After slipping off their ponchos and sitting in the sun to dry off, they got take-out sandwiches and coffee and walked along the top of the Falls.
Beth’s ribcage felt tight and tingly. After the high of seeing the waterfalls and riding beneath the spray, the heartbreak of losing her pendant had left her feeling anxious and out of place.
Blake’s words had helped. She liked the thought of her father getting his wish - a little bit of him being carried away with the rush of the Falls. But at the same time, she felt like she’d lost a piece of him. And now that their final excursion was over, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was losing Blake too.
Both of them were unusually quiet as they walked. Any other day, they’d either be exchanging barbs or talking about other things they wanted to see and do when they travelled the world. But now, there was something sombre in the air between them.
“Beth...” Blake stopped and leaned against the railings with his back to the river. “It seems a shame to just head back to the hotel and squirrel ourselves away to write.”
Beth tilted her head at him. “What else do you have in mind?”
“Well, my hometown’s not far. I think you’d like it. It’s pretty quaint.”
“Niagara on the Lake?” She remembered him mentioning it when Emily had first interviewed them.
Blake nodded. He was wringing his hands together nervously, as if he had something else to say but couldn’t quite manage it.
“What is it?” Beth raised her sunglasses so she could narrow her eyes at him.
Blake ran a finger around the collar of his shirt. His neck was flushed. “It’s, ah, well… I was talking to my mom last night and she said that, if we had time, she’d love to meet you.” He spoke quickly, throwing his words together as if it would make them less impactful somehow.
Beth couldn’t help smiling. “You spoke to your mum about me?”
Shrugging, Blake’s mouth twitched into a bashful smile. “A bit.”
“Sure. Let’s do it. I’d love to meet Mr and Mrs O’Brien.”
Niagara on the Lake was the quintessential adorable Canadian town. Tree-lined streets, red brick buildings, a clock tower at one end of the main street and even horse-drawn carriages taking loved-up couples on rides.
“Fancy it?” Blake nodded towards a big shiny carriage and a beautiful grey horse. The driver was wearing a top hat, a white shirt, and a waistcoat. Blake put one foot on the side of the carriage and hopped up to whisper something in his ear. The driver smiled, nodded, and then said to Beth, “Welcome aboard Ma’am.”
Blake reached out his hand and helped her up. The seats were red and soft, and as she sat down Blake unashamedly put his arm around her.
“Is this another date?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he replied. “I think it is.”
Our second and our last, Beth thought. But she didn’t say it out loud. Instead, she leaned into Blake’s shoulder and decided that if this was their last afternoon together she needed to do nothing more than just enjoy every second of it – and ignore the gloomy tugging sensation in the pit of her stomach that kept reminding her she’d soon be hundreds of miles away from him.
The scenery of Blake’s beautiful hometown certainly did a good job of distracting her from that feeling. The sun was warm. Everywhere they looked, flowers were in bloom. And Beth felt as if she was riding through a movie set – too idyllic to be a place that people actually lived in.
They’d almost finished their ride around town, when the driver - instead of heading back to the main thoroughfare - headed off down a side street. Then, a few minutes later, he stopped outside a large red-brick town house with flower-covered railings on its porch.
“Your stop, Sir.” He tipped his hat at Blake.
Blake reached into his wallet, handed over the last of his spending money from Nomad, and then helped Beth down onto the pavement. Waving at the house in front of them, he said, “This is it. Home.”
Beth smiled. “Blake O’Brien, you really are something out of a fairy-tale.”
Blake slipped his hand into hers, and she thought he might be about to lean over and kiss her, when the door to the town house opened and a short sharp squeal filled the air.
“Blake!”
They looked up to see a short, blonde-haired woman in smart trousers and a white blouse waving at them. She hurried down the steps, flung open the front gate, and pulled Blake into an embrace. Then let him go and did the same to Beth.
She clutched Beth’s hands between hers. “Beth Greenwood, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve been devouring your articles. They’re just fantastic.”
Coughing and raising his eyebrows, Blake said, “Gee, thanks Mom.”
But his mum shook her head and playfully pinched his cheek. “Oh, and yours of course my darling.” Turning back to Beth and putting her arm around her, she pulled her close and led her through the front gate and up the steps to the house. “Come inside and meet my husband Mark. He’s dying to meet you. Blake’s told us so much about you. We’ve never heard him so enthusiastic about a girl before.”
Beth looked back and saw Blake visibly cringing. “Mom,” he said, sounding almost like an embarrassed teenager.
But his mother simply waved her hand at him and tutted, “Oh Blake. Don’t be silly. Beth must know that you like her. You don’t take just any old person on a horse-drawn carriage ride, do you?” Looking at Beth, she leaned in and whispered, “He likes to pretend he’s macho, but he’s a big softy really.”
“Really?” Beth glanced back at Blake and grinned at him. “I never would have guessed.”
20
After dinner, during which Blake’s parents took great delight in regaling Beth with almost every embarrassing tale from his high-school years, they disappeared to the kitchen to do the dishes and left the two of them to write their final articles.
Spreading out at the dining room table, Blake drummed his fingers on his keyboard and said, “Wow. So the pressure’s really on now, huh?”
Beth swallowed purposefully and tried to smile. She suddenly felt overwhelmingly close to tears. This was it. The last evening she’d spend in Blake’s company.
For close to an hour, they sat opposite one another, typing and re-typing, sighing, and making minimal progress.
Beth was finding it almost impossible to concentrate; a voice in her head was whispering Ask him. Just ask him. Ask him if he wants to see you again. Ask him if he wants to travel the world with you. If you don’t ask, you’ll never know...
Eventually, she scraped her chair back from the table and said, “Is it okay if I go make some coffee? I’m struggling to focus.”
“Good idea. I’ll do it.” Blake headed towards the door. “No peeking though.” He gestured to his laptop.
“I promise,” Beth replied. But as soon as Blake was out of the room, an overwhelming sense of curiosity took hold of her. Would Blake be sticking to his tried-and-tested listicle for their final submission? Or something else? Emily had told them to write about their ‘overall’ experience. So, would Blake have mentioned her? Because she had been struggling to sum up her experience without mentioning him.
Against her better judgement, Beth stood up and moved cautiously around the table until she was leaning over the back of Blake’s empty chair, staring at his screen. The document he had open was a transcript of the notes he’d dictated at Niagara Falls. But there was another just behind it.
She clicked on it. And started reading.
When I first met Beth Greenwood, I had no idea she was the daughter of the infamous travel writer Charles Greenwood. Unassumingly beautiful, straight away she came across as someone who had something to prove. So, of course, when I discovered her heritage, all the pieces fell into place.
My friendship with Beth has shaped my experience in this competition more than I thought possible. I came into this trip knowing who I am and what I want - from life and from my blog - but Beth didn’t even know herself.
In the beginning, she veered between wanting to be independent and wanting to honour her father’s memory. As the days went on, she seemed to find herself.
Beth told me that she doesn’t want to write what’s commercially viable. She wants to write from the heart. And that really stuck with me. So, I thought I’d try it. I thought, for once, I’d try writing something with feeling.
And I don’t think I’ve ever felt more than I did when we were standing beneath Niagara Falls, on the Maiden of the Mist, wearing silly blue ponchos and covered in spray.
To me, it seemed as if Beth was finally saying goodbye to her father. Niagara Falls was a place he’d always told her stories about - one of the first places he visited when he started travelling - and somewhere they’d dreamed of seeing together... ... ...
Beth stopped reading and stumbled backwards, the force of her emotions hitting her like a punch in the guts. Blake’s final article was about her. And not just her. It was about her and her father.
Not only had he taken what was unique to her - her style, her openness, her emotion - he’d used it to expose details she’d never shared with anyone else.
A wave of nausea swept from her head to her toes and, in a daze, she moved back to her side of the table. Sitting down, she reached for her bag and started to shove her things back into it.
Then, before Blake could return, she ran to the front door and out onto the street. And she kept running until she reached the centre of town.
Panting and shaking, she called Emily and asked if she could send a cab to fetch her.
As she waited, she was almost certain that Blake would - at any second - catch up with her. But she couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him. She’d persuaded herself to trust him. She’d even been about to tell him she had feelings for him. And yet the whole time, he was no different from the arrogant, self-centred, egotistical jerk she’d met two weeks ago. The kind of person who’d do anything to win. Even if it meant exposing her inner-most thoughts and feelings to the world.
How could she ever have let herself fall for Blake O’Brien?
Back at her hotel, Beth turned off her phone and through tears she thought would never stop coming wrote her final piece. It was awful. She was sure of it. But she didn’t care anymore. All she wanted was to go home.
That night, she barely slept. And at six a.m., instead of getting ready to meet Emily and Blake for their final goodbye breakfast, she left a message for Emily at reception, called a cab and went straight to the airport.
There, safely in the departure lounge, she switched on her phone. Twenty missed calls from Blake. And three voicemail messages.
Beth, where are you? What happened? Mom said she saw you leave? What’s going on?
Beth, I’m getting worried now, please call me.
In the third message, his voice was different. Shaky. Upset.
Beth... please call me back. I’m not sure what happened... I... I think maybe you saw what was on my laptop? I need to explain. Please, Beth?
Without hesitating, Beth deleted them, turned her phone back off, and shoved it deep into her handbag.
21
TWELVE HOURS LATER
Beth’s mum and Jo were, as promised, waiting for her at the airport. Beth flung herself into their arms, breathed them in, listened to them tell her they loved her and they’d missed her and that they were so, so proud of her. And all the way home in the car, she managed to hold herself together. She told them about the trains, and the bears, and Niagara Falls. But when they sat down at the kitchen table and Jo said, “Okay, so now tell us what we really want to know... what was the hunky Blake really like?” Beth burst into tears.
Assuming she was heart-broken over Harry, Beth’s mum immediately put the kettle on and gave her an enormous hug. “There, there, sweet girl. It’s okay,” she whispered, stroking her daughter’s hair. “It’s for the best. You both want different things.”
Beth sniffed and wiped her eyes, pulling away and - between sobs - muttering, “I know... It’s... not Harry I’m upset about.”
Jo and Beth’s mum exchanged a perplexed glance.
“It’s not?” Jo asked, sounding slightly impressed.
“It was awful, and I shouldn’t have broken up with him on the phone like that. But as soon as I’d said it... you know, told him I didn’t want to marry him, I felt better.”
“Then what is it sweetheart?” Her mum sat down next to her and squeezed her hand.
Beth looked at both of them. She didn’t want to say it out loud, because it sounded foolish and fanciful and like something a misguided teenager would say. “I think I fell in love with Blake O’Brien.”
Jo’s hand involuntarily flew to her mouth. Mum opened her mouth, closed it again, then said, “Well that explains the tears. After spending all that time together, you must be missing him already.”
Beth shook her head, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “No. I mean, yes, I do.” Her stomach tightened at the thought of how far away he was. “But the thing is... he betrayed me. Completely. When we met, I thought he was arrogant and mean and awful but the more I got to know him the more I liked him.”
Jo’s features had set into an angry and protective scowl. “Did he cheat on you, Beth?”
Beth’s eyes widened. “No. Nothing like that.”
“Then what happened, Beth?” Her mum patted her gently between the shoulder blades.
“On the last night, we were writing our final pieces and he went to make coffee. We were at his parents’ house and...”
“His parents?” Her mother sounded oddly impressed.
“They live near Niagara Falls. They made us dinner. And when Blake went to fetch coffee, I looked at his laptop.”
“Uh oh,” breathed Jo.
“He was writing about me.”
Mum and Jo exchanged another confused glance.
“All of his other articles were these short snappy touristy pieces. But, all of a sudden, he changed. He was writing like me. And about me.” She looked at her mother and tears started to well up in the corners of her eyes again. “And about dad.”
Mum wrapped her in a deep hug and kissed her forehead. “Oh Beth, I’m sorry.”
“It was so personal. Things I’ve never told anyone. And he’s just put them there, for the whole world to see.”
Mum was shaking her head and patting Beth on the arm. But Jo was still frowning.
“Did you ask him about it?” She was reaching for her phone as she asked the question.
“No,” Beth replied, stubbornly. “I just left. He tried to call me but I didn’t answer.”
Jo reached out, handing Beth her phone. “Beth, this is Blake’s article. Nomad put your final entries online this morning. It doesn’t say anything about you. It’s just a list of reasons why seeing Canada by train is the best way to travel.”
Beth grabbed the phone and started reading. Jo was right. This wasn’t the article she’d seen on his computer.
“He must have changed his mind...” she breathed.
“Or he never intended to publish it,” Jo said.
“Beth, my love. Why didn’t you give him a chance to explain?” Mum was trying to be gentle with her, but clearly thought she’d been rash by simply running away and ignoring Blake’s attempts to call her.
“I...” her words trailed off, because she didn’t know why. Maybe because it was easier to believe he’d betrayed her than face up to the fact that she was dreading leaving him? Or because she’d trusted him with her deepest thoughts and the idea that he was going to share them with the rest of the world was just too painful? “What have I done?” she asked, looking from Jo to her mum. “What on earth have I done?”
***
For nearly three hours that evening, Jo and her mum consoled, cajoled, and cuddled Beth, bringing her cups of tea and trying to persuade her that perhaps she should pick up the phone and call Blake to straighten it all out. But Beth was adamant that there was no point.
/>
“He hasn’t emailed me, Mum. Or texted since I walked out. I left without saying goodbye. I just left. I didn’t give him the chance to explain, I just ran away. So, even if he did have feelings for me before I’m pretty sure they’re gone now.”
“Beth,” her mum was speaking softly and tentatively, “I’m just going to say one more thing and then we’ll eat ice cream, watch a trashy film, and go to bed, okay?”
Beth nodded. “Okay.”
“In all the time you were with Harry, I never saw you like this. You were fond of him, I know. But I don’t think you ever really loved him. Not the crazy, head-over-heels, I can’t breathe without you kind of love that I felt for your father.”
Beth looked at Jo, who was nodding in agreement.
“And yet this handsome Canadian, who you’ve only known for two weeks, has made you cry like a heart-broken teenager.”
“And that’s a good thing?” Beth sniffed and wiped her puffy eyes with her sleeve.
“Yes. I think it is. Because if you’re this upset at the thought of losing him, he must be worth keeping hold of.”
“But I’ve known Blake for two weeks - it’s crazy.”
Her mum shrugged. “Love is crazy.”
Beth looked at Jo, then her mum. “So, what do I do?”
22
TWO WEEKS LATER
For two weeks, Beth barely left the house.
The morning after she told her mum and Jo about what happened with Blake, she took their advice and emailed him. She wrote that she was sorry for leaving the way she did, and that she wanted so badly to talk to him, and she asked him to call her, or text, or email.
But just like the very first email she’d sent him, back before they even met, Blake ignored it.
The True Love Travels Series Box Set Page 26