Being Emerald (Skimmerdale Book 2)

by Sharon Booth

  Jed turned to look at Eden who was standing still and silent. She'd gone quite pale and he hooked an arm around her shoulders, clearly recognising her shock. 'You okay?'

  'But why?' Eden whispered, not taking her eyes off Beth. 'Why now?'

  Beth swallowed. 'He's — he's been talking more about George lately,' she confessed. 'He admitted he's missing him. Apparently, he only let George go out of consideration for me.' She couldn't look at Jed now, fixing her gaze instead upon the scrubbed pine table. 'He assured me he wasn't interested in changing the status quo,' she added hastily, 'or I'd have mentioned it sooner. Only, this morning, he said he couldn't carry on the way things were. He wanted to see his son and — and he wanted me to approach Eliot to help him.'

  She heard Eden make a funny sort of noise and looked up quickly, seeing her friend slump against Jed. 'And is that why you're here?' Eden's voice was harsh. 'To convince Eliot?'

  'Of course not!' Beth rose to her feet and hurried towards Eden, who was now eyeing Beth suspiciously. 'I'd never do that, and I told James so. I said I'd never ask Eliot to allow him to see George, and I wanted no part of it.' She cast a fleeting glance at Jed. 'I told him, if he pursued this, it would be the end of us.'

  She saw Jed's eyebrows raise and looked away hurriedly. 'He backed down then, said he wouldn't do anything for now. He's going to think it through. I'm so sorry, Eden, but I thought I should warn you. I don't know if he'll forget all about it or if he'll decide to go for access, but I thought you should be prepared.'

  Jed hugged a shaken Eden to him. 'Are you gonna tell Eliot?'

  It didn't seem to occur to Eden to ask how Jed knew what was going on. She was evidently too upset to remember that, as far as she was aware, Jed had no idea that George wasn't one of Eliot's children. 'I can't,' she whispered. 'I just can't. This will kill him.'

  'It may come to nothing,' Beth said, desperate to soothe her friend. 'You know how flaky James is. He knows how I feel about it. It may be enough for him to drop the matter entirely.'

  Eden nodded. 'Perhaps.'

  'I'm sure it will be all right,' Beth said. 'But if I hear anything, anything at all, I'll tell you straightaway. I promise.'

  Eden reached out a hand and grasped Beth's. 'Thank you, Beth. I don't know what we'd do without you.' She shook her head. 'This can't happen. I can't imagine what Eliot would do, how he'd react. It's his biggest fear.'

  'I know,' Beth said. 'Really I do. That's why I told you, not him. No need to worry him while it's all up in the air. Unless,' she added, 'you think he should know now.'

  Eden paused, then slammed her hands on the worktop. 'No! No, he's not to know. Why make him miserable when it may all come to nothing? And it will come to nothing, won't it?' Her eyes held an appeal to Beth. 'Don't you think?'

  'I'm sure it will,' Beth assured her. After all, James had backed down when she'd threatened to leave him. He wouldn't risk their marriage, not after all he'd done to try to repair it. 'He knows how I feel, and he won't go against me. I'm sure of it.'

  From outside, barely audible, came the low rumble of distant thunder.

  Jed's eyes met hers, and she realised that he was as aware as she was of their terrible dilemma. James might back off while he was desperate to keep Beth happy, but if he ever discovered that she was having an affair with Jed, all that concern would be out of the window. There was even more at stake now. As if the fallout of discovery wouldn't have been bad enough, it seemed the fate of the Harlands depended on the affair remaining a secret. How much more could they risk?

  ****

  Eliot wiped his eyes with the back of his forearm. The rain was pouring down and his hair was dripping wet through. He'd be glad to get indoors. A nice hot shower, a hearty tea, then an evening curled up on the sofa with Eden and the kids. He smiled, then his smile faded as he mentally added, and Jed and Emerald plonked on the armchairs, swapping anecdotes about programmes I've never heard of and don't give a monkey's about.

  It was getting on his nerves now, having the two of them around so much. All right, they were polite enough to him — Emerald was downright gushing towards him, although she was less pleasant to Eden, who wasn't much nicer to her, to be fair — and Jed certainly pulled his weight around the farm and with the barns, while Emerald was working flat out on this wedding stuff, but even so. He longed for the day when they headed home to the Cotswolds and left the Harland family in peace.

  Apart from anything else, he thought grumpily, it was putting a stop to him and Eden having, what he termed, adult time. They'd tried to be as quiet as possible, but Eden was paranoid about Jed being above them and Emerald across the hall and, he had to admit, it wasn't doing much for his libido either. Apart from that one night when Jed had taken the kids to the pub for tea, they hadn't had any fun in ages and he missed it. He missed Eden.

  At the thought of exactly how much he was missing her, he raised his head to the sky and let the rain pour down on his face. With any luck it would wash away his longing, although he wasn't completely convinced it would work. He glanced down at his sheepdogs, Lug and Jake, who were sitting by his side staring up at him in surprise. 'Think I'm crackers, don't you?' Eliot said with a grin. 'Happen you're right. Why else would I be standing out here getting soaked, eh? And it didn't even work. Oh well ...'

  Sighing, he opened the door of the farmhouse and, following his usual routine, he removed his boots and carried them to the boot room, hanging up his jacket and grabbing a towel from the laundry basket to rub his hair dry. Lug and Jake joined Lug's grandmother Tuppence, who was busy devouring her tea. Tuppence lived in the house full-time, but Lug and Jake would have their food then, later, he'd take them over to the barn, where they slept with the Jack Russells, Fagin and Dodger — most excellent ratters. As the dogs began to eat the food that Eden must have put out for them, Eliot put down the towel and headed into the kitchen, bracing himself for a roomful of Carmichaels.

  He was surprised to discover that only Eden and the children were in the kitchen. Well, that made a welcome change. He couldn't hide his pleasure as he ruffled the girls' hair and planted a kiss on George's head. 'Where is everyone?' he enquired.

  Eden grinned, knowing exactly who he meant. 'Emerald's gone into Leeds. Something to do with the wedding.' She rolled her eyes. 'She said not to expect her back until tomorrow, as she might as well stay over. And Jed's in Harrogate. He said he's meeting some friend there —something to do with the music industry. Don't ask me what. He won't be home until tomorrow either.' She gave him a meaningful look. 'We've got the house to ourselves tonight.'

  Eliot whooped, then threw his arm around her waist and whirled her round to face him.

  She laughed, waving a ladle in the air. 'You're making me drip the casserole everywhere! Ugh,' she pushed him away, clearly not meaning it, 'you're wet through. Your hair's dripping all over me.'

  'Well, in case you hadn't noticed, it's chucking it down out there,' he said, nodding towards the window. 'I just dried me hair with a towel any road. How bad can it be?'

  She put down the ladle and ran a hand through his curls. He saw the expression on her face change as her eyes met his, and the blood pumped through his veins as he recognised the reflection of his own longing in their depths. For a moment they stared at each other and he felt the familiar tug of desire for her.

  'Skimmerdale Show schedule's come for you, Dad.' Ophelia's voice cut through the air, slicing open the bubble that he and Eden had been in. He blinked as Eden picked up the ladle again, and he saw her swallow hard as she turned back to the cooker.

  Repressing a sigh, he smiled at his daughter. 'Oh, aye? Have you opened it?'

  ''Course not!' She looked most indignant and he decided not to mention the fact that she'd been happy enough to open it last year. Evidently, the telling off she'd received then for opening his mail had taught her a lesson.

  'Good lass.'

  'And there's another letter for you, too,' Ophelia continued, giving George a filthy look as he
flicked bread and butter at her. 'Pack it in, George, or I'll give you a clip round the ear!'

  George grinned but knew her well enough to down weapons. 'Meanie,' he told her, then quietened when Eden gave him one of her looks. 'All right. Sorry, Mum.'

  'It's from a solicitor,' Ophelia continued, scooping up the little squashed bullets of bread that George had been firing at her. 'Do you think we've come into money?'

  Eliot laughed. 'I doubt it.' He glanced round at Eden, surprised to see her standing perfectly still, as if frozen. 'Do you know about this?'

  She shook her head. 'I didn't know there was a letter,' she said, her voice sounding shaky. 'You never said, Ophelia.'

  Ophelia shrugged. 'Forgot. I found them on the mat when I were heading out to clean the hen house, so I shoved them on the bookcase in the hallway. Do you want me to fetch them?'

  'Maybe we should eat first,' Eden said, making a lot of noise as she slapped the plates down on the worktop with a resounding clatter.

  Eliot raised an eyebrow. 'Spuds aren't even mashed yet,' he pointed out. 'May as well see what's what before you serve it.' He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, not daring to risk any more. 'Hey, don't look so worried. No one's suing me,' he assured her. 'Leastways, not that I can think of.' He laughed, but she could barely manage a feeble smile in return. Weird.

  He washed his hands then sat down at the table beside Libby, who, as usual, had her head buried in a book. 'Owt good?' he enquired, nudging her.

  Libby smiled up at him, a sweet-natured, gentle girl who had stolen his heart from the moment he saw her in Jemima's arms at the hospital. A tiny baby of only five pounds six ounces, she'd had dark hair, a red face, and solemn eyes which surveyed him knowingly, as he took her in his own arms and gazed at her in wonder. He'd wanted to be at the birth, but Jemima didn't agree with it, insisting that she didn't want him to see her in such a state and that he could wait outside until all the messy business was over with. Liberty Jane Harland — his firstborn child and a beautiful soul.

  She waved the paperback in his face and he laughed. 'Oh, a pony book. Might have guessed. Do you ever read owt else?'

  She considered the matter. 'At school. And I do have some other books, you know. But nothing's as good as a pony book.'

  'Aye, I know, love.' Eliot sighed, thinking he really needed to organise his finances and get her a pony. Flora was too small for her and she deserved her own pony. He needed things to go well with the barns, and at the Skimmerdale Show, of course. Speaking of which ...

  'You got that schedule, love?'

  Ophelia returned to the table and handed him two white envelopes, one bigger than the other. 'The schedule and the will.'

  'Will?'

  'I reckon someone's left you summat. Why else would a solicitor be in touch with you?'

  Why else indeed? Eliot winked at her and slit the first envelope. 'Here you go,' he said, handing her the show schedule. 'You can have first dibs on that. No doubt you'll be wanting to enter plenty of events.'

  'Great! Thanks, Dad.' Ophelia grabbed the brochure and began to flick through the pages, all thoughts of wills and inheritances gone from her mind.

  Eliot gave her an affectionate smile then turned to the other envelope. Hebblewhite and Wilson, Solicitors, Richmond. Hmm. So, what did they want? He pulled out the sheet of paper within. It was thick, expensive paper. Whoever this firm were, they didn't skimp on stationery. Smoothing the letter down, he began to read.

  At first, he didn't take in exactly what was being said, yet the mere mention of George's name gave him a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. His heart began to thud, and he read the letter a second time, slowly, taking every word in. Hardly able to believe what he'd read, he raised his head and looked across to Eden. She was standing by the cooker, watching him, her face pale with dread.

  It was as if she knew. But, how could she? No one could have known. No one could have predicted this, surely? Of all the reasons a solicitor might have been writing to him, this was the last one he'd have expected.

  And yet, hadn't it been the thing he'd most dreaded for the last four years? Why had it shocked him then? Maybe because Fuller had done such a convincing job, over George's lifetime, of seeming not to care about the little boy at all. Yet here he was, suddenly, it seemed, remembering who George's biological father was, after all, and demanding custody. Eliot screwed up the letter and held it in his fist.

  'No money then?' Ophelia sounded disappointed, but Libby looked concerned.

  'You all right, Dad? It's nothing bad, is it?'

  Eliot managed a faint smile. 'Course not. Just junk mail. Nothing important at all.'

  'Pah! Back to the drawing board for that pony, Libby,' Ophelia remarked, not even glancing up from the schedule.

  Libby gave Eliot a curious look, but he managed to sound calm as he responded to Ophelia's comment with a casual tut and a shake of the head. 'Happen I'll go up and have a shower while tea's getting cooked.'

  'But it's nearly ready.' Eden's voice sounded strained as she stared hard at him.

  'Aye, but I feel filthy. I need to get this muck off me.' Didn't he just! He could hardly wait to get out of the room and headed up to the bathroom as fast as he could, dropping the crumpled letter on the bed, throwing off his clothes, and stepping into the shower with relief.

  He spent a good ten minutes scrubbing away at his skin, as if trying to wash the fear away, too. The memory of all Fuller's promises, all Beth's assurances, assaulted his mind as he rubbed shampoo into his hair and closed his eyes, letting the hot water pour down upon him.

  Various scenarios flashed through his mind: Facing that loathsome man in court; hearing a judge tell him that George wasn't legally his and there was nothing he could do; Fuller arriving at Fleetsthorpe to claim his son; George in the back of Fuller's car, his little face twisted in fear and bewilderment as a strange man took him back to Thwaite Park, to be separated from his family forever. And — hovering in the back of his mind, refusing to depart — Eden's face as she stood at the cooker, watching him.

  He thumped the tiles and turned off the water. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he strode into the bedroom, stopping dead at the sight of Eden sitting on the bed, her eyes large with anxiety, the crumpled letter in her hand.

  'You knew.' It wasn't a question. Her expression had given her away from the moment she'd heard about the letter from Ophelia. He hadn't wanted to believe it.

  'Not for sure,' she almost whispered. 'I hoped I was wrong but —'

  'But what?' His voice was harsh, and he saw her flinch. Guilt. He recognised that emotion, all right. 'Why the hell didn't you tell me? Warn me? How long have you known?'

  'Eliot, sit down.' She patted the bed beside her, but he didn't move. Sighing, she smoothed the paper. 'I'm so sorry. Beth seemed to think it had blown over, that he'd backed down.'

  'Beth? She told you?'

  Eden held out her hand, but he ignored it. 'She came to see me,' she admitted. 'James had told her he wanted to be part of George's life, but I never expected this!' She waved the letter at him. 'I don't think Beth did, either. She said access, not custody!'

  Eliot felt sick. 'I thought Beth were my friend. I thought —'

  'She is your friend! Believe me, she told James in no uncertain terms that if he persisted in trying to get access, their marriage would be over. She thought she'd done enough to dissuade him. He backed down.'

  'If she thought that, why bother telling you? And why didn't she tell me, more to the point?'

  'Because she didn't want to worry you! She wanted to tip me off that it had crossed his mind, but she honestly thought she'd scuppered it. And she only said access. I don't think it even occurred to her that he'd want full custody of George.' She looked down at the letter, shaking her head. 'I can't believe this. I'm so sorry, Eliot.'

  'You should have told me.' He sank down onto the bed beside her at last, and she tentatively stroked his wet shoulder, her eyes soft with compassion. 'I might ha
ve been able to do something. Stop him. It might not have come to this.'

  'If Beth's threats to end the marriage didn't work, I don't see what you could have done,' she said gently. 'You must know she'd never do anything to hurt you. This isn't Beth's fault.'

  'No.' He clenched his jaw in anger. 'We all know whose fault this is.' He sat for a moment, staring at the floor as a million thoughts flitted through his mind. 'They're demanding a DNA test. What do I do, love?' He lifted his head and gazed at her through blurry eyes. 'Please tell me, what do I do?'

  She put her arms around him and he allowed himself to be held, drawing comfort from her embrace. She didn't seem to mind that he was wet, and he didn't care that he was cold. He needed her beside him. His worst nightmare had come true, and he didn't have the first idea how to fight back.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Jed stretched lazily and smiled up at the ceiling, a gesture of gratitude to some invisible Cupid, as if he was hovering above the bed. Beside him, Beth slept, her dark hair a raven's wing across the pillow. Raven's Wing. As the thought of his band and — more sharply — JoJo entered his mind, he half-froze, steeling himself for the familiar stab of pain. It was a joyful relief when none came. He took a deep breath. It all seemed so long ago, so far away. He would never forget, but it seemed finally he'd moved on. Accepted the unacceptable. Was time the healer, or was it love?

  He shifted carefully onto his side, gazing at the woman who had mended his heart. Her lashes cast shadows on her high cheekbones, and her lips were slightly parted as she breathed deeply and evenly, dreaming of who knew what. He was tempted to kiss her, but he didn't want to disturb her. Let her sleep. She looked so contented, so peaceful. The frail, nervous woman he'd first encountered upon his arrival in Skimmerdale was a world away from the passionate, strong woman he'd spent the afternoon with. They'd talked, they'd eaten, they'd laughed, and they'd loved, and finally fallen asleep in each other's arms, happy beyond measure, neither of them dwelling on the fact that this was one night and real life waited outside the doors of their hotel room.