Second Chances at the Log Fire Cabin

by Catherine Ferguson

  ‘My car’s over there,’ he says. Digging his hands deeper in his pockets, he strides off, and I slide and stumble my way after him, wishing I’d worn something more practical than these high-heeled boots.

  I get into the passenger seat, feeling grateful the journey back to the cabin is a short one. Alex is definitely not in the mood for small talk.

  But I try anyway. ‘So, are you heading back to Australia on Boxing Day?’ I ask cheerfully.

  He nods, fumbling for the wiper controls. ‘All good things come to an end,’ he says shortly, and I glance across at him. His jaw is rigid, his expression uncompromisingly grim. I sigh and give up on the small talk. But his moodiness continues to rattle me, so eventually, when we’re almost back at the cabin, I break the silence.

  ‘Are you okay? You seem annoyed at me.’

  He looks across at me. ‘Annoyed? Not really. I suppose it’s more a feeling of disappointment.’

  My stomach lurches uncomfortably. ‘Disappointment? How have I disappointed you, Alex?’

  He shrugs and pulls into the side of the road by the Log Fire Cabin, keeping the engine running. ‘I suppose I thought I was getting to know you. I thought we were on the same wavelength and that doesn’t happen very often, not for me anyway. But now I’m not so sure.’

  I stare across at him, ‘Why? What’s changed?’

  He gives me an odd look as if I should know what he’s talking about. But I really don’t!

  At last he murmurs, ‘It’s like you always hold something of yourself back.’ He shakes his head. ‘I’ve given up trying to work you out.’

  I sit there, shocked at his summing up of me. He knows me too well. Ever since Billy left me, I’ve made sure to keep a distance from people, never wanting to risk being rejected like that again. But I never realised it was so obvious – to Alex, at any rate.

  He very deliberately leans across me and opens my door for me to get out.

  Angry and tearful, I take the hint. Once I’m out in the snow, I turn and slam the door shut with all the force I can muster. The snow muffles the sound but it’s still pretty loud.

  Alex hits the accelerator a second later and attempts to roar off. But his tyres spin in the snow for a few seconds before gaining traction, which gives me a certain spiteful pleasure.

  I slide my way along the path to the front door, snow blowing into my face, stinging my eyes and mingling with the angry tears and the hurt Alex’s careless remarks have stirred up.

  How dare he accuse me of ‘holding something back’ when he hasn’t even bothered to find out if there’s a reason I feel the need to do that! Maybe, when Alex has worked through his grumpy mood, he’ll realise how unfair he’s been …

  But maybe he won’t. So he’ll return to Australia with a bad impression of me, instead of remembering the fun we had when he tried to teach me to skate.

  I freeze, my key in the lock.

  The thought of Alex thinking badly of me is such a distressing thought, I know I can’t let him leave the day after tomorrow without setting the record straight.

  But it will be no use trying to talk to him tomorrow, Christmas Day, when everyone else is around celebrating and enjoying the festivities, with Poppy back from hospital.

  I need to talk to him now!

  I glance over at my car. It’s already buried under a few inches of snow and it’s likely to get a lot worse before morning. If Alex’s tyres made hard work of the severe weather, mine will be even worse.

  Entering the cabin, I quickly change into my trainers, which are by the door in the shoe rack. Then, before anyone can come out into the hall and tell me not to be so silly, I slip back out into the snowy night and close the door softly behind me.

  I take a big breath, bury my nose in my scarf to keep out the worst of the weather, and set off after Alex …

  Chapter 29

  It’s a good twenty-minute walk along the lakeside road to the hotel under normal weather conditions – but, tonight, with heavy snow falling constantly, it takes me longer. My feet are already sinking in it up to my ankles when I set off.

  It’s after eleven when I arrive at the hotel. Soaked through, I shake snow off my coat and stamp my feet in the entrance before going inside to reception. There’s no one there. So, after waiting for a minute or two, I glance around and head for the stairs.

  I know the room Alex is in.

  My trudge through the snow has calmed me down but as I walk along the same gloomy corridor for the second time in as many days, I’m starting to wonder what I’ll say to him.

  Then when I knock and Alex comes to the door, he takes one look at me and swears under his breath with such ferocity that I immediately remember exactly why I’m there.

  I glare at him and he glares right back.

  ‘I walked all the way here to try and explain to you why I might seem a bit … detached sometimes,’ I murmur in an urgent tone, aware that Jackson is in the room next door. ‘But seriously, Alex, if this is the reception I get, I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going to waste my time.’

  I turn to go but he grabs my arm to stop me.

  ‘You walked here? Jesus, are you mad?’ he demands.

  ‘No, I’m not mad,’ I blurt out, trying but failing to reclaim my arm from his iron grip. ‘At least, not in the sense you mean. But I am mad that you feel you can judge me so harshly without even bothering to find out why I might be this way. Reluctant to show my true self to people.’

  He frowns and his expression softens slightly. ‘So will you come in,’ he says slowly, ‘instead of charging back out into the snow and getting pneumonia?’

  He releases my arm and holds the door wide.

  I shrug and walk on in.

  I’m shaking at the confrontation. And the thought that I’m going to have to start talking to Alex about the night of the accident, something I normally avoid like the plague.

  ‘Won’t Jackson wonder why you’re here?’

  ‘I’m not with Jackson.’ I practically shout it in utter frustration.

  But he still stares at me as if he doesn’t believe me.

  ‘It’s true, so don’t look at me like that! I might have hang-ups the size of a small continent but I’m not a liar!’

  He studies me with a hint of a smile on his face.

  ‘Except when you told Poppy you could bake, perhaps?’

  I feel myself flush. ‘That was a small white lie, mainly because she was so utterly desperate for help, bless her. I have a feeling she suspected I’d probably be clueless.’

  ‘You don’t seem clueless to me. You’ve produced some pretty spectacular desserts over the past few weeks.’

  His expression has softened a little.

  I smile triumphantly. ‘Yes, I think I might just have a talent for baking I never knew about.’

  He grins. ‘I’m sure that’s not your only talent.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  He shrugs. ‘There’s your skating?’

  ‘Funny.’ I glower at him.

  ‘I’m glad I make you laugh.’

  ‘You haven’t today. Not one bit, actually. You’ve been a right royal pain in the arse!’

  ‘Well, if you will go around spending time in other men’s rooms, you can’t really blame me for feeling jealous, can you?’

  I laugh incredulously. ‘You? Jealous? Come off it!’

  He just looks at me then. This long intense stare, his green eyes burning into mine.

  My heart starts beating frantically.

  ‘What’s happening here, Alex?’ I walk towards him, curiously. ‘You’re not telling me that you—’ I raise my hands in query and, quick as a flash, he grabs one of them and pulls me towards him.

  Shocked to find myself suddenly rammed up against him, I stare at him wordlessly, knowing I should probably be objecting but finding, weirdly, that the words I’m looking for just won’t come out.

  And when his mouth comes down on mine, all the words in the world fly out of my head an
yway. So, instead, I just give in to the urgency of the moment, which seems to be stretching into many, many moments as I reach up to tangle my hands in his hair and he pulls me against him so hard, there’s not a hair’s breadth between us.

  We make it to the bed and then he’s on top of me and the feelings of utter bliss are making my head spin. I arch my back, wanting more of him. His hands are under my top, travelling upwards and over my back and, for a second, I flinch. But he draws me to a kneeling position and pulls off my top, then he turns me around and grasps me round my midriff, and starts kissing my back. It’s bliss and agony all at once, because my need for him feels so overwhelming. My skin is so unbearably sensitive to his kisses, I want him to never stop but just carry on doing what he’s doing – and he does, brushing his lips all the way up to my neck and my shoulders.

  Then I twist round and find his mouth with mine and stars start exploding in my head.

  A fog of passion is rendering all thought obsolete. But in the faraway recesses of my mind, a little voice is whispering. At first, it’s too distant to pay attention to. But gradually it grows louder and more insistent, until finally a single thought arrives in my head.

  He’s seen my scars – kissed my roughened skin – and yet he’s still here.

  I pull slightly away from him, wanting to look into his eyes. Because then I might be able to believe it’s true.

  And that’s when the bedside phone rings, bringing us back to cold reality.

  We break apart, stunned by the sudden piercing noise. Alex sits back, looking slightly bemused, and runs a hand through his hair. He looks at me. Then he glances at the phone.

  ‘Maybe you should answer it,’ I say shyly, looking around for my top.

  He gives a big drawn-out groan and reaches for the phone.

  I pull on my top and go to the mirror to smooth my own hair, trying not to listen to his phone conversation. When he hangs up, I turn and he says, ‘It’s just reception. They were checking to see if my flight will be leaving the day after tomorrow as scheduled.’

  My heart plummets at the mention of his flight and I realise what a stupid, hopeless idiot I’ve been, allowing myself to get carried away like this. He’ll be leaving on Boxing Day, the day after tomorrow. All we’ve done is make things worse. Because now it will be even harder for me to say goodbye to him.

  ‘I’d better go,’ I mutter, jumping off the bed and heading for the door.

  ‘Roxy, no, please don’t go!’ he shouts. ‘Let me give you a lift back at least.’

  ‘No, Alex, it’s no use.’

  I duck out and run along the corridor and down the stairs towards the exit.

  It’s stopped snowing when I get outside but it’s freezing. I stand in the entrance, doing up my coat and putting on my scarf. Then Alex is there, trying to stop me from leaving.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ I tell Alex firmly. ‘I don’t need a lift. Please don’t follow me.’

  And then, to make sure he doesn’t, I look him straight in the eye and say the one thing that just might stop him.

  ‘This was all just a big mistake.’

  Chapter 30

  I walk back through the snow to the cabin in a daze, my brain struggling to process what just happened with Alex.

  All I can think is that it must have been some primitive instinct taking over in the wake of my overwhelmingly emotional day.

  I feel utterly exhausted and just want to fall into bed and sleep.

  But strangely, when I finally make it back to my bedroom, change into my cosy pyjamas and slide between the covers, sleep evades me completely. I toss and turn, trying desperately to drift off, but my mind just won’t relax. It’s like a naughty toddler resisting sleep by jumping up and down on the bed and yelling at the top of its voice.

  My thoughts are all jumbled, like in a strange dream, and eventually I get out of bed and creep downstairs to make myself a hot drink, hoping that might do the trick. With Poppy still in hospital (although she’s coming back tomorrow – well, today, actually; it’s long after midnight now) I will be in charge of the Christmas lunch so I could do with some shuteye to prepare myself.

  I’m actually dreading Poppy’s return because I’ve no idea if she’s even going to be speaking to me after I dropped her in it with Jed about the pregnancy. My stomach flutters with panic every time I think of what she’ll say.

  But there’s no point worrying. What will be will be. I just need to throw all my energy into serving up a good Christmas lunch.

  Standing there waiting for the milk to boil, it strikes me as amazing that I’m not at all fazed by the prospect of cooking a turkey – even though I’ve only ever watched Mum do it. It’s as if these few weeks, baking and cooking with Poppy, have lit a fire inside me and revealed a natural ability I didn’t know existed …

  I sit in bed drinking my hot chocolate, trying to focus on the lunch, but snatches from my steamy encounter with Alex keep intruding on my thoughts, making me flush hotly and think about opening a window.

  The drink helps but the dreams that follow are the exhausting kind where I’m racing to get somewhere but find myself thwarted at every turn.

  At one point during the night, I wake up and have a moment of absolute clarity.

  It hits me with the force of a ten-ton truck.

  I’ve fallen for Alex harder than I’ve ever fallen for a man before. Even Billy.

  But now, I’m going to have to start the impossible process of trying to forget him …

  I wake to the sound of Christmas classics blaring from Ruby’s room.

  Instantly, my thoughts turn to the night before and Alex.

  I slip out of bed, cross to the window and stare out at the perfect festive scene before me. The winter sun sparkles on the lake and the branches of the fir trees hang heavy with the fresh falls of snow that arrived the night before.

  I can see the hotel in the distance, where Alex will be waking up. Will he be thinking about me?

  My throat aches, remembering how we parted the night before. I should never have gone over there …

  Ruby’s Christmas music intrudes on my thoughts, and with a shock, I suddenly remember something.

  It’s Christmas Day!

  I need to get busy with the big celebration lunch.

  I shower, dress in jeans and my favourite comfortable T-shirt, and run down to the kitchen to take the turkey out of the fridge.

  The huge bird arrived yesterday with a delivery of other Christmas goodies from a local supermarket. I eye it uncertainly. Grappling with this is going to be interesting. But I’m not daunted!

  To be honest, I’ll be more than happy to remain in the kitchen all day, cooking from now until midnight. If I’m hidden away in here, I won’t have to see Alex …

  I keep thinking of his face when I said what we did last night was just a big mistake. My heart lurches painfully every time I remember. But there would be no use taking it back.

  As the morning wears on and I try to focus on preparing sprouts and peeling what seems like a million chestnuts for the stuffing – thankfully with some help from Clemmy – anxiety is building inside me.

  I’m dreading Poppy’s return.

  Soon after ten, Jed popped his head round the door to let us know he was off to pick her up. Last night, when he got back from the hospital, he parked his car in a spot near the main road, just in case more snowfall overnight made it difficult to get it out in the morning.

  He seemed his usual chirpy self and was clearly still buzzing at the news of becoming a dad, now that it was clear Poppy and the baby were both fine.

  ‘I can’t thank you enough, Roxy, for letting me know about the baby,’ he added before he left.

  I smiled in reply, but beneath it all, I was really worried. I’d upset Poppy’s plans and had no idea how she’d be feeling. I supposed at least Jed would plead my cause to her if the worst happened and she couldn’t forgive me.

  I hear Jackson arriving a little while later, and as I expect,
he comes into the kitchen and we have a slightly awkward hug.

  ‘Is Alex coming over for lunch?’ I ask him. I’ve been longing to know – and also dreading it – since I got up this morning.

  ‘Yes, he’s coming over soon.’

  I’m also a bag of nerves at the prospect of Poppy’s return from the hospital. As I mix aromatic sausage meat, bought from a nearby farm shop, with the chestnuts and liberal sprinklings of fresh herbs, I calculate how long it’s likely to take Jed to get there and back, bearing in mind the tricky weather conditions.

  By my reckoning, he and Poppy could be here as early as one o’clock.

  My insides start up a protest at the very idea, so I turn up the radio and soon Clemmy and I are singing along to some classic Christmas songs, which makes me feel a little less stressy.

  At last everything is prepared for the three o’clock lunch, timed to fit in with Poppy’s return. The turkey and my herby homemade stuffing are in the oven, filling the whole house with the most mouth-watering savoury smells, and the vegetables are all peeled and chopped and sitting in pans on the hob.

  ‘Coffee?’ asks Clemmy, holding up the kettle. ‘Or something stronger?’

  I grin. ‘Tempting. But I think Jed’s planning on popping the champagne when they get back. I’ll wait till then. Coffee would be lovely, though.’

  A shot of vodka would hit the spot so much better!

  Ryan comes in and beckons Clemmy through to look at something to do with weddings on the TV. So I finish making the coffee myself. And instead of going through to join the others in the living room, I shrug on my coat and gloves, click open the French windows and walk out into the snow with my coffee cup, closing the doors softly behind me.

  It’s a brilliant day of blue skies and sunshine, with not a hint of the tumultuous snow clouds of yesterday, but more snow is forecast for later. My car is pretty stuck, not having snow tyres, but no doubt a snow plough will eventually make its way along, so I’m not too worried. If I needed to, I could always walk to the main road, which is apparently perfectly clear of snow, and get a bus home from there.