Chapter Nineteen
On his way home from Donna and Mike’s, Flynn spotted the black cruiser turning into the gateway of Byron House, saw the blond guy driving it, and couldn’t help wondering who he was, calling at such a late hour, before telling himself it had nothing to do with him. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop him from striding out onto the front veranda the minute he got home to check if it was still there. He gripped the handrail. The vehicle sat like a squat black rock on her driveway. Light pooled out from the kitchen window at the back of the house, and as Flynn watched, the blind dropped. He stared down at his hands clenched on the rail. With one last look down at the blackness surrounding Byron House, Flynn went inside. Had he stayed a moment longer, he would have seen lights come on upstairs at two windows.
He went to bed but barely slept, his imagination running riot. He thought of Tim. Where did he stand in all of this? He liked Tim, had great respect for him, but it hadn’t stopped him being as jealous as hell seeing them together. He wondered if he had any idea about the blond guy. After a restless night, feeling incredibly grouchy, he rose early, went onto the veranda, and in the early morning sun saw the black car still there. The sight acted like a physical punch to his gut. His mind swung to the cocky assumption he’d made that day to Mike and Rochelle—that he would manipulate the seduction of Miss Freya Martin. It was as laughable as it was pathetic now.
She had him twisted around her little finger.
Memories of that moment in the kitchen, the feel of her soft silky body, her passionate response, had given him hope. He’d had wild thoughts of taking her with him to Parrot Island. The two of them alone on the deserted beach. He’d thought about it constantly, waking and sleeping, driving himself crazy.
And now this.
»»•««
Freya walked into the hallway and up the stairs. Phillip followed her.
“It’s the second room on the left,” she said. “Good night, Phillip.”
“Freya…?”
She turned and looked at him.
He shook his head. “Nothing, just thanks. Good night.”
In her room, Freya undressed, her thoughts swinging back to those last few months in Philadelphia and Phillip. How misguided she’d been to believe he could ever be the sort of man she’d imagined having a relationship with.
At first she’d disregarded the snide comments from girls in the office—“Testosterone, Phil” and other such remarks—had in fact laughed at them. She’d been flattered because he appeared to want to spend so much time with her, making it clear he found her attractive—sending her flowers, buying chocolates, taking her to the theatre and concerts. And over the months, Freya found herself yielding to his undoubtable charm.
Until, enter Jannine with her eye-popping figure, and Freya was no longer of any interest to him whatsoever.
Thank goodness, she thought, climbing into bed, Archie’s inheritance came along when it did and she got away!
It was a sobering thought. Had it not, she may have just eventually given in to Phillip’s persistent, persuasive charm, though she liked to think not.
She laid back, hands behind her head, with sleep a long way off, her thoughts as always in moments of quiet, on Flynn, and the memory of their moment of unbridled passion in his mother’s kitchen. It all came back as clearly as if it had just happened, making her shiver with desire for him. Love, she concluded, was a decidedly fraught business! Swiftly she switched her thoughts to her forthcoming visit to Pamela.
»»•««
Freya awoke to the sound of a car engine. Jumping out of bed, she ran to the window. The black Land Cruiser was making its way down the driveway, and with an immense sense of relief, she went downstairs to make a cup of coffee. A note was propped up by the machine.
Hey Freya,
I messed up, didn’t I?
Jannine was a terrible mistake, but not my first, it has to be said. You, Freya, were the one I should have hung on to, but like I say, I messed it up and lost you. The offer still stands though. If you can forgive me, come back and we’ll be partners in the firm. If you don’t want anything else between us, fine, but you will always hold a special place in my heart.
Phillip
Freya smiled. “Only till the next Jannine, Phil!” She crumpled the note and threw it in the trash.
Phillip and Philadelphia were past history.
Ian didn’t turn up, and expecting a call from Flynn, he’d said he wanted to talk, she collected a book and sat on the bench outside the kitchen window, her ear tuned in, and waiting for the telephone to ring.
Time passed, and by lunchtime with still no call, she went upstairs to shower and change. More than anything she’d wanted to discuss her father’s book and Pamela with him, and she found it strange he hadn’t been in touch.
By the time she was on her way to Santa Clara, her nerves began to jangle. The helpful woman on the telephone had warned her that Pamela was a little difficult and that it would be best if a member of the staff accompanied Freya on the visit.
“Difficult in what way?” Freya had asked. She had been told that Pamela’s condition sent her into deep troughs of depression when she could sometimes become violent.
As she drove through the gates of Mornington, Freya’s thoughts were centered on the three people—her mom, her father, and Pamela—who had had to live with the upheaval a love affair had caused. She found herself fervently wishing it had never happened.
But then there would be no me!
Inside the building, which resembled a plush hotel rather than an institution, Freya gave her name and was asked to wait. Not many moments later a young African American accompanied by a male nurse came through and called her name. He held out his hand.
“Dr. Jackson.” He smiled and glanced at the notes he held. “I can see the likeness to Mr. McFee,” he said. “Please, come this way. Pamela’s having a good day today. She read the morning paper and has watched some television.”
“That’s a good sign is it?” Freya asked. “That she’s taking an interest in everyday events.”
“Very much so. In fact, since the passing of her husband she’s shown small amounts of enthusiasm for many activities.”
“Oh.”
“I’m considering,” Doctor Jackson said, “a slight reduction in her medication if it keeps up. She’s in here. The nurse will stay with you. We’re not quite sure how she’ll react to you. We were told there were no relatives.”
Freya smiled. “I’m sort of the skeleton in the closet I suppose.”
Doctor Jackson opened the door, and Freya walked into a pleasant room which held a single bed, built-in wardrobe, and a dresser. Beside the bed, on a table, stood a lamp and clock. All this Freya observed in the seconds before her eyes came to rest on the woman in the armchair by the window.
“Pamela,” the nurse said. “A visitor for you.”
Doctor Jackson had left. The nurse stayed by the door, and Freya walked over to the chair.
“Hello, Pamela,” she said. “I’ve brought you some chocolates.” She placed them on her knee, and Pamela’s blue-veined hand rested on the box. She was staring at Freya, and Freya thought she saw something shift in the pale blue eyes.
“Archie,” Pamela said, her gaze wandering to Freya’s hair. “Archie,” she said again. “He’s gone.” A tear squeezed from her eye.
“Oh, dear, Pamela, yes, yes he has. I’m so sorry.”
“No! Not your place to be sorry.” Pamela jabbed her own chest. “My place. I made him miserable. Should have let him go years ago when I found out about you. Don’t want to talk anymore,” she said and turned away.
Freya looked at the nurse who indicated she should leave. “Can I come and see you again, Pamela?”
Pamela didn’t turn around. She shrugged. “If you like.”
»»•««
That evening, Freya ate a couple of crackers and cheese, poured a glass of wine, and sat to watch an old movie but couldn’t concentrate. P
amela and what she’d said was constantly on her mind. Pamela blamed herself. Her father had blamed himself, and through lack of communication, two people had spent their married life in abject misery. And what did the doctor’s assumption signify? He’d hinted that since Archie’s death, Pamela seemed to be improving slightly.
What a tragedy!
Freya resolved to visit Pamela as often as she was allowed.
Chapter Twenty
Freya could no longer make excuses for Flynn not calling her, coming to the conclusion that instead, he’d changed his mind on whatever matter it was he needed to talk to her about. And for the first time, she questioned what she was doing in California.
It was impossible to get away from the fact that, should Flynn not be around, there really was not much point in her being there, yet now there was another factor for Freya to consider. Pamela. If she was to recover enough to be considered fit to rejoin the community, where would she go? Who would be there to look after her? They were questions Freya intended to bring up with Doctor Jackson on her next visit.
»»•««
Freya worked at the shop a couple of days and waited every evening for a call from Flynn, which never came.
On one of the days, Margaret looked up, frowning as a car horn hooted.
“Oh!” she said. “There goes Flynn. I wonder why he hasn’t called in. I haven’t seen him since the weekend.”
Freya’s heart fluttered. She said nothing and carried on screwing glass knobs to a bow-fronted chest of drawers.
“That looks fabulous.” Margaret nodded approvingly. “I think it will have to go on display in the window.”
»»•««
Flynn drove past the shop, tooted the horn, and carried on to Donna’s.
She’d finished nursing River when he arrived and had him over her shoulder. After a satisfactory burp from him, she turned to her brother-in-law.
“Flynn! For goodness’ sake, will you please stop that pacing? I feel like I’m at a tennis match! Here, take River and sit down.”
Donna handed over the sleeping infant. His hands clutched momentarily at thin air as the exchange was made. Flynn smiled down at the baby.
“He’s adorable, Donna.”
Donna nodded, smiling. “Though I wasn’t thinking that at two and three o’clock this morning. So, big bro-in-law,” she flopped onto the sofa, “what brings you here in such a clear state of agitation?”
Flynn raised one eyebrow. “Me, agitated?”
“That’s my word for it. You may have another that more appropriately describes pacing up and down, raking one’s hair, but I can’t think of one.” She smiled sweetly and patted the sofa. “Come and tell me all about it.”
Flynn sat and settled back. “It’s Freya.”
“Well, I didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to work that one out!”
“So,” he looked at her, “why did you ask me?”
Donna laughed. “Because you wouldn’t have said anything if I hadn’t prodded you, though it’s evident to all the family you’re in quite a state over her.”
“You’ve been talking about me?”
“Sure have! I said to Mike, ‘Your brother’s in love,’ and he almost choked on his martini.” Her brown eyes sparkled. “Flynn O’Neill caught by the love bug at long last. And I couldn’t be more delighted that it’s Freya.”
“Whoa! Who said anything about love?” His response made River stir. The tiny face screwed up.
“He’s got a bit of wind,” Donna said. “Put him over your shoulder.”
“Like this?”
“Yeah, now pat his back. Here, put this under him. He might just puke.”
Flynn rubbed River’s back gently, the reward being a second resounding burp.
“Hey,” he said. “It works.”
“Mm. Let’s not stray off the subject.”
“Aw, Donna!”
“Listen to me, Flynn. It’s so clear to those of us around you that for the first time in your life you’ve suddenly become darn backward at coming forward where a woman is concerned. When I first met you I was amazed just how quickly you…well, you know what I mean.”
Flynn nodded. “Times have changed. Freya’s different.” He sighed. “Anyway, there’s no point in me chasing after her, there was a guy there last night. I saw his car and it was still there this morning.”
Donna flapped her hand. “So? Have you forgotten I was dating a guy when I met Mike? That means nothing. I’m telling you, if you keep playing the ultra-cool, can’t-catch-me guy, you’ll lose her. She’s not the type to hang around waiting for too long.”
Flynn stared at her. “How do you know she’s interested?”
Donna leaned forward and put a finger on her nose. “See this? Is it plain?”
“Yeah, but…”
“That’s how plain it was to me, and from what your mom said about the incident in the kitchen the other night, well, the pair of you sure caused a buzz in the O’Neill household!”
Flynn sniffed. “I think River’s doing something. Here, hon, you take him.”
Donna laughed. “Come to Mommy, gorgeous,” she said. She looked up at Flynn. “Will you think about what I’ve said?”
“Yeah. I’m away for a couple of days on Parrot, it’ll give me time to think. I’ve got to be sure about this. If and when I make that final commitment, Donna, it’ll be for life.”
»»•««
Flynn drove away from his brother’s more confused than when he’d arrived. Did Donna know what she was talking about? One thing for certain, she couldn’t possibly know the gut-wrenching misery he’d felt on seeing the blond guy in the black cruiser. His ego, along with his self-confidence, had deflated quicker than a pricked balloon. Why couldn’t he push thoughts of the man away, go see Freya, ask if they could spend some time together, really get to know one another, maybe even invite her to Parrot Island with him?
That was the action any normal male would take. Flynn pulled into the office parking lot and yanked on the hand brake. Trouble is, where Freya is concerned I can’t act like a normal man!
Jealousy, an emotion he’d never experienced before, had him in its grip and he wasn’t comfortable with it. Not one bit.
In the office, Rochelle, busy getting ready to close for the day, looked up as he strode in.
“Hi,” she said, a bright smile on her face. “You look as though you’ve dropped a dollar and found a dime! What you need,” she sauntered across to him, putting her hands on his shoulders, “is a nice cool glass of something followed by a slow, relaxing massage. I can highly recommend it for relieving stress.”
“Hey.” Flynn grinned, gently removing her hands. “Haven’t I said from the beginning I never mix business with pleasure?”
Her face took on a tight look. “Once wouldn’t hurt. You might even enjoy it.”
“Rochelle, honey…”
Rochelle turned away. “Okay, forget it. A girl can only take so many knocks!”
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I hate hurting your feelings.”
“No probs.” Her voice had gone cold. “I’ve left that proposal on your desk.” She collected her purse and keys. “See you Monday. Have a good weekend.” The door slammed behind her leaving Flynn wondering how long it would be before her notice was on his desk. Switching on the computer, he tried to settle down to work but found it impossible. All he could think of was what Donna had said. When an hour had passed and he was no further forward with a new course design, he opened the travel site and booked his seat. Closing the computer, he locked the office and drove home.
Chapter Twenty-One
Freya drank her coffee on the bench in the garden, Lucy’s words whirling in her head. Call him.
But pride wouldn’t allow it.
What could she possibly say? Flynn had made the decision to stay away, cease contact, and she had to accept that. Irritated and unsettled, she tried Donna’s cell phone. Donna answered at once and said yes, she’d love to meet for lunch.
Mike was home for a couple of hours and would look after River.
Morvenna High Street was busy, and Donna was waiting at a table set out on the forecourt of the bistro. She waved Freya over.
“This is just what the doctor ordered,” she said. “An hour away from my darling baby. Though by the time the hour’s up, I won’t be able to wait to see him. I don’t know about you but I’m famished.”
They ordered a Caesar salad each and a pot of English tea.
“We were at Mom’s yesterday, she said how well you’ve taken to the shop…how innovative you are.” Donna smiled. “And the B&B? I’m impressed. We all are.”
Freya’s heart had taken a little leap. “Flynn seemed to like the idea.”
“Mm.” Donna’s brown eyes narrowed slightly. “He thought it was great… My brother-in-law is a complex man, Freya, not one to easily show his feelings as I’m sure you’ve realized!”
Their salads arrived, and as the waiter moved off, Freya toyed with a crouton.
“The thing is,” Donna continued, “he’s not used to being out of control of situations. It makes him uneasy, and feeling uneasy then makes him withdraw. Can you see what I’m trying to say? It’s difficult because I don’t want to appear the interfering relative…well, anyway, I’ve said enough.” Donna started into the salad. “Delicious,” she said.
Freya looked at her, a thoughtful expression on her face. “He said he wanted to speak to me, that night at your mom’s, but I haven’t heard a thing from him since, so what am I to think? To me it just seemed he’d spoken in haste and was repenting at leisure.”
Donna dabbed her mouth on the napkin. “No.” She shook her head. “More like sulking at leisure! He saw the blond guy arrive.”
Freya stared at her and laughed incredulously. “He saw Phillip?”
“Yup. Said his car was still there the next day, and I said, so what, I was dating someone else when I met Mike. That’s the way life goes! Yeah?”
“But, but…” Freya flustered. “Phillip did stay, but in the spare room. There’s nothing at all between us. I worked with him in Philly, is all.”
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