Hearts in the Land of Ferns

by Jude Knight

  He made a few notes on the job sheet, and read out the address of the Bed and Breakfast place and Jack’s mobile number to check they were correct. “We’ll soon have her humming again, Mr”—he read the name off the job sheet—“Quill. Do you need a lift somewhere?”

  But Jack turned down the offer. “I’ll walk, thanks. It’s not far, and I’ll take a look at the shops. Might have a coffee. And Phillips said the museums were worth a look. Have you seen them?”

  “Not yet. I’m new in town and haven’t looked around much yet,” Stone explained.

  “And what brought you to Fairburn?” Jack asked, keeping his tone casual, his posture relaxed.

  Stone shrugged. “I read about the job, time for a change, you know.” Clearly feeling this was not enough, he added, “I’m New Zealand born, but my family moved away when I was a baby, and since I came back, I haven’t seen much of the real countryside. One town is much like another.”

  He was lying. He was here for Claudia. He must be. That guy Phillips, too. But now that Jack was here, it would all be okay. He and Claudia would be together again, the way it was meant to be.

  5

  Claudia moved among the children, correcting a posture here, a movement there. For little ones, the lessons were about fun and accomplishment, but it was not too soon to begin training them in ways to improve their balance, jump higher, and roll more effectively. Few, if any, would take the hard road to gymnastics at international or even national level. But suppleness and balance were useful no matter what they did later.

  “You’re very good with them,” Rhys Phillips observed, when her route took her past the watching parents.

  “They’re a delight,” Claudia said. She taught the beginners’ class twice a week in the school hall, having gratefully handed back the older children when the regular gymnastics teacher returned from parental leave.

  The last exercise of the day was a noisy round of animals, she calling out the animal her pupils were to move like, and the children throwing themselves with enthusiasm, while slithering, galloping, leaping, hopping, all the time making their approximation of the sound.

  Five minutes of that wore off any surplus energy still left after the discipline of the main session, and sent them away buzzing with enthusiasm for next week’s session.

  “Don’t forget,” she said, when she had them all back on the mat, the parents hovering ready to collect them, “Practice your forward rolls. Heads…?”

  “Tucked in!” they roared back, and she dismissed them.

  The parents who had volunteered to put the equipment away got busy while she answered a question about the last session of the year and referred the questioner to the parent in charge of organizing the Christmas party. By the time she had put her notes in her carry-all, Rhys was waiting.

  “Thank you for offering to take me home,” she said. “I’d hoped to have the car back, but the garage phoned to say the mechanic was fixing a couple of problems. Ben said no charge; just something to make me feel better after the fire. Wasn’t that nice? Where’s Phoebe?”

  “My mum picked her up,” he said. “We’re having tea there tonight. I’m going to drop you off and follow them over.”

  “You didn’t have to do that. I could have walked,” she protested, but Rhys insisted it was not a problem.

  “I saw your car at lunch time when I dropped off my motor bike,” he said, as she climbed into his comfortable people mover and clipped her safety belt. “The new mechanic seems to know his stuff. Are you going to be okay for tomorrow? You’ve got RDA, haven’t you?”

  He was a kind man, Claudia thought, as she assured him she expected her car back in plenty of time to get Abbie to after-school riding.

  They pulled up in front of her house, the hedge from the outside showing no sign of the drama of the night before. “Thank you. Have a lovely dinner.”

  “Have you got someone there?” Rhys asked. “With Abbie?”

  “No, she’s over with Carly. She and Edward will be home later.”

  “Then I’m walking you in.” Rhys got out of the car, and came around to join her on the footpath. “Do the police have any idea who did it? Both things, I mean, because it beggars belief that the fire and the tires weren’t the same person.”

  Claudia shook her head as she led the way through the gate. On this side, the hedge was blistered and scorched for most of the length of the small fenced yard, and the sad ruin of the rabbit hutch still sat in the middle of a black charred patch of ground. Tomorrow wasn’t a work day, and her first job after she’d dropped Abbie to school would be to break the remains down and get rid of them. And how she’d afford a new hutch, she had no idea.

  Rhys waited while she unlocked the door, and followed her inside. “I’ll just have a quick look at the windows,” he told her.

  “The police said they are keeping an eye on me,” Claudia assured him, but he insisted on doing his own check anyway, Abbie’s small box of a bedroom, the bathroom, the everything-else room with the kitchen, sitting area, and Claudia’s drop-down bed, currently folded up into the wall.

  He was such a kind man, and Claudia felt safe with him, since he was a widower who had, purportedly, adored his wife. She was just thinking that when he took both of her hands and looked down at her, his expression concerned, his face warm.

  “I don’t like to leave you on your own here.”

  Should she pull her hands away? Would he get angry if she did? Her heart raced, her sense of safety evaporating as if it had never been.

  “I am fine, truly.”

  “You wouldn’t consider coming to stay at my place for a few days? We have a spare room, and Abbie could share with Rhonda. You have to know I care about you, Claudia.”

  Claudia, greatly daring, pulled her fingers free and wiped them on her sides. “I… that’s very nice of you, Rhys. But… Thank you, but I’d… Abbie and I will be fine, truly.”

  She managed to keep her voice calm though turning out a coherent sentence was beyond her. He didn’t seem to notice her anxiety; just put up a hand to gently tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “If you’re sure. Well, I’d better get on my way. Dinner with my mother.” He looked back from her doorway to where Claudia still stood in the middle of the room.

  “She thinks I should marry again, and I’m starting to see the attraction. Lock the door, Claudia.”

  Marry? Dear Lord. And to think she had thought him safe!

  All the way through heating leftovers for her solo dinner, eating and doing the few dishes, and setting out the star for tonight’s Jessie tree story, she fretted about what she might have done to indicate to Rhys she might be interested. Men! She would never understand them.

  Rhys had spooked Claudia enough that she kept startling awake all night whenever an extra strong gust of wind rattled a window or a car passed close outside. Once it was light, she found a solid branch of wood in her landlord’s woodpile and propped it by the kitchen door, where Abbie remarked on it when she came yawning from her bedroom.

  “I might need it later,” Claudia said vaguely. “Cereal, sweetie? Or toast and an egg?”

  Abbie opted for cereal, and went off obediently to wash her hands. “I miss Edward,” she mourned, as she climbed up into her chair and picked up her spoon.

  Edward had stayed behind at Carly’s, an invited guest in the hutch occupied by Bigwig, another A&P purchase. Claudia sent up a brief prayer that both baby rabbits were male, as claimed by the seller, though everyone who’d bought a rabbit had been told the same thing.

  Abbie must also have been thinking of the rabbit Bigwig, because she asked, “Why do the Be’gers’ animals ’ave such silly names, Mummy?” The Beckers’ cat was called Macavity and their dog was Baskerville. Even Carly’s beloved horses had not escaped her husband’s affection for fictional characters. Epona and Mister Ed roamed the field next to the poultry house, sharing it with Henny Penny and Mrs McClucken.

  “Not silly,” Claudia corrected, absently, as s
he poured herself a coffee. “They are names from books. You’ll be able to read about them one day, Abbie.”

  “Mr Be’ger wrides books.”

  “Writes books,” Claudia said, and Abbie grinned.

  “Yes, he does.”

  “Cheeky sausage. Go and do your teeth, darling. Mr Becker will be here soon to take you to school.”

  “Can I pud oud the thing for the Jesse Dree? I know which one; the abble.”

  “The apple, yes. Once you are ready to leave: teeth brushed, shoes on, bag packed.”

  Abbie hurried to good purpose, and had time to search through the box to find the felt ornament where a golden apple dangled from an improbably tiny tree that provided an inadequate hiding place for a snake with a sly expression.

  She held it up against the tree.

  “I’m nod pudding id on, Mummy,” she assured Claudia. “Jus’ drying id by the branch.”

  A knock at the door sent her hurrying to the window, her progress across the room a controlled fall that tugged at Claudia’s heart. “It’s Mr Be’ger,” she reported, and a few moments later Claudia waved her goodbye from the gate and made her way back inside, locking the door carefully behind her.

  A quick run around to tidy, and Claudia was ready to settle down and sew. On the two days that Abbie was at school without her, Claudia had been working on the child’s Christmas present: a Wonder Woman costume. It was nearly done, and Claudia might finish today. It would then go up in the cupboard with the other wrapped presents until closer to Christmas.

  The knock on the door startled her out of a reverie in which she had saved enough to buy a house here in Fairburn and was putting into practice all the ideas she’d picked up from hours of home renovation shows.

  “Just a minute,” she called, as she unfastened the lock. She set one hand hovering over her improvised club, opened the door, and nearly slammed it shut again.

  6

  “Wait!” That plea, in the voice that still had the power to make her shiver, had her hesitate, one hand ready to slam the door the rest of the way; the other taking a good grasp of the branch.

  She glared at Ethan Stone, who stood on her doorstep looking altogether hotter than any man had a right to. The black curls he’d bequeathed his daughter, brown eyes—calm and friendly now, but she knew them in all their moods. The tight jeans did nothing to disguise his cyclist thighs, but in other ways he was different—a firmer jaw changing the lean adolescent face into that of a devastatingly handsome man, broad shoulders and a muscular chest filling out the t-shirt with the logo of the local garage.

  “I’ve returned your car,” he said. “It’s outside. I’ve put in a new oil filter and changed the oil. Also balanced the wheels and cleaned the spark plugs. You have new wiper blades, I mean rubbers, too.”

  “I can’t afford that.”

  The mulish set of that new jaw was very familiar. “No charge. I did it on my own time.”

  She thought of pointing out the cost of materials, but changed tack. “How do I know you didn’t puncture my tires just for a chance to talk to me.”

  He spread both hands as if to show they were empty. It wasn’t his hands that had hurt her. “I didn’t. Didn’t burn your rabbit’s hutch either. I didn’t come here to frighten you, Claudia.”

  Claudia glared. “Then why did you.”

  “To apologise.” His dark eyes held hers. As far as she could tell, he was sincere, but his sincerity had never been the problem.

  “To see if there was anything I could do to help,” he continued. “I let you down, and I’ve been sorry for it ever since.” He took a deep breath and then chewed at his upper lip while he waited for her answer.

  The softening of her heart made her response terser than she intended. “It took you a while to say so, then.” She gripped her makeshift club harder, in case he lost his temper.

  Instead, he hung his head. “I was too angry at first. Then in prison—you knew I went to prison, right?” He waited for her nod, then continued, “In prison, I had time to think. At first, I thought you were better off without me. You had your grandma, and I was bad news.”

  He was. She’d been right to leave him when she did, whatever her father said. “Abbie and I are fine on our own, Ethan.” Claudia was shaking, but determined. Now he’d push her out of the way, crashing open the door, never caring about the effects until his temper subsided. This time, she wasn’t going to let it happen. She wasn’t going to give in, and she wasn’t going to run away. Let Ethan leave, and if he tried anything, she’d call the police.

  But he surprised her again. “You were always stronger than you believed. I’m glad you know that now. Look, I have a good job and savings. You deserve whatever I can give you. Abbie deserves it.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want presents from you.” Gifts came with strings attached. She’d learned that lesson at her father’s knee, and again when she lived with Jack. To be fair, Ethan had never acted that way, but she wasn’t about to start trusting him after all that had happened.

  “Not presents, Ethan insisted. “Your rights. It was my job to protect you and I hurt you. I wasn’t there when I should have been. I owe you both.”

  Claudia hardened her heart to the apparent change in his. “I don’t want anything from you, Ethan. Just go away. Leave me and Abbie alone.”

  Ethan sighed. “Won’t you at least let me tell you what happened to me? Please, Claudia? Ten minutes?”

  “Five.” She couldn’t bear more than that. Already, she was close to believing him, and she couldn’t risk it—couldn’t risk Abbie like that.

  “May I come in?”

  She was slightly reassured that he asked, but the answer had to be— “No. You can talk from there.”

  Ethan pressed his lips together and looked down, and she followed his eyes to watch his booted foot pushing a bit of scorched wood off the path. Was he going to explode? As silently as she could, she began to close the door.

  “I’ll stay here!” Ethan said, looking up. “Please, Claudia. Don’t shut the door.” He stayed where he was, not moving towards her, his hands stretched open at his sides. “You’re frightened of me. I’m so sorry.” He shook his head, sadly. “Look, let me tell you what happened to me. Then I’ll go away and you can think about it. I never wanted to hurt you. Please believe me.”

  “I suppose you think it was my fault.” That was what Jack used to say. ‘You made me do it. I never wanted to hurt you.’ But Ethan was shaking his head, his face blanching. “No! None of it was your fault. It was me. You were the best thing that ever happened to me and I messed it up because I wouldn’t get help when I needed it.”

  Claudia nodded. “The concussions.” During Abbie’s long rehabilitation she had learned a lot about traumatic brain injury, and had worked out why the sweet, kind boy she’d fallen in love with had turned into a demanding violent monster after several brutal crashes from his bike.

  Ethan was nodding. “Yes. And in the end… You know I finished up incarcerated? For a violent assault?”

  “Your mother wrote and told me. She blamed me for abandoning you.” That had hurt more than it should have, mainly because Claudia feared Mrs Stone was right.

  “She was wrong. You were right to leave me. It might have been you I nearly killed, Claudia. Or killed. It was touch and go. I have this nightmare where…” Ethan shook his head quickly, as if to shed painful thoughts like dogs shed water.

  “Anyway. There was a guy who came and gave a talk in prison. I’d been in there about eighteen months, I guess, angry all the time. People left me alone; even the big bruisers. I didn’t care if I lived or died. Then this guy—he’d been in prison himself, and the way he talked—he was just like me. But then he started reading to fill in the time. And signed up for a course at university, because it would get him credit with the Parole Board. He was in for murder—killed a man who made advances—and he had a lot of time. Finished a doctorate in the end. He saved himself, and then he worked out w
hat he had done to replace the anger with peace, and now he goes into prisons and tells people about it.”

  “So, you decided to be like him.” She couldn’t bear much more of this. He was demolishing the walls around her heart she’d built to protect herself and her child.

  “I decided to learn,” Ethan told her, “but I’m not a scholar, Claudia, you know that. I’ve always been good with my hands, though. They had carpentry classes, and small-engine maintenance, and I signed up for those. Got myself onto a course for motor mechanics. And I asked to talk to the shrink, the psychiatrist, to see if I could figure out where the anger came from, or at least how to deal with it.”

  Claudia nodded. “He got you the help you needed.”

  Ethan screwed up his nose. “Not really. The prison system is massively underfunded. But when he found out I’d taken a few hard whacks, what he told me got me reading. There’s some really good therapy—I guess you know. The article I saw said Abbie was in an accident. What happened, Claudia? And how is she?”

  At her daughter’s name, Claudia reared back, all her fears rushing in to replace the sympathy she’d felt a moment ago. “Leave Abbie alone, Ethan. I mean it. If anything happens to her, I’ll make sure you go back inside and stay there.”

  “Whoa, lady! I would never hurt either of you!” He softened his voice again, holding out a hand as if begging. “I just want the chance to get to know you again; to get to know my daughter.”

  She couldn’t hear him. She wouldn’t. “Not your daughter. You weren’t there, Ethan. You didn’t even want her in the first place.” Her voice began to climb. “Get out. Get off my property, and get out of Fairburn. I don’t want you near us.” The last was a panicked shriek.

  “Okay, okay.” Ethan’s voice was low and calm, and despite herself she began to respond to the soothing sound, her racing heart beginning to slow. “Here. Here are your keys.” He tossed them onto the doorstep, and she swept them backwards with her foot.