Mending Jodie's Heart (When Paths Meet Book 1)

by Sheila Claydon

  Mending Jodie’s Heart

  When Paths Meet – Book 1

  by

  Sheila Claydon

  ISBN: 978-1-77145-073-7

  Copyright 2013 by Sheila Claydon

  Cover Art Copyright 2013 by Michelle Lee

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Chapter One

  “You can’t do that!”

  “Watch me,” the man in the yellow fluorescent jacket barely glanced at Jodie as he snapped the heavy padlock shut, closing off access to the bridleway.

  Reining in Buckmaster to steady him, she tried to explain. “But you’re not allowed to close it. It’s a public footpath as well as a bridleway, and....”

  He interrupted her with a shrug. “I don’t make the rules Miss. I just do what I’m paid to do. You got a problem with that, then talk to the boss.”

  “I would if I knew who he was,” she could feel her temper beginning to flare.

  The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder as he started to walk away. “Him what’s having the house built.”

  Jodie looked in the direction he’d indicated. There was nothing there except a dense tangle of undergrowth and a copse of windblown pines. With an exclamation of annoyance she wheeled Buckmaster around only to find the workman had disappeared.

  “Now what do we do?” she asked the large chestnut gelding who was waiting patiently for his morning gallop. He twitched one ear at the sound of her voice and then skittered sideways as a flurry of leaves blew around his ankles.

  She kicked her feet out of the stirrups, slid to the ground, and looped his reins over the gatepost. “Don’t worry gorgeous boy. You’ll still have your ride. I just need to do something first.”

  In less than a minute she had climbed over the gate onto a sandy path and forced her way past brambles and weeds to where a derelict building crouched under a gloomy canopy of misshapen trees. With a hiss of pain as a rogue plume of gorse scratched her hand, she retrieved her riding crop from where it had become entangled in a bush, straightened up, and stared at the old farmhouse. It stared right back, its boarded-up windows giving it an air of blank disregard for whatever fate was awaiting it. And fate certainly had plans if the scaffolding piled against the walls was anything to go by.

  Picking her way through a scatter of fallen roof tiles, she walked across to where the old trees creaked and moaned above the fast encroaching undergrowth. It was dark and gloomy and smelled of damp and decay. There was nothing else though. No notices on the door announcing its imminent destruction. No labels on the scaffolding. Not even a phone number she could call.

  As she turned to go back to Buckmaster a splash of color caught her eye. Blue paint. The tree nearest to her was circled with a band of blue paint about a meter from the ground. She walked a little further into the wood. There was another one. And another. She lost count before she reached twenty. A lot of trees were going to be felled, but for what?

  * * *

  Buckmaster gave a welcoming snort when she re-emerged shaking burrs and a couple of small insects from her clothes. She started talking as she walked towards him.

  “We’ve work to do Bucky. Someone has bought the old farmhouse and we need to find out who it is. I don’t care what happens to the house, or to the woodland, and neither would you if you could see it. It’s far too spooky for you. You’d do your prancing about, rolling your eyes thing if I took you in there. I do care about the bridleway though. That’s why we have to find out who’s bought it, and go visit them. We need to tell them they can’t lock us out.”

  She had clambered over the gate while she was speaking and now she rubbed the white blaze on his forehead. He pushed his nose against her shoulder and blew gently into her ear. She laughed as she seized his reins and with a cursory touch to the stirrup, leapt onto his back.

  “I knew you’d see it my way. Now let’s find another route to the beach. You’ve waited quite long enough.”

  As she guided Buckmaster around and then paused to check for traffic, a tall man muffled up in a thick padded jacket and wearing a wool beanie on his head, climbed down from a parked 4 x 4 and walked towards her.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked with a frown.

  “Someone’s bought the old farmhouse,” Jodie told him. Then, noticing he had a dog sitting in the back of his car, she shook her head.

  “You can’t walk your dog down the path anymore. Nobody can. Whoever owns it seems to think it’s okay to close the bridleway, but don’t worry, I intend to find out exactly who it is. I’ll make sure it’s opened up again even if I have to chain myself to the gate.”

  Kicking her legs against Buckmaster’s flanks, she trotted off down the lane without waiting for an answer.

  The man stared after her in irritation. He didn’t seem to have handled that very well. When he’d asked the girl what was going on he had expected some sort of lame excuse; an embarrassed explanation as to why she was clambering back into the lane over a locked gate. Instead she’d been angry and said something about organizing a protest. Then she’d ridden off without a backward glance. He gave an inward groan. A stroppy teenager threatening to stir up the locals! Just what he needed! He was going to have to get some No Trespassing signs put up as soon as he could.

  He walked back to his car and lifted down a very old dog, making sure it had full control of all four paws before he let go.

  “Come on Blue. Time to see your new home.”

  The dog, a dusty looking black Labrador, wagged its tail and then waited patiently while its master searched in his pocket for the key to unlock the gate. Then it followed him along the roughly cleared path that Jodie, in her impatience, had missed, until they could both see the house.

  Chapter Two

  “Haven’t any of you heard anything?”

  Jodie was sitting at the old wooden table that was the focal point for everyone who worked at the riding school; the place where they left messages for one another, dumped their belongings, or grabbed a mug of coffee when they had a moment to spare. Jodie was drinking coffee now; or rather she was stirring her coffee round and round while she addressed the people in the room in general, and the girl sitting next to her in particular.

  “Nothing! Nix! Nada! I already told you,” Carol shook her head in exasperation. “For goodness sake Jodie, don’t get so worked up about it. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

  “Misunderstanding!” Jodie’s voice went up several notches. “How can anyone misunderstand a bridleway? And it’s a public footpath too don’t forget. Understanding that both of them have to be kept open is hardly rocket science.”

  “I guess…but it’s still not worth getting into a state about something that can probably be put right by a call to the local council.”

  “You reckon?” Jodie didn’t share her assistant manager’s faith in authority. It had let her down too often in the past.

  “Yes! And I’ll prove it to you,” Carol reached behind her to where a pile of local telephone directories were stacked on the windowsill, selected the one she wanted, and began to rifle through the pages. A moment later she was punching a series of numbers into her cell phone.

  Jodie listened to the ensuing conversation without hope and when, after several minutes, Carol finally cut the call, she gave a resigned shrug.

  “Told you
.”

  “The man I spoke to said they were aware of it,” Carol protested.

  ‘He didn’t say they were going to do anything about it though, did he?”

  “Well no. Apparently it’s not an official bridleway, or a footpath for that matter. He says the new owner is quite within his legal rights to close it.”

  “Even though everyone who lives around here has been using it for years?”

  “Yes. The family who used to own the land didn’t care who used it but apparently the new owner does. The man at the council said he values his privacy or something like that.”

  “Well guess what? I value my bridleway, and so should you…all of you! So what are we going to do about it?” Her eyes were fierce as she looked around the room.

  Before anyone could answer her the door swung open and smacked against the wall with a thud. Five heads swiveled, and then five pairs of eyes opened wide as a gawky teenager wearing a spectacularly ugly school uniform fell into the room.

  “Izzie!”

  “Sorry folks! Not at all the entrance I was aiming for.” The girl picked herself up with a wry grin and untangled her feet from the heavy school bag that had tripped her.

  Kicking it under the nearest chair she seized Jodie’s mug, swallowed a mouthful of coffee, and helped herself to two oatmeal cookies from a tin that was open on the table. Then, spraying crumbs, she said the one thing destined to gain the attention of everyone in the room.

  “Did you know that Marcus Lewis is moving into the village?”

  It was several minutes before Jodie could make herself heard over the excited buzz in the room. When she finally did, everyone stared at her in disbelief.

  “Who is Marcus Lewis?” she asked.

  Coughing over a crumb that had gone down the wrong way, Izzie rolled her eyes and shook her head speechlessly, leaving Carol to answer.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of him,” she pleaded. “He’s a jazz pianist, or at least he used to be. You must remember him. In his heyday he won every award going. I don’t know why he stopped performing but he’s still a huge part of the music scene. He’s written stuff for everyone and he’s composed some fantastic film scores too.”

  Jodie shook her head. “I’ve never even heard his name before.”

  Then a new thought struck her and she swung back to where Izzie was sitting on the edge of the table, still red in the face from her coughing fit.

  “Where is he going to live…this Marcus Lewis?”

  “I think he’s bought the old farmhouse down by the beach.”

  Jodie seized her arm. “Who told you?”

  Izzie stared at her, surprised by her vehemence. “Someone at school. Her Dad’s an estate agent or something. Why are you so bothered when you don’t even have the first clue who he is?”

  “Because your Marcus Lewis is the man who has closed the bridleway.”

  “My Marcus Lewis…I wish,” Izzie grinned as she shook her head in puzzlement. Then she looked around the room.

  “Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on, and why my dear sister seems to have gone ever so slightly mad?”

  * * *

  Jodie’s temper wasn’t any better by the end of the evening. For a start she and Izzie had spent so long trying to track down Marcus Lewis’ contact details on the Internet that she knew she wasn’t going to get her paperwork finished unless she stayed up until long after midnight. To make matters worse they hadn’t been able to find out anything useful. No phone number. No address. Just a website full of musical stuff. Izzie had scrolled right through it but Jodie had given up and pushed back her chair in disgust. It wasn’t what she wanted.

  “Lots of celebrities try to stay under the radar,” Izzie had soothed, stretching her back when she eventually got up from where she had been hunched in front of the computer. “If they made it easy for fans to find out where they lived…well it would make their lives impossible.”

  “It doesn’t help us though, does it?” Jodie grumbled.

  “No, but we can send an email to his agent’s contact address. We did find that. And anyway he’s bound to turn up in the village eventually. You’ll be able to talk to him then.”

  “Not if he’s such a celebrity I won’t. He’ll probably travel everywhere by limousine, with minders or something.”

  “Whatever!” Izzie gave a wide yawn and rubbed her eyes. She’d had enough of Marcus Lewis until he actually moved into the village. When that happened she was going to do everything in her power to get to know him, but when she spoke to him she wasn’t going to waste time talking about bridleways or footpaths. Not that she was about to tell Jodie that.

  Chapter Three

  The tall man in the wool beanie was leaning on the top bar of the gate on the third morning Jodie road by. He was gazing into the straggle of woodland while a very old black Labrador sat patiently beside him. The man in the yellow fluorescent jacket, the man who had secured the padlock in the first place, was just getting into a van that was idling at the curb. With a twitch of the reins she pulled Buckmaster to a halt as he drove away.

  “What did he tell you?” she demanded.

  The man in the beanie hat swung round and stared up at her, a look of puzzlement on his face. He had very blue eyes.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did he say how long it would be before they start building? Did he say how long it will be before Mr. Marcus…I can do exactly as I like because I have a lot of money and this is my land…Lewis, turns up? No he didn’t, did he? I can see from the look on your face that you’ve no idea what’s going on. I bet he didn’t even tell you when they’re going to start cutting down the trees.”

  Without giving him time to answer, she slid down from Buckmaster’s back and walked across to the gate to stand beside him. Her head barely reached his shoulder. Together they surveyed the tangle of undergrowth, and then Jodie turned towards him, her body taut with impatience.

  “Didn’t he tell you anything?”

  “Not about the bridleway, no,” Marcus Lewis shook his head. He was torn between irritation, amusement, and just a little admiration. She was certainly passionate about her damned bridleway that was for sure. Courageous too. He could still remember what she had said about chaining herself to the gatepost.

  “Why is this bridleway so important anyway?” he asked. “There must be others.”

  “There are,” she conceded, looking up at him. “But we have to negotiate a lot of traffic to get to them. This is the only one that takes us straight down to the beach.”

  “We?”

  “The children who use my riding school.”

  “You work in a riding school?”

  She nodded dispiritedly. “For what it’s worth I’m the manager, so I’ve a vested interest in keeping my riders safe.”

  His gaze slid over her. It didn’t compute. She wasn’t much more than a teenager. As if she knew what he was thinking she suddenly grinned at him. It totally transformed her face, changing her expression from angry to something altogether different. He found himself responding with a smile of his own as he wondered if the hair hidden under her riding hat was as dark as her eyes.

  “I’m older than I look,” she told him as she took hold of the horse’s saddle and vaulted onto its back. “Way, way older! In fact I’m plenty old enough to give Marcus Lewis a piece of my mind when he eventually turns up. In the meantime I’m going to start gathering protest signatures.”

  “I thought you said you were going to chain yourself to the gate,” he said, squinting up at her against the early morning sun.

  She laughed as she began to move away, pleased he had remembered. “Don’t worry. I’ll be doing that too, but not until the journalists arrive. I want to inflict maximum damage to his reputation.”

  * * *

  He watched her go. She was a good rider. She sat straight and true in the saddle, moving rhythmically, guiding the horse beneath her with only an occasional twitch of the reins. She was att
ractive too, despite the riding hat and the shapeless green fleece that hid any curves she might have. Good looking, courageous, passionate…a girl worth knowing in different circumstances. Then he shrugged and turned back to the gate. Those No Trespassing notices were still going up. After all he had Luke to think about.

  Chapter Four

  It was three weeks before there was any more action. Then a flat bed truck turned up and off-loaded a shiny new trailer. Jodie saw it arrive when she passed by on her daily reconnaissance. The tall man with the dog was there again as well. He was standing beside the open gate, apparently quite unconcerned that he was in the way. Jodie waved to him but she didn’t stop because she didn’t want the bustle and the noise to spook Buckmaster.

  By the time they returned from their morning gallop along the beach, all was quiet. The tall man was still there though, only now he was contemplating a large red notice board that had been erected on the other side of the gate. Jodie stared at it.

  THIS IS PRIVATE LAND. ALL TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED

  From her position, sitting high up in the saddle, she could see that a second board had been erected at the far end of the bridleway as well.

  “It’s war now,” she said. “There’s obviously no point in appealing to his better nature. Those signs prove he hasn’t got one.”

  “He is entitled you know. After all it is his land.” Marcus Lewis walked across to where Buckmaster was blowing through his nostrils.

  “And I thought you were on my side,” she said in disgust. Then she wheeled about and trotted away, her parting words floating back to him on the breeze. “If you want to sign the protest there will be a list for signatures in the village shop.”

  He watched her go. He didn’t know why he hadn’t told her who he was when they first met, or why he was compounding the problem now. After all she was bound to find out sooner or later because it was very clear she wasn’t going away any time soon. He sighed as he bent down and patted his dog.