Pulled by a Dream

by Kathryn Greenway

  “I don’t want anything else,” he gritted out.

  “Fine.” Emily picked up the picture before he had a chance to lay a finger on it, and marched out of the barn.

  “What are you doing?” Phillip yelled, following her.

  “There’s a craft knife around here somewhere,” she called back, heading for the house. “All I need is that, and a straight edge, and hey presto, you’ll have your sketch. Grandmother Rachel even signed it.” Rachel had gone on to be a famous painter of landscapes, and Jane had often related the story of how she came to produce her first work of art. So many times, in fact, that Emily knew it by heart.

  She doubted Phillip knew one word of it.

  “No!” Phillip’s loud, harsh cry sent birds flying up into the air from the nearby trees. Emily stopped at the kitchen door, staring at him in surprise. Phillip’s face was like thunder. “Why do you always have to be so bloody difficult?” He turned around and stormed off toward the barn. A minute later, his coat over his arm, Phillip marched past the house, clearly going to his car.

  Emily stood there until she could no longer hear his car engine. She shook her head and gazed at the framed picture. “So what was that all about?” she murmured to herself. Slowly, she walked back to the barn, and replaced the picture in among the stack of paintings.

  Emily had a feeling she hadn’t heard the last of this. She hadn’t refused Phillip’s request simply to be a bitch—she’d done it because deep down, she just… didn’t… trust him. And until he proved her wrong, she was going to continue not trusting him.

  Jake packed away the last of his tools into his toolbox that weighed about the same as a shed, and straightened his back. He was tired, he ached, and he was covered in sawdust, but he hadn’t felt that good in a long while. It hadn’t taken him long to slip into his new role, and he had to admit, his job was made easier by the guys who were working with him.

  The increase in pay was the icing on the cake.

  It didn’t take much to make Jake happy, and job satisfaction ranked up near the top of that list.

  “You all done for the day, mate?” Tom Martin came into the kitchen and smiled broadly at the sight of the new boards. “That looks great. A damn sight easier to walk on, too.” He snickered. “Pity no one will see it when it’s covered with stone tiles, but there you go.”

  Jake smacked him across his back. “Remarks like that will not get you a pint tonight at the Vale.”

  Tom tugged an imaginary forelock. “Yes, Sir. Of course, Mr. Project Manager, Sir.”

  Jake guffawed. “Will you give it a rest? How’s the wiring looking upstairs?”

  “Great—now I’ve fixed what those cowboys did.” Tom shook his head. “God save me from amateurs.” Then he nudged Jake. “And by the way… I saw you chatting with the Boss lady before.” He grinned. “Very nice. You’re in there, mate.”

  Jake gaped. “Excuse me?”

  “Mate, she’s bloody gorgeous! I wouldn’t have any issues with working under a woman—if you get my meaning.” He leered.

  “I’d rather not get your meaning, thank you very much. I think I’d catch something. And did no one tell you it’s not PC to ogle your boss?” Not that he didn’t catch himself glancing at Emily when he was certain she wasn’t looking. Their conversations that week had been limited. The discussion of Jake’s new contract, his budget, the timescale for the project… Emily had been concise, frank—and utterly charming. He couldn’t complain about her professionalism, either, but more than once, he hoped for a glimpse of the woman, rather than The Boss.

  Jake had a feeling that knowing Emily without her Boss’s hat, would be pretty amazing.

  “Why don’t you ask her to join us for a drink tonight?” Tom suggested. When Jake gave him an incredulous glance, Tom opened his eyes wide. “Nah, mate, I’m not being funny. Ask her out.”

  “And why would I do that?” The idea was appealing, but still…. Jake had been in his new position one whole week. Asking his boss to the local pub felt a step too far.

  Tom’s expression softened. “Because it’s about bloody time? How’s that for a reason?”

  “Not enough for me to jeopardize my job.” Jake speared Tom with a look. “Change the subject.”

  Tom sighed. “Fine, have it your way. But you mark my words, she’s—”

  “What part of change the subject did you not understand?” Jake grinned. “Don’t forget, I’m technically your boss.”

  Tom snorted. “And don’t forget, I’m the guy who sat with you while you cried into your beer.”

  “Long time ago, different Jake,” he replied shortly. Only, it had been eighteen months ago, and Jake hadn’t changed all that much. “Come on. Time to get out of here. Has Lawrence already left?”

  “No, he hasn’t.” Lawrence walked into the house, grinning, his jacket already on. “I hear a cold beer calling me, and you’re buying.”

  Jake could deal with that.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I don’t suppose you remember us, do you?”

  Emily turned to find a pair of bright blue eyes regarding her, from behind rimless glasses. She smiled. “Of course I do. It’s Miss Topping, isn’t it?” One of the two Miss Toppings who ran the village post office.

  The white-haired elderly lady beamed, her hand flying to her ample chest. “Fancy you remembering that. But you get Brownie points for knowing which is which.”

  Emily chuckled. “You’re Angela, and that’s Olive who’s perched on stepladders.” Olive was the complete opposite of her sister, skinny, and with fewer laughter lines.

  Olive paused in her task of dusting the brass ornaments that filled the high shelf, and smiled at Emily. “We didn’t get a chance to speak to you at the funeral, but… we both wanted to pass on our condolences. Jane was a very special woman.”

  “Oh, she was,” Angela agreed, her usually cheerful expression dimming a little.

  “And at least they’re together now,” Olive concluded.

  Angela blinked and looked up at her sister. “Oh. Do you suppose… Do you think God allows—” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “—lesbians in heaven?”

  Emily stifled a giggle, not daring to utter a word.

  Olive appeared to consider the question seriously. “I can’t see the Almighty keeping those two apart, can you?”

  Emily chuckled. “I had exactly the same thought.”

  Angela nodded vehemently. “It’s becoming quite commonplace these days, anyway. Not that Jane and Clare were the only ones in this village.” She glanced around the otherwise empty post office, as if checking that no one was listening in. “I mean, that handsome doctor bats for the other side of the church, doesn’t he?”

  Olive snickered. “You’re mixing your metaphors again, dear.” She looked at Emily and rolled her eyes heavenward.

  Emily laughed, pleased to see that some things didn’t change. “I just popped in to say I’ve been online to arrange for all my mail to be delivered here. Just wanted you to know.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you to inform us, dear,” Olive said, climbing down carefully from the steps. “How are things going over at the house?”

  “Considering work only began a month ago, it’s starting to take shape.” At least Emily could walk through the house without fear of breaking her neck. The bulk of the work was still to be done, however. “And now, ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll finish my shopping.” It was an excuse, but she knew from past experience how long the sisters kept people in the post office, gossiping.

  “Good to see you again,” Angela said, with a warm smile. She glanced at her sister. “And you missed a bit.” She pointed to the shelf above her head. “That Toby jug has a layer of dust so thick, I could write my name in it.”

  Olive narrowed her gaze. “As if you could see that, with your eyesight.”

  Emily chose that moment to make her escape.

  Saturday morning was always a busy time in the village. Children played on
the village green, with balls or frisbees, and now and again, a dog would try to join their fun. Posters had been displayed on lampposts and on the public noticeboard outside the tiny library, announcing the annual Spring fete for the end of March, to be held on the green. Walkers had begun to appear with more frequency, strolling through the village, stout sticks in their hands and rucksacks on their backs.

  Fairdown was waking up from its winter sleep.

  Emily only had a few items on her list, and it didn’t take long before they were safely stowed in her shopping basket. When she’d found Jane’s old willow basket in a cupboard, it had briefly brought tears to her eyes. She remembered seeing it so often as a child, when she, Jane and Clare would walk into the village, Emily holding Jane’s hand.

  Emily walked out of Havers, and was about to head home, when she glanced at the pub. A colorful sign outside announced their food times, and on an impulse, she decided to have lunch there. What were Saturdays for, if not for breaking with routine?

  Inside the Vale, Brian greeted her with a friendly wave. “Nice to see ya. What can I get ya?”

  Emily sniffed up, and her stomach gave a little grumble. “What do you recommend for lunch?”

  Brian gave a gleeful smile. “The wife’s just made a steak and kidney pie that’s to die for. How about a piece of that, with mashed potatoes, peas, carrots, and gravy?”

  “I think you had me with homemade pie. And a glass of red wine, please.”

  Brian nodded. “Take a seat, and I’ll bring your drink over.”

  Emily gazed around her. The pub wasn’t packed by any means, but several tables were already taken by groups of walkers, chatting animatedly while they peered at huge, unfolded maps, the table filled with pint glasses. Then she caught sight of a familiar face. By the window at the far end of the bar, was Jake. He was sitting next to Dr. Mitchell, and the pair were laughing and joking. Dr. Mitchell’s arm rested along the top of the padded seat, and now and then, he touched Jake’s shoulder. The two men were obviously good friends: the way they sat, so close to each other, spoke of intimacy.

  Something Jake had mentioned came back to her, and Emily had a light bulb moment. She recalled how awkwardly he’d acted around Serena in the tea shop, and his words about their history. In those few seconds, everything became clear. Jake was obviously bisexual. That would account for why he and Serena had broken up—maybe he’d discovered he was more attracted to men. It was all supposition on Emily’s part, of course, but looking at the two men together, it made perfect sense.

  It was also a pity.

  Jake was nothing like the men Emily had known in the past. She liked the rapport that was developing between them, but she wasn’t blind. Jake was very attractive, and the more time she spent around him, the more she liked what she saw. He was a thoughtful, generous man, with a good sense of humor. And before that moment, she’d even considered asking him out for a drink, but after seeing him and the doctor, Emily had a feeling she’d be wasting her time.

  She chose a table in a little nook, out of sight of Jake and his friend. She didn’t want him to spot her, and she definitely didn’t want to eat her lunch, watching them all cozied up together.

  Emily sighed. The first man to come along in ages who piqued her interest, and he turned out to prefer men. Life could so ironic.

  “So how does it feel, being the boss?” James asked, before taking a drink from his pint.

  Jake snorted. “I’m hardly the boss. That is most definitely Emily.”

  James’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, so it’s Emily now, is it? Not Miss Darrow?”

  Jake leveled him a stern gaze. “You’re being a dick.”

  “And you’re being way too sensitive, which immediately makes me want to know what’s going on.” James leaned closer. “So? What’s she like?”

  “That’s a good question.”

  James blinked. “You’ve lost me.”

  Jake sighed. “I thought I had a handle on her. The first few times we met, she was abrasive, rude, stubborn… Nothing like what I’d expected, after everything Jane had told me. And the first day I met her on the site, nothing much had changed. Then…” He stared into his beer. “It was like I was talking to a totally different woman. When she smiles, the light in her eyes…”

  James arched his eyebrows. “Do I detect a flutter of interest?” He grinned.

  Jake narrowed his gaze. “Stop that. I know that look. Remember what happened last time?”

  James held up his hands defensively. “That was not my fault. You met Serena at an unveiling of one of your sculptures. Nothing to do with me.”

  “Ha.” Jake couldn’t hold back his snort of derision. “Pull the other one. Who told Serena about the unveiling in the first place? Who suggested it might be a good idea to ask her out on a date? Hmm?”

  James flushed, and he straightened in his seat. “Ah. Yes. Well.” He drained his glass. “It’s my round. Do you want another?”

  “Sorry. I need to call on Mr. Foster.” Jake smiled. “Not that this hasn’t been a laugh. We haven’t managed a drink in here in ages.” He tilted his head to one side and snickered. “While the cat’s away, huh?”

  James smacked Jake’s thigh. “I did not agree to meeting you for a pint, just because my other half is away this weekend.” Then he smiled. “Though that might have been part of it.” His smile became wistful. “Look at me. Three years married, and I act like a lovesick teenager every time he goes away on business.”

  “I hate to tell you, James, but you were like this years before you two got married.” It did Jake’s heart good to see his friends still besotted with each other, after twenty years together. More than that, it gave him hope.

  He got to his feet and grabbed his jacket. “I’ll remind you it’s your round next time we meet up.”

  James chuckled. “Yeah, I thought you might. I’ll walk out with you.” He picked up their glasses and deposited them on the bar as they passed. “There you go, Brian. Thought I’d save your legs.”

  Brian laughed. “You’re a prince. Say hi to Alan for me when he gets home.” He waved to Jake. “See ya, Jake.” He winked, then nodded over to Jake’s left.

  Puzzled, Jake glanced toward the nook, and stiffened. Emily sat in the corner, peering at her phone. Jake hurried out, James following him. When they were outside, James grabbed his arm.

  “Why didn’t you say something to her?”

  Jake rolled his eyes. “And how do you like it, when you’re sitting quietly, having a meal or a coffee, and someone walks up to you and starts a conversation?”

  “But she wasn’t eating,” James protested. He gave another sly grin. “She gets you all flustered, doesn’t she? Is that it? Does Big Bad Jake Matthews get all tongue-tied around his sexy boss?”

  Jake let out a low growl. “The fact that we’re good friends will not stop me from giving you a smack in the mouth, if you keep saying stuff like that.”

  James’s grin showed no sign of diminishing. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks. And before you ask, yes, I did just call you a lady. Deal with it.” He patted Jake on the back. “Go see Mr. Foster. I’ll see you soon.” He walked off in the direction of his surgery.

  Jake crossed the lane, walked up to the front door of a quaint cottage, and rapped the brass door knocker. Mr. Foster opened it, his tired expression disappearing when he saw Jake. “Well, good afternoon. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

  “I thought I’d measure up for that new back door. I was going to work on it this weekend, seeing as my weekdays are now full. If I crack on, I’ll be able to deliver it Monday morning, before I go to work.”

  Mr. Foster beamed. “Aw, thank you. Bless you, Jake. And here’s me, keeping you on the doorstep. Come on in, and I’ll put the kettle on.”

  Jake stepped into the house, and took off his jacket, after first removing his notepad, pencil, and tape measure from his pocket. He smiled when he saw the floorboards. Mr. Foster had already begun the task of varnishing the
m, a board at a time. Jake had volunteered, but apparently, there were limits to how much help the elderly man was prepared to accept.

  “Jake? About the new door….”

  Jake smiled to himself. He knew what was coming. “Same arrangement as always, Mr. Foster.”

  The kettle whistled, and then Mr. Foster appeared in the kitchen doorway, a tea pot in his hands. “Don’t you think it’s time you called me Maurice? After all the times you’ve been here?”

  Jake chuckled. “I suppose. I was brought up to be polite.”

  Mr. Foster disappeared back into the kitchen. “You always are, but I think it’s time we put aside some of the social niceties,” he called out. “And I still it’s wonderful that the church has this fund. I do seem to be on the receiving end of a lot of it, though.”

  “But that’s what it’s there for, people just like you.” There was no way Jake would ever let him know the truth. That might be a step too far for Mr. Foster. Better leave things as they are—and hope to God he never finds out.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Emily glanced at her watch as she left the chemist’s. All she’d gone out for was a few groceries and some paracetamol, and it was already ten o’clock. It felt like half the morning had been eaten up. The problem had not been her shopping, but the number of people who stopped her in the village to chat. Then she reconsidered. As delays went, she couldn’t really complain. These were people who’d known her since she was a little girl, and everyone appeared delighted that she was staying in the village. Not only that, they were overjoyed with her plans for the house.

  As she walked past the pub, she noticed a familiar figure leaving one of the tiny cottages facing it. Jake didn’t see her, but hurried to his truck that was parked outside. Emily frowned. Jake should have been at the house by now. She made a mental note to bring up the subject of timekeeping when she saw him later. It wouldn’t do to have the project manager arriving after all the workmen.