‘Those will be great. I’ll go downstairs whilst you’re getting dressed.’
‘Could you help me, Sydney? I can never do the buttons.’
Sydney stood awkwardly whilst Anna changed her clothes, and then knelt in front of the little girl to help her do up her clothes. It had been ages since she’d had to do this. Olivia had always struggled with buttons. These two girls might almost have been made out of the same mould. Of course there were so differences between the girls, but sometimes the similarities were disturbing. Painful.
She stood up again. ‘Ready?’
Anna nodded and dashed by her to run downstairs. ‘I’ll get my boots on!’
She sat at the bottom of the stairs and pulled on bright green wellington boots that had comical frog eyes poking out over the toes.
Sydney stood behind her, looking awkwardly at Nathan.
‘Will I need boots, too?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘It’s a working farm...so, yes.’
She watched as they both got ready, and it was so reminiscent of standing waiting for Olivia and Alastair to get ready so they could go out that she physically felt an ache in her chest.
They had been good together. Once. When she and Alastair had married she’d truly believed they would be in each other’s arms until their last days. Shuffling along together. One of those old couples you could see in parks, still holding hands.
But then it had all gone wrong.
Alastair hadn’t been able to cope with losing his little girl and he’d blamed her. For not noticing that Olivia was truly ill. For not acting sooner. The way he’d blanked her, directed his anger towards her, had hurt incredibly. The one time she’d needed her husband the most had been the one time he’d failed her completely.
When Nathan and Anna were both ready she hurried them out of the door and got them into her car.
‘Can you do your seatbelt, Anna?’
‘Yes!’ the little girl answered, beaming. ‘I can’t wait to ride the donkey! Did Daddy tell you I’m going to be Mary? That’s the most important part in the play. Well...except for baby Jesus...but that’s just going to be a doll, so...’ She trailed off.
Sydney smiled into the rearview mirror. How many times had she driven her car with Olivia babbling away in the back seat? Too many times. So often, in fact, that she would usually be thinking about all the things she had to do, tuning her daughter out, saying hmm...or right...in all the right places, whenever her daughter paused for breath.
And now...? With Anna chatting away...? She wanted to listen. Wanted to show Nathan’s little girl that she heard her.
I can’t believe I ignored my daughter! Even for a second!
How many times had she not truly listened? How many times had she not paid attention? Thinking that she had all the time in the world to talk to her whenever she wanted? To chat about things that hadn’t meant much to her but had meant the world to her daughter?
‘All eyes will be on you, Anna. I’m sure you’ll do a great job.’
Nathan glanced over at her. ‘I appreciate you arranging this. I don’t suppose you’re a dab hand with a sewing machine, are you?’
She was, actually. ‘Why?’
‘The costume for Mary is looking a bit old. The last incumbent seems to have dragged it through a dump before storing it away and now it looks awful. Miriam has suggested that I make another one.’
She glanced over at him. ‘And you said...?’
‘I said yes! But that was when I thought a bedsheet and a blue teacloth over the head was all that was needed.’
‘You know... I might still have Olivia’s old outfit. She played Mary one year.’
‘She did?’ Nathan was looking at her closely.
‘I still have some of her stuff in boxes in the attic. Couldn’t bear to part with it. Give me a day or two and I’ll check.’
‘That’s very kind of you.’
She kept her eyes on the road, trying not to think too hard about going up into the attic to open those boxes. Would the clothes still have Olivia’s scent? Would seeing them, touching them, be too painful? There was a reason they were still in the attic. Unsorted.
She’d boxed everything up one day, after a therapist at one of her grief counselling sessions had told her it might be a good thing to do. That it might be cathartic, or something.
It hadn’t been.
She’d felt that in boxing up her daughter’s clothes and putting them somewhere they couldn’t be seen she was also been getting rid of all traces of her daughter. That she was hiding Olivia’s memory away. And she’d not been ready. She’d drunk an awful lot of wine that night, and had staggered up into the attic to drag all the boxes back downstairs, but Alastair had stopped her. Yelled at her that it was a good thing, and that if she touched those boxes one more time then he would walk out the door.
She’d sobered up and the next morning had left the boxes up there—even though she’d felt bereft and distraught. And dreadfully hungover.
Alastair had left eventually, of course. Just not then. It had taken a few more weeks. By then it had been too late to drag the boxes back down. Too scary.
‘What was she like?’
‘Hmm?’ She was pulled back to the present by his question. ‘What?’
‘What was Olivia like?’ he asked again.
She glanced over at him quickly. He sounded as if he really wanted to know, and no one had asked her that question for years. All this time she’d stayed away from people, not making connections or getting close because she hadn’t wanted to talk about Olivia. It had been too painful. But now she wanted to talk about her. Was thrilled that he’d asked, because she was ready to talk about her. He’d made it easy to do so.
‘She was...amazing.’
‘Who’s Olivia?’ asked Anna from the back seat.
Sydney glanced in the rearview mirror once again and smiled.
* * *
The donkey was called Bert and he had a beautiful dark brown coat. The farmer had already got him saddled before their arrival and he stood waiting patiently, nibbling at some hay, as Sydney gave Anna instructions.
‘Okay, it’s quite simple, Anna. You don’t need Bert to go fast, so you don’t need to nudge him with your feet or kick at his sides. A slow plod is what we want, and Bert here is an expert at the slow plod and the Christmas nativity.’
‘Will he bite me?’
She shook her head. ‘No. He’s very gentle and he is used to children riding him. Shall I lift you into the saddle?’
Anna nodded.
Sydney hefted Anna up. ‘Put your hands here, on the pommel. I’ll lead him with the reins—the way we’ll get the boy playing Joseph to do it.’
‘Okay.’
‘Verbal commands work best, and Bert responds to Go on when you want him to start walking and Stop when you want him to stand still. Got that?’
Anna nodded again.
‘Why don’t you give that a try?’
Anna smiled. ‘Go on, Bert!’
Bert started moving.
‘He’s doing it, Sydney! He’s doing it! Look, Daddy—I’m riding!’
‘That’s brilliant, sweetheart.’
Sydney led Bert down the short side of the field. She turned to check on Anna. ‘That’s it. Keep your back straight...don’t slouch.’
They walked up and down. Up and down. Until Sydney thought Anna was ready to try and do it on her own. She’d certainly picked it up a lot more quickly than Olivia had!
‘Okay, Anna. Try it on your own. Head to the end of the field and use the reins to turn him and make him come back. Talk to him. Encourage him. Okay?’
She knew Anna could do it. The little girl had connected with the donkey in a way no other had, and the animal responded brill
iantly to her. Sydney really didn’t think Anna would have a problem on the night of the nativity. Bert was putty in her hands.
They both stood and watched as Anna led Bert confidently away from them and down the field. Sydney almost felt proud. In fact, she was proud.
She became aware that Nathan was staring at her, and then suddenly, almost in a blink, she felt his fingers sliding around hers.
‘Thank you, Sydney.’
She turned to him and looked into his eyes. The intensity of the moment grew. It felt as if her heart had sped up but her breathing had got really slow. Her fingers in his felt protected and safe, and he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb in slow, sweeping strokes that were doing strange, chaotic things to her insides, turning her legs to jelly.
‘What for?’ she managed to say.
‘For helping me when it’s difficult for you. I appreciate the time you’re giving me and my daughter. I...’
He stopped talking as he took a step closer to her, and as he drew near her breathing stopped completely and she looked up into his handsome blue eyes.
He’s going to kiss me!
Hadn’t she thought about this? Hadn’t she wondered what it might be like? Hadn’t she missed the physical contact that came with being in a relationship? And now here was this man—this incredibly attractive man—holding her hand and making her stomach do twirls and swirls as his lips neared hers, as he leaned in for a kiss...
Sydney closed her eyes, awaiting the press of his lips against hers.
Only there was no kiss.
She felt him pull his hand free from hers and heard him clearing his throat and apologising before he called out, ‘You’re doing brilliantly, Anna! Turn him round now—come on. We need to go home.’
Sydney blinked. What had happened? He’d been about to kiss her, hadn’t he? And she’d stood there, like an idiot, waiting for him to do it.
How embarrassing!
Anna brought Bert to a halt beside them, beaming widely.
‘I think that’s enough for today. You’ve done really well, Anna.’
Anna beamed as her father helped her off the donkey, and then she ran straight to Sydney and wrapped her arms around her. ‘Thanks, Sydney! You’re the best!’
Sydney froze at the unexpected hug, but then she relaxed and hugged the little girl back, swallowing back her surprise and...for some reason...her tears. ‘So are you.’
The farmer took Bert back to his field with the other donkeys, once he’d removed the saddle and tack, and Sydney and Anna said goodbye. Then they all got back into Sydney’s car and she started to drive them home.
‘Thank you for...er...what you’ve done for Anna today,’ said Nathan.
She took a breath and bit back the retort she wanted to give. ‘No problem.’
‘You know...taking time out of your weekend...’
‘Sydney could stay for dinner, couldn’t she Daddy? We’re having fajitas!’ Anna invited from the back.
She would have loved nothing more than to stay. Her time spent with Anna had been wonderful, and the times when she’d looked across at Nathan and caught him looking at her had been weirdly wonderful and exciting too.
But after what had just happened—the almost-kiss... He’d been going to do it. She knew it! But something had stopped him. Had got in the way.
Was it because he’d suddenly remembered Anna was there? Had he not wanted to risk his daughter seeing them kissing? Or was it something else?
She was afraid of getting carried away and reading too much into this situation. She’d helped out. That was all. She’d felt a connection that Nathan hadn’t. Getting too involved with this single dad was perhaps a step too far. Where would it end? If she spent too much time with them, where would she be?
She shivered, even though the car heater was pumping out plenty of hot air. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t. I’ve got a...a thing later.’
‘Maybe another time?’ Nathan suggested, looking embarrassed.
As well you might!
‘Sure.’
There can’t ever be another time, no.
She watched them clamber from her car when she dropped them off. Nathan lingered at the open window of the car, as if he had something else to say, but then he looked away and simply said goodbye, before following his daughter up the path.
Sydney drove off before he could turn around and say anything else.
I really like them. Both of them.
But was it what they represented that she liked? This dad. This little girl. They were a ready-made family. Being with them might give her back some of what she’d lost. They offered a chance of starting again. So was it the situation that she liked? Or them as individuals?
Nathan was great. Gorgeous, charming, someone she enjoyed being around. And Anna was cute as a button, with her sing-song voice and happy-go-lucky personality.
Was it wrong to envy them? To envy them because they still had each other?
Was it wrong to have wanted—to have craved—Nathan’s kiss?
Feeling guilty, she drove home, and she was just about to park up when she got a text. A cat was having difficulties giving birth and she needed to get to the surgery immediately to prep for a Caesarean section.
Suddenly all business—which was easy because she knew what she was doing—she turned the car around and drove to the surgery.
* * *
Nathan sent Anna upstairs to get changed into some clean clothes that didn’t smell of donkey and farm. Then he headed into the kitchen, switching on the kettle and sinking into a chair as he waited for it to boil.
What the hell had he done?
Something crazy—something not him—had somehow slipped through his defences and he’d found himself taking hold of Sydney’s hand, staring into her sad grey eyes. And he had been about to kiss her!
Okay, so he’d been fighting that urge for a while, and it was hardly a strange impulse, but he had thought that he’d got those impulses under control.
Standing there, looking down into her face, at her smooth skin, her slightly rosy cheeks, those soft, inviting lips, he’d wanted to so badly! And she’d wanted him to do it. He’d wanted to, but...
But Anna hadn’t been far away, and he’d suddenly heard that horrid voice in his head that still sounded remarkably like Gwyneth, telling him that no one, and especially not Sydney, would want him. Not with his faulty, failing body. Not with his bad genes. Not with a child who wasn’t hers...
How could he ask her to take on that burden—especially with the threat of his MS always present? He knew the chances of the MS killing him were practically zero. Okay, there would be difficulties, and there would be complications—there might even be comorbidities such as thyroid disease, autoimmune conditions or a meningioma. But the MS on its own...? It was unlikely.
But it had been enough to make him hesitate. To think twice. And once he’d paused too long he’d known it was too late to kiss her so he’d stepped away. Had called out to Anna...said they needed to go.
Sydney deserved a strong man. A man who would look out for her and care for her and protect her. What if he couldn’t do that?
Fear. That was what it had been. Fear of putting himself out there. Of getting involved. Of exposing himself to the hurt and pain that Gwyneth had caused once. How could he go through again? How could he expose Anna to that now that she was older? She would be aware now if she grew to love someone and then that someone decided it was all too much and wanted out.
Anna being a baby had protected her from the pain of losing her mother. And today he had saved himself from finding out if he could be enough for someone like Sydney. Gwyneth had made him doubt what he had to offer. She had probably been right in what she’d said. He didn’t know what his future would be like. He couldn’t be certain, des
pite trying his best to remain positive. But it was hard sometimes. Dealing with a chronic illness...sometimes it could get to you.
The kettle boiled and he slowly made himself a cup of tea. He heard Anna come trotting back down the stairs and she came into the kitchen.
‘Can I have a biscuit, Daddy?’
‘Just one.’
She reached into the biscuit barrel and took out a plain biscuit. ‘I loved riding Bert. He was so cute! I love donkeys. Do you love donkeys, Daddy?’
He thought for a moment. ‘I do. Especially Bert.’
She smiled at him, crumbs dropping onto the floor. ‘And do you love Sydney?’
His gaze swung straight round to his daughter’s face. ‘What?’
‘I think you like her.’
‘What makes you say that?’ he asked in a strangled voice.
‘Your eyes go all funny.’ She giggled. ‘Joshua in my class—he looks at Gemma like that and he loves her. They’re boyfriend and girlfriend.’
Nathan cleared his throat. ‘Aren’t they a little young to be boyfriend and girlfriend?’
Anna shrugged, and then skipped off into the other room. He heard the television go on.
She noticed quite a lot, did Anna.
Curious, he followed her through to the lounge and stood and watched her for a moment as she chose a channel to watch.
‘Anna?’
‘Yes?’
‘If I did like Sydney...how would you feel about that?’
Anna tilted her head to one side and smiled, before turning back to the television. ‘Fine. Then you wouldn’t be all alone.’
Nathan stared at his daughter. And smiled.
CHAPTER SIX
IT HAD BEEN a long time since Sydney had had to play ‘mother’, and now she had the pleasure once again. The cat she’d raced to had recovered from its surgery, but had disowned her kittens afterwards. It happened sometimes with animals, when they missed giving birth in the traditional way and there just wasn’t that bond there for them.
The four kittens—three black females and a black and white male—were kicking off their December in a small cat carrier at her home and she was on round-the-clock feeding every two hours.
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