A Vicarage Wedding

by Kate Hewitt

  And who even knew if it did? Maybe Rachel didn’t know how to feel that kind of all-consuming love for anyone, as she’d once said to her mother—except she knew that to be a lie, at least a little bit, because she felt something for Sam. Or was that just misplaced infatuation?

  With her thoughts going in ever-increasing circles, Rachel couldn’t keep her misery from showing and Jasper clearly sensed it.

  “Why don’t we walk across the bridge?” he suggested once they’d eaten, with Rachel only picking at the delicious offerings.

  “Sorry I’m not very good company,” she said, feeling wretched for ruining his planned picnic.

  “You’re very good company,” Jasper assured her. “Come on.”

  The sun had gone behind a bank of dense grey cloud as they walked across the narrow, arched bridge, and when Rachel stumbled, Jasper quickly caught her, his hands strong on her arms. It was the perfect moment, scripted by Hollywood, for him to pull her into his arms, but it fell utterly flat as Rachel gently pulled away from him.

  “Rachel…”

  “We should probably get back,” she said, not meeting his eye. “I have marking to do…”

  Jasper gave a little sigh, the small sound tearing at her heart. She was a terrible person. She couldn’t feel the right things for anyone.

  “All right,” he said, and they packed up the picnic things in silence, Rachel feeling more wretched by the minute.

  They drove back to Thornthwaite in similar silence, Jasper seeming pensive, Rachel miserable. As he pulled up in front of The Bell, she felt she had to say something.

  “Jasper, I’m sorry…”

  “For what?” His tone was light but Rachel wasn’t fooled. Still she wasn’t sure she wanted to spell out what exactly she was apologising for, for both their sakes.

  “I feel as if I’ve rather ruined a perfectly lovely afternoon,” she said after a moment. “I’m afraid I’ve been in a bit of a funk…”

  “Entirely understandable. And you didn’t ruin anything. I enjoyed spending time with you.” His gaze lingered on her, his expression all too serious. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “No…” She sounded woefully uncertain. “I’m just not sure I’m ready to…well, think of anyone like that, yet.” She bit her lip. “If that’s what you’re implying, which it might be that you’re not, and then I will be really embarrassed.” She tried for a laugh but it wavered.

  “That is what I’m implying,” Jasper replied, unruffled, “but I can wait.” He scanned her face, gauging her response, while Rachel remained abject. “Is that okay?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m just… I’m not sure of anything, Jasper.”

  “Like I said, I can wait.”

  Rachel nodded slowly, too overwhelmed and uncertain to contest the point. She got out of the car, feeling petty and mean somehow for not being more thrilled about his kind-of declaration.

  “I had a nice time today, Rachel,” he said as she started to close the passenger door.

  “So did I,” Rachel answered, and Jasper smiled wryly.

  “Good, then we can do it again sometime.” It wasn’t a question. “I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner?”

  “Dinner—”

  “Roast at the vicarage. I’m going all out and doing a loin of beef. Very good cut of meat, so I’d best not ruin it.”

  “Right.” She closed the door, turning towards The Bell, only to stop in her tracks at the sight of Sam standing in the doorway of the pub, the look on his face the stoniest she’d seen yet. His gaze flicked from her to the car to Jasper, who gave a little wave before gunning the engine and hurtling over the bridge. Without a word Sam turned and went inside.

  Rachel hadn’t thought it was possible to feel more guilty and wretched than she already did, but now she knew it was. Sam had looked…he’d almost looked betrayed, as if she’d done something wrong. And ridiculously, she felt as if she had.

  Dragging her feet along with her leaden heart, Rachel headed upstairs to her flat. The day looked to end as badly as it had started.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  THE NEXT TWO weeks passed in a blur of activity. Rachel managed to ignore her heavy heart only by working as hard as she could, preparing lessons, teaching twenty-five seven-year-olds, and managing Nathan in the classroom. The more time she spent with him in the classroom, the more she became convinced that he needed an assessment, and she spent several evenings mulling over how best she could convince Sam to agree to one, and coming up with no easy answers.

  Besides work, her family life kept her busy; now that it was October, Anna’s wedding was starting to feel imminent. With every trip up north she brought another few boxes of stuff to put in the vicarage, in preparation for her move there after the wedding.

  She sent links to potential bridesmaid dresses online; unlike Rachel, who had had everything from a fancy boutique in Manchester, Anna told her sisters they could pick their own dresses, as long as they were all the same shade of crimson. It made the whole process a lot easier, and Rachel was secretly glad to miss the girly days at a boutique, sipping cocktails and squealing over different dresses.

  “What does your wedding dress look like, Anna?” she asked one weekend when Anna was in Thornthwaite. Jasper, thankfully, had gone to London for a week, which gave Rachel a bit of breathing room from his waiting. She knew he didn’t mean to pressure her, and he really wasn’t, which was part of the problem. She felt guilty for letting him down, and annoyed with herself for not giving him a chance, but she knew she couldn’t…and a lot of that had to do not with Dan, but with Sam. Not that it mattered, since she hadn’t had more than a glimpse of the man since their argument over Nathan’s assessment.

  “It’s very simple,” Anna answered. They were sitting in the kitchen, sipping tea, a Friday afternoon after school, just as they might have done when their mother had been resident. Rachel could almost picture her by the kettle, swiping counters with a smile, or cutting generous slices of lemon drizzle cake or custard tart. Among a lot of other, more important things, she missed her mother’s baking.

  “Do you have a photo?”

  “No, I’m keeping it a surprise.” Anna smiled shyly. “It’s not a big deal of a dress, though. Very non-meringuey. White satin, and the only lace is on the veil. And that’s all I’m saying.”

  “It sounds lovely.” A pang of unease assailed her. “You’re not keeping it a surprise because—because of me?” Rachel blurted. “Because it might bring up bad memories or something?”

  “No, of ccc…course not,” Anna said quickly, but not before Rachel caught her stricken look. She was.

  “Oh, Anna.” Rachel shook her head. “The last thing I’d want is to cast some sort of shadow over your big day. You should show everyone your dress, if you want to. Well, not Simon, of course, but everyone else.”

  “I…like it bb…being a surprise.”

  “No, you don’t,” Rachel retorted. “You’re stammering. That’s always a sign that you’re lying.”

  Anna flushed. “Or just that I’m nn…nervous.”

  “You don’t need to be nervous with me.” Rachel hated the thought that her own derailed dreams had affected everybody, not just her. “Anna, please believe me when I say the fact that you’re getting married and I’m not is okay. It’s fine. I won’t be hurt if you talk about the wedding, if you show me a picture of your wedding dress, if you tell me how excited you are. I promise. I want to hear about those things. I really do.”

  “I know, Rachel,” Anna murmured, her eyes downcast. “It’s just…hard. I don’t want to put my foot in it, or make you feel badly…”

  “You won’t. In fact, what makes me feel badly is when you don’t talk about it!” Realisation had been trickling through her as they’d spoken; Anna hadn’t talked very much about the wedding at all, and it was now in just over two months. Rachel hadn’t let herself think too much about it, but now she realised how unusual it was. Her sister was getting married, she
was a bridesmaid, for heaven’s sake, and she knew hardly any of the details.

  “Please tell me, Anna,” she implored. “What music are you having? And what’s the food going to be like? The flowers?”

  Anna looked up, a shy smile lighting her face. “Well…” she began, and then launched into an excited description of all the above, and more.

  An hour later Rachel tottered from the kitchen, her mind full of the details of Anna and Simon’s wedding, which looked to be a lovely occasion. Rachel had enjoyed hearing about it, but it had taken more effort than she would have liked to sit and listen and act excited and interested—which she was, of course she was. And yet. There was always a dreaded and yet.

  “I hope Anna didn’t bore you to death with wedding talk?” Simon said, popping his head outside his study as Rachel made for the front door.

  “Oh no, of course not,” Rachel answered quickly. “It’s lovely to hear about everything. It sounds as if it’s going to be a beautiful ceremony and reception.”

  “I hope so.” Simon hesitated, as if he wanted to say something more, and Rachel waited, regarding him warily. Surely he wasn’t going to launch into some impromptu pastoral check-up? But how are you really coping, Rachel? Please, no.

  “Rachel…do you mind if I ask you something, well, rather personal?”

  Yes. “No, of course not.” Rachel gave as sunny a smile as she could. “What’s up?”

  “It’s just…you might not realise it, because he always acts so carefree, but Jasper has been going through quite a difficult time lately.”

  This was about Jasper? Rachel felt a wave of relief followed by a deepening unease. Why on earth would Simon want to talk to her about Jasper? “Oh, yes? He mentioned something about being between jobs…”

  “Yes, well that’s putting it mildly.” Simon looked undecided whether to say more, and Rachel rushed in to fill the silence.

  “Don’t tell me anything he wouldn’t want me to know.”

  “That’s part of the trouble. I think he would want you to know…if you know what I mean.”

  Oh, help. Jasper had told Simon something about her—about how he felt? “Er…” was all Rachel could manage.

  “The truth is, he was fired from his last position because someone on his team embezzled money from the company. It wasn’t a large amount, but it was enough for people to notice and Jasper took the blame because they couldn’t figure out who it was. He’s in London this week to attend a hearing.”

  “A hearing? You mean, like in court?”

  “At the moment it’s just within the company, since they can’t actually accuse anyone without more evidence. But it tore Jasper up—not losing his job so much as the trust he’d placed in the people under him. The scandal of it made him lose his girlfriend, as well. She broke up with him a few months ago, when it all came out.”

  “That’s terrible, Simon.” And it was—she never would have known what sad secrets Jasper was hiding from his cheery demeanour. She’d known he was between jobs, of course, but she hadn’t realised the loss had been tainted by betrayal and grief. “But…why are you telling me? Do you really think Jasper would want me to know all that?” He certainly hadn’t volunteered the information.

  “Jasper cares for you, Rachel. I don’t know what your feelings are but I suppose I felt a certain duty to let you know where he’s coming from, because he always acts as if nothing bothers him in the least. But that carefree Bertie Wooster act he’s got going on is just that—an act. And I suppose I don’t want either of you to get hurt.” A blush touched his cheeks. “Sorry if I’ve stepped over a line.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m glad to know.” And she would have to talk to Jasper at some point, to advise him not to wait. Now that she knew more of what he was going through, she had no intention of getting his hopes up when she knew in her heart she’d never care for him that way. “Thank you, Simon.”

  As she headed back to her flat above The Bell, the sight of the pub gave her heart a little wrench. Had she completely scuppered her friendship with Sam? They hadn’t shared so much as a hello in the two weeks since their argument, and although she was trying to soldier on, it made Rachel feel more miserable than ever. She wanted back the fragile camaraderie she’d had with Sam, and she missed her evenings with Nathan, as well. Over the last few weeks she’d started to rebuild her life again, but right now it felt as if the hopes she’d had as its foundation were just as flimsy as before.

  The next morning she woke up with a leaden feeling in her stomach, both from the knowledge that she’d need to set Jasper straight at some point and the endless, empty Saturday in front of her. Miriam had made plans with a friend from school, and Anna and Simon were busy with wedding details. Esther and Will were occupied as well, going to Carlisle for some work get-together of Esther’s, from her days with Natural England, and so Rachel would be all on her own.

  She toyed with the idea of driving to Newcastle to see one of her uni friends, but when she texted Sasha, whom she’d lived with for two years as a student, her friend texted a sad face emoji and said she was in Suffolk visiting her boyfriend’s parents. Rachel hadn’t even known she had a boyfriend. The last year of her own wedding plans and their subsequent derailment had made her out of touch with just about everybody.

  “Come on, Bailey,” she said as she pulled on a pair of yoga pants and an old hoodie after switching on the kettle for her first cup of coffee. The flat was quiet, the day grey and dank. Everything felt lonely. “Time for a wee.”

  Outside the village was still quiet, the pub dark, the air still. A few mangy-looking sheep were in the pasture by St John’s Beck, looking rather miserable. Rachel huddled by the bridge as Bailey sniffed everything in sight. Perhaps she’d take her puppy for a nice, long walk; now that Bailey had had her jabs she could go out and about, and although Rachel was far from outdoorsy she liked the idea of tiring both human and animal out, and then collapsing on the sofa to self-righteously binge on Netflix, or maybe pick up one of the paperbacks on her tottering TBR pile by her bed.

  “Rachel.”

  Rachel turned, as did her heart when she saw Sam standing in the doorway of the darkened pub. It had started to rain, a misting drizzle that looked fairly innocuous but soaked her in seconds.

  “Hi, Sam,” Rachel croaked. She felt unaccountably nervous at just seeing him.

  He jogged across the street, his expression serious. “Are you busy today?”

  “Um, no?” Rachel stared at him in uncertainty.

  “I wondered if you wanted to go out with Nathan and me,” Sam said, not quite looking at her. “Nothing particularly exciting—just bowling in Workington. But Nathan’s missed you and he asked if you could come with us today?”

  “Did he?” Rachel felt rather ridiculously pleased by this, as well as disappointed that it wasn’t Sam who had missed her or was asking for her. Ah, life. She’d take what she could get. “Are you sure you want me to come?” she asked, because it had to be said. “It feels as if you’ve been avoiding me these last few weeks.”

  “Yeah, well.” Sam gave her a sheepishly apologetic look. “I’m sorry about that. I admit I was a bit shirty about the assessment thing.”

  “Okay,” Rachel said after a moment. “I’m sorry, too. I was a bit shirty, as well.”

  “You were just doing your job, Rachel. I understand that.”

  She nodded slowly, unsure where this was going, or if Sam had changed his mind about having Nathan assessed.

  “So do you fancy coming along with us?” Sam asked. “I understand if not.”

  Did she? The answer was overwhelming, irrefutable. “I fancy it,” Rachel said, and Sam’s full-on smile was enough to send any lingering doubts or worries scattering like seagulls after breadcrumbs. Returning his smile, she whistled for Bailey and started back across the street.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  IT FELT ODD to be crammed into the front seat of Sam’s old work van, heading up the A595 to Workington, with
Nathan squeezed between them. Odd and uncomfortable, because Nathan was bouncing up and down the entire time, unable to keep still for so much as a second.

  Sam looked unaccountably grim, but perhaps Rachel had simply forgotten how grim he normally looked. He certainly wasn’t smiling.

  They didn’t talk much on the way to Workington, mainly because it was rather difficult with Nathan pinging up and down between them, but Rachel hoped things might relax once they were at the bowling alley. In any case, she didn’t mind having a bit of silence between them; it felt like a way to bridge the awkwardness and aggression of their last meeting and whatever was going to happen today. A necessary no man’s land, relationship-wise.

  She soon discovered that Nathan at a bowling alley was much the same as Nathan at her flat, the playground, or school—not impossible, but definitely challenging.

  First his bowling shoes were too small. Then the next pair were too big. Then the next pair were too uncomfortable, and when they finally found a pair he could live with, they moved on to the same ordeal with the bowling balls. Rachel was starting to feel like she was dealing with Goldilocks, but one who hurled shoes everywhere, spoke at the top of his voice, and generally made a scene.

  She was both touched and gratified, however, that Sam seemed to know how to handle his nephew. He remained calm, always speaking in a slow, steady voice, firm but gentle, one hand on Nathan’s shoulder, anchoring him in place. Watching him, Rachel couldn’t help but think what a good dad he would be. What a good dad he was, because that was essentially what he was being for Nathan.

  And Nathan listened to him at least some of the time. The rest of the time he was what Rachel had come to think of as classic Nathan—bouncing around all over the place, over the top whether it was in excitement or aggravation, exhausting and delighting her in turns.

  “I haven’t been bowling in years,” she told Sam as she selected her own bright pink ball. A girl needed her accessories, after all. “Maybe even decades.”