A Summer of New Beginnings

by Lisa Hobman

  Lachy came round and opened her door. He held out his hand to help her down, and rather than insist that she could manage, she accepted his help. The feel of his strong hand on hers made her arm tingle and she snatched it away as soon as her feet hit the floor.

  They entered the house and were greeted by Bess, whose whole body was wagging excitedly. Zara bent to stroke her, but a spell of dizziness took her again and she grabbed a chair to steady herself.

  She felt Lachy’s hand on her arm. ‘Hey, are you okay? Come on, I’ll help you into the lounge and I’ll go and get you some painkillers, eh?’

  She nodded, trying not to think of the nausea bubbling up from her stomach. Lachy led her into a room off the kitchen at the opposite side to the staircase and helped her to a leather couch. The room was cosy and had an inglenook fireplace. It was a little dated but the couch was more modern. She wondered if he had brought that along when he’d moved home again.

  Once she was seated Lachy asked, ‘Will you be okay whilst I go get some wood for the fire and get you those tablets?’

  ‘Absolutely fine. Thank you.’

  He nodded. ‘Bess will stay and keep you company. Oh, and if she tries to get on the sofa, don’t let her. Bloody little madam. I swear she thinks she’s human.’

  Of course, as soon as Lachy left the room Bess cheekily hopped up beside Zara and snuggled into her side.

  ‘Hey, you’ll get me in trouble, you little tyke,’ Zara informed the dog, but stroked her fur regardless. How could she not? Bess was adorable.

  Lachy appeared again moments later. ‘Ahem, I see you’re a soft touch with the animals, then.’

  Zara cringed. ‘But she’s so cute. I couldn’t resist.’

  He grinned and shook his head as he handed her a glass of water and two tablets. ‘Here you go. Just paracetamol. You’re not allergic, are you?’

  She took the pills and swallowed them as she shook her head no.

  ‘Look, I was going to give the bike place a call. I know one of the owners from way back. Thought I might be able to sweet-talk them for you.’

  ‘No! No, I need to fess up. I can’t have you doing that for me. I mean, it was an accident, after all.’

  He sighed. ‘God, you’re stubborn. But whatever. Anyway, the guest room’s ready for you. Although I should warn you that I’ll be coming in to check on you in the night, so you’d better not sleep naked if you want to save your dignity.’

  Zara gasped and felt her cheeks warming – the ones on her face, that was. ‘Why would you be doing that? It’s creepy.’

  ‘Look, you heard the doctor. Sleep can be a problem with concussion. I need to make sure you’re still alive. How would it look if I wound up with a dead cyclist in my spare room?’

  ‘Erm… okay, fair enough. Nice to know it’s purely selfish on your part,’ she huffed.

  ‘Oh, totally selfish.’ He grinned again and left the room and Zara proceeded to call her friends to let them know what had happened.

  *

  Two in the morning.

  He’d be getting up for real soon but right at that second he was hovering over the young woman in his spare room. Her face was turned to the side and her elbow bent so that her fingertips touched her chin. She was beautiful. Something about her drew him in even though he knew it was pointless. She’d be leaving soon enough and he’d go back to tending sheep and advising his local friends and neighbours on boundary disputes and encroaching trees. He didn’t miss law. In fact, he wasn’t given the chance to miss it, considering how many legal matters he’d assisted on since coming home. He didn’t mind. Not really. It beat what he had left behind anyway.

  When he had first qualified as a lawyer, he’d had amazing ambition. He was going to sail to the top and make his father and mother proud. The silly thing was they were proud of him regardless. His dad had told him so when he’d returned to save the croft from ruin when his father was gravely ill.

  ‘Lachlan Grant, with every breath I have left I want to make sure you know how much it means to me that you’ve come home. Your mother, God rest her soul, would feel the same. She missed you so much when you left for studies.’

  Lachy had gripped his father’s wizened hand, the paper-thin skin crumpling beneath his touch. ‘I should never have gone away, Dad,’ he had sobbed.

  ‘I’ll have none of that, Lachlan. You’ve helped so many people. Done so much good. And I want you to know that when I pass on you have my blessing to sell this old place. Go and make your own life. You’re a lawyer now and a damn good one too. So as long as that makes you happy, son, you keep on keeping on, you hear me?’

  It had been that particular conversation that had made the decision to come home to Scourie for good so much easier. Knowing what the law firm had planned and knowing the good he had been doing up to now wasn’t going to be good any more had spurred him on.

  He remembered telling Saskia he was leaving to go back to the croft. ‘You’re throwing your whole education, future and us away because of a little on-the-side working? Are you mad?’ She had flicked her jet-black hair over her shoulder and regarded him with utter disdain. ‘Don’t bother asking me to come with you, Lachlan. I’m not prepared to throw everything away like that. Not to live in the middle of a field covered in sheep dung. It was nice whilst it lasted.’ It had lasted three years until she had left him standing in his office surrounded by boxes as he’d packed, a sense of unexpected relief settling over him.

  She was wrong about the firm, of course. The ‘on-the-side working’ had involved some pretty serious money laundering and Lachy wasn’t willing to throw away his reputation on a job that was no longer fulfilling, nor taking him down the path he had originally intended. He wasn’t prepared to defile his parents’ image of their son. Not for money. Not for prestige and most certainly not for some hard, ice-cold woman whose world rotated round a sun made of possessions and wealth.

  In the stillness of the dark room he could hear the faint sound of Zara’s inhalations and exhalations and the cute little squeak that came from either her nose or throat – it was hard to tell. But she was alive and that was the main thing. Concussion was so unpredictable and he couldn’t let anything happen to her. He wasn’t sure where the protective streak had emerged from but emerge it had. In the slim shaft of moonlight coming through the window he could see her chocolate-brown hair fanned out on the pillow round her, the ends curled naturally but only ever so slightly.

  He had never watched anyone sleep on purpose before and realised that if she awoke she’d think him pervy or creepy for doing so. But he was mesmerised. She looked so relaxed and calm – different from the last couple of times he had encountered her – and he wanted to memorise the way she looked. He had already admitted to himself that he was attracted to her, but doubted that a city type like her – as Saskia had been – would be in the slightest bit interested in someone like him; well, at least not the current version anyway. Not that he had anything to offer someone who was simply passing through. In a matter of days she would be out of his life for good and the thought caused a twinge of sadness that he didn’t wish to acknowledge. But he couldn’t help wondering if something or someone had put her in his path on purpose, considering the number of times they had coincidentally been thrust together.

  She murmured in her sleep, something that sounded like Josh or Joseph. No doubt there was some clean-cut, handsome banking executive waiting for her to return home to him; to their plush London apartment with all the mod cons. All the cons he had left behind when he’d returned home to Scourie.

  Realising he was fantasising about an unattainable stranger, he shook his head and tiptoed from the room. Back in his own bed he lay awake trying not to think about the fact that, when he had seen Zara lying there on the ground, injured and bewildered, he had wanted to hold her and comfort her. And then when she had been upset about the wrecked bike, how he had longed to feel the closeness of the woman before him who was so fiery and passionate, not frozen to the core.


  21

  Thankfully Zara had slept well enough not to notice her host popping in to her bedroom throughout the night. And the following morning she had showered and dressed early ready to make the call to the bike shop. When she descended to the kitchen Lachy was already sitting at the table eating a bowl of porridge.

  ‘Afternoon,’ he joked.

  She glanced at the clock and was relieved to see it was only nine o’clock. ‘Funny.’

  ‘Help yourself to porridge. I’ve to go and check on the sheep. I think Bess might want to stay with you.’ He nodded to the dog, who was patiently waiting at Zara’s feet, whole body wagging as usual. ‘I think she likes you.’

  ‘Is it okay if I take her down to that little stretch of beach maybe? I could do with just relaxing today, I think. Especially after I’ve called the bike shop.’ Her shoulders slumped as she imagined how the conversation would go.

  ‘Oh aye, she loves it down there. Take her tennis ball. You’ll have a friend for life. Oh, and I found this. I’m presuming it’s yours?’ He held up her bright pink memory stick.

  ‘Oh, shit! Yes, where did you find that?’

  ‘It was just on the floor in the hallway. Guessing you dropped it. Pink’s not my colour. Well, not that particular shade anyway.’ He grinned.

  She tucked her hair behind her ears and tried to figure out what explanation she could give. She went with the truth. ‘It’s my novel; I’d have been gutted if I lost that.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Novel, eh? What’s it about?’

  Her cheeks reached the point of near spontaneous combustion. ‘Oh… erm… it’s a kind of gritty romance story, I suppose. Quite dramatic in a Wuthering Heights kind of way. It all takes place during one summer and everything changes for the main protagonist. Her life is thrown into chaos.’

  ‘Great. I love a good book. I’m not into romance but I like the sound of the gritty part so if you need someone to read—’

  ‘Oh, God, no!’ She gasped as she walked over to pour coffee.

  He laughed. ‘Okay, okay. So how far done is it? Your novel?’

  She spooned porridge into a bowl and added honey. ‘Oh, I don’t really know,’ she lied. ‘Well, that’s not entirely true. Actually it’s just about finished but I’m struggling with the ending.’

  As she sat across the table from Lachy, he folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head inquisitively, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. His teeth were a little crooked but white and his biceps were huge.

  She realised she was staring when he started speaking again. ‘What made you start writing a book?’

  ‘I just love stories. Creating worlds and characters. Controlling their lives. Living vicariously too, I suppose.’

  He chuckled. ‘Ah, so you are a control freak, eh? I knew it.’

  ‘I guess I must be.’ She laughed too. ‘But there’s something magical about losing yourself in a book. I can lose hours if a story grips me. I wanted to see if I could create that reaction in readers.’

  ‘I’m sure your articles have that effect.’

  She scrunched her nose. ‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’ She felt her cheeks warming. He seemed to have the effect of a teenage crush on her and she had no clue why. ‘But anyway, if it paid the bills I’d rather be a novelist. It’s a bit of a dream though. Probably won’t ever happen.’

  He leaned forwards, his gaze fixed firmly on her. ‘You know, you really light up when you talk about writing. In my opinion you should do what you love. Your passion will shine through that way. And if you’re passionate you’ll excel.’

  ‘In an ideal world I would. But… well, we don’t live in an ideal world, do we?’

  ‘No. That’s true. But we have to make the best of the world we do live in. And I still think you should make time for your passion.’ He stood from the table. ‘Anyway, the offer stands if you want someone to read it. And you might be here a few days so if you fancy working on your story just let me know. I can get you my laptop.’

  She shook her head vehemently. ‘A few days? No-o-o-o, I’ll be on my way tomorrow, I reckon. Even if I’m heading home on the train. I… I don’t want to impose.’

  ‘See what the bike people and your boss say, eh? You’re really not imposing. As you can see, I’m not exactly cramped for space.’ He placed his bowl in the sink, drained his coffee cup and grabbed his fleece from the chair. ‘See you later. Oh, and don’t bother trying to lock the door when you go out. You’ll not find a key.’

  *

  ‘Two more bloody days, Bess,’ Zara huffed as she threw the tennis ball for her new canine friend. ‘I can’t believe there were no suitable bikes available to send right away. It’s a bloody bike-hire place. And, okay, so it’s peak season, but surely they have spares? Although I suppose they could’ve refused to send a bike at all.’ The dog ran off up the slip of beach, tongue lolling out as she chased the ball. ‘I honestly thought Noah would’ve just asked me to go home. But no-o-o-o, “This article’s going to be so good, Zara, you’re doing such a brilliant job.” Pah! Doesn’t matter to him that I could’ve died several times.’ She paused and looked round to make sure no one was witnessing her ranty monologue. Thankfully she was still alone apart from the dog. She gazed out at the still water and inhaled the fresh, cool air. How come she always felt so much calmer when she did that? She turned and glanced up the hill to where the farmhouse stood with its pretty view and sighed. What was the point of getting wound up? There was nothing she could do until the bike arrived. Whoa, I’m not worried or stressed? Bloody hell, what do they put in the water around here?

  Bess appeared at her side again and dropped the ball at her feet. ‘You’ve got the right idea, Bess. Just chilling out and doing what you love, eh?’ Perhaps that was what she should do for the couple of days she was stranded? Lachy’s offer of his laptop echoed inside her head. She might just have to take him up on it.

  She gazed across the water to the mountains that stretched up from the water’s edge and she imagined what it would be like to climb right to the top. She guessed this vista from up there would be spectacular. It was a shame, she mused, that she wouldn’t be here long enough to find out. Sheep meandered round her, munching at the verdant grass, too busy to notice the interloper admiring the view. The air was fresh and in spite of the sunshine there was a coastal nip to the breeze. Every so often her companion would drop the ball at her feet and she dutifully threw it, sometimes crouching to nuzzle the dog’s fur. As she watched the billowy white clouds overhead casting shadows on the ground and the striations in the rocks over the inlet, a flash of inspiration hit. Her eyes widened and her heart skipped. The ending of her novel had appeared as a flash of inspiration and it was all because of this view; this incredible landscape before her. She called Bess and dashed back to the croft to wait for Lachy.

  Lachy appeared back home around lunchtime looking dishevelled and incredibly sexy in a rugged, dirty kind of way. His overalls were slipped down and tied round his waist and he wore a black T-shirt that contoured to his muscular abdomen.

  ‘How are you feeling? Did you get sorted?’ he asked in that lilting, gentle Scottish accent as he washed his hands at the pot sink.

  She relayed the details of the conversations she’d had that morning with the bike-hire place and work. ‘So I wondered… could I take you up on the offer to borrow your laptop?’

  He smiled, apparently happy that she had asked. ‘Absolutely. Who am I to stand in the way of the next Emily Brontë? It’s in the desk drawer by the window in the lounge. You can set it up there and enjoy the view of the beach whilst you’re writing. Might just be the inspiration you need, eh?’

  It had been that view that had sparked this urgent need to put fingers to keyboard and she had to stop herself from squealing with excitement. ‘Fantastic, thank you.’ Giddily she jumped up from the table and went through to the lounge, closely followed by Bess. The laptop was a top-of-the-line model and worked at lightning spe
ed once turned on. She inserted her memory stick and pulled up the file. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as her words appeared before her on the screen. It had been a long while since she had worked on the book in earnest and she had to familiarise herself with the last chapters she had written. Bess sat under the desk, resting her chin on Zara’s feet and keeping them toasty warm.

  About an hour later Lachy approached her with a bowl of home-made soup and a chunk of that delicious bread. ‘How are you getting on?’

  She grinned from ear to ear. ‘Really, really good. I can’t tell you how amazing it feels to be writing again. I mean, yes, I write for work and I do love my job but… this is what I’ve wanted to do for so long. Thank you.’ She smiled up at him and hoped the sincerity of her gratitude shone through.

  He gazed down at her and seemed transfixed for a moment before clearing his throat. ‘Hey, don’t thank me. You’re the multitalented one. I’ve put a beef stew in the range so it’ll be ready about six. I’ll leave you to it.’ He hurried away and closed the door.

  *

  The hours ran away with her and by the time Lachy called Zara through to the kitchen for dinner she was exhausted but filled with a sense of accomplishment. She had figured out where the plot of her novel was going astray and had typed up the miraculous end scene. Now all she needed to do was proof read it and check for any obvious plot holes. It would be completely finished by the end of her stay at the croft – something she’d never dreamed would happen so soon.

  She walked through and was hit with a delicious aroma that made her mouth water.

  ‘Wow, this smells incredible.’ She took a seat in the place she had been using since she’d arrived. Bess was lying dutifully in her basket but kept her eyes trained on Zara in case any morsels landed on the floor.