It sounded like he was ready to hop on the next boat home, but Emma wasn’t about to get into an argument over that.
She looked up at him and smiled sweetly. “You’re right. It is a long way off. No sense worrying about that now.” Carefully, she folded the flyer and tucked it in her handbag for safekeeping.
Because whether Jonathan liked it or not, she would be going to that debate.
CHAPTER 6
Jonathan gazed down into Emma’s blue eyes. He could tell by her quick capitulation that she was only backing off to appease him. Yet there was no sense arguing over a future event they might not even be here to attend.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll see your father again before that.”
“I hope so, but at least I have an alternate plan if need be.” She fell in step with him as they continued across the grounds. “You will come with me, won’t you?” She asked him with a feigned air of innocence as though she hadn’t already made up her mind.
He sighed. “If we’re here, then yes. And just to be clear, if we do go, we’ll stay in the background and remain anonymous.” As anonymous as a vivacious woman like Emma could be. Maybe he could drape her in sackcloth and tie her hair back in a kerchief. He almost laughed out loud at the thought. Emma would never consider a disguise, especially not one like that. “No causing a public spectacle. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” she said meekly.
Jonathan raised one brow. He knew that tone. It was the one she used to mollify him until she got her own way. He’d never met anyone quite as stubborn or determined as Emma.
Which was one of the reasons, he was sure, that Felix Bartlett had never told her about Randall Moore. He knew Emma would set out on the first ship to Canada—alone, if need be.
Jonathan pushed back the rush of sadness that surfaced every time he thought of Felix. The man had been more than a neighbor. He’d become a mentor and surrogate grandparent to him. Just like Aunt Trudy had been for Emma after her grandmother died.
Jonathan still had a hard time believing Emma had sold the watch shop so quickly after Felix’s death. He never thought she would part with it, but that was before she’d discovered her father’s letters. Before she’d let Felix’s perceived betrayal overshadow his years of devotion and before she’d allowed her misguided obsession with Randall Moore to overtake her good sense.
He glanced over at Emma as they walked.
Perhaps now was the right time for his news. Especially in light of this future rally she seemed determined to attend.
He pointed to a diner across the road. “How about a soda before we start the walk back?”
“Sounds lovely. I’m parched.”
Five minutes later, they were seated side by side at the counter in the small restaurant, two cold glasses of cola in front of them. The hum of conversation around them competed with the clatter of cutlery and dishes.
“Delicious.” Emma released the straw and smacked her lips with a giggle, then stared at him. “You’re awfully serious all of a sudden.”
He waited a beat, then looked her in the eye. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about, but I’ve been waiting for the right time.”
Her face scrunched in that adorable way that made her nose crinkle. “What is it? Nothing’s wrong, I hope.”
“No. It’s good news actually.” He set his glass aside. “Right before we left England, I received word that I passed the entrance exams, and that”—he paused—“Oxford has accepted my application.”
Just saying it out loud caused a thrill to shoot through his system. If anyone would understand how much this meant to him, it was Emma. He’d rarely talked to her about his family, a subject too painful to relive, but when he did, it was usually about the bookstore his father owned and his passion for education. His dad had always wanted to go to Oxford, but circumstances in his life had prevented it. Jonathan had vowed after the fire that he would one day fulfill his father’s dreams. A dream that was now within his grasp.
Emma squealed, throwing her arms around his neck. “Oh, Jonathan. That’s wonderful. I know how much you wanted this.”
Though conscious of the other patrons’ stares, Jonathan wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against him for a moment longer.
Too soon, she pulled away, smiling widely. “When do you start?”
“Classes begin mid-August. I’m taking general sciences in the hope of getting into medical school one day.”
Her mouth fell open. “I thought you wanted to study business. When did you decide on medicine?”
He paused to let his emotions settle before he answered. “After experiencing the carnage of war, I want to do something to help my fellow man.” He still struggled with the violence he’d been part of, the lives he’d taken in order to save himself or a comrade. Nobody really won in a war, he’d learned. It ate at your soul long after the gunfire had faded.
“That’s very noble,” Emma said softly. “I’m so proud of you.”
The light of admiration in her eyes scrambled his pulse, so much so that he almost forgot why he’d told her his news in the first place.
“The thing is,” he continued, “I need to be back before the school term starts, which means we have to leave by the end of July. The beginning of August at the very latest.”
“Oh.” Her smile suddenly dimmed.
Was it fair of him to ask her to cut her time in Toronto short? When they planned the trip, it had been understood they would stay the entire summer, but that was before he’d received his notice from Oxford. And again, if she’d known, she never would have agreed to him coming.
He pushed back his rising guilt and reached for her hand. “Emma, I think you should prepare for the possibility that your father may not come around . . . and that you might have to return home without the resolution you’d hoped for.”
Her gaze slid from his, her mouth pressed into a tight line.
A cold feeling invaded his chest. “Emma? What is it?”
She closed her eyes for a moment, then released a breath and opened them again. The determined glint shining there did nothing to ease Jonathan’s anxiety.
“I’m not going back with you,” she said.
His lungs froze, momentarily trapping the air inside. “What did you say?”
“I’m staying here.” She tilted her chin defiantly. “There’s nothing left for me in England now that Grandad’s gone. I need time to establish a relationship with my father and my sisters, and the only way I can do that is to build a life here.”
Nothing left for me in England. Is that what she truly believed?
“What about me? Or don’t I count for anything?” Jonathan clenched his jaw shut before he said too much. Before she saw that her words had shattered him. Ripped the proverbial rug out from under him.
Her features softened. “Of course, you’d still be there, but I’m talking about blood relatives. All my family is here now. You understand why I have to stay, don’t you?”
There was no way to answer that question truthfully, so he remained silent.
“Besides,” she said quietly, “I can’t afford to depend on you for my well-being. I learned that lesson the hard way when you went off to war.” Her eyes changed from sorrowful to determined, and in that moment, he realized the toll the war had taken on her. It wasn’t just Danny’s death that had affected her. It was far more complicated than that.
Still, his mind reeled with hundreds of arguments to make her reconsider. “What will you do here? How will you make a living? The money from Felix’s shop won’t last forever, you know.”
“I haven’t figured out all the details, but I’m sure I’ll be able to find work somewhere.” She gave him a long look. “I won’t change my mind, Jonathan. And before you say it, this is not one of my impulsive decisions. I’ve given it a lot of thought.”
As the full enormity of her announcement hit him, hurt turned to raw anger. “You planned to stay all along
, didn’t you? And you never bothered to mention it. You just let me tag along like a faithful puppy.”
“I’m sorry.” A mixture of emotions flashed over her features. “I knew you wouldn’t approve. That you’d try to talk me out of it.”
All his plans to woo Emma—to one day hear her declare her love for him—evaporated quicker than the morning fog over an English moor. What a fool he’d been to ever think she might one day return his feelings, when all along she planned to put an ocean between them—forever. If she cared for him at all, she could never have considered such a thing.
“I guess there’s no point in that, is there? Your mind is obviously made up.” He jerked to his feet, dug in his jacket pocket for some bills, and left them on the counter. “We’d best head back to the boardinghouse. Wouldn’t want to be late for dinner.” He jammed on his cap as he strode out the door onto the sidewalk. Quick footsteps followed him.
“Jonathan, don’t be angry. Please.” She reached for his hand, but he stepped out of her grasp.
Her gut-wrenching plea struck hard at his aching heart. He wanted to tell her it was all right, that he understood her need to reach out to her family, but the lie stuck in his throat, refusing to be voiced.
Instead, he kept walking, unable to bear her distress, yet equally unable to soothe her. For if he took her in his arms to comfort her, he would no longer be able to conceal his true feelings.
And his pride had suffered enough damage for one day.
CHAPTER 7
Later, after the evening meal, Emma trudged up the stairs to her room, unable to shake the melancholy that dogged her. She’d hurt Jonathan with her careless words, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. He’d always been her staunchest friend, her most loyal ally, sticking by her through thick and thin.
Even when she’d started dating Danny, Jonathan’s good friend from school, he never allowed that to change their friendship. The closest they’d ever come to a falling-out was the day Jonathan had enlisted in the war. She still shuddered every time she remembered the terrible scene she’d caused in front of Aunt Trudy and Grandad. The truth was, she’d been more upset that day than when Danny told her he’d signed up. But after all, she and Jonathan had been best friends since she was eight and he was ten. She’d only gotten close to Danny in the six months prior to the start of the war. Naturally her bond with Jonathan was stronger.
In reality, she could live without Danny, but not without Jonathan. He was her anchor, her rock, the steadying force in her life. When he left, she didn’t know how she’d cope without him.
But she had coped. For four long years. Little by little, she’d created a shield around her heart to protect her from ever depending on someone to such an extent again. If the war had changed Jonathan, it had changed her too. When he’d enlisted, she’d felt abandoned. Now she was planning to do the same to him. She could only imagine what he was feeling after dropping everything to travel to Canada with her. And how much he’d suffered during the voyage over. She bit her lip, realizing he’d have to face the return trip alone. What kind of terrible person was she that she hadn’t even thought of that eventuality? She wouldn’t blame him if he booked a ticket on the next train back to Halifax.
What would she do then?
Her emotions swirled together into a toxic mix. She dropped onto the window seat in her room and stared bleakly out at the street below, trying unsuccessfully to erase the memory of Jonathan’s wounded expression. The only other time she’d seen that stark look was when he’d arrived home at the end of the war. The initial joy of their reunion had been one of the happiest moments of her life.
But then she’d had to tell Jonathan of her new relationship with Lord Terrence. Jonathan had quickly masked his features, but not before she’d glimpsed the devastation on his face. Why would he be so pained by her possible engagement? Was it because he thought her disloyal to Danny, even though it had been almost a year since his death?
A light knock sounded on her door.
Her heart gave a leap. Perhaps Jonathan had come to tell her he forgave her and that he understood why she had to stay.
“Emma?” Mrs. Chamberlain’s voice came through the door. “Someone’s here to see you.”
Emma crossed the room and opened the door. “Is it Jonathan?”
The woman’s eyes were round behind her glasses. “No. It’s Professor Moore.”
All thoughts of Jonathan skittered away like dry leaves in the wind. Emma’s heart thumped a wild rhythm in her chest. Her father had reached out to her at last. “Tell him I’ll be right down. Oh, and might we have a pot of tea, if it’s not too much trouble?”
“The kettle’s already on the stove.” Her landlady winked. “I’ll have him wait in the front room for you.”
As soon as Mrs. C. left, Emma quickly changed into one of her favorite dresses, one she’d kept despite her new purchases. It was a striped navy-blue linen with white trim. Grandad always said it made her eyes look even bluer. Then she dabbed a bit of toilet water at her wrists and smoothed her hair into place. With a final look in the mirror, she made her way down the main staircase.
Her heart hammered hard against her ribs as she neared the parlor, and she paused to whisper a prayer. Please, Lord, let my father be more receptive to me today. Help me make him understand that I only want a chance to get to know him. That I don’t mean him any harm.
Pasting on a bright smile, she entered the room. Randall stood by the fireplace, staring at the framed painting on the wall above it. Emma knew it was Mrs. C.’s favorite piece, a depiction of the English town where she’d lived as a child.
“Twenty years later and I still miss the greenery,” Randall said without turning. “That fresh smell of the meadows after a cool rain. The hint of smoke in the air from the chimneys. There’s nothing here that compares to that.”
Emma slowly crossed the room. “It’s a slice of heaven, to be sure.” She clasped her hands together and waited until he turned around.
He was dressed in a suit with a starched shirt and tie, as though he were going to the opera for the evening.
“Won’t you have a seat?” Sudden nerves swamped her, making her hands tremble. She gestured to the sofa. The tea cart stood beside it, laden with a silver teapot and a plate of ginger snaps.
Did her father even like ginger snaps?
“Just a moment.” He crossed to the pocket doors and pulled them closed.
Emma had never seen them shut since she’d moved in. Mrs. C. always wanted everyone to feel welcome to share the area.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I need to ensure this conversation is not overheard.”
His serious demeanor did not inspire much optimism. She perched on the edge of the sofa and lifted the teapot. “Do you take milk and sugar?”
“Milk, please. Just a splash.” Randall took a seat in the wing chair across from her.
Emma forced her hand to remain steady as she handed him the cup. “I’m glad you came,” she said. “I hope this means you’ve had time to get used to my being here.”
“Not entirely.” He studied her. “I’d like to know more about what prompted you to come.”
She blinked. “I thought I explained that. I wanted to get to know you, of course.” When he continued watching her with an expectant air, she set her cup down, searching for the right words, ones that wouldn’t sound accusatory or put him on the defensive. “As you know, my grandparents raised me. After my grandmother passed away, it was just me and Grandad—until this past April, when he had a heart attack.” She swallowed hard to keep her emotions at bay. It still seemed impossible that her hale and hearty grandfather was gone.
“I’d always believed that Gran and Grandad were my only family, until I was cleaning out our flat above the shop and found a box of letters. Letters from you.” She met his eyes, hoping for some sort of acknowledgement, but he revealed no emotion. “You can imagine my shock to find out that you’d been alive all along and that they’d
lied to me my whole life.”
“That must have been quite distressing.”
“More than distressing. I was devastated. Knowing my grandparents as I did, I could only assume they’d done it to protect me. But protect me from what?”
Randall took a quick sip of tea, avoiding her eyes, then set his cup down with a sigh. “Ask the questions you want. I’ll do my best to answer them.” He crossed one leg over his knee.
She licked her dry lips, struggling to know where to begin. “Why didn’t you . . .” she almost said keep me but that made her sound like a stray puppy that no one wanted. “Why didn’t you raise me after my mother died?”
He closed his eyes briefly. “It wasn’t that simple. I was in my last year of law school. I had no means of providing for you at that time and would have had to hire a nursemaid.” He paused. “Your grandparents offered to take you in, claiming it would be better for you. Though it pained me to do so, I knew they were right.”
She braced herself for her next question, one that had the potential to wound her all over again. “But how could you move halfway around the world? If you’d stayed, we would have been able to have some sort of relationship at least. I wouldn’t have grown up believing I was an orphan.” She swallowed hard and gripped her hands together, mentally berating herself for appearing so needy.
Randall pushed up from his seat and stalked to the fireplace. “I don’t know if I can make you understand how difficult it was for me at that time. Trying to cope with your mother’s death. Dealing with your grandparents’ resentment.” A muscle jumped in his jaw.
Resentment? For what? Did they somehow blame Randall for her mother’s death?
“I know they didn’t approve of my mother marrying you.” Emma frowned as a new thought formed. “Did they try to keep you from seeing me?”
Randall turned to pin her with a frank stare. “What do you think?”
As much as she wanted to defend her beloved grands, Emma could very well believe they had tried to keep Randall away from her. “Is that why you left England then?”
The Highest of Hopes Page 6