Much Ado About You

by Samantha Young

  Who stood in the doorway of her store and stared down Main Street until Annie was out of sight.

  “She sold everything.” Roane crossed his arms over his chest and smiled softly at me. He was dirty and disheveled from working the farm, and sweat glistened on his temples. He smelled musky and warm with exertion, and I had to ignore the impulse to bury my face in his throat.

  I didn’t know what had gotten into me.

  But the urge came over me more frequently these days.

  Swallowing hard, I looked toward The Anchor. “Oh yeah. She sold out just after lunchtime.”

  “Maybe it’ll give her the boost she needs.”

  I nodded. “I saw a woman watching from the lane. Dressed like Caro. Nasty scowl on her face.”

  Roane frowned. “Helena?”

  “I’m pretty sure. Caro didn’t see her. Thankfully. But I’ve invited her to stay with me again tonight. I don’t want her to go home to that woman and spoil what has been a great day for our girl.”

  Suddenly I found myself hauled against Roane, my face pressed to his throat after all, as he squeezed me tight in his arms. I gripped the back of his T-shirt, the fabric damp from all of his physical activity. “What’s this for?” My question came out muffled.

  He eased his hold, and I stepped back before I did something stupid. However, seeing his expression, I wondered if his arms weren’t a safer place. He really needed to stop looking at me like the sun rose and set with me.

  “Thank you for looking out for Caro. I tried my best.” Roane scrubbed a hand over his face, his beard bristling noisily as he did so. “It wasn’t enough. She needed someone like you.”

  “You’ve done a great job looking out for your cousin.” But who looks out for you, Roane? Who made him feel cared for? “I have Caro and Viola at my place tonight for girls’ night, but I was thinking tomorrow I could cook you dinner.”

  His gaze sharpened, and I realized belatedly how that sounded. It sounded like I was asking him on a date.

  “Or you know what would be even better, I’ll buy you dinner at The Anchor. To thank you for setting this”—I gestured to the van with the stalls—“up.”

  His long study of me was discomfiting to say the least, and I shifted from one foot to the other. Finally, he looked toward The Anchor with an expression bordering on disappointment. “Aye. Sounds good.”

  Worryingly, his tone suggested otherwise. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, to take away the sudden weariness I saw in him, but he beat me to it with a tight smile.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He moved past me without another word, and the amount of uneasiness I felt at his abrupt departure was kind of melodramatic.

  “Roane . . .” I followed him as he made his way to the driver’s-side door.

  He glanced over his shoulder and then stopped. His expression was shuttered, which was completely unlike him. At my silence he frowned. “Evie?”

  “We’re good. Right?” I was confused by his sudden change in demeanor.

  My friend studied my face, and as he did, his hard countenance slowly softened. He walked back to me, and I found my whole body loosening with relief as he clasped my face in his hands and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. I could feel every inch of his calloused fingertips on my skin and closed my eyes, much too in love with the feel of his hands on me. “We’re good,” he whispered. “I’m sorry if I was a bit abrupt with you. I’m tired today.”

  “Can I do anything?”

  Resting his forehead against mine, he chuckled, but it wasn’t a happy sound. I brought my hands to his strong arms, curling my fingers around his biceps. For a moment we just held each other. I imagined we looked sweet, affectionate, peaceful. But on the inside my heart was racing like crazy as I fought the battle to ignore our attraction to each other. I even shook a little, feeling as though I might shatter with the force of my restraint.

  Deep down I knew why Roane had been disappointed only a mere few seconds ago. I knew why his laugh was weary and unhappy.

  He wanted more than I was giving him.

  And he deserved to have everything he wanted.

  Truthfully, I was flattered and excited that I was what he wanted.

  However, if I gave in to the desire, I knew I’d lose myself instead of trying to find myself without him.

  Perhaps this friendship was unfair to him.

  On that thought I pulled out of his hold and couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “You know, I know you have a lot going on, so we can do dinner some other time.”

  Roane’s strong fingers gripped my chin, forcing my head up, my gaze to his. He looked somewhere between knowing and annoyed. He bent his head toward mine and I tensed, panic flaring at the thought of him kissing me.

  Not just panic.

  Stupid, stupid thrill rushed through me too.

  I held my breath as his gorgeous lips neared mine.

  But he halted, just a hairsbreadth from my mouth. His breath fanned across my lips, making my eyelashes flutter. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Evie Starling.”

  Just as abruptly as he’d captured my chin, Roane let me go and strode away. As I watched him jump into the van, my heart hammered hard in my chest.

  Now why did his last words to me sound like more than a promise to meet me for dinner?

  Shaken by everything left unsaid between us, I was thankful Viola had invited herself to a “sleepover.” I discovered she could be bright, bubbly, and vivacious, but there was a serious, sensitive side to her.

  We’d been laughing together in my living room over a British soap they’d introduced me to. The television show was ludicrously depressing. Then, out of nowhere, as the credits rolled, Caro said, “Aunt Helena is going to be so mad at me when I return home.”

  Viola immediately reached across to grip Caro’s hand in hers. “You don’t have to go back there, Caro. Mam and Dad will let you stay with us, and I’ll go get your things so you don’t have to see Helena.”

  Caro’s lips trembled at the idea. “I—I couldn’t. The imposition . . .”

  “It’s no imposition. Caro, you’re a good person who deserves to be happy. You know that, right?”

  Viola’s words seemed to trigger something in Caro, and I knew as she suddenly burst out into heartbreaking sobs that Viola had seen something the rest of us hadn’t.

  It wasn’t just that her aunt had dominated Caroline, taking control of every aspect of her life. She’d done it by making Caro believe she wasn’t worthy. That she wasn’t good. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks as Viola made soft hushing sounds, pulling Caro into her arms. She pressed her cheek to Caro’s head and rocked her like a baby.

  Wiping at my tears, I got up and crossed the living room to sit down beside them. I took Caro’s hand in mine and held back my wince when she squeezed it with all her worth.

  “Let it out, Caro. Let it out,” Viola whispered.

  Just like that our girls’ night took a turn I hadn’t expected.

  And as Caro’s story fell from her lips in broken words, I was done taking it slow.

  My plan had been to gradually get Caro to a point where she felt comfortable enough to leave Helena. But now I realized why Roane hated the woman so much. This girl was wounded in places no young woman should be. Only abuse could do that. I had known on some level that Helena’s control over Caro’s life was wrong. Yet the word “abuse” had never entered my mind. Until she shared her story.

  Slaps across the face for any attitude considered disobedient.

  Locked in her bedroom for a week when she was fifteen for daring to make a date with a boy. She had only a Bible and water to keep her company, her aunt bringing a tray of food once a day.

  And every day, being told she was a bad seed, worthless, that she had the devil in her, and only Helena’s influence in her life kept him at
bay.

  Sick to my stomach, I sat in that room, listening to what sounded like something out of a gothic novel, and I realized Caro was so much stronger than she knew. Many people would have given in to such emotional and mental abuse, but deep down Caro knew her aunt was wrong.

  We lapsed into silence, Caro’s head resting on Viola’s shoulder as the young girl hugged her close.

  “I don’t want to push you, like Helena has bullied you,” I announced, “but I think you know you need to make a move and do it now. Move in here, with me, and then we’ll find you something more permanent later.”

  Caro sat up slowly, her big dark eyes round with sorrow and fear. “I know she’s wrong . . . but there’s a part of me that’s scared she’s right.”

  That was the impact of years of mental warfare, and it wouldn’t go away with a snap of anyone’s fingers.

  “She’s wrong. But no one can make this decision for you. Only you can. I can promise we’ll all be here to help you through this.”

  “Maybe you should speak to someone,” Viola offered with a hint of trepidation.

  She’d plucked the thought right out of my head.

  Caro frowned. “Someone?” Her brow cleared, and her lips pressed together for a second in displeasure. “You mean a therapist?”

  Viola and I shared a look, worried we’d scare Caro away. Coming to a silent decision, we both nodded.

  Looking down at the floor, Caro whispered, “I’m scared.”

  I swear I thought my chest might splinter with the aching pain I felt for her. Roane’s cousin was such a gentle soul. How could anyone do what that wicked woman had done to her?

  “Anyone would be. But we’ll be here.” I reached across Viola to take Caro’s hand again. “You don’t have to go back there. We can get your stuff for you.”

  Caro shook her head, and I felt my stomach drop with the fear she’d return to that woman. “No.” She tilted her chin up with a hint of stubbornness and looked between Viola and me. “I should go back. To get my things.” Her lips trembled. “There’s not much I want to take with me, but I have a few things I’d like to keep.”

  Relief swamped me. “Do you want one of us to come with you?”

  “I think I’ll need you.” Anger flashed across her eyes. “She has all the passwords to my bank account details. All the money that my mother and father left me. I haven’t been able to touch it.”

  Fury ripped through me. “Excuse me?”

  She swallowed hard and nodded. “I have three savings accounts and a checking account. She took away my bank cards, made me open online accounting, and then changed all the passwords so I couldn’t access them. Moreover, we set up investments with my money with a financial adviser, but she has all those details too.”

  Something dawned on me. “Does she have money of her own?”

  Caro took a shuddering breath. “Everyone thinks so because her parents had money, but the majority of it went to my mother because she was the eldest. That money went to me. Helena thinks of it as hers. The only thing she owns is the cottage.”

  Now it all made sense. She didn’t want Caro to exert her independence because it would leave her with very little money.

  “Does Roane know this?”

  “He suspected, but I lied.” Caro’s face crumpled. “I told him she didn’t have access to my money.”

  Yeah, I was so done. “Will you move in here?”

  She blinked at my abrupt question but nodded slowly. “Yes.”

  We would talk about therapy later. First things first. “Tomorrow, Roane and I will accompany you to the cottage. While I help you pack, Roane will get everything he needs from Helena regarding your finances.”

  “What if she won’t hand it over?”

  “Oh, she will,” Viola said. She looked at me, angry determination in her eyes. “Roane has a good friend on the police force at Alnwick. I’m sure he’d be willing to accompany you.”

  I smirked. “That could work.”

  “I don’t want anyone else to know.” Caro shook her head.

  “It’ll only be Patrick, Caro. You know he won’t tell anyone.”

  After a little back-and-forth, we got Caro to agree, and I disappeared into my bedroom to call Roane. When I was done telling him everything, I had to hold the phone away from my ear while he cursed and railed.

  I wished in that moment I could be there in person to comfort him.

  “Roane,” I soothed. “This is a good development. She’ll finally be out from under that woman’s thumb.”

  “That won’t fix what she’s broken, Evie.”

  “No it won’t. But it’s a start.”

  “And she has Caro’s money—” He started cursing again. Then just as abruptly stopped. “I’ll be round tomorrow morning to pick you up. I want this over and done.”

  “And this police officer Viola mentioned?”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Well, I think it might be a good idea to have an officer of the law there to remind you that murder is a crime.”

  He gave a snort of laughter. “Aye, you’re probably right.”

  “Okay. Ten o’clock?”

  “Aye. And, Evie.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  At his heartfelt gratitude I melted. “Roane, it wasn’t me. It was Viola.”

  “No . . . you gave her the confidence to sell her baked goods at the market. Viola might have said the right words to get Caro to open up tonight, but you opened the floodgates long before that.”

  “You think too well of me,” I whispered, worried for us both.

  “You’re not perfect, Evie, rationally I know that.” He let out a long sigh. “But you’re perfect to me.”

  My breath caught, and as I scrambled to find the words to reply to such a comment, Roane said gruffly, “See you in the morning.” He hung up.

  I must have sat there for a while staring at the bedroom wall, wondering what on earth to do about Mr. Roane Robson, when Viola peeked her head in the room to ask for an update.

  Once I’d explained to Caro and Viola that Roane was on board, we settled into the living room again, and Viola and I tried to distract Caro from the thought of tomorrow. We talked about the market, about the villagers, and I took the opportunity to mention Annie and Maggie.

  Caro seemed grateful for the distraction. Between the three of us we decided there had to be a way to bring mom and daughter back together, and I’d been elected to plant the first seed of reconciliation. I listened to their suggestions on how to do that, glad we’d found a way to focus Caro’s mind on something other than the upcoming biggest confrontation of her life.

  Twelve

  It occurred to me, not for the first time, as I leaned against Roane’s Defender, how appearances could be so deceiving. That had never been truer as I looked at the woman standing in the doorway of the chocolate-box cottage in the forest.

  Summer was in full bloom in Alnster, the leaves of the surrounding trees thick and lush. Rosebushes and hydrangeas grew lavishly around the double front windows of the house, filling the air with their heady scents.

  This place looked like a little paradise tucked away on the outskirts of the village.

  Yet for Caro, reality had been the opposite. It had been a place of oppression and abuse.

  Well, no more.

  Caro stood before the cottage with her hand on Shadow’s head, Roane on her other side.

  Helena stared warily at us from the doorway, her gaze flickering to the police officer who stepped in front of her.

  Patrick O’Malley, I discovered, was around Roane’s age. Friendly, all smiles, when we were introduced. However, as soon as he’d gotten out of his car at the cottage, his countenance had turned impressively stern. It had taken Roane over an hour to convince Ca
ro to file a report against Helena for stealing her bank details, knowing that without that report Patrick couldn’t act in the capacity of a police officer.

  “And what’s the meaning of this?” Helena asked calmly, her gaze moving back to Caro. “What have you done now?”

  “Ms. Mordue, I’m Officer Patrick O’Malley with the Northumbria police force. Your niece, Caroline Robson Mordue, has filed a report accusing of you illegally accessing her bank accounts.”

  I tried to keep the smug look off my face as Helena paled. Considerably. Her surprise lasted merely seconds, however, before she straightened her shoulders to peer down her nose at Patrick. “She’s lying.”

  Caro took a step toward her aunt. “L-Let us in, give me my bank cards, my online banking details, and . . . and . . .” She took a deep breath. “I-I’ll consider this matter dropped, Aunt Helena.”

  Her aunt shook her head as if abjectly disappointed. “You ungrateful girl,” she whispered, as though Caro had broken her heart. Then she turned to Patrick. “This is my home. You’ll need to come back with a warrant.” Helena moved to step back into the house, and suddenly Roane was striding forward.

  Patrick called out his name and reached for him, but Roane shrugged him off and slammed his hand on the door above Helena’s head, pushing his way in.

  “You’re trespassing!” Helena cried out, cowering beneath his intimidating build.

  Roane bent his head toward her, his whole body bristling with restraint, and I found myself moving toward him. “You’re lucky I don’t sweep in here with a team of police and lawyers and have you put away for years for what you’ve done to Caro. Physical and mental abuse is a crime, Helena.”

  Her eyes flashed. “What nonsense.”

  “Not nonsense. Now you may be an abusive old cow, but you’re not a stupid one,” he seethed. “You and I both know that if I put my lawyers on it, it is more than likely you’ll go to prison for defrauding Caroline of her inheritance. And believe me, Helena, there is nothing I would like more than to drag your wicked, greedy, grasping bony arse through court. I’d do it in a heartbeat and enjoy every minute of it no matter how long it took to put you in prison where you belong. But Caro wants to move on from all of this, and for her I’ll play nice. Playing nice involves watching you hand over every piece of financial information pertaining to Caro. All of it. Or I will be back with a court order.”