy Christmas,” she whispered, snuggling into Richard’s arms.
“Happy Christmas to you too,” he murmured back, dropping a kiss onto her temple.
Whether or not she believed in St Wenn’s Well, all their winter wishes had come true, Tara thought as her eyes began to close. There was no doubt whatsoever in her mind that it was going to be a very happy New Year.
She could hardly wait to see what it was going to bring.
