Vision In Love (Legends of The North Book 1) (8 page)

As Emma unlocked the front door, she felt pretty good about her first client meeting. They seemed open to her ideas, and she was looking forward to working with them. That feeling dropped a little at the thought of dinner. Which was stupid, really; she should've been excited at the prospect of learning more about Matt. But her reaction to seeing them together had surprised her. She knew she liked Matt, she just hadn't been expecting such a depth of feeling. Jealousy, pure and simple. Yet she had no reason to be, as they were just friends. Matt hadn't given her any sign that he wanted to be anything more, not really. If someone had asked her the day before, she would have said that she hadn't wanted anything more, either. God, they hadn't even kissed, not properly.
 

Letting out a deep breath, she pushed her hands through her hair. This was getting her nowhere. Her thoughts turned to the evening and remembering how beautiful Jessica was. Maybe it was about time she unpacked some of her boxes from Cardiff. In particular, the ones with something other than jeans and comfort clothes in them.
 

At ten to seven, Emma was ready. Her hair swept up into a messy bun with a few stray strands curling around her face to soften the look. She didn't wear make-up often, but she had applied a silver eyeshadow that made her blue eyes look almost slate-coloured. Black mascara only emphasised the look, and the palest of pink lipstick coloured her lips. Gone were her usual jeans and T-shirt, replaced instead with a black dress. A V-neck was highlighted by a long, silver necklace, a heart-shaped pendant dangling from it. The dress hit her mid-thigh before flaring out and swirling to a stop just below her knee. Black knee-high boots completed the look.
 

She looked in the mirror, a smile spreading slowly across her face before she did a quick twirl. As the dress dropped back into place, she wondered if she'd gone a little overboard. It
was
only the local pub, after all. But then again, it was a Saturday night. Then she heard a knock on the door.
Too late now.
She opened the front door to be greeted by the sight of Matt. He looked different, younger without his tweed jacket, more relaxed. Instead of the tweed, he had a quilted, dark blue jacket on, the weather still mild for this time of year. He wore a light blue shirt underneath with the top two buttons open, revealing the smooth skin at the base of his neck. Her gaze wandered down to a pair of dark blue jeans that stretched across his thighs, leaving little to her imagination. At the sight of her, his eyes widened slightly, and she smiled at his reaction.
 

"Hi. You look, ah, beautiful."

The light from behind her was enough to show the colour on his cheeks. Suddenly feeling awkward herself, she shifted on her feet and dropped her head. "Thanks." Clearing her throat, she lifted her head. "Where's Jessica?"

Matt just shook his head in reply.

It only took them a few minutes to walk to the pub and settle themselves into an overstuffed sofa with their drinks. Emma was still wondering where Jessica was or if she was still meeting them at all. "So, you never mentioned that your sister was visiting." God, she hoped that didn't sound as accusatory to him as it did in her head.
 

He snorted a laugh in response as he placed his pint on the small table in front of them. "Jess never mentioned she was visiting. In fact, I think there's something off about the whole thing."

"What do you mean?"

He turned to face her, his knee nudging against her thigh as he drew it up onto the sofa. "Well, she turned up at my place at about nine a.m. To get there from London, she must have set off in the middle of the night. Jess can be a bit ... scatter-brained, but she always calls before she visits. And even if she had arranged it, why would she show up so early? After we saw you at the café, she spent the rest of the day grilling me about you, but managed to evade every question I asked her about her personal life before she went to visit our parents." He let out a deep breath and took a long gulp of his beer.

"What was she like when she got back from your parents'?"

She watched as he rubbed his thumb and forefinger across his chin. As he did, his bottom lip dropped and her gaze moved to his lips.

"Now you mention it, she did seem upset. But, well, that's how I always felt after seeing them, so I didn't think anything of it. But Jess? Well, Jess is the baby, and Mum and Dad have always spoiled her. She normally loves visiting them."

"Couldn't you speak to your parents? Maybe they know if something is bothering her."

He stared into his pint, and she felt his leg tense.

"Do they live nearby? It can't be that far if Jessica visited them in an afternoon."

"Yeah, we don't really, erm ..." He trailed off as he looked up and waved across the pub.

Emma turned to look in the same direction and saw Jessica heading their way. She glided through the crowded bar area, attracting quite a few stares, although Emma was sure that had more to do with her looks than the way she walked. Her ebony hair curled softly around her face. Dark, long lashes only emphasised her pale skin and perfect pearly teeth. Her slim frame sported skinny jeans and a fitted shirt that gave her more cleavage than she'd had that morning. Gracefully, she lowered herself into the free chair opposite them and gave Emma a huge smile.

"Hi again. Sorry I'm late, but I thought Matt would probably want to be alone with you."

Jess looked between Matt and Emma. Emma realised they were both blushing, and Jess's smile widened.

"Jess," Matt said in a voice that sounded like her dad's when she had done something she wasn't supposed to.

Turning to him, Jess replied, "Just so you could dish the dirt on me before I got here." With a slight shrug, she turned to Emma. "You can't listen to all the gossip you hear, especially not in a village this size. You know how people can be and, well, we've always been the centre of gossip. People can be jealous or"

"Jess."

Her head snapped round to look at Matt. "What?"

"Should we go get our table? I'm starving."

Emma followed them both, wondering what Jessica had meant and why Matt seemed so upset by it.

***

Matt was happy to sit quietly through dinner. As the wine flowed, Jess and Emma got to know each other. For some reason, he felt unsettled and was content to let Jess take over. But as they made their way down Green Street, Jess walked on ahead of them only to stop outside Emma's house.
 

Emma stole another glance at Matt, but he seemed engrossed by his feet. Nudging him with her elbow, she said, "You okay?"

He flashed her a brief smile. "Yeah, fine. Just a bit worried about Jess."

"She seems happy enough."

"Drunk enough, you mean." It wasn't a complete lie. He
was
worried about Jess, but mainly he was worried about Emma, and he wasn't used to that. Normally, he didn't care what people thought. Everyone knew who his parents were, and that he didn't really speak to them. If people tried to get to his parents through him, they didn't get very far and soon lost interest. But Emma probably didn't have a clue about who his family were. He hadn't lied to her as such, but he'd never given her his full name or said where exactly in the village he'd grown up. Emma walked past Jess, opening the gate to her garden.

"Oh, my God, you've rented Gran's old place?"

Emma nodded. "Want to come in for a drink?"

"Sure. I'm curious what the place looks like now. It's been years since I was last here."

Emma turned to Matt. "You coming in, too?"

"Think I better. Otherwise, you might end up stuck with Jess for the night."

"Hey! I heard that. Don't use me as your excuse."

Emma left Jess to wander around while Matt opened a bottle of wine and she saw to an excited Barney.

"This place looks so different. It's amazing, like a completely different house," Jess said as they all sat down in the living room.

"How many have you had to drink Jess?" Matt asked.

With a smile, Jess just waved her hand in his direction, but less than ten minutes later she was softly snoring.

"Sorry about Jess, she's not normally like this."

"Don't worry about it. Sometimes, we all need to blow off a little steam."

Emma looked like she was about to say more but before she could, he said, "Jess still relies on our parents for money."

Emma watched as the red stain crept up his cheeks and reached the tips of his ears. She knew him well enough by that point to know he was nervous about whatever he was going to say, so she said nothing, just slid her ring on and off her finger.

"Well, that's not entirely fair. She'd probably still visit them, even if she wasn't. She still cares what they think."

"But you don't?"

Something in her tone made him look up at her. She seemed as though she understood, not like she was judging him.

"Not for a long time now. But what Jess said earlier was true. People do like to talk about our family. You said it yourself. They're like royalty in this village." He watched her face as she absorbed his words. Shock. Then anger?
 

"Your parents are the Altenburys? You're an Altenbury?"

He watched her stand and turn away from him. "Does it matter?"

"Yes. No, I don't know. Yes, because I feel like you kept it from me. I mean, we talked about your family, but you didn't say they were
your
family." With a sigh, she pushed her hair back. "No, it doesn't matter. You can't choose your family, can you?" She looked at him as she paced across the room, stopping abruptly and folding her arms across her chest. "What did you think I was going to do?"

"Nothing. I just ... the way you spoke about them, I thought it might scare you off. I just, I wanted to get to know you before I told you."

***

She felt like she should be mad at him, but she realised he didn't have to tell her anything. She wanted him to, but he didn't have to. She knew herself what families could do to a person, so how could she be mad at him? "Why would your family scare me off? You don't even see them, do you?"

"Well, no. I hadn't thought of that. There's only Jess now ..."

 
He glanced her way and his face looked like someone had just told him that Neanderthal man had been a giant hoax. She wanted to help him, but she had no idea what was bothering him.

"I better get her home," he stated as he stood.

Emma opened the door for him as he half-dragged, half-carried Jess out of the house. At the bottom of the path, he turned toward Emma and said, "I am sorry."

"I know, but you don't need to be." She stood and watched his slow progress towards his house until he rounded the corner and disappeared from her sight. The silence of the night seemed to grow louder as the sound of their footsteps faded. Emma looked up at the sky, but the stars were covered with clouds; darkness surrounded her, and she felt an ache in her chest. A loneliness like she had never felt before as she slowly closed the front door on the dark night.

Emma's legs thrashed beneath the covers, finally kicking them off. Too hot. As she writhed around on the bed, she began to cough.
 

Smoke. She couldn't see anything for the thick, grey smoke wrapping itself around her like a snake coiling for the kill. Tears streaming, lungs burning, she lurched forward and fell to her knees. From this height, she could just make out the riverbank, her lungs beginning to ease as the smoke thinned down there. She crawled forward but as she stretched a hand out towards the river, the smoke cleared, replaced by something falling.
 

As red rose petals drifted all around her, she caught one. Through the red haze, she saw the silhouette of a man rising from the river. She crawled to the edge of the river to try to get a better look at him. But the closer he got to her, the more he sank into the river, until his face disappeared beneath the surface. She grabbed for him, trying to pull him out but her hand came away empty, grasping at air and dripping water. Screaming his name over and over, the world slowly went blank.

"Matt." Her hand grasped for him but only tangled in the sheets. She pressed a wet hand to her chest. It had been Matt. He had been drowning in the river and she couldn't reach him, couldn't help him. Turning, she switched on the bedside lamp. It was four a.m. She ran a damp hand through her hair; she could hardly go round to his house at four a.m. to check on him. Even if she did, what would she say? "Sorry to wake you, just wanted to check you didn't drown during the night."
 

She rubbed a hand across her eyes, a headache starting. Last time, she hadn't recognised the man in the river. Was it just Matt this time because he'd been on her mind when she'd gone to bed? She had no idea; these visions made no sense to her. If she was honest, they scared her because she had no idea what was happening, had no idea how to stop them and no clue why she was having them. With a sigh, she got up to change out of her wet pyjamas. That, at least, was something she could do.

After only another four hours of sleep, Emma awoke, tired and irritable. She hastily drank a cup of coffee and ate a slice of toast then headed out the door, dragging Barney behind her. She wanted to see Matt, check that he was all right. It was stupid, because she knew he'd be all right, but she just wanted to see it with her own eyes.
 

As she turned off her street and onto his, she wondered if she'd be welcomed after how things had been left the night before. Clearly, something was troubling him, but he didn't trust her enough to talk to her about it. She didn't know what she could do to change that. Her breath came out on a sigh as the sadness that thought brought hit her. She wanted to be the one he turned to, wanted to help him. More than anything, she wanted to take that look off his face, the one that made her want to cry for him. Barney pulled towards his house, but she kept walking.

Coward
, she said to herself, but it didn't stop her looking for him. His house looked quiet. As she reached the railing at the riverbank, parts of the previous night came back to her. Images of Matt slowly disappearing into the water. She shook her head to try to get rid of the image. It was eerily quiet, just the chatter of the river as it ran over the stones beneath it. The cry of a lone heron before it took off in flight had Barney pulling at his lead. Her hands gripped the metal railing, its icy chill seeping through her gloves. The smell of burning wood hung in the air, and she could imagine the roaring open fire in the houses behind her. As she took another breath, the smell changed, overwhelming her.