Winter Wishes (36 page)

Aloud she said, “She answered your mobile the other day.”

“I left it in Casa Rosa and she picked it up for me,” Richard said simply. “Thankfully it’s just my personal mobile, not my work one.”

His fingers squeezed hers. “My mind wasn’t actually on the phone that day, though. I had something else I was thinking about – and, before you ask, it wasn’t Amanda.”

Tara was appalled by the surge of relief that came from learning this. Her heart had been shredded at just the thought of Richard being with Amanda; the reality would have been unbearable. She was about to ask him what it was that his mind had been dwelling on, when his eyes, those kind eyes that spoke so much about the goodness and true worth of the man, locked with hers. Then his warm mouth met hers and Tara found that she already knew the answer. It was the sweetest and tenderest of kisses and, as she melted into him like the snowflakes that were melting on his coat, she knew that no kiss before had ever felt so right. She wanted to kiss him and kiss him until the world and the snow faded away.

Eventually they broke apart and smiled at one another wonderingly. Richard reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. She felt the heat of his mouth through her glove, and the strength of her longing to feel his lips on hers again made her dizzy. Richard, mild-mannered Dr Richard, kissed in such a way that it turned her bones to lava. Without doubt, a passionate nature lay beneath his gentle exterior.

“Tara, I’m not very good at this,” he said softly. “I’m not a war hero, or particularly handsome, or dashing – no, don’t try and speak, let me finish – and I don’t have a huge house and lots of money. But what I do have is a heart that’s spilling over with love for you.”

She was lost for words. Richard might not have the medals or the uniform or the scars to mark him out as a hero, but in her eyes this was exactly what he was. He’d rescued her in so many ways that, if she were to try to explain it, she wouldn’t even know where to begin.

“I knew from the first moment I met you by that well that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. It doesn’t make sense, I know, but everything inside me was telling me so.” He raised his eyes skywards in embarrassment. “I even went back and wished for you. Does that sound crazy?”

She touched his cheek. “No crazier than if I told you that I wished for true love that very same day, and moments later you arrived. Well, technically I suppose Watson arrived first, but I don’t think we’ll count him!”

“I wouldn’t. He has terrible breath!”

They smiled at one another, but the smile quickly started to slip from Tara’s lips as a new and horrible fear took hold. Richard didn’t really know her, did her? Not the real her, the one who had betrayed Danny all those years ago. If he knew what sort of a person she’d been, would he still be here beneath this snowy Christmas Eve sky, telling her that he was in love with her? Or would he run back to Amanda as fast as he could?

Tara knew that if Richard really wanted to be with her then he had to know the truth. There could be no more secrets.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” she said. “It’s going to be hard to hear and it could change everything. You might not feel the same way about me afterwards – but I need you to know.”

A shadow crossed his face. “You still love Danny, don’t you?”

She thought about this for a moment. “I’ll always love Danny, but I’m not
in
love with him anymore. If I’m honest I haven’t been in love with him for a very long time.”

He nodded. “But there’s someone else you love. Caspar?”

“Caspar!” Tara’s exclamation was so loud it was a miracle she didn’t cause an avalanche. “Hardly. No, it isn’t another man. Not like that, anyway. It’s Morgan, my son.” She stopped and inhaled shakily. This was it. Time to tell the truth. “Richard, I’m not the person you think I am. I’m a bad person. I—”

He put his finger on her lips.

“Tara, I think I can guess what you’re trying to tell me, and I don’t need to know any more than that – not unless or until there’s a time and a place when you feel it’s right. That’s in the past. That’s who you were then. I love the woman standing here now. The wonderful mother. The good friend. The brave woman who risked her neck to save a grumpy pensioner. I’m in love with
her
and nothing you or anyone else can do or say will change that. I love you, Tara. You.”

He knew. He’d worked it out for himself and he still loved her? Tara was blown away.

“The question is, though,” he added quietly, “whether you could come to love me?”

Come to love him? In answer she rose onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his.

“I already love you,” she said softly. “It crept up on me slowly, until I couldn’t hide from it or escape it anymore – a bit like this snowstorm. I love you, Richard Penwarren, and you
are
my hero in every way.” She bent down and patted the dog. “You too, of course, Watson.”

And suddenly the cold and the snow and the darkness melted away, because Richard was kissing her and kissing her and kissing her. Then, hand in hand, they walked through the still white world and into the cottage, where they shut the door and curled up in front of the wood burner, the heat of their feelings and the passion of their kisses warming them almost as much as the flames. They talked and kissed and talked some more until their lips ached with smiling and kissing and their eyes grey heavy with the heat of the fire.

Bathed in the glow of Richard’s love and the Christmas-tree lights, Tara lay in his arms and gazed drowsily through the window towards St Wenn’s. The snow had finally stopped and she could just make out the church, a gentle beacon of light in the darkness as the villagers gathered for Midnight Mass. She thought about Jules and Danny, and her heart was glad for them. There was Yuletide magic in the air tonight, that was for sure.

“Happy Christmas,” she whispered, snuggling into Richard’s arms.

“Happy Christmas to you too,” he murmured back, dropping a kiss onto her temple.

Whether or not she believed in St Wenn’s Well, all their winter wishes had come true, Tara thought as her eyes began to close. There was no doubt whatsoever in her mind that it was going to be a very happy New Year.

She could hardly wait to see what it was going to bring.

Epilogue

Christmas Day

“I hope everyone’s hungry?”

The Seaspray dining table was piled so high with food that Alice Tremaine could hardly be seen above the roast potatoes, honey-glazed carrots and mountains of Morgan’s beloved sausage stuffing. In pride of place was the enormous turkey, its skin crispy and golden. The bird was so heavy that both Jake and Ashley had been required to manoeuvre it from the Aga to the dining room.

Just looking at it was making Jules’s mouth water. She had to admit, she was very glad that dinner with the mayor up at the hotel had been cancelled because of the heavy snowfall.

“Gran, you do know that there are only fourteen of us eating? Not fourteen thousand? I’d better get stuck in,” teased Nick, gesturing at the laden platters. As his hand stole out to swipe a roast potato his grandmother slapped it playfully.

“Wait until we’re all seated, Mr Greedy! Besides, we haven’t even said grace yet.”

“I think we have the perfect person here for that job,” Danny said, squeezing Jules’s fingers, which were entwined with his beneath the table. He’d hardly let go of her since yesterday afternoon – and, he’d whispered as they’d stood outside St Wenn’s after Midnight Mass, he intended never to let her slip away again. Recalling this filled Jules with more warmth than any crackling fire or glass of hot mulled wine ever could. Danny’s kisses, the soft snow flurries and the calls of “Happy Christmas” from the villagers had made it the best Christmas Eve ever.

Jules knew she should never doubt her boss; His plans were always perfect, after all. Even so, she was amazed at just how wonderfully everything seemed to have worked out. All her prayers had been answered, and as she smiled at Danny the love she saw on his face made her heart melt like snow in bright winter sunshine.

The blizzard of the previous day had buried Polwenna Bay beneath a downy blanket, and the scene reminded Jules of the festive window display in Patsy Penhalligan’s bakery, with its cluster of gingerbread cottages topped with white. Opening the curtains on Christmas morning to find the world transformed into a living Christmas card had made Jules laugh for pure joy because it had looked so perfect. Even taking the Christmas service in a church several degrees colder than the world outside couldn’t stop her lips from curving upwards. Happiness and her new thermal underwear had kept her warm, at any rate, even if St Wenn’s heating had decided to give up.

But the snowfall hadn’t been the only magic. Early that morning Jules had phoned the bishop, and in church she had announced that she would be staying in the parish after all. Telling her parishioners this and experiencing their delighted response had been the best Christmas present ever. Or the second best, she decided, squeezing Danny’s fingers in return.

“I’d love to say grace,” she said to Alice.

“You have to wait until my mum and Richard get here,” Morgan told her sternly from his seat directly opposite the dish of stuffing. “They are seven minutes late. Fact.”

“Your mum and the doc!” Issie giggled. “I never saw
that
one coming!”

Morgan gave his aunt a pitying look. “It was obvious. They always look at each other just like Nick looks at dinner. So do Dad and Jules. Fact.”

Jules’s face matched the festive scarlet tablecloth. And there she was thinking she’d made such a good job of hiding her feelings. Maybe she wouldn’t be taking up poker in the New Year…

“And you look at Mo that way too,” Morgan told Ashley kindly, just in case he felt left out.

“That’s because I could gobble her up, covered in horse hair and straw or not!” Ashley said, winking wickedly at Mo. His wife rolled her eyes but her cheeks turned very pink. The electricity between those two was so strong you’d probably get a shock if you stood too close, Jules observed. It was yet another amazing Christmas gift that Ashley was with them for Christmas dinner today. Jules sent up a silent prayer of thanks. There were so many blessings to count.

Issie was busy making puking gestures. “All right, all right. I’m getting depressed by all you loved-up people. When’s it my turn? I made my wish at St Wenn’s Well too, and so did Granny. Jules wasn’t the only one. So where are our fit men?”

“Issie, that was just a bit of nonsense,” Alice chided, but Issie grinned.

“Don’t fob me off, Gran! I’m gagging to know who Lord Blackwarren really is. I know you couldn’t have made that up and I’m going to find out!”

Alice seemed very interested in the turkey all of a sudden. Since being outed as the author of the steamy
Blackwarren
novel, she’d achieved as much local fame as her notorious ancestor, Black Jack Jago – and although Alice claimed that this was the end of her writing aspirations, Jules wasn’t convinced. Caspar Owen had already insisted on having his copy of Alice’s book signed and was making noises about becoming her literary agent. If Caspar had his way, Lord Blackwarren’s, ahem,
sword
was not about to be hung up!

“Jake, carve this will you, love? The others will be here in a minute,” Alice said.

Grinning at Issie, her eldest grandson did as he was told. Soon plates were being piled high with tender slices of turkey.

“You made a wish at St Wenn’s Well? What did you wish for?” Danny asked Jules softly. His voice was light and as full of teasing fun as her champagne glass was full of bubbles, but the way his thumb was tracing circles on her palm told her that he already knew the answer to his question.

She smiled at him, remembering how the wish had floated from her heart, as natural and as pure as the cold water that had laughed and whispered over the rocks. “Something that means the world to me.”

“Good for St Wenn,” Danny murmured, leaning over to brush her lips with his. “I’d have gone to the well months ago if I’d known she was this effective.”

“Even Dad’s got a secret woman,” Issie was saying now, the full beam of her blue-eyed attention on Jimmy. “Don’t deny it, Dad! I heard you Skyping her last night.
Merry Christmas! I love you, baby!
Is she from your commune in California? Is that where all your money’s going? On a hippy chick?”

Jimmy Tremaine, who’d only just sneaked into the room after a merry hour celebrating Christmas in The Ship, spluttered into his Buck’s Fizz.

“Don’t be ridiculous! I was, err… watching telly!”

“Yeah right,” scoffed Issie. She waggled a finger at him. “Don’t think you’re getting off that lightly or that you’re forgiven for not taking me to San Francisco. It’s Christmas, so I won’t push it, but I think it’s high time I had some winter sun. Even bloody Zak’s jetted away to the Caribbean.”

“He is recording an album there,” pointed out Jake as he passed a heaped platter of turkey to his grandmother.

“Must be hell for him in the sunshine with all that rum and those bikini-wearing girls on tap,” grumbled Issie, tossing her blonde braids indignantly. “I’m going to make up for it after Christmas and have some adventures all of my own
and
find a fit guy. Just you lot wait and see.”

“Little Rog will be gutted,” said Nick, followed by “Ouch! Get off!” when his sister walloped him over the head with a cracker. “Granny! Tell her to stop!”

“Would you think they were in their twenties?” Alice sighed to Jules. “I wonder why I do this sometimes. Maybe I should have saved myself the effort and booked us all in at Symon’s?” But she was smiling as she said this and Jules knew that really Alice was loving every minute of having her family gathered around her for Christmas. Seaspray was ringing with voices and laughter, which was exactly as the big old house should be. The tree was twinkling like the sea below in the bay, and the huge pile of presents beneath it was as colourful as the Polwenna lights. There were several gifts there with her name on too, and Jules felt the wonderful glow of knowing that she was loved and accepted and part of it all.