“It was an issue with his heart. That’s why he lost the weight, to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“He had a heart attack?” Jonah asks, alarmed.
“No, it wasn’t as severe as that. But the doctor warned that next time it could be.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because he’s fine and we didn’t want to worry you.”
“Jesus.” Jonah sighs. “This family.”
“Don’t take that tone with me. You’re the one who chose to stay in London and run that bloody pub instead of coming here to help.”
“Are you saying this is my fault?”
“Of course not. But I’m saying that maybe it’s time to reconsider a few things.”
“I’m not selling the pub.”
“Why not?” Jane asks. “You have a place here, and your father and I could use the help. He’s too proud to ask, but I’m not.”
I shouldn’t be hearing this. I feel like I’m trespassing. There’s no way for me to leave without being seen though, so I stay, sitting on the bed, uncomfortable.
“This isn’t the day to talk about this,” Jonah says.
“And why not?” Jane’s voice breaks. “Do you think a day goes by that I don’t think about my son, about what was taken from us? We can’t bring him back, Jonah. And you running that pub doesn’t do anyone any good. You need to move on.”
“I’m here, aren’t I? You asked, and I came. What more do you want?”
“What I want,” Jane says tersely, “is for the family I have left to be happy and healthy. And that’s why I’m telling you that I think it’s time for you to move here. All I’m asking is for you to consider it.”
Jane’s footsteps sound across the floor once more, the door closing behind her as she exits the barn. I wait, expecting Jonah to return upstairs, but he doesn’t.
After a few minutes, I put my clothes back on and head downstairs. Jonah is sitting at the kitchen island with his head in his hands.
“Jonah?” I say tentatively.
He looks up at me, fatigued.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
His brow furrows. “What about?”
“I was the one who pushed for you to come back. It wasn’t my place to do that. I should have kept my nose out of it.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I needed to be here. And all that stuff you heard, it’s been said before. Well, almost all of it. My dad being sick was a surprise.”
“Do you think you’ll talk to him?”
“I don’t know.” He wipes his hands down his face wearily. “She said he’s okay, and if you hadn’t already guessed, we’re not great at talking about this stuff.”
I give him a small smile. “My grandpa was like that. Once I was performing in Chicago, and I got a call from his neighbor who said she’d picked him up from the hospital. He’d tried to drive himself home after having cataract surgery. I had no idea he was even having an operation, the stubborn fool.”
“I see where you get it from,” he teases, standing. “Now, how about that food I promised you?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to be alone?”
“You,” he instructs, “sit your butt on that chair and let me feed you.”
I do as commanded, taking a seat at the island. Jonah pours me a glass of orange juice and hands it to me with a kiss.
“How do you like your eggs?” he asks, returning to the fridge.
“In a pancake.” He looks at me and laughs. “What? I like pancakes.”
“Of course you do.” His laughter amplifies. “Pancakes it is.”
* * *
At some point after midnight, I leave Jonah’s bed and sneak back over to the main house. Sleep finds my tired but contented body fast, and I don’t wake until my alarm goes off at eight. The morning brings gray skies and rain, and I take my time getting ready.
When I finally make my way downstairs, the house is well and truly alive. Matthew runs energetically across the foyer, his mother yelling at him from the dining room. I can hear murmurs of conversation from the kitchen. The front door is open, two suitcases waiting on the doorstep.
“Jane!” Steve calls, appearing from the hallway. “The taxi is on its way.” He sees me step off the staircase and smiles. “Good morning, Charlotte.”
“Good morning.”
Jane comes into the hall, lugging another suitcase behind her. “Charlotte!” she says brightly. “Jonah told us you’ve decided to stay longer.”
“Yes, I’ve extended my trip a couple of weeks.” A thought suddenly comes to me. “Is the room available? I’m sorry, I should have asked earlier.”
“For you my dear, absolutely.” Jane wheels the suitcase over to the others.
We’re so glad you’re staying.”
“We’ll have to drink that Calvados when we get back,” Steve says with a grin.
“I look forward to it.”
“Oh, there’s the taxi.” Steve peers down the hallway. “We’re leaving,” he shouts.
Matthew runs back into the foyer. Sharon calls out for him to join them in the dining room, which the kid promptly ignores by running instead into the parlor.
“It’s a circus in here,” Jonah says, coming down the hall. He’s wearing black jeans and a white t-shirt, his face unshaven, his hair curling slightly over his ears. He looks so handsome that it takes all my will not to kiss him right there in front of everyone.
“Good morning, Charlotte.”
“Good morning, Jonah.”
“I trust you slept well.” He says it so casually, but I can see the sparkle in his eye, his thoughts clearly not far from my own.
Back in his bed. Tangled in his sheets.
“Alright,” Steve declares. “Let’s get going. You all have a good time while we’re gone. Call if you need anything.”
“We’ll be fine,” Jonah assures him.
Jane steps closer to her son, a look passing between them. “The house is all yours,” she says, and kisses him on the cheek.
“See you in two weeks.” Steve grabs the luggage and takes it over to the taxi, Jane following behind.
As they get into the car, I feel Jonah’s hand brush against mine, sending a shiver coursing through me. Once the taxi has exited onto the street, Jonah clasps my fingers with his. He lets go, however, when Matthew makes another mad dash through the foyer.
“What is up with that kid?” I whisper as we turn and head down the hall.
“I’d say jetlag mixed with a hyperactive personality.”
“Tasmanian devil, more like.”
We walk toward the kitchen, and I’m not two steps inside when Jonah grabs my arm, pulling me with him into the pantry. The door has barely closed before his hands are on me, gripping my waist as he kisses me with urgency.
“I missed you in my bed this morning,” he murmurs, pressing me against the shelf, nearly toppling over a stack of cans.
“You had me all night,” I say, my hands doing their own exploration. The strength in his arms drives me wild. As though reading my mind, he picks me up and lifts me onto the counter.
“I’d take you right here if I could.”
It’s a tempting thought, and I can see he’s more than ready. His fingers run up my bare thighs, reaching beneath my skirt. The need I have for him is consuming.
“Jonah?” Matilda’s voice is loud and coming from inside the kitchen.
“Fuck.” Jonah sighs, releasing his hands from me.
We wait, listening as Matilda continues her search outside.
“This is why we have rules,” I whisper. “We can’t do this in the house. Someone will see us.” I move down off the counter, rearranging my clothing.
“Tonight,” Jonah says as I go to open the door. “Promise me you’ll come to the barn.”
“If you insist,” I reply, wanting nothing more.
He pulls me to him and kisses me softly. “Oh, I insist.”
“We can’t leave at the same time,”
I tell him, wishing we could stay in the privacy of the pantry. “How about you go first.”
“Jooooonaaaahhh???” Matilda’s voice carries loudly from the garden.
“On second thought, maybe it’s safer if I go first.” I carefully check to see if the coast is clear and exit out into the kitchen. Seconds later Matilda comes marching back in with a determined look on her face.
“Have you seen Jonah?” she asks before even uttering a hello in my direction.
“You just missed him. He left to go into town.”
Matilda pouts. “Now I’m not going to see him until we get back tonight from the stupid day trip my parents are taking us on.”
“Sorry,” I say, certain she’ll survive the disappointment.
She saunters back out into the garden. With a chuckle, I turn to leave via the hall, and swear I hear a muffled “thank you” as I pass the pantry.
19
Sunday blurs into Tuesday, Wednesday into Friday. Through it we find ourselves in an easy rhythm, as though we’ve been doing it for years. During the day, while Jonah focuses on the B&B, I take advantage of the time I have to myself and explore Bayeux. I try different restaurants, visit the cathedral, and spend a whole afternoon at the museum where the tapestry is on display.
In the evenings, I sneak over to the barn where Jonah has dinner waiting for me. We eat and drink, and I tell him about where I’ve been that day, and what I’ve seen. He listens, laughing at my enthusiasm. We talk about the new guests. A couple from Spain, a family from Germany. The Australians are still there, leaving each morning on day trips. Their usual return after dinner saves Jonah from having to run into Matilda too often. Not that the time has diminished her crush on him.
Jonah tells me about the repairs he’s been realizing are needed more and more, things he assumes his father has not been able to do on his own. I watch as he writes lists, calls companies for quotes, and makes plans to get things in order. Sometimes, after dinner, he works on his computer at the kitchen island while I play the piano.
It’s strange how quickly a place can start to feel like home. The streets have become familiar, that sense of déjà vu following me wherever I go. It’s as though I’ve come back to a place I’ve known all my life.
“I had something interesting happen today,” I say, my fingers pressing on the keys lightly, the gentle tune filling the air.
Jonah looks up from his computer. “Interesting how?”
“I got an offer to play somewhere.”
“Really?” He closes the laptop and brings the wine over, refilling my glass. “Where?”
“That Italian restaurant down by the cathedral. I went in there for lunch, and the owner and I started talking, and when he found out I was a pianist, he asked me to play something. I almost said no, but thought, fuck it, why not? So I played a song, and he asked if I’d return tomorrow night and play for an hour. He said he’d pay me.”
“That’s amazing. What time?”
“Seven.”
“I’ll make sure to reserve a table.”
“You don’t have to,” I say dismissively.
“Charlotte.” He puts his finger under my chin, leaning in close. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” He kisses me, and all thoughts of the piano disappear.
I swing my leg over the stool and open my mouth to his. The velvet of his tongue stirs a burning need in me, and I grab his shirt, pulling it over his head. Jonah is in no hurry though, taking his time with his mouth on mine, his fingers entwining in my hair.
Then, all of a sudden, he lifts me and throws me over his shoulder, carrying me upstairs. I laugh in surprise as he drops me down onto the bed, the ravenous look in his eyes turning me on even more. I quickly pull off my blouse and go to remove my bra.
“Wait,” he says, standing at the edge of the bed. “Take it off slowly.”
A thrill courses through me, and I keep my eyes on his as I unclasp my bra. Pulling down one strap, and then the other, I stop, holding his gaze before peeling it off. There’s a certain eroticism to it, especially in the way he looks at me. Enticed by it, I lean back on the bed and carefully take off my underwear. “Is this what you want?” I tease, hiking up my skirt. Spreading my legs, I touch myself.
“Fuck,” he breathes, liberating himself from the rest of his clothing. “Don’t stop,” he implores, going to the drawer and pulling out a condom.
I moan, as much from the pleasure of my own touch as the desire in his eyes. He takes himself in his hands, stroking a few times before putting the condom on.
“We’re going to take this slow,” he says, kneeling on the bed. With a fire in his eyes, he moves over me, reaching between my legs, caressing me.
He’s true to his word, touching me in the ways he knows will make me tremble. Time disappears around us, and the world with it, leaving only he and I.
When at last, it’s too much, I call out his name, begging for him. He answers in full, pushing himself inside me, releasing me from my anguish. Moving slow and deliberate, he brings me to the edge of myself and back again. Taking, then giving. A connection so intense I can’t figure out where he begins and I end.
I have no desire to find out.
* * *
That evening, I stand in front of my mirror, wearing the cocktail dress I bought that afternoon. The stormy blue chiffon gives me a feminine look, and I pin my hair up, leaving a few curls to frame my face.
It’s a tradition of mine to wear a new dress the first night I perform somewhere I’ve never played before. Not only does it instill confidence, it also helps me to get in the headspace of performing, almost like putting on a costume. Finishing the look off with nude kitten heels, I stare at my reflection, feeling ready.
Grabbing my pink blazer and handbag, I head downstairs and out the front door. There’s a slight chill, so I put on the jacket before stepping through the gate and onto the street. Jonah is leaning against the wall a few meters down, waiting for me. He’s wearing navy blue pants, a white button-up shirt, and a debonair smile.
“You look amazing,” he says, quickly glancing around before kissing me.
“Why, thank you.” My fake southern drawl has him laughing as we continue down the street in the direction of the restaurant.
“Do you get nervous before playing?” he asks.
“Always. But it’s a good kind of nervous, mixed with excitement, if that makes sense.”
“I’ve only performed in front of people once. In high school. A theatre production of Jesus Christ Superstar.”
“Let me guess,” I say. “You played Jesus?”
He laughs loudly. “Definitely not. I had the honor of playing one of the lepers.”
“One of the lepers?”
“We were many.”
“Did you have a line?”
“I did.” He coughs and then belts out at the top of his lungs, “Seeee my skin, I’m a mass of bloooooood.”
I stop, unable to walk from laughing so hard. “That was your line?”
“I couldn’t forget it if I tried.”
“And why would you want to?”
When we get to the restaurant, Jonah holds the door open for me, and I step inside to find the place full. Thierry, the owner, spots me from across the room and makes a beeline towards me.
“Miss Reynolds, I’m so happy you’ve come to play for us.”
“Thank you for having me. This is Jonah Emmerson. Jonah this is Thierry.”
The men shake hands and talk briefly, as I look around the restaurant. There are at least sixty people inside. My nerves increase, momentarily outweighing the excitement.
“I should go get started,” I tell them, not wanting to stand around with the nervous energy I’m feeling.
“Yes, of course. Mr. Emmerson, I have the table you reserved.” Thierry waves a hostess over. “Please take Mr. Emmerson to table eight,” he tells her before giving his attention back to me. “And Miss Reynolds, if you’ll come with me.”
I glance
at Jonah, who gives me an encouraging smile, and follow Thierry to the opposite side of the restaurant. Taking a seat at the piano, I pull out the sheet music I purchased in town. With a deep breath, I give myself a moment to let my nerves settle.
Focus then forget.
I begin to play, the nervousness disappearing as a deep concentration takes its place. From the second I begin the first song, to the final notes of the last, the world around me fades away. I pour myself into the music, into each chord and variation, wanting to evoke the same emotions the pieces bring to me.
The enthusiastic applause I receive at the end gives me hope that I’ve been successful. I’ve barely stood from the stool when Thierry comes rushing over, a beaming grin on his face.
“You were fantastic,” he declares.
“Thank you.”
“You will come again, yes?”
I hadn’t expected the offer, so I don’t know how to reply. “I’m only here for another week.”
“We will talk later. Go, sit, be with your friend.”
On a high, I walk towards Jonah’s table, and see him watching me, his expression stunned.
“You,” he says, standing, “are fucking incredible.” And even though we’re in public, and people’s eyes are on us, he pulls me to him and kisses me.
“Well, hello, you two.” Jonah and I part to find Francois staring at us. “Isn’t tonight full of surprises?” Francois smiles.
I wrack my brains for some semblance of an excuse to explain why Jonah’s lips were on mine but come up empty. Jonah, it seems, is having the same problem.
“Oh, relax,” Francois says with a laugh. “I was talking about the piano playing. You two I’ve known about for a while.”
“You have?” I ask, confused.
He presses his lips together. “It was easy to put two and two together after I saw you both going into the pantry.”
“Oh my god,” I mutter, mortified. I glare at Jonah who appears to think the whole thing is hilarious.
“Are you here alone?” Jonah asks him.
“I was meant to meet someone, but it seems I’ve been stood up.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, my embarrassment ebbing. “Why don’t you join us?”
The Sea of Lost Things Page 17