"Thank you."
Despite the Christmas decorations and unmistakable air of celebration, the circumstances stopped Vicky from feeling guilty for being here—she was only doing Jonathan a favor.
She held out her fingers towards the heat of the fire and wriggled them, relieved to be somewhere warm. "Do you have a maintenance man on the estate who could help me?"
"Why?"
"The heating in the gatehouse isn't working."
Jonathan frowned. "I'm sorry. Normally we have a full staff working out of the estate office, but my brother gave them all time off over Christmas while he's away. I'll call the agents who rent the properties for us and get them to send out a repairman."
"I tried that when I arrived. The agents don't think they can get anyone out until after Christmas."
Jonathan frowned. "They're happy enough to take their cut for managing the properties. I'll take a look on the way back and see if I can get it running."
"Thanks. It'll be great if you can fix it." Although Vicky couldn't imagine how he'd fix a boiler if he couldn't see. But she didn't want to say that, so she picked up a menu and ran her gaze down the list of dishes. "What do you recommend?"
"I'm told the sea bass is good."
"Is that what you're going to have?"
He grinned. "Nope. I'll have my usual, game pie. Shelly makes the best pies. They've won awards."
"She makes them herself?" Vicky had assumed she was front of house.
"She trained as a chef and does some of the cooking. She has a business partner who's also a chef who does the rest."
A waitress took their order, then returned with the drinks—soda and lime for Vicky, and a pint of local ale for Jonathan.
They chatted about his family and when he asked about hers, she didn't immediately change the subject—her normal defensive reaction. Instead she briefly told him about her parents.
"Why aren't you spending Christmas with them?"
Vicky opened her mouth to give the usual stock reply that they weren't close, but the words didn't come. Instead she closed her eyes against the sudden prick of tears as memories of Colin and Josh swelled inside until she couldn't hold them back.
"I don't celebrate Christmas," she said, her voice little more than a whisper.
Jonathan was quiet for a moment, then he said, "Do you want to tell me why?"
Vicky pressed her lips together as the room fractured into a kaleidoscope of colors through the tears in her eyes. "I lost my husband and four-year-old son in an accident four years ago. On Christmas morning." The final three words came out as a croak through her tight throat.
Jonathan laid his fingers on her arm and slid them down to her hand. He squeezed gently and she clung to him, his warm hand suddenly feeling like a lifeline.
For long moments she fought her tears, confused by her sudden urge to confide in a man she'd only just met. She'd never told anybody about that morning, not even her mum and dad. Even though they'd encouraged her to share, suggesting it might help her heal.
Something about Jonathan set her at ease, gave her the feeling he wouldn't press her if she didn't want to talk. And strangely it helped that he couldn't see her face. Maybe it was because he'd lived through his own tragedy. If anyone could understand how difficult it was to come to terms with her loss, he would.
In halting words, she explained what had happened. "If I had the time again, I would never have let them go to the park without me. Life's so unfair."
"But then you might have been hit by the car as well," Jonathan said. A moment later his breath hissed in as understanding dawned. "I'm sure your husband and son are relieved you survived and want you to be happy."
He put his arms around her, drawing her close. She rested her cheek against the soft fabric of his sweater, the steady beat of his heart in her ear.
"I didn't lose any family," he said softly, "but I lost three good men in the attack that ended my army career. I believe I was the lucky one. God spared me, and I got to come home."
Vicky let his words sink in as he stroked her hair. The concept of survival was a twisted muddle in her head. Jonathan might be grateful to have survived but as he said, he hadn't lost those dearest to him. Not that he had a wife and child to lose.
That thought pulsed in her mind as she remembered him lying in bed, suffering through his migraine. Was it worse to have a family and lose them, or to never have anyone? Should she be grateful to have had that joy, if only for a few years?
The waitress brought their lunch and set the plates on the table in front of them. "Here you go. Can I get you anything else, any condiments or sauces?"
Vicky sat up, averted her face and wiped her eyes, immediately missing the comfort of Jonathan's embrace. She'd promised herself she would stay true to Colin, but she'd forgotten how comforting it was to be held by strong arms.
"Just salt and pepper for me." Jonathan stretched his hand cautiously towards the center of the table, and Vicky pushed the salt and pepper shakers against his seeking fingers.
He smiled as their hands brushed. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." The burst of pleasure from that simple act of helping him amazed her.
She'd always loved looking after her husband and son. Maybe that's what she needed, someone to look after again.
• • •
Once they'd finished lunch and the rush of pub customers thinned out, Shelly led Vicky and Jonathan outside. Vicky took Jonathan's hand to guide him through the crowd. When they got outside she kept hold on the pretense of guiding him, but really because she enjoyed the grip of his strong fingers.
Drawing in a lungful of chilly air, she puffed out a smoky breath and took in the picturesque village of Rosemoor. In front of the Fat Goose pub lay a village green with an icy duck pond. Around the grassed area stood quaint old stone cottages, built of the same golden Cotswold stone as Rosemoor Hall.
"I live right across there at Holly Cottage." Shelly pointed to the other side of the green. They crossed the wet grass to a thatched cottage set in a garden overflowing with plants. A few evergreens with red berries gave it some winter color, but in the summer it must be beautiful.
"Here we are." Shelly opened the gate. "Let's see what my little darlings have been up to while I was away. Chloe looks after them while I'm at work, with a local teenager supervising." She glanced at Vicky. "Chloe's my brother's nine-year-old. She's very grown up for her age, and she's besotted with the puppies."
As Shelly unlocked the front door, a clamor of puppy yaps and girly giggles greeted them. "Only me," Shelly shouted as they made their way along a corridor and entered the kitchen.
On the far side of the room, in front of the stove, a girl with long dark hair in a ponytail sat on a cushion beside a huge plastic dog bed lined with blankets, while a teenager with short blond hair sat at the table, texting on her phone.
"Hi, Natalie. All okay?"
The teen nodded.
A black Labrador lay in the dog bed surrounded by a jumble of busy puppies. They were all black except for one little golden one. Warmth unfurled inside Vicky and a smile stretched her lips. They were absolutely adorable.
"How have they been, Chloe?" Shelly asked, crouching at her side.
"Wonderful." Chloe grinned. "Midnight has been licking the puppies and feeding them lots."
"That's good. We want them to grow big and strong."
"Hello, Uncle Jon." Chloe rose and hugged Jonathan.
"Hi there, Cocoa Puff." He kissed the top of her head and held her for a moment. Then she took his hand and pulled him after her. "Come and sit on the floor. You can have my cushion. I've cleaned up so you won't stand in poop."
"Good thinking." Jonathan laughed. "Don't want to tread that all over Shelly's hall carpet."
Shelly grabbed a cushion from a chair in the corner of the room and tossed it to Vicky. "Make yourself comfortable."
Vicky hugged the cushion and stared at the dog bed. "They're the most adorable little bundles of fluf
f."
"I can imagine," Jonathan said. "I can certainly hear them and smell them." He stooped to feel for the cushion Chloe had vacated, then sat with his back to the stove and his legs stretched in front of him.
The mother dog stepped over her pups and out of the bed to greet the new arrivals, pushing her nose into Jonathan's face. "Hi there, Midnight." He rubbed her ears. Tail wagging, she turned to greet Vicky.
"You're gorgeous," she said, stroking the friendly dog.
Shelly scooped up a couple of puppies. "Here you go." She gently deposited them on Jonathan's lap, then straightened, hands on her hips and a grin on her face as the pups clambered into his arms. "Goodness knows how you ever managed to shoot anyone, Captain Bramwell. You're such a softy."
Vicky put her cushion on the flagstone floor at his side and sat down. Two more of the puppies clambered over the side of the dog bed and scampered across the floor towards them, tails wagging, giving excited yaps.
They clambered over Vicky and Jonathan's outstretched legs. Shelly picked up the little golden pup and handed it to Vicky. "Our one little golden angel," she said. "She has the sweetest nature."
The little girl squirmed in Vicky's hands, her tiny mouth open, the tip of her pink tongue poking out. She was a light cream color with a dark nose and dark eyes. Vicky gazed into the pup's liquid brown eyes. Her heart warmed in a way she'd almost forgotten as she cradled the little dog in her arms.
"You're a cutie, aren't you?" She glanced up at Shelly. "Does she have a name?"
"No. I let the new owners who'll give the pups their forever homes choose the names. The little golden angel hasn't been chosen yet. She's the smallest, so I expect she'll make quite a small adult."
Vicky's heart jumped and skittered as the tiny pup snuggled into her arms. A sense of protectiveness stole through her. Was it possible to fall in love with a dog at first sight?
"Why isn't this one spoken for?"
"Goodness knows. I thought she'd go first. Perhaps she was waiting for you?"
Vicky held the pup up to her face and breathed in the wonderful puppy fur smell. "Her coat seems a bit fluffy for a Labrador. Is that just puppy fluff?"
"Dad was a golden retriever. She's the only one who's got her dad's color. It's likely she'll have a longer coat as well. I think most of the blacks will have smooth Labrador coats. Look at the one Jon's holding. That's very smooth coated."
Vicky had been so engrossed in the golden pup she hadn't taken much notice of what Jonathan was doing. Cradling her baby girl against her cheek, she turned to watch him. Jonathan laughed with unrestrained pleasure as the rest of the litter homed in on him, clambering over his legs and crawling into his lap.
He stroked them and picked them up, pressing his face against their fur.
"They smell wonderful," he said, "and they're so soft. What adorable little things. I wish I could have one, but that's probably not a good idea."
"Will you put me down for this little girl?" Vicky hadn't come with the intention of buying a dog, yet this golden angel had stolen her heart the moment she saw her. Holding the pup in her arms felt right—as if they were meant for each other.
"Of course. That's wonderful. I know I shouldn't have favorites, but the golden girl is one of mine."
Shelly pulled a length of pink ribbon out of a box on the kitchen counter and tied it around the neck of the pup in Vicky's arms, then she made a note in a book. "There you go. Pup number six is yours."
"How long until they're ready to leave?" Vicky wanted to take her baby now.
"They're four and a half weeks. It'll be another four weeks until they can leave their mum."
"That will feel like forever!" Vicky laughed as her pup nibbled her fingers.
"It'll give you time to prepare. Do you have a dog-friendly house?"
Vicky's old house would have been a wonderful home for a dog, with the coast path and the beach just down the road, but she hadn't been able to stay there after she lost Colin and Josh. It reminded her too much of them. Her new apartment in Southampton was definitely not dog friendly, right in the middle of town with no backyard. Anyway, the landlord didn't allow dogs. She'd have to move to a new home, and fast.
"I need to make a few changes, but I promise to take her home to somewhere dog friendly."
"That's wonderful. Of course Jonathan has the ultimate dog-friendly apartment with acres of walks right on his doorstep."
"Yep. Honey likes her walks," Jonathan said.
Vicky cradled her baby. "I'm going to call her Jessie."
"Hey, Jessie." Jonathan extended a hand and petted Jessie, his fingers sliding over Vicky's. "She can meet Honey and make friends. We can walk them together."
Vicky took his hand and squeezed it with a burst of joy she hadn't felt in years.
Chapter Five
While Vicky dashed back into the pub to collect her scarf, Jonathan kissed Shelly's cheek. "Thanks for showing us the pups. You've made my Christmas."
"You're still coming to the pub for Christmas dinner, aren't you?" The weight of her hand rested on his arm.
"If I can get a ride here."
"Owen or I will collect you unless Vicky wants to bring you. She's welcome to have dinner with us."
"I'll ask her and let you know." He didn't want to make too many demands on Vicky. She was obviously emotionally fragile, and he understood that. After the injury and operation, it had taken him a while to come to terms with his limitations and how his life had to change. Even now, there were still times when things got the better of him and he preferred to be on his own.
Shelly slipped her arm through his. "She's very pretty, you know. She has gorgeous long dark hair with chestnut highlights. She's about my height and slim. She looks fit."
"She was running when I first met her." Jonathan examined the mental picture he'd already formed of Vicky and found it matched what Shelly had told him. "What color are her eyes?" he asked.
"Hazel. Very pretty. And she isn't wearing much makeup. She doesn't need it."
The pub door closed with a bang, and Vicky's footsteps hurried towards them. "Sorry to be so long. Someone had handed it in, and it was behind the bar in the lost-and-found box."
"I'm glad you found it. You're welcome to come back and visit Jessie again anytime," Shelly said. "You'll be amazed how she grows and changes in the next few weeks."
"Thanks. I'll definitely take you up on your offer. And thank you for such a lovely lunch. I really enjoyed it."
"I'll pass on your compliments to the chef."
Jonathan reached in the direction of Vicky's voice, touched her back, and took a half step sideways so he could put his arm through hers. "Let's go and see if we can start the boiler at the gatehouse."
"You don't have to worry about that. I'll survive."
Jonathan had expected this response, but he wasn't going to be put off. He wanted to show her he wasn't completely helpless. "You shouldn't have to survive. You paid for a comfortable rental property, not an endurance test."
He took a step in the direction he thought the car was parked, taking her with him, then let her lead and walked with her, his arm linked through hers.
She dug in her coat pocket and her keys rattled. A moment later, he heard the car locks pop open a short distance ahead.
"Here you are. This is the passenger side."
Jonathan felt for the handle and climbed in, familiar now with the dimensions of the small car.
"I really don't want you to worry about my boiler," she said after she got in beside him.
"I'm going to check it, so stop arguing." A few moments of heavy silence followed his words, and he wondered if she'd missed the teasing note in his voice.
"All right, then. If you insist," she said.
Jonathan's breath slipped out on a sigh of relief. He didn't want to screw things up with Vicky. Although he'd only just met her, he sensed a connection between them, and he really wanted a chance to know her better, even if they were never more than friend
s. Before his injury, he'd have laughed if someone suggested he look for companionship. Back then he'd had such a full life, he didn't have a moment to be lonely. Things were different now.
Losing his sight had cut him off from so much and isolated him from people. Often he knew people were around, but they avoided interacting with him. It was as if when he lost his sight he became invisible, especially to women.
But Vicky saw him, and in his own way, he saw her. He was convinced he could help her as much as she could help him.
He gripped the door as the car took a corner, the hot air of the heater blasting him. They slowed, and soft ground squelched beneath the tires.
"Here we are. The front gate is about five feet from your door."
"Thanks." He took his cane with him as he got out.
Vicky had the gate open by the time he reached it. "If I remember rightly, the oil boiler is in a lean-to at the back of the house." He brushed his cane against the bushes planted around the building and pictured the layout.
For eighteen months, between finishing college and joining the army, he'd been responsible for managing the rental properties on the Rosemoor Hall estate for his father. He tried to remember the model of boiler, but it had likely been renewed since then.
"I see a small building adjoining the house," Vicky said. "It's stone built. Is that what you mean?"
"Yes. Can you open the door?"
Jonathan stood back and listened while Vicky did as he asked. He passed her his cane and ran his fingers around the front edges of the boiler, searching for the clip that held the door closed. He pulled the front open.
"Okay, can you see a switch that has three settings, hot water only, timed heating, and constant heating?"
"Yes." Vicky brushed his side as she crouched. "It's set to constant heating."
"Okay. That's not the problem then."
Jonathan instructed her to check a number of obvious things that might be wrong and see if there was oil in the tank, but nothing helped. They pushed the reset button. The boiler fired up for ten seconds, then died again.
Golden Christmas Page 3