Emma
Emma ran through the snow.
Damn it.
She’d just allowed that to happen?
She hadn’t thrown back her head, opened her mouth, stuck her hand down her throat and grabbed hold of her heart so that she could rip it out to offer to him?
What the hell was the matter with her lily-livered self anyway?
Call herself a woman?
She should turn around right now and march right up to him and tell him that she – that she…
He didn’t want her to.
The knowledge crept painfully up her throat waiting to sob itself out in the privacy of Wren Cottage.
He wanted her to go back to Hollywood.
She wasn’t good enough.
Not at showing him how good they could be together.
She thought she had, but he would have fought for her to stay if she had.
Would have told her to stay here in Whispers Wood.
For him.
Why hadn’t he?
How could he have just stood there while everyone celebrated?
Watched her without passing comment while she accepted everyone’s congratulations?
And watched her still as the most horrible chill invaded her person, turning the blood running through her veins icy and setting her teeth achatter.
By the time she let herself into the cottage she’d thought of as home for the past few months she was shaking from head to foot.
Bloody heating still wasn’t working properly, she thought, pacing back and forth across the lounge carpet trying to get warm, trying to thaw out, trying to think.
After a few moments mostly what she thought was that she couldn’t wait to get out of here.
As if she needed a Viking Jane Austen hero with a super sexy British accent anyway?
She had the part of her dreams to fall back on.
Slipping her phone from her pocket she looked up flights out of Heathrow and wondered how much a taxi to the airport would cost on Christmas Day.
Probably like a gazillion dollars.
Or pounds.
She could Uber it.
Running up the stairs to the bedroom she pulled her case out from under the bed and threw it on top of the beautiful white duvet and blankets.
Flinging open the wardrobe doors she started pulling out clothes and squishing them into her case.
No time for the life-hack packing tips she’d tried out to save her clothes from creasing on the way over.
Of course why she was bothering to pack anything to go back to LA with, she didn’t know.
She was going to have to go on a diet the minute she landed anyway because she’d been eating, well, like a normal person, all the time she’d been here.
Maybe instead of stupid starvation, she’d hit the gym instead.
Do some actual krav maga classes.
Throw in some yoga for good measure.
She’d need the meditation because she could already feel the familiar tension cracking her spine at the thought of going back to it all.
Zipping up her case she was surprised she didn’t have more stuff, but then when you left to go on an adventure, you never took all your belongings with you, did you? You didn’t want anything too comfortable with you in case it held you captive. Held you back.
If she left her heart in Whispers Wood at least it would be one less thing to carry.
It was all such hard work, she thought.
This going backwards simply to start going forwards again.
But as soon as she started filming, well then, she’d be so excited, wouldn’t she?
Before she knew it she’d be so caught up in it all, she’d be happy again.
Yep.
Hands down, doing this film was going to be her greatest adventure yet.
She should start packing her bag – purse – she’d need to start calling it a purse again.
And then she’d call Penny and ask her to email over the script. She could read it on the plane. Get a head-start. Or at least catch up.
The tension ratcheted up another notch and yet as she descended the stairs her legs felt like lead.
In the lounge she picked up her bag-purse and half-heartedly started dropping things into it.
She absolutely did not want to go.
There.
She’d said it.
Acknowledged it.
But she couldn’t stay here.
She’d said if things didn’t work out between her and Jake then she would stay anyway.
But that had been when she was feeling smug.
Now, she was just feeling defeated.
Emma sunk down onto the sofa.
She so didn’t want to feel defeated again.
She’d felt that when she’d slipped into bed the first time Penny had told her she hadn’t got the part.
To feel it now though, after she’d been so happy, was so much worse.
Choking back another sob, she reached for her phone and called Penny who answered on the first ring with a, ‘Hi, you want I should email you the script? Good idea.’
‘Penny, I’m not coming back.’
Wait—what?
Emma blinked and looked around to check someone else hadn’t uttered the words.
‘We seem to have a bad line. Did you say you weren’t coming back?’
‘I don’t want the part, Penny. I don’t want any part,’ she offered truthfully. ‘What I want – what I choose – is to stay here in Whispers Wood. I’ve—’ she stopped talking as her gaze fell on the Christmas present lying on her coffee table. The Christmas present Jake had dropped off for her the day after the tree-lighting ceremony. ‘Penny, I’ll call you back, ’kay?’ and without waiting for an answer she hung up and reached for the gift. She’d been saving opening it until today but because she’d stayed at Knightley Hall last night she’d forgotten about it.
Now she remembered on the day he’d stopped by, before he’d given it to her, he’d rushed forward asking if she’d hurt herself when he’d seen she was upset. After his experience with Alice he must have assumed the worst and she felt sad for all he’d been through.
Had he not asked her to stay because he’d been doing what he did with Alice and avoiding the difficult conversations?
She held the gift in her hands.
The present was book-heavy and book-shaped.
He’d given her a book.
With trembling hands she started to unwrap it and the second she saw the leather binding she knew.
Another sob slipped out of her throat as she stared down at an early edition of Jane Austen’s Emma.
He’d given her something he knew she’d love.
Because he knew her.
Cared about her.
She was being given the opportunity here to choose.
Not to go from opportunity to opportunity because it got her out of a hole, or a rut or because it effectively got her out of having to make a decision about what she really wanted.
She knew what she really wanted, didn’t she?
She’d been happy for weeks.
She didn’t feel like she was hanging on, waiting for the drop, like she so often had with acting.
Being at Cocktails & Chai – being with people, helping them, looking after them – made her feel like she was connected to something real.
Being with Jake was real.
And it made her happy.
The happiest.
With a giant sniff, she sat up and reached for her phone.
‘Penny, I’m so sorry to keep phoning you on Christmas Day, but the thing is, I’ve met someone and—’
‘Well this isn’t the twentieth century, Cannellini Bean, bring him with you.’
‘That’s not going to work. He has responsibilities here. I have responsibilities here,’ she added, thinking that she really did like Gloria, but she wasn’t ready to let her run Cocktails & Chai just yet. ‘And, besides, I really don’t want to act anymore.’
‘Is this all just because of a man?’
‘It is, but it isn’t. There are other things here that I love too. And I’m not with the man.’ Her gaze strayed straight to the book. ‘I mean, I hope to be. If I can get him to listen.’
‘I have to tell you, Lima Bean, this guy is sounding less and less of a prize.’
‘Oh, he’s being a complete and utter idiot, but I love him.’
‘You—well, look at that, your British accent came back.’
‘I’m sorry I won’t be putting it to proper use in the movie.’
‘Just go and tell that complete and utter idiot that he’s what you want and you’re not taking no for an answer.’
‘Penny, you really are the loveliest agent a person could ask for.’
‘So go get your man, Twinkie.’
‘No beans now I’m off the books?’
‘I’m swapping to cakes now I know I’m going to get to come to the UK one day and meet your guy.’
‘I’ll talk to you soon, just because I want to, okay?’
‘Okay. Happy Christmas, Cupcake.’
Putting down the phone, Emma picked up her book but when she felt the tears welling up again she put it back on the coffee table to protect it.
She knew the text of the book inside out but she would treasure this copy. Because it was the first Christmas present Jake had given her.
Reaching for a tissue she blew her nose and sank back onto the sofa, forcing herself to think about what she was going to say to Jake.
She’d never felt so unscripted in her life.
Maybe if she acted the confident brook-no-argument woman in love, he’d finally believe her. Or at least find the act sexy for long enough to distract him while she came up with another plan.
She stared at the book, hoping for inspiration and then suddenly she was frowning and sitting up to grab the book off the table and inspect where the pages weren’t lying flat.
Curious, she turned the book upside down, and shook it lightly.
A piece of paper slipped out and seemed to float midair until she reached out to catch it.
A letter?
Slipped inside the book, either as a bookmark, or so that it could be treasured?
She turned the paper over and on the front she saw written, in bold precise handwriting, Lillian.
With a pounding heart, she unfolded the letter and began to read.
Five minutes later she was crying again as she shoved her feet into boots that were two sizes too small for her, but at least not freezing cold.
Wrenching open the front door of Wren Cottage, the letter tucked safely in her pocket, she set off through the snow for The Clock House.