‘I’m sorry.’ The words came out so small, so quiet, she had to say them again. Had to make sure he heard. ‘I’m sorry, Callan. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I shouldn’t have taken off like that.’
Callan shook his head. ‘No, you shouldn’t have. But by jumping to conclusions and leaving without a word, you did me a favour, so I should be thanking you.’
‘Why would you thank me?’ Josie knew the answer. Could’ve predicted what Callan would say word for word, but she had to hear it. Had to punish herself for creating a self-fulfilling prophecy.
‘Because you’re leaving now, before we – Mia and I – could fall for you more. Before you could cause more damage. More pain. More anger. Because I am angry, but not at you. I’m angry at myself. I shouldn’t have let you under my skin. Shouldn’t have let you close. Not when I’m still grieving. Not after I discovered how badly your parents’ behaviour had scarred you. The thing is …’ Callan pressed his lips together like he’d said too much. Or as if what he was going to say wouldn’t make an iota of difference anyway.
‘The thing is … what?’ Josie asked, holding on to a thread of hope that they could talk this out. That she could make things right.
‘The thing is, I can’t change my situation, any more than you can change your past and the way you act whenever things get tough. I can’t rush in. I can’t give my all. Not immediately. Maybe not even ever. Not that it matters anymore. Not now that you’re leaving.’
Josie waited for … she wasn’t sure what. A nicety. Absolution. Maybe even a throwaway ‘Merry Christmas’. She’d heard it so often that day as customers came into the store and left loaded with treats, she’d come to expect it. ’Twas the season and all that. But no twee season’s greetings came.
Not another word was said.
Not as Callan shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets.
Not as he broke eye contact.
Not as he spun on his heel.
Not as he made his way out into the cloudy day, that was crying once more.
Along with the woman, who’d sunk down into a ball, and was realising that if something didn’t change she’d never have a Merry Christmas.
Not now.
Not ever.
Not at all.
Chapter 18
Callan thanked his customer, then went to the door and flipped the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed’ before another person could enter.
It was only midday, but the morning had been punishing, and he’d promised himself the moment the last of Josie’s baking had sold he’d shut up shop and … well … he didn’t know what he was going to do.
Stare at something he couldn’t see in the far distance?
Count the hairs on Mia’s head?
Purposefully ignore the kitchen, because every time he paid it any attention he became all too aware of how empty it was. How Josie-less.
‘Daddy, I’m hungry.’ Mia slipped her hand into his and gave his hand a tug. ‘Can I have sweets for lunch?’
‘Sure … whatever you want.’ Callan blinked, then caught himself. ‘But not sweets. Shall we go to the pub for a treat?’
The last thing he wanted was to go out, to see people, to force smiles and conversation, but anything had to be better than feeling stuck at home, where the walls closed in around him, whispering words of remorse. Telling him he should have stayed longer, talked things out, given Josie another chance.
‘Can I have fish and chips, and a fizzy?’ Mia jumped up and down, her face radiating excitement.
Callan silently congratulated himself on hiding his feelings from her. The last thing he wanted was for Mia to feel his pain, his disconnection. He’d not expected to need all the skills he’d learned around mindfulness and being present after Abigail’s passing again so soon, but he was glad he had the tools to be there for Mia, to keep his own worries and sadness at bay so as not to taint her world view.
‘Maybe you should have fizzy and fish and chips too, Daddy. Maybe that will make you smile in your eyes.’
So much for hiding his feelings.
Callan dropped down to Mia’s level and wrapped her in a hug. ‘Maybe it will. Sorry, my little love, I haven’t meant to be sad.’
Mia pulled away and turned her big eyes on him, so full of love and trust and caring. ‘Is it because Josie’s not here? I hope she gets better soon. Will she be here tomorrow? She should be, because we love her, hey? And Mummy always said that Christmas was when you should spend time with the people you love.’
Callan ran his thumb over the back of Mia’s hand. So soft. So tender. Like his little girl. He hoped she kept those traits. That no matter what life threw at her she retained the sweetness that seemed so innate. ‘Do you remember a lot of what your mummy used to say?’
Mia nodded. ‘I try and keep it on the hook in my head. And I keep her love in my heart.’
Callan nodded and tapped his chest. ‘Me too.’
A tiny frown line appeared between Mia’s brows as her lips pursed in thought. ‘Do hearts grow bigger, Daddy? To fit more love in?’
‘I know for a fact they do.’ Callan cupped Mia’s cheeks. ‘When I met your mum I loved her so much, I couldn’t imagine loving anyone more. Then we had you, and just like that my heart expanded to fit more love in. And I couldn’t imagine loving anyone more than you and your mummy.’
‘Then Josie came along and our hearts ’spanded more.’ Mia’s frown disappeared and was replaced by a concise nod. ‘Right, Daddy?’
Callan’s throat closed up. He didn’t have the heart to tell Mia that Josie was never coming back. Not with Christmas one day away. He’d planned for the day to be filled with happiness, excitement and joy, and he was darn well going to make it happen, even if every fibre of his being wanted to curl up and hide until enough time had passed that his feelings for Josie had dimmed. Or – if the universe chose to be kind to him, even though he didn’t believe he deserved such kindness after the offhanded way he’d treated her – spluttered out completely.
‘That’s right, Mia.’ He ruffled her hair then pushed himself up and went through the motions of getting them ready to head outside for the short walk to the pub.
A layer of cloud hung low and grey and, despite his many layers, Callan felt the winter chill soak into his body. Either that, or the numbness was a protective mechanism to keep himself from falling apart.
They trod down the lane in silence. Mia unusually quiet, her hand tightening around his periodically, like she was sending him comforting vibes.
He shouldn’t have been so surprised at her awareness. She’d grown so much in the last year. Gone was the little tot who thought the world revolved entirely around her. He was dealing with a little girl now, one who was sensitive to those around her. Fake smiles and overly bright vocal tones weren’t going to cut it anymore. Honesty would have to be the order of the day, which meant as soon as Christmas was done he was going to tell her that Josie had left. Even if it would break his heart all over again to do so.
Golden light glowed through the pub’s windows, its warmth matching the ambience as they walked in and made their way to the bar.
Callan lifted Mia onto a seat, then searched out Brendon, who was back in his new favourite spot. At the end of the bar chatting to Margo.
He waved to the two, and before he knew it he had Margo sitting at his side, and Brendon across from him, passing a glass of lemonade to Mia.
‘No Josie?’ Margo asked. ‘Is she at the shop?’
Callan ignored Margo’s question and turned to Mia. ‘Mia? How do you feel about being in charge of that table by the fireplace?’
Mia’s eyes went to Margo, then Callan. ‘Okay, Daddy.’ She turned over onto her tummy and inched her way to the ground, took her lemonade in both hands and made her way to the table.
‘She’s getting to be so grown up,’ Margo observed.
Callan sighed. ‘I know. I can’t hide things from her the way I used to.’
‘Like Josie
leaving?’
Surprise inflated Callan’s chest. ‘You know?’
‘Of course I do. Although I do wish she’d change her mind. I wish there was a good enough reason to keep her here. Brendon, sweets, can you get Callan a beer?’
Brendon grabbed a pint glass, poured the beer and placed it in front of Callan. ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this again, but it’s on the house.’ He paused, his lips twitched like he wanted to say something, but also didn’t. ‘You know, I had my bet on your being bestowed with the sunset’s luck. I’m guessing I was wrong. And I’m sorry that I was.’
Before Callan could respond, Brendon swivelled round and went to serve another customer.
‘I think we all thought it was you. Or Josie.’ Margo picked up a coaster and circled it round. ‘I’m sad that it’s not.’
Callan sipped his beer and set it down. ‘Me too.’
Margo fixed him with a shrewd eye. ‘Then why are you sitting here feeling sorry for yourself? Why aren’t you stopping that girl from packing her life up into her little car and leaving town?’ Her shoulders rose and fell as she expelled an exasperated huff. ‘Did my story not teach you anything? I could’ve been as happy as I am now years ago. Instead I let my fears get in my way.’
Callan’s stomach knotted up with indignation. Margo was putting the blame for this at his doorstep? ‘I’m not the one running, Margo.’
‘You’re not the one fighting either.’
‘It’s not just about me. It’s about Mia, too. I can’t entrust her heart with someone who might leave at any given second.’
‘The way Abigail did? Lightning rarely strikes in the same place twice, Callan.’ Margo reached out and touched his forearm. ‘I’ve seen the way Josie looks at you. Like you’re her everything. You and Mia both. If she’s running, it’s because you didn’t give her any other option.’
Callan closed his eyes and wished he could as easily close his ears.
‘The way I see it you two have some talking to do. Real talking. Not just talking at each other, but with each other, if you’ve any hope of experiencing the kind of love so many dream of.’
God, there was that word again. Love. First Mia, now Margo. ‘Why must it go straight to love? Why can’t you say that it’s like? That we liked each other. Because we did like each other.’
‘If it were just “like” you wouldn’t be walking around with the pallor of a man who’s just received the worst news ever.’
‘I’ve already received the worst news ever, remember? And you said lightning doesn’t strike twice.’ Callan glanced over his shoulder to make sure Mia was still in her seat. She waved, then blew into her straw, causing a small bubble volcano to rise in her glass.
‘Don’t be facetious, Callan.’ Margo’s stern demeanour softened. ‘And don’t let that mind of yours get in the way of your heart. Promise me?’
‘Do I have any other option?’ Callan slid off his stool. ‘I promise that whatever I end up deciding, it will be the best for me and Mia. Is that a good enough answer?’
‘I guess it’ll have to be.’
‘Excellent.’ Callan picked up two menus and pretended not to see the sympathy in Margo’s eyes.
He’d had enough sympathy to last a lifetime. What he wanted was to get on with things. To get through Christmas. To move on.
But could he do it without the woman who’d breathed life back into his world?
***
The cottage’s door whooshed open, cold air blasted through the living room.
Josie ran to slam the door shut, and stopped short as she realised the only thing she’d be slamming, or slamming into, was Brendon.
‘Brendon? What are you doing here? Are you okay? Is it Margo? Is she okay?’ Josie skirted round him and shut the door.
He turned to face her. ‘We’ll get to that.’
The growl in his voice didn’t match the kindness in his eyes.
A shiver rippled over Josie. Why did she feel like she was about to be given the kind of talking-to that a father might give his headstrong daughter?
‘Can we sit? Have a cuppa? A bit of a chat?’ He made his way through to the kitchen, without waiting for a yes.
‘Sure.’ Josie didn’t know what else to say. Not when it appeared this conversation, whatever it was, was happening whether she liked it or not.
Josie deposited the duster she’d been cleaning the skirting boards with on the kitchen table and made her way to the kitchen sink, where her lunch dishes were soaking, ready to be washed, dried and put away before she left. For good.
Josie filled the kettle, set it down on the bench and flicked it on. ‘So, what’s brought you out here?’
‘Out here? You make it sound like I traipsed for miles to visit you. I know for a fact that this place takes eight minutes to walk to from the pub. I walked it enough times to know. I was fond of this cottage. Those that resided in it.’
Realisation dawned on Josie. Margo must’ve told him she was leaving, which meant Brendon was either here to talk sense into her, to get her to stay, or he was worried Josie wouldn’t pay the rent money she owed Margo as per their agreement and was about to give her the hard word.
She grabbed two cups from the cupboard and dropped a teabag in each, then poured the hot water. ‘If you’re worried that I won’t pay the next four weeks’ rent to Margo, then you can stop worrying now. I may be leaving early, but I’m still going to pay. I wouldn’t do wrong by her, not when she’s been so good to me.’
‘And what about Callan and Mia? They’ve been good to you too, have they not?’
So he was here for a good old-fashioned guilt trip. Well, he could lay it on as thick as he liked. It would only be the icing on the cake to the layers of guilt she already felt.
‘Milk, Brendon? Sugar?’
‘Spoonful of sugar and a dash of milk. Not too weak. I’m not fond of weak things.’
Josie caught what Brendon was laying down, and she didn’t care much for it. He thought she was weak? She’d spent her life being strong.
She picked up the mugs and set them down on the kitchen table with enough force that a wave of tea licked up the inside and threatened to spill.
‘Didn’t much like that wee dig, did you?’ Brendon wrapped his large hand around the mug and brought it towards him. ‘Touched a sore spot, did I?’
Josie folded her arms and tilted her chin in defiance. ‘I’m not sore. I’m just not fond of people making a judgement call about me when they don’t know half of what’s going on. Of what’s gone on.’
Brendon’s head tipped back and laughter filled the room.
It wasn’t a cruel sound. Not meant to hurt. It was the kind of laugh that bubbled up when a child said something that was too cute, but also very wrong.
After fanning himself for half a minute, Brendon calmed down. Got his breath back. ‘Oh, Josie. You don’t run a pub for as long as I have without getting a handle on people. I had you pegged the moment you stepped into The Squeaky Wheel.’
‘Oh really? Enlighten me about myself.’ Josie sat back in her chair and turned her attention to the corner of the room, where she’d swept a pile of dirt, dust and debris.
‘You drove down into the village in that tiny car of yours and rented a fully furnished home. No moving truck ever followed. That tells me that you carry enough with you that you can leave the moment you feel you have to. The moment things get tough, because no one ever leaves when things are good.’
Her heart flinched. No one ever left because things were good? She knew that better than anyone. Her mother’s inability to stick around was proof of that.
But did that make her like her mother? Was she just as bad?
No. She pushed the idea away. She wasn’t. She didn’t have a family waiting at home for her. A loving husband and an adoring daughter. She wasn’t leaving without explanation, without even saying goodbye, to the two people who had been the centre of her world.
Except she was doing exactly that.
> Josie reached out and gripped the warm mug as icy cold realisation rippled through her. She could lie to herself all she wanted. Tell herself she was nothing like her mother, but her heart knew the truth.
She might not be married. She might have only been in Sunnycombe for just shy of a month, but that didn’t mean that two people hadn’t become the centre of her world. She couldn’t speak for Callan, and she wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to speak to her again. But Mia deserved more than having another person she cared for disappear.
Mia’s mother hadn’t had the chance to hold her daughter one last time. To whisper sweet words of love, but Josie did.
‘As always, I decided to withhold judgement, because people change.’ Brendon reached out and touched her hand.
Could he feel her shaking? Did he know he was getting through to her? Josie couldn’t meet his eyes. She was afraid if she did she’d break down completely.
‘But I saw how you first treated Lauren.’
‘Lauren?’ Josie shook her head. What was Brendon on about? She’d been nothing but friendly to Lauren from the first time they’d met. Had liked her immediately. ‘I don’t understand what you’re saying? That night I met her when Callan and I came to the pub? I was nice. I let her in, became her friend, which is something I never do. How is that treating her badly?’
‘And that right there shows how insular you were when you first arrived. She sidled up to you the first night you were here. You were at the bar, nursing a wine. She came up to get her and Will’s usual. She said hi, you stonewalled her. Luckily for you, Lauren isn’t one to hold a grudge. She believes in second chances. Probably took your inability to muster much more than a half-smile as shyness.’
Nausea tumbled and turned in Josie’s gut as the vague recollection of a warm ‘hello’ and a smiling face that she’d turned away from ignited in the back of her mind.
‘I didn’t know. Didn’t realise,’ she whispered. ‘I was trying to keep myself to myself. To avoid exactly all of this happening.’ Josie squeezed her eyes shut and tried to figure out what step she should take, how best to fix things. Lauren believed in second chances. But did Callan? And did she deserve one? After everything she’d done, everything she’d said, could she even bring herself to ask for his forgiveness? To face further rejection?
The Little Bakery of Hopes and Dreams Page 18