Vision In Love (Legends of The North Book 1) (5 page)

Before she had the chance to taste it, however, there was a loud knock on the front door. Barney started barking in answer and ran towards the sound. Placing the lid back on the pot, she nudged Barney out of the way as she opened the door. She was greeted by a bouquet of white roses. At the sight of them, she gasped, feeling dizzy as the blood drained from her head. She gripped the doorjamb to remain upright.
 

The bouquet lowered to reveal Matt's smiling face, and she took a deep breath to try to slow her panicked heartbeat.
 

"For you. I, er, I just thought" His smile faltered and a blush spread across his cheeks.
 

She opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out as her gaze was drawn back to the flowers. She let go of the doorjamb to reach out to him, felt herself sway, and threw her hands out to steady herself.
 

"Oh, my God, are you okay?" Matt asked as he reached out to her, his hands wrapping around her waist as he dropped the bouquet on the floor.
 

She leaned against his hard chest and glanced at the flowers.
Just a coincidence
, she told herself as she stepped back. "Why don't you come in and I'll get a vase for these."

"Forget about the flowers, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, honestly. I probably just need to eat," she said, even as she saw her hand shake before she dragged her hair behind her ear.

***

He followed her into the kitchen. "Mmm, something smells delicious," he stated, trying to distract her. Maybe she had read too much into the flowers, got the wrong idea. Or was that the right idea? The look on her face when she'd seen them made him think she had.

"It's only a casserole. It's almost ready, if you want to join me. I always make way too much."

"No, no, it's fine. I'm interrupting. I should go."

"Honestly, you're not. And Barney's not going to let you leave that easily. He's not finished his investigation of you."
 

Her laugh put him at ease while Barney sniffed every inch of his feet and legs.

"Barney, bed. I was just about to have a glass of wine, would you like one?"

"Mmm, sounds good. Why don't I get the wine while you see to the casserole?" he offered, shrugging out of his jacket. He picked up the bottle of red and the corkscrew already out on the counter. Maybe if he explained about the flowers she wouldn't look so nervous. Using the corkscrew to pull the cork out of the bottle, he took a deep breath.
Don't need to tell her the whole story, though.
He didn't want to scare her off before they got to know each other.

"My grandmother loved roses, and she grew her own. There were so many, the whole garden would smell of them." He cleared his throat as he poured two glasses of wine.

"But there's no real garden here."

"No, not here. At the house she shared with my granddad before she couldn't really handle a garden any longer. I, er, went to the florist to buy some for her today. I always put some on her grave. She loved white because they meant new beginnings or hope. I thought they were quite apt for you, for us ... our, erm, new friendship."

"That's really sweet, Matt, thank you." Leaving the casserole, she crossed the room to him. Slowly, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

Sweet? Not the word he would have preferred her to use to describe him, but if it got him a kiss he could live with sweet.
For now.

***

Matt dropped his knife and fork onto his plate and leaned back in his chair, his hands over his stomach. "That was delicious, Emma, but I'm stuffed. You might have to put up with me for the rest of the night until I can move again."

Emma laughed and said, "Maybe loading the dishwasher would help work some of it off."

"Let it never be said I can't take a hint," he replied as he rose and picked up her plate.
 

She followed him and began to fill the sink to wash up what was left. "So, do you know a lot about flowers, or is it just roses?"

Matt picked up a tea towel and started to dry the dishes. "Erm, I don't really know anything about flowers. I remember my gran telling me what white roses mean and obviously what red ones do. Why? Are you thinking of growing some?"

"No, I just wondered if you knew anything about poppies."

"You mean the symbol of remembrance?"

Emma bumped him with her hip. "I knew that, smart aleck. I meant, like, whether you knew if they grew around here?"

As she turned to reach for the casserole dish, his eyes dropped to her hips then her bum, which was being shown off spectacularly in a pair of snug jeans.

"Matt?"

He dragged his gaze back to hers and felt himself blush. Had she caught him looking? "Sorry, what?"

"Poppies?"

"Oh, yeah. Erm, I'm pretty sure they don't grow around here. But I do know they were used in Roman myths as offerings to the dead."

Emma dropped the pan lid into the sink, splashing water and soapsuds up her T-shirt.

"You okay? You've gone a bit pale."

"I'm fine. I'll just go get changed," she said as she dried her hands. An offering to the dead? What did that even mean? So, she'd seen the dead and new beginnings in the same vision? Was the man she'd seen dead then?
 

She pulled a dry T-shirt on and told herself to leave it. The last thing she wanted was Matt thinking she was crazy when he was the first friend she had made in the village.
 

By the time she got back downstairs, Matt had finished the dishes and topped off her glass of wine. She took it into the living room and curled up on one side of the sofa. Matt followed and sat at the other end, facing her with a worried look on his face. She started to twist her ring as she tried to think of something that would rid him of that expression.

"So, you didn't inherit a love of gardening off your gran, then?"

His look slowly turned from worry to a smile. "No. I used to spend a lot of time in the garden with her when I got older." Suddenly, he laughed.

"What?" she asked.

"I just remembered why I stopped helping her in the garden."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure I should tell you, it's quite embarrassing."

Emma smiled and patted his leg, which he had curled up onto the sofa. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me." His eyes dropped to her hand and she quickly pulled it back to her lap. Maybe he wasn't a touchy-feely type of friend.

"Er, she got a cat. And no matter what my gran did, she could never convince it to come inside the house. I swear this thing was possessed. It was black, with really vivid green eyes, and just a patch of white on each paw. It would rub itself innocently against my gran, but as soon as she disappeared ..." He curled his fingers over, making a clawing action. "Christ, I lost count of how many times it got me. In the end, I just avoided Gran's garden, until one day it up and disappeared. Never saw the bloody thing again."

"So, you're scared of cats, then?" Emma asked with a laugh. "What about dogs?"

"I wouldn't say I was scared of cats. I just have a healthy respect for the pain they can inflict. Dogs are different, much more friendly. Especially Barney."

"You mean Barney is a little over-friendly." She smiled as she remembered his surprise at her having a dog. She took a sip of her wine, looking at him over the top of her glass. He fidgeted as she watched him, and she wondered if he was like this around everyone or just women in general. She found it cute, quite amusing even.

"So, what about you? Anything you're scared of?"

Slowly, she smiled again. "Believe it or not, I'm actually scared of dogs." His laugh was deep and warm, and she found herself joining in. "I know, but I thought if I got a dog I wouldn't be scared of them anymore. Didn't work that way, though. Obviously, I'm not scared of Barney, because he jumps at his own shadow, but other dogs? Yep, they still scare me."

He leaned his head against the sofa and relaxed into the cushion. She smiled at the action, liked the fact he felt relaxed there. Liked
him
, she realised.
Definitely on the road to being friends.
She took another sip of wine and curled up into her cushion.

The next morning, Emma practically skipped to the village shop; after all, it was the weekend and she'd had a great time the night before.
Hopefully, we'll do it again, and soon.
 

When she pushed open the door, the bell tinkled overhead and the ladies chatting at the counter stopped to turn and look at her. Their eyes widened before they turned away from her, heads bent together as they started whispering. She gave a little shrug.
Just one of the downsides of living in a village. Everything's up for discussion, no matter how trivial it might be.
What if they were talking about her and Matt? She shook her head, so what if they were? They were both adults entitled to spend an evening together talking and drinking wine.
 

Emma picked up a newspaper and her favourite magazine along with a pint of milk. As she walked towards the cashier, the ladies descended on her, their faces like storm clouds about to cover her sun. She placed her items on the counter and glanced sideways when she noticed one lady staring at her. The others looked amongst themselves, nudging each other or shaking their heads. She handed over her money and left as quickly as she could. Who knew what she had done to be on their radar, but she did know denying it would be no use. The truth was usually much less entertaining, so why let the truth get in the way of a good story?

As she walked back down her street, she waved to Doris, her next-door neighbour. Doris hurried down the garden path and gripped the top of her gate. She sounded out of breath, her chest rapidly rising and falling, and her breath blowing forcefully out through her mouth.

"Are you okay, Doris?"
Please, don't pass out or have a heart attack.
Emma had never given CPR before, and she wasn't sure she knew how to do it.

"I was going to ask you the same, love. I'm so sorry. I just heard, Betty at the cafe told me. I heard the ambulance woke up most of Stydon, not that they minded, of course. Not really important, is it, not after that."

"After what, Doris?" This was probably the longest conversation she'd had with Doris, and the one that made the least sense.

"You don't know? I just assumed you would."

Emma was starting to lose her patience–or her mind, she wasn't sure which yet. "Know what, Doris?"

"It's your mum, love. They said she wouldn't have felt a thing, and your dad was with her, of course."

Emma leaned against the gate. She felt lightheaded, could hear the blood rushing through her ears, as the world seemed to fall away from her.

"Emma, love, are you okay? Emma?"

She felt a cool, papery hand cover hers and looked up into Doris's concerned face. "I'm fine," she said, trying to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. "Just a shock. I mean, we knew it was coming, just not this soon."

"I know, but you're never ready for it, no matter how much you prepare."

"Thanks, Doris. Sorry, but I have to go. My dad ..." Her dad what? Didn't think she needed to know? Couldn't be bothered to tell her?

Letting herself into her house, Emma sank onto the sofa. Resting her elbows on her knees, she held her head in her hands.
Mum is gone?
They had known it was coming, but Emma thought it would be months yet, years even.
 

Barney's wet snout nudged her hand and she lifted her head. Giving him a quick scratch, she stood, glancing around the room. Picking up her bag from where she had dropped it, she grabbed her keys off the table and looked around once more. Not sure what she was looking for, she left the house and climbed into her car.

 
Pulling up outside her parents' place, she slouched in the seat, waiting for her sister to get into her own car and drive off. Emma wasn't up to facing both of them together. She walked slowly down the path and glanced at the window, expecting to see her mum or the sway of the net curtain falling back into place.
 

Raising her fist towards the door, she hesitated before knocking. It would be just her dad, and she had no idea how he would be coping. How
do
you cope after losing someone? Whatever he hadn't done, he
had
just lost his wife of how many years? She wasn't even sure how long they had been married–twenty-five years at least. Lifting her hand again, she knocked twice on the door and could hear him moving around inside. Finally, she heard the key in the door as he unlocked it. When he opened it, he looked at her with raised eyebrows and his bottom lip stuck out.

"Emma? I wasn't expecting you. I thought your sister had forgotten something. You've just missed her."

"I know. I saw her drive off. Can I come in?"

"Of course," he said as he shuffled backwards to let her pass.

She took a seat on the sofa while her dad took the armchair, waiting for him to say something as he fidgeted in his seat, pulling at his sleeve.

"Ah, your sister was going to call you when she got home."

How did her sister know? Had she been here when it happened? Had her dad told her sister but couldn't bring himself to tell her? She decided to put him out of his misery. "It's okay, I heard."

"How?"

"My neighbour told me. What happened?" She listened as he explained, told her that her sister would take care of all the arrangements but would let her know, of course. She felt useless. Like a spare-part in the family.
 

Again.

It was Friday night and Emma had no plans, unless she counted putting her pyjamas on and wallowing as a plan. She headed for the stairs but, halfway up, heard Barney barking. "Shh." But he carried on, so she turned around and found him jumping up at the front door. When she opened it, Matt stood there, smiling.

"He's a good burglar deterrent."

She swung the door back and forth and said, "You'd think. But if anyone actually tried to break in, I think he'd be the first one out the back door." Leaning against the door she asked, "Do you want to come in?"