Plan A, asking Beth to the wedding, had failed dismally.
That didn’t mean he’d let her go.
He’d walked away from the wedding reception last night with one nagging assumption— if she loved him, she would have stayed.
Not a comforting thought.
The obvious conclusion was that she didn’t care for him with the same intense commitment he did for her, therefore he had to let her go.
Just like last time, when he’d waited for her to contact him, and she hadn’t.
Last night, that decision made sense.
This morning though, in his quiet time, it started to look a lot like giving in to fear. Praying it over, he knew he had to give this one last try. He needed to talk to Beth, find out what went wrong last night, and see what they could do about it.
Maybe they could work it out. Maybe he’d simply have to draw a line through it and move on.
But to a scientist, knowing was better than not knowing.
So, he’d formulated some plans.
Plan B — the obvious one, go where he knew she’d be. Catch her before she left work for the day, and hope she’d talk with him.
But now he’d arrived at the store, he dragged his feet, putting off getting on the escalator and going down to the Lower Ground Floor. He’d rung earlier and spoken to someone he suspected may have been Anita. She seemed much too eager to give a complete overview of Beth’s schedule.
Giving her the opportunity to reject him again felt as daunting as the PhD process. Standing into front of the critical panel of examining professors to defend his research findings. He swallowed the lump of trepidation stuck in his throat.
The interview for the professorship at Cambridge would be a snap compared to this.
Despite that, it was necessary. Seeing Beth, speaking to her, sorting this out.
He wouldn’t back off and leave it another ten years, like he had last time. That was the coward’s way. No matter whether he liked her answers or not, he was determined to hear them.
Plan C, finding some other way to contact her, was a last resort.
Social media wasn’t his strong point, he only maintained a group page to keep in contact with his lab interns. He’d searched and found her profile. Lots of pretty pictures. Cottages, cats and inspirational bible quotes. So like Beth, though there’d been no actual photos of her.
Still, he couldn’t risk something so personal on a hunch.
It had to be Plan B.
The announcement that the store was closing in five minutes came over the P.A.
Time to stop pretending to read the store directory at the top of the down escalator. Standing here with a dry mouth and a tight chest wouldn’t solve anything. Time to man up, and do this. He stepped onto the rattly old moving stairway.
At her counter, Beth stood with her back to him, neatly professional in a black skirt and white blouse. Anita, beside her, looked up and smiled.
“Look who’s here?” she said, with a giggle.
Beth turned toward him, with an uncertain smile that told him nothing of her feelings.
“Hello James.” She picked up a folder from her counter, and crossed her arms over it, eyeing him warily.
Something tight in him loosened.
That clue, even an obtuse scientist like him recognised. Thanks to the body language course he’d taken to help him read his students, he occasionally got cues right.
Defensiveness.
“Beth, I hoped you’d join me for a walk when you finish here. After last night, we need to talk. I think we both have unanswered questions.” He kept his tone matter of fact. She wouldn’t agree if he scared her off.
She’d started shaking her head when Anita interrupted. “Was it you who phoned earlier?”
He nodded.
“You never told me that.” Beth turned to her colleague with an exasperated smile. “What sort of friend are you?”
“A good one. I thought I recognised that not quite English accent.”
Beth shook her head, lips pursed, and sighed. Obviously, these two were friends, not just colleagues.
Anita smiled. “What should I tell you? Some guy called wanting to find out if you were working today and what time the store closed. Hardly classified information. It might have been the fiance of one of your brides.”
She nudged Beth away from her counter. “It’s obvious you two need to talk. Why not go now? I’ll cash up for you.”
“But what about Cara …” Beth protested. Her tone indicated that she wasn’t protesting too hard.
“Don’t worry what Ms Scrooge will say. You worked though lunch. We don’t all have to be workaholics because she is. She’s not here today anyway. I’m close-up manager tonight.”
James smiled gratefully at Anita, then turned to Beth.
“Hyde Park is close. A quick walk to kick up some autumn leaves before you get on your train. We both get our questions answered.”
“I guess we do need to talk. I owe you that.” She avoided meeting his gaze, but her lips curled in a nervous smile as she put the folder she’d clutched to her chest back on the counter.
That sounded like a ‘Yes’.
A reluctant yes. A pressured yes. An implied yes.
But still a yes.
Not quite jump-in-the-air fist pumping territory, but enough to start a quiet warm glow spreading in his chest.
Worst case, he’d get some answers.
The store bell rang, and the announcement that the store had closed came over the public address.
“Perfect timing. I’ll meet you at the staff door.” Reaching out, he touched the back of her hand. Just a brush of his fingertips, nothing like a caress.
As if his touch tugged a puppet string, she jumped, raising startled eyes to his for a moment.
The warm colour flooding her face suggested the touch affected her as much as it had him. Even that innocent contact had his pulses thundering.
But she hadn’t actually agreed to meet with him, only implied it. This was too important to let her wiggle out of.
He had to solve the problem of why she’d reacted as she had last night, and none of his possible hypotheses seemed to work. That adorable blush now, and the way she’d kissed him last night suggested she had feelings for him, yet she’d run away, and seemed reluctant to see him.
The data didn’t add up. His work was all about seeing patterns, but he didn’t see one here.
No one that made any logical sense, anyway.
“Meet me at the staff door?” he repeated.
She nodded, picked up some papers, then ducked her head to scrabble under the counter.
An excuse, if ever he saw one.
Looked like the nod was the only answer he’d get. It would have to do.
“C’mon! Get out of here, both of you!” Anita’s good-natured nudge to get him moving was firm enough to break a few ribs on anyone more fragile. “Didn’t you hear? The store is now closed.”
James smiled as he rubbed his chest. “I get the message.”
Beth emerged from under the counter. All flushed and flustered, she looked gorgeous. Though now of course she could claim her facial vasodilation was due to crouching down, and nothing to do with him.
“See you outside,” he said.
“I’ll only be a few minutes,” she muttered, avoiding his eyes.
Looked like he had a battle on his hands.
He knew it was crazy, when last night she’d behaved so erratically.
He knew it was too soon, they’d only just met again, after all.
But also knew, with as much certainty as he’d known anything in his life, that he wanted the next wedding list Beth planned to be her own.
Chapter 16
Beth watched James retreat up the escalator.
How could he make an ordinary blue oxford shirt look so good? His presence seemed to melt her, every time.
When it seemed impossible for her face to burn any hotter, her cheeks flamed again. From h
er welcoming smile, to her blushes, to her tremor at his touch. No doubt he’d noticed every one. Responses too strong to ignore.
But the rules to the game he played made no sense.
Asking her to the wedding. Holding hands. Kissing her.
Then pushing her away, saying nothing more could happen. As good as ignoring her at the reception. Laughing at her after she’d had the guts to stand up to his mother.
And now coming back to the store, wanting to see her again.
Just when she thought she knew the path God wanted her on, buying the house.
Lord, help me be stronger.
No matter if he’d changed his mind and wanted to let things happen, give their relationship to chance to grow and develop into something lasting. That didn’t mean it would work.
James didn’t seem to realise how wrong she was for him, how being with her would damage his family relationships and his career.
So why had she agreed? Why were her pulses bouncing like an over-excited kid on a trampoline?
“You too, scoot!” Anita moved her hands to shoo her.
Beth didn’t move. Confusion glued her feet to the floor.
Anita planted her hands on her hips “Okay, you want to tell me off for being an interfering pain in the you-know-where, but do it tomorrow. Go for a walk with him now. Get your questions answered. Then go buy your dream house built for one. What harm can it do?”
Plenty, was the answer, though no point telling Anita.
If she had half her friend’s chutzpah, her life might have been different. No matter what happened, Anita bounced right back.
But Anita was right.
Time to talk, get some answers. Goodbye was the only possible ending, but they both needed closure.
Her breath hiccupped and her chest tightened as she changed clothes then dashed to the staff entrance, before fear and humiliation won out.
More heartbreak was the inevitable outcome of being with James again. But that didn’t stop her smiling to see him waiting outside, face pinched and anxious above a woolly muffler scarf.
That didn’t stop her heart leaping like a gazelle at his smile.
That didn’t stop delighted warmth zinging through her when he took her hand.
Thankfully, James seemed content to walk in silence the short distance to the park gate. His nearness was doing all sorts of disconcerting things to her tummy, making any sort of intelligible speech seemed doubtful.
Joggers puffed past them on the footpath as they wandered toward the North Ride. A few late horse riders sedately trotted their mounts, kicking up dust. Across the park, a church steeple pierced the trees and bells rang out.
“That’s where I worship,” James said, pointing to it.
“Uh huh,” she murmured with a nod.
The moment was too special to disrupt with words.
They walked just off the path, still hand in hand, kicking through the fallen leaves carpeting the grass. In the twilight, the leaves still clinging to the trees glowed orange and yellow. A squirrel chittered at them from a branch.
Dusk fell. The wrought iron lamps along the path lit up, casting a radiance to match her inner glow. The hum of traffic on Park Lane and Bayswater Road seemed far away.
All of her awareness focused on James.
The sensation of her hand, engulfed in his. The strength of his presence beside her. The crunch of their feet on the browning leaves. The indefinable something humming between them as they walked.
The something that should be off limits.
This evening was idyllic, like old times. But knowing the idyll was fleeting, as their time at Tetherton Hall had been, spoiled the moment.
The wild joy that he’d sought her out changed nothing. The gulf separating them stayed the same. No matter what they felt, being together was an unrealistic dream. A dream that this morning, she resolved herself not to want any more. But seeing James had stirred it up, all over again.
While they walked in silent companionship, the comforting illusion remained.
“Beth, what went wrong last night?” he asked eventually, breaking the silence, shattering the pretence.
Painful as her honest answer would be, it was the only option. No point pretending not to understand what he meant.
Despite the cool evening air, her face heated.
Still, her gaze stayed on her feet, scuffing in the leaves. Saying the words wouldn’t be easy. Knowing she didn’t measure up cut a deep wound.
“When we kissed last night, it was wonderful,” he continued, his tone soft and gentle. “But then you couldn’t seem to get away from me fast enough. Why?”
She risked a glance at him.
His face held only concern, confusion, and she detected a hint of suffering.
As if he’d been hurt, not the other way around.
The pain in his eyes threatened to break down the floodgates holding back her own emotions. Quickly, she looked away.
“You said it last night, James. We both know I’m not good enough for you. That’s why you said the kiss was a mistake and nothing more was going to happen between us.” The words burst from her in a painful rush.
He dropped her hand and took her shoulders in a warm gentle grip, turning her toward him and giving her a little shake.
Her gaze remained on the autumn leaves at her feet. Far safer than meeting his eyes.
“I’ve worried you were angry I kissed you, that I offended you somehow. I said what I said because up there alone in the dark, kissing like that, we risked going too far.” Relieved laughter rang in his voice. “You got it so wrong, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. If only it was true.
Lifting her head she saw his eyes shone with amused warmth. And with something more, an intensity that made her look away fast, heart jumping wildly, before she melted into a puddle at his feet.
None of it made any difference.
“I wish you’d look at me again, and really hear what I say. Of course you’re good enough for me. When you left Tetherton Hall, I was devastated.”
Beth knew that feeling. She’d felt the same. Desolate. Lonely. Like she’d shrunk to half the person she’d been with James.
“But you never contacted me.” Her voice sounded small and weak. “I hoped and prayed you’d phone or email or write. Imogen told me you weren’t serious about me, that you wouldn’t bother with me once I left. She was right.”
A noise of pain came from him, somewhere between a sigh and a groan.
Her hand crept out to rest lightly on his chest, trying to give some comfort.
“James?”
He shook his head. “That was a bad time for me. I took you going hard. Those ridiculous ideas you weren’t good enough had nothing to do with it.” The words sounded strangled as his chest vibrated under her fingertips.
“Other people think it. You didn’t hear what your mother said last night.”
She dragged in a shaky breath. Some of what his mother had said, she didn’t want to repeat. Like the threat to disown him.
He’d be just crazy enough to call his mother’s bluff and throw away a fortune for her. She couldn’t let him do that. She wasn’t worth it.
“So what did she say?” he asked, voice weary, as if he’d heard it all before.
“Among other things, that she wasn’t surprised you were still amusing yourself with servants. That you’d always had low tastes. And that I’d drag you down to my level.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “I don’t believe in ‘levels’. Not in that way.” His hands tightened on her shoulders. Whatever his thoughts were, they didn’t seem comforting. “But if I did believe in them, I’d rather be on yours than my parents’. What do I have in common with them?”
Letting her go, he stepped away, shaking his head.
Ridiculously bereft, she battled the urge to move nearer again.
“Probably more than you do with my level.” She nearly cried the words. “A council house on a rough estate in Stevenage. Pare
nts who hate anything ‘posh’. Whose life revolves around beer, smoking, and TV. You’d hate it.”
A humourless smile twisted his lips. “That’s not your level, Beth Forrest, any more than my parents’ is mine. Mother spends all her time jetting around the world, and Dad cares for nothing but making money. A succession of housekeepers raised me, until I was packed off to boarding school at eight. Like you, I found solace in books and studying.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head, forehead creased.
Sadness flooded her for the lonely boy he’d been. She’d envied his privileged life, but perhaps his life hadn’t been any easier than hers.
While she struggled to find words, he spoke again.
“We’ll make our own level. Forget what my mother and Imogen say. They’re snobs, with a value system that’s about as wrong as possible. Most people don’t think like them.”
She wished that was true. How she wished it.
But it wasn’t.
“They’re not the only people who think that. You’re taking up a Cambridge professorship. What would your colleagues say if I’m your partner at university events? The most junior student there is better educated than me.”
Shame shook her, closing her eyes. “Not only do I not have a degree, I don’t even have a high school qualification. How would I talk to anyone?” Her laugh tasted bitter in her mouth. “I’m the best educated one in my family, but I doubt my Open University preparation course counts for much to people with PhDs.”
“You’ll talk to the other professors the same way you talk to me. Open, honest, interested in people. They’re people, just like everyone else. Be yourself. You don’t need to be anything else.”
“What, you mean this me?” She exaggerated the slangy accent she’d heard around her growing up, pushing a hip forward and resting a hand on it in a street-wise attitude.
His lips twisted as he shook his head. “That’s not you, Beth. You don’t need to pretend. Circumstances stopped you getting an education, not lack of ability. I don’t see you as less because of it, why should they?”
His strong fingers lifted to rest on her cheek, so softly and tenderly that tears stung her eyes.
He didn’t understand. How could he?
Love In Store Books 1-3: Collection of three sweet and clean Christian romances with a London setting: The Wedding List, Believe in Me, & A Model Bride Page 10