CHAPTER FIVE
“Run, run!”
“You can't catch me. I’m a gingerbread man!”
Two childish voices arced up through the still air as I sat on the lawn, watching Jack race Cammi across the grass. The evening smelled of dew and dust and the shadows stretched away from them, caressing the velvety grasses around their feet.
“Enough!” I laughed, as the two children collapsed in a panting, tired heap. “That was a tie! For certain.”
“Told you,” Cammi said smugly, wriggling up onto her elbows and pulling a tongue at Jack. Jack grinned and dusted off his knees.
“Cars are still faster,” Jack said matter-of-factly.
I laughed. The memory of the other night still tormented me with its sweetness, its utter confusion. Alexander Carring had kissed me. His kiss had melted my body like no other kiss had, leaving me wanting him and leaving me with more questions.
“Emma! I'm tired.” Cammi's voice broke through my reverie.
“Come and sit here, then,” I said. I indicated the thick, soft grass beside me. The whole garden was beautiful and I was glad the weather was so good, allowing us to spend whole mornings outdoors.
The children came to sit beside me. Cammi leaned against my leg where I sat with my fingers looped around a knee. Jack sat in front of me and I rested a hand on his shoulder, gently. He leaned back and the three of us shared a moment of still happiness. It was wonderful to sense their trust, their sense of ease with me and mine with them.
“Tell us a story,” Jack asked quietly.
“Yes!” Cammi exploded, jumping up instantly. “One with fairies. Please, Emma?”
I grinned. The last week had seen me telling several stories, all woven from my wildest imaginings and remembered tales of my childhood. They seemed to amuse the kids, and they helped me, as well. At least if she let my imagination run freely, I didn't have time to think about Alexander. Or that kiss. Or Ada.
“Okay, okay,” I agreed, still chuckling softly. “And I promise it won't just be about fairies,” I added to Jack, grinning, seeing his crestfallen expression cross his face.
“Okay.”
I cleared my throat. “A long time ago, in a forest, was a clearing not unlike this one. And in this clearing lived a big troll.”
“No! Not a troll,” Cammi protested, dropping the stalks of grass she was playing with. “A fairy. You promised.”
“She's going to be part of the story in a minute. Bear with me. This wasn't just any troll. This was an enchanted one. Really, inside, he was a handsome prince. Just waiting to come out.”
As I told the story, I realised, with some surprise, that it was about Alex. He was the troll. The fairy who tried to make him see his good side and loved him despite his forbidding exterior was…is it me?
I laughed at it, the thought breaking the thread of my concentration, and the thrust of the story.
“What?” Jack asked, squinting up at her where he lay on his back in the late-afternoon rays, playing with grass-stalks.
“Nothing,” I said, suddenly flustered. “I just had a funny thought…”
“She was having a funny thought about the troll,” a deep, resonant British voice explained, matter-of-fact, somewhere in the trees behind. “And about what he might drive, if he happened to have a car.”
I whipped round. I know that voice. I had heard it every night in my dreams since I met him.
Alex was there, dressed in a tweed jacket and Levi's, looking more debonair than I had ever seen him. The jeans were tight and fitted perfectly over his muscled form, the tweed jacket bringing out his dark eyes. I swallowed and looked up at his face, noticing with some surprise that he was smiling.
“Hello,” he said. “Sorry for sneaking up like that. I was just passing on my way to the garage, and I wanted to ask you—all of you—” he added, looking from me to his small son and daughter, who looked up at him with loving eyes, “if you would like to join me in the car, for a ride.”
I wet my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. “A ride?”
“I have recently had some repairs made to a vehicle of mine. A certain MG…”
He had not finished the sentence before Jack jumped, face suffused with awe. “Not the MG convertible?”
“Yes, son. That's correct.” Alexander was laughing as he ruffled the child's hair. Cammi was looking from her father to her older brother with a delighted half-smile on her face. Not wanting to be left out of the general love, she ran forward and hugged his knees.
“Daddy! Can I sit on your knee while we're driving?” she asked.
I laughed, then felt a tenderness fill me as Alexander tenderly bent his knee and looked into the little girl's eyes.
“Of course,” he said softly. “But only on the country roads. On the big road it's safer if you sit behind me. You can help me too. Keeping a lookout for trolls. Or is that traffic policemen? I forget the differences.”
I, and the children, all laughed. I stood as the children cannoned off, evidently knowing the route to the garage very well. I looked up at Alexander, suddenly alone with him for the first time since that night. Having him so close was intense. I cleared my throat and looked away, suddenly feeling a torrent of emotions flood through me. One of them was profound nervousness.
“Well,” he said, sighing. “That seems to have cheered that lot up.”
I gave a soft chuckle. “Yes.”
I stood there a little awkwardly. The breeze ruffled the leaves overhead. Neither he nor I spoke. I looked away, watching the children running around in the garden, their whoops of joy breaking the evening quiet.
“Emma,” he said after a moment.
I swallowed. It was the first time he had used my name, not just “Miss Blunt”. His lips made it a touch, almost as if those long fingers reached out and took my hand in his.
“Yes?” I asked. My voice came out hoarse and I cleared my throat. I looked up at him and saw a tenderness in his eyes that made my heart thud.
“Thank you.”
I stared. “Thank me? Whatever for?”
“For making me see what a tyrant I was being. I can't believe it now. For giving me a chance to rebuild things with my kids.” He sighed.
I chuckled and felt my heart reach out to him. “They sure do love you. Kids are very forgiving you know.”
“I noticed.” Alexander chuckled, the sound tinged with self-mockery. I bit my lip, hearing it.
“Whatever you did, you had your reasons,” I said quietly. We were walking behind them now, slowly, while they played tag up ahead on the lawn, racing each other along. “If the kids can forgive you, if you fix it now, that's all that matters.”
Alexander looked into my eyes. “Truly?”
“Yes.”
He was an arm's length from me. The breeze ruffled my hair and there was no other sound except its soft whispering rustles in the leaves. The only thing in the clearing was him. He reached out and laid a hand on my shoulder. I stood very still. My heart thumped, my whole body shivering. The touch of his fingers was soft, hesitant. A gentle foray into what might be forbidden territory. I half-lifted her hand to rest it on his, then let my arm drop.
“What?”
I shrugged. He removed his hand and I missed it instantly.
“Nothing,” I said, shakily. The loss of touch was like a physical blow. It had felt so right, to stand with his hand on my shoulder, the sunset making patterns of their shadows. “Where are the kids?”
He laughed. “Quite.”
Together we watched as the two children ran down the long green lawns into the sunset. It felt strange. Like I knew him for years. Like it was so natural to walk here, slower, while the children gambolled about on the path ahead, their laughs soft and high in the evening air.
“Whoa!” Alexander said, raising his hands in mock-surrender as two small bodies hurtled down the drive at him. He was laughing. On the edge of the scene, I was surprised to feel tears prick at her eyes as I watched him reach down and lift Cammi, ruffling Jack's hair.
“Here we go!” he said, pressing the knob to open the door. I walked forward a pace while the children sucked in their breaths with excitement. I didn't want to intrude on this special moment between them, and yet it seemed I had been invited to, that I was welcome here in this space with the three of them. I stared at the thing he had to show us. The children stared too.
It was an MG. A beautiful, shiny, vintage sports car in a silvery colour that spoke of style. I sucked in my own breath, feeling a thrill of delight.
“Okay!” Alex said, gesturing to the wide garage-doors. “I'll bring it out, then we all pile in. Okay?”
“Hurrah!”
“Yay!”
I smiled as the children hopped about, hugging themselves with excitement. Alex grinned, a sudden flash of happiness. My heart soared with the sweetness of it. I smiled back and his gaze held mine. The children went quiet, and Alex cleared his throat. He drew his eyes away from mine and to the children, shaking his head a little.
“Okay, gang,” he said happily. “Here goes.”
He slid nimbly into the seat and drove the car out, greeted by a wave of requests.
“I want to sit in the back, behind Daddy. That's my place. Remember?” Cammi protested.
“Who's going in the front seat?” Jack asked.
Alex alighted and walked round to the door. He opened it.
“Emma?”
I swallowed hard. He was holding the door open for me.
“Are you sure?”
He laughed. “Sure I am.”
He smiled and I smiled back, feeling my stomach flip. I slid into the seat, wincing as I did it less elegantly than she would have liked. He grinned at me, eyes sparkling, as if he shared my thoughts and thought they were funny. Then he opened the rear door.
“Everybody in!”
The kids clambered in. Alex grinned at me where he stood outside, waiting for them to settle themselves down before he shut the door. He looked happier than ever. He slid into the seat beside me. I held my breath. Sitting next to him made me feel strangely shy. Why is it that one's skin suddenly gets so sensitive, as if it would sense out every breath of someone, shiver at their slightest glance?
I stopped thinking about it and looked out of the window. Then he flicked the switch for the front gate and backed up slowly. The road behind, a wide almost-deserted road through leafy countryside, appeared slowly from behind the wall as we reversed through the gate.
“Whee!”
Jack was laughing as the wind caught his hair. Cammi was squealing with excitement. Alex was grinning. My hair was already catching the wind. Left loose about my shoulders, it billowed around by my face, whipping into my eyes. I gave a little chuckle and smiled at Alex. He grinned back.
“Okay, let’s really go!”
He put his foot on the gas and lurched forward, until we were bowling along at ninety. The kids were screeching and giggling, and I found it hard to breathe.
“Fun, isn't it?” he asked, grinning across at me. It was such a sweet, boyish grin that it took years off his face. I had no idea how old he was, but just then he was a teenager, showing off.
“Windy!” I replied, and it was. My hair was everywhere—in my eyes, my mouth, whipping back from my head and promising to be a mass of tangles later in the evening.
He laughed. “You can say that again!”
I chuckled. “Windy!” I said again.
Behind me, the children were laughing and shrieking. I felt my own heart beating. I looked across at the man beside me, noting his strong hands on the steering wheel. They were thickly muscled and veined, as if he spent some of his free time climbing in the hills.
We slowed down after a moment. It was possible to look out of the window and see the countryside as it slid silently past.
“Lovely trees, aren't they?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said in agreement. They were. I leaned back and let myself enjoy the scenery—tall green trees and white-pale sky just settling into the pale orange and gold of sunset. I was deeply aware of the man in the seat beside me and his every gesture, from the way he gripped the wheel to the way he stroked a hand across his temple, flattening his own wild-ruffled hair.
Jack and Cammi were playing some complicated game involving the number of yellow cars they spotted, their voices shrill in the back. Here, in the front of the car, Alex was strangely silent. The sun was setting, the trees long-shadowed.
Alex drove us onwards, until, after a time difficult to measure, we arrived at the bank of a small river. Cool shade surrounded us. The water danced under the light.
“Here we are,” Alex said, smiling. “Okay, kids! Who wants to run around?”
“Me!” Cammi shouted.
“Hurrah!”
The children vaulted out, giggling excitedly, as he opened the door, letting them out onto the cool green grass. They rushed off towards the water's edge, leaving Alex and I surrounded by a bubble of silence.
“It's beautiful here.”
“I thought you'd like it,” Alexander said, with a gentle smile.
Emma swallowed hard. He thought I'd like it? He actually cared about what I thought? My heart thumped. I smiled nervously back, feeling my throat suddenly stiff with shy pleasure.
“The sunset over the river is…moving,” Alexander said, indicating the distant orange glow where it shone on the water, turning all of it to radiant, polished metal.
“It is,” I agreed quietly.
Together, with the water lapping at the bank before us, we stood and watched the sunset. Alexander moved closer. When his hand brushed my own my heart stopped. Slowly, gently, his fingers curled around so that they held mine.
When his hand was over mine, I thought I would stop breathing, but I didn't. Instead, I carefully clasped his own. His fingers were strong and warm and the skin was soft, which was unexpected and deeply arousing. I held his hand and, together, alone in the silence, we watched the light on the river.
“It is nice here, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I used to bring the kids here often. Good place to let them run and work off some energy. There’s nothing for them to run into or break here,” he said with a huff of laughter.
“You mean like the lawn?” I asked archly. I regretted the words the moment she had said them.
“Yes,” he said. “Like that. Emma,”
“What?” I asked.
“I didn’t know what I was doing. You do understand. Don’t you? I didn’t mean to be a…a tyrant with them.” His eyes were beseeching and I wished I knew what to say to answer his desperate need to be assuaged and reassured.
I sighed. “You were doing your best, Alexander.”
It was, I think, the first time I used his name. He started, as if I had slapped him. We stared at each other and he smiled.
“Really?”
“Yes.” I swallowed hard, brushing a stray hair off my brow to compose myself. “I know you love them. I can see it. They know it, too. Though I think little things like this really help,” I added, looking towards the water where Jack was reaching in and Cammi stood on the bank beside him, shouting excitedly.
“I hope so,” he added. He, too, was watching the children. While they stood there, his arm strayed, coming to rest with his hand on my shoulder.
Oh, my word.
My heart was pounding, and yet I felt as if my whole world had just stopped, standing still somehow, the sunset a painting before my eyes while the only reality was between us, his touch on my arm, his voice in my ear. It felt as if we had stood thus forever. I thought it was a foolish thought. But it felt real. It felt right.
“Alexander.”
“What?” he asked, turning, one dark brow raised in questioning.
I giggled and looked at my feet. I hadn’t really wanted to say anything, just to say his name. It felt nice. I hadn’t realized I had spoken it aloud. “Sorry. Nothing.”
“Tell me.” He squinted at me, wanting to tease me into telling whatever it was I was thinking of.
“No, really,” I insisted. “It was nothing.”
“Well, then,” he said, very softly.
With that, he leaned forward. His lips met mine.
If heaven had a taste, it was there. And if I could choose to feel anything in my life every day from this moment until I died, it would be the feel of his lips sliding, tentative and exploratory, over mine.
When the children came running up from the water, shouting excitedly and waving the stick they had salvaged, I was standing decorously beside Alexander. One would have had to look carefully to see the trail of moisture on his lip, the bruising on my own. But it was there.
Fortunately, the children didn’t look too closely. But he did. When we all turned to walk back to the car, the children following his easy gesture with the keys, he lifted his hand and carefully traced my lip with his thumb. I kissed it. He smiled.
Feeling as if I had entered paradise, I walked with him to the car. Later, I would wonder about this. Later, I was sure, I would regret it. I would question what he was thinking, and question what I was thinking, and doubt the wonder that I felt and doubt his sincerity. Now, just now, with the light gilding the road before us, the wind soft in the leaves, life was perfect and I would do nothing to question it.