Vision In Love (Legends of The North Book 1) (6 page)

"No, I can't stop."

Emma couldn't help but feel disappointed but told herself it was only because she had no other plans.
 

"I'm meeting a couple of friends at the pub and wondered if you wanted to join us?"

"I'd love to," she said, bouncing on her tiptoes before slowly lowering herself back down, not wanting to look too eager.

"Do you want to meet us there, or are you ready to go?" he asked as his gaze slowly travelled over her body.

"I'll meet you there."

"Okay." He gave her a little wave.

She watched him walk off in the direction of the pub. Her Friday night plans suddenly looked brighter, but then again it wouldn't take much to beat a guilt-ridden night in. Remorseful thoughts over whether she could have been a better daughter, whether she should have called more often, or just humoured her mum's opinions. Could she have made more of an effort? Should she have simply accepted that her mum was just like that and shouldn't take it so personally? Was she responsible for their distance? Gently, she closed the front door and rested her head against it. Alcohol would stop these questions, and the guilt, for the night, at least.

Not knowing what to wear, Emma had kept it simple with jeans and a sparkly, sleeveless top. She was glad she had when she pulled open the pub door to be met by mainly couples, with the women mostly dressed in a similar fashion. Looking along the length of the bar, she couldn't see Matt. She moved farther into the area and saw him sitting in a booth with two other men. One reminded her of her ex, not just because of his dark hair or his looks, which she had to admit were good. No, it was his confident, almost cocky pose, like he owned the world and everyone there were just his loyal pawns for him to play with. She shook her head at that, reminding herself that this was Matt's friend so he couldn't be all bad.
 

The other man seemed cheekier; maybe it was the curly hair or the dimple that popped out when he flashed a devilish grin. The cheeky one pointed at her and Matt turned to look, smiling at her when their eyes met. His long strides brought him to her before she had even moved and then he stopped, leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

"Do you want a drink?" he asked.

"Sure," she said, pressing her fingers to her cheek. Emma had thought he wasn't the touchy feely type but that greeting made her think otherwise. She heard his laugh and quickly dropped her hand to look up at him.

"Wine?" he asked.

She nodded, following him to the bar.

***

As Matt waited at the bar, he thought about Emma's look of surprise when he had kissed her.
At least she'd only
looked
surprised.
He knew Rob and John would be watching them, had seen the interest spark in Rob's eyes when John had pointed, asking hopefully if that was Emma. Of course it had been, and she looked more beautiful than usual. So beautiful he felt an ache in his chest. And in that moment, he knew he had to stop Rob from trying to make Emma into another of his conquests. So, he'd kissed her.
 

And, as she stood next to him in that moment, he slid an arm around her waist when she was jostled by clumsy patrons. She leaned in and smiled up at him so sweetly. He felt like Hercules must have after he had slain the Nemean lion. With their drinks in hand, he led her back to their booth. Sliding in after her, close enough that their thighs touched, he made the introductions.
 

Matt was enjoying himself, but he noticed how quiet Emma was. She also looked a little tipsy as she stumbled out of the booth to the ladies room.
 

Rob gulped down the last of his beer and shoved John. "Come on, we're off. Let's leave these two lovebirds to it. Think our Matt's going to get lucky tonight."

"Don't judge everyone by your own standards, Rob."

"Don't tell me you've already struck out," Rob said as he laughed and pulled on his coat, hustling John ahead of him. Matt scowled after them until he saw Emma weaving her way back. He stood as she reached the booth.

"Where'd everyone go? How long was I in there?" she asked as she looked around then over her shoulder.

He couldn't help but smile at her question. "Not very long. Come on, I'll take you home."
 

"Oh, okay."

He draped his arm around her shoulder to keep her steady as they walked. As they reached her gate, she turned to face him but stumbled and fell against him. He wrapped both arms loosely around her waist as she pressed her palms flat against his chest. She looked him straight in the eye.

"You're so lovely," she said, right before she burst into tears.
 

Well, that's what every man wants to hear and see on a Friday night.
He pulled her into a tight hug. "What's wrong, Ems?"

She didn't lift her head from his chest as she said, "My mum died." The words came out muffled, followed by a sniff.

He walked her to the front door and took the keys from her fumbling fingers. Leading her to the sofa, he helped her to sit down before putting the kettle on. Barney seemed to sense something was wrong and lay quietly at her feet. Matt brought a cup of coffee in for her and sat next to her, their thighs touching as he took her hand in his. She leaned against his arm until he wrapped it around her, letting her quietly cry.

"I don't even know why I'm so upset," she said as she blew her nose.

"Because she was your mum."

"I know, but we weren't very close. We didn't really get on that well."

He didn't say anything, just watched her shred the tissue, and waited for her to continue.

"I know she felt the same way. I think she blamed us for everything wrong in her life. I don't think she ever wanted kids. You just–“ She stopped as she hiccupped and wiped her nose. She leaned her head against Matt's shoulder and let out a deep breath. "You just don't expect to find out from your neighbour, you know?"

Matt leaned back to look at her. "You found out your mum died from a neighbour?"

Emma nodded and wiped away the last tear. He dropped back against the cushions and pulled Emma back with him, his arm still around her. They were both quiet, lost in their own thoughts of family, how sometimes they weren't always there for you. That sometimes, water could be thicker than blood.

Emma had purposefully walked Barney later than usual, hoping to run into Matt. Every night since her mum had died, she'd been having the same vision of the poppy river, and it was starting to take its toll. She was beginning to get to the point where she avoided going to sleep. But the bags under her eyes and her inability to concentrate were starting to affect her. She'd actually fallen asleep at work, which was when she decided she needed to talk to someone. Her family wasn't an option; her dad had enough to worry about, he seemed to be struggling to look after himself now that her mum wasn't around. She was hoping Matt would be a good option. As she dawdled around the museum, she watched the flow of the river, trying to work out where exactly on it her vision took place.
 

"Emma?"

Turning at the sound of her name, she saw Matt walking towards her, a smile on his face. He always seemed happy; she wondered what his secret was. "Hi, Matt."

"Are you starting or finishing the walk?" he asked as he stroked Barney.

"Finishing. Just on our way home, actually."

"Good timing by me, then. I'll walk you home."

"You don't need to do that."

"I know that, but you know me," he said, with a shrug. "How about I walk you to my house then, and we can have a drink?"

"Sounds good to me."

Falling into step, they made their way in silence. Emma was lost in her own thoughts of how to bring up the visions. What if he didn't believe her? What if he thought she was crazy? She really hoped that drink was a glass of wine.
 

He stopped outside a three-story cottage, not far from the museum, halfway between it and her cottage. "This is home. Come on in."

She followed him into a cream living room with two large, brown leather sofas. The room was dominated by a wall of bookshelves, and the faint library smell of old books lingered in the air. She noticed the cream carpet and Barney's muddy paws–not a good combination.
 

"Maybe I should take Barney home first?"

"It's okay. We'll go down to the kitchen."

He led the way down a narrow flight of steps to a kitchen with small windows at street level. The area was immaculate, and she couldn't help but wonder if he actually used it.

"Red or white? Or I have beer, too."

"White, please."

Letting Barney off his lead, he headed straight for a blanket in the corner of the room. She leapt after him to the sound of Matt's laughter.

"It's okay. My friend has a dog, that's what it's there for."

Taking the offered glass of wine, she sat back down once Barney had curled up.
 

"So, do you have any plans for this weekend?" he asked as he sat down next to her.

"No." Twisting her ring around her finger, she wondered again how to bring up the subject. "I'll probably try and get some sleep. I've not been sleeping too well."

"You do look a little tired."

Now or never
, she thought with a deep breath. "I've been having ... well, I guess you'd call them dreams, but they're really intense."

He shifted in his seat to face her fully but said nothing, just took her hand in his so she couldn't twist her ring any longer.
 

She gripped his hands then released them as her shoulders dropped. "My mum's funeral is tomorrow." She let the sentence hang because she couldn't do it, couldn't tell him about some weird vision she'd had where she ended up with muddy feet. Not without sounding crazy, anyway.
 

But when do you stop believing people and start thinking "crazy" instead? Stop believing in the tooth fairy, in Father Christmas, the Easter bunny? At what age do we become obsessed, driven by this necessity for proof?
 

But what if some things couldn't be proven? What if you just had to believe in what you saw, in how you felt? Believe in what you were experiencing and trust in those who believed you, too. But she wasn't sure Matt believed in her, and she was too tired to deal with it if she told him and he didn't believe her. She knew her parents wouldn't have believed her; they were sceptical of most things. As Ben had been, she realised, at least when it came to her and her opinions. She just wasn't brave enough to take that leap of faith with Matt.
 

But he said nothing, just looked at her with patience and concern, still gently holding her hand. So she took the easy option instead. "I was kind of hoping you might come with me. You know, moral support and all that."

"Of course I will. I can't believe you got so worked up about asking me that. Why wouldn't I go with you?"

Emma shrugged as she felt guilty. "I should take Barney home, he needs feeding." She needed a little time and some space.

"Why don't I get something to eat and bring it to yours?"

Nodding, she clipped Barney's lead on, headed back upstairs to where she'd come in, and walked slowly back to her place.

***

The knock on her front door made her jump, and it set Barney off barking. Matt stood there, takeout bags in hand, looking as calm as ever. Dinner was quiet, and she wondered what he was thinking about. She felt guilty about practically running out on him earlier, the exact reaction she had hoped he wouldn't have, had she told him about the visions.

"I'm sorry about rushing off earlier. I just ..."

"It's okay, it's an understandable reaction." Reaching across the dining table, he took her hand. "Do you want to talk about it now?"

"Not really," she said as they made their way into the living room, settling on the sofa, she faced him. They both sat quietly for a moment. Emma twisted her ring back and forth until Matt closed his hand around hers. She looked up at him to find him staring at her intently. He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her against his chest. Emma went willingly, finding comfort in his warmth and his arms as she rested her cheek on his shoulder. She felt his other arm wrap around her and the wet warmth of his lips as he pressed them against her forehead.

"It'll be okay, I promise."

She hoped he was right. She really did.

Emma studied her black dress and black boots and couldn't help feeling like a hypocrite. She had been back home for almost two months and had only seen her mother once in that time. Feeling like a terrible daughter, she didn't think she even looked the part. Where were the tears, the pained look of grief across her face? Her make-up had hidden some of her tiredness, but she still looked weary. Not a bad look for once, considering where she was headed.
 

She knew it would be Matt when she heard a knock on the door. It didn't look like him when she opened it, though. His normally wavy hair was slicked back and flat, and his tweed jacket was nowhere in sight, instead replaced by a black suit, with a white shirt showing just above his fastened waistcoat. She couldn't help it; the word "dashing" came to mind, and she smiled.
 

He slid a finger underneath his collar, "I know, I look like a penguin," he said, looking down at his shiny black shoes.

"No, no, you look perfect to me." He lifted his head at her words, but she turned away to grab her bag. "Dashing" would probably have been better, anything rather than "perfect." Shaking her head, she gave Barney a scratch behind his ear before she closed the door on him. Matt didn't say a word as they walked down the street, but he did take her hand. The warmth of it was comforting.
I might need all the comfort I can get today.

It was only a short drive to the funeral home and, before she knew it, Matt pulled up into the car park, the clicking of the handbrake loud in the quiet of the car. She looked out of the window to where her dad and sister stood on the entrance steps. She had thought her dad looked bad when she first got back, but in his rumpled suit, with white whiskers across his jaw and pink-rimmed eyes magnified by his glasses, he looked terrible. It must've been hitting him harder than she thought it would, but they'd never seemed that happy together–more like just stuck together after so many years of marriage.