Shadow of Love (36 page)

‘
Thank you very much.’ She finished the conversation, her brain hard at work trying to remember where exactly his new house was. Thank God for the Internet on the phone, she smiled to herself, typing ‘Black House’ in the local addresses bar. Sure enough, it popped up, the address further than she expected. But she could not let it be, she thought as she decided against calling him after all. He deserved more information than a quick call, given the scope of the problem.

Hoping to have memorized the route properly, she set off, her head blank as to what exactly she planned to say. She could hardly burst in screaming that his engagement was over, fate intervening before he had a chance to finish it off himself.

Much later, as she recognized the road leading to his house, the fields around her ending in the darkness of the forest, she was no longer sure that coming over was such a great idea.

Maybe he would have preferred to talk about it on the phone? Maybe the way he dropped her off upon their return from Egypt meant exactly that—he wished to be left alone unless absolutely necessary?

Cursing her own impatience, she drove on, each passing second a torture. She would have turned around and left, but she was tired of running away and decided that she would just have to face him and hope for the best. In the end, he was the one who would be even more disappointed, Sophie’s change of heart crossing his elaborate plans.

It looked as it had a few days ago minus the scaffolding; the façade of the house was perfectly finished. Gone were the trucks of the workers and the building supplies she remembered seeing the last time she was there.

She regretted the change instantly, the presence of the workers something reassuring. She would have felt less exposed and vulnerable than she did right now as she walked the path up to the perfectly restored staircase in front of the house.

For a second she wished to turn around and drive away, the large, carved door intimidating. As she came to stand in front of it, her eyes rested on the brass knocker in a shape of a lion’s head. It was a style common enough, favored especially in the Victorian times. But this lion seemed different, the half-open jaws holding the heavy metal ring disturbingly realistic. She hesitated before touching it, her fingers moving forward gingerly as she held her breath.

She was being silly, acting like a child. It was a sculpture, for God’s sake, not a real predator that would jump at her if she came too close.

If anything, she should be worried about another kind of predator, the one who owned that house, whom she would meet in moments. She couldn’t imagine James’s reaction to what had happened in the short time they were away. But it couldn’t be good.

She recalled how dead set he was about teaching Sophie a thing or two about humiliation and heartache. Well, he couldn’t do any of either, because she had written him off as fast and easily as she did other things in life. It would have to make him furious, his pride dented with the unexpected insubordination that took all the wind out of his sails. He might have not loved her or even liked her, but he was proud and passionate about what he had intended to do.

The door swung open, and she held her breath, her eyes widened in surprise. A woman stood there, slim and short, her soft wavy hair the brightest orange Emily had ever seen. A few silver strands only added to the vivid flame-like color of the curls. Blue eyes, friendly and open, stared at her in surprise as the other woman exclaimed, a smile playing around her generous mouth, ‘Oh, I thought you were the man from the paper, dear.’

Her voice matched her looks. There was something very likeable about the woman, her delicate features and warmth taking off some of the paralyzing stress that had been eating Emily alive ever since Sophie shared with her the one-hundred-eighty-degree turnaround of her love life.

‘
He is supposed to come today and do some retakes of photos for James,’ the woman continued, oblivious to Emily’s gasp of shock. ‘I mean, I was surprised with the rush and all, but apparently they wanted to move the article on this house to this Saturday. So, when I heard the knocking I was sure it was him. But maybe you are his assistant, love?’ Finally, she seemed to have noticed Emily’s silence, because she paused, waiting for her to speak.

‘
No,’ she managed to answer, determined to sound as normal as possible. It wouldn’t do any good if she fell to pieces in front of the woman who watched her with motherly concern. She looked at her straight and elegant nose and the way her mouth curved as she smiled, and instantly knew who she was— James’s mother. He had some of her features; the crease that appeared on her forehead when she was thinking was strikingly similar.

‘
I’m James’s friend,’ she explained, hoping she was allowed to describe herself as such. But what other option was there? Should she have said that she was his fake girlfriend, lured into pretending to be in a relationship with him with a promise of material gain? That he would allow her to keep the restaurant that meant so much to her and her family if she played by his rules and helped him to deceive her stepsister?

It was way too much information, she thought sarcastically; their affair was nothing short of a Cinderella story gone wrong. Only she was not the beauty that danced till midnight to disappear and wait to be found. In their story, she was just as bad as the stepsister, if not worse.

‘
I really need to talk to him; it’s important,’ she said, hoping she sounded convincing. ‘I would have called, but in the end it’s better if we have a chat in person, I think.’

‘
Well, then, come on in, dear,’ the older woman smiled, stepping aside and letting her in. ‘James is in the backyard, working on some blasted project I’m not allowed to see.’ She laughed and shook her head, the red waves moving gently. ‘It’s my birthday coming up. I know he’s getting something special ready in this little house in the back. I was supposed to come back later, in a few days, and I guess he isn’t ready with the surprise. I have been officially banned from entering it, if you can believe it.’

Her indignant face made Emily smile, the mischief in the blue eyes impossible to resist.

‘
By the way, I’m Violet, James’s mom. I’ve spent some time in the States, so I’m not in the know about all his friends around here. I’m really looking forward to changing that.’

Emily introduced herself, feeling every inch the fraud she was. James’s mom seemed genuinely glad to have met her, her hopeful expression making it even harder to continue with her story. She couldn’t let her know the truth until she knew James had explained it to her, she thought unhappily, hoping that if he did, his mother wouldn’t hate her forever for keeping her in the dark.

She liked her, she realized, surprised with how definite she felt about it. Or maybe it was just desperation speaking, the prospect of having to face James making her search for an ally.

She noticed Violet gazing at her, her eyes calculative and measuring. God, she looked hopeful that Emily was more than just a friend, Emily realized with embarrassment. Maybe it was every mother’s prerogative, to consider all female friends of their sons as potential lovers? Whatever Violet thought, she seemed friendly and happy to see her, her chatting filling in the silence. She must have gotten a stamp of approval, Emily thought, feeling utterly sad at how she wished she could have enjoyed it.

They walked on, the house’s interior greeting them with muted, understated elegance. Emily remembered her first visit and how she had half expected it to look dark and gloomy, living up to its name. It was anything but that, with the light, off-white woodwork, and bright walls matched by oriental carpets in hues of honey, burnished gold, and cream.

Last time she had only caught a glimpse of it, their lunch restricting her exploration to the dining room and the kitchen. Now she had the chance to see the more formal, official part of it, as well. She stared in amazement at the large chandelier, hundreds of tiny multifaceted crystals sparkling like water drops over her head. A wide, curved staircase led to the private part of the house, the pictures hanging on the wall photographs in sepia. She didn’t have time to see them properly, but it seemed they included family photographs, James’s mom’s face recognizable from afar.

They walked deeper in, the older woman chatting amicably, obviously unaware of her tenseness, each step bringing them closer to the back of the house. Emily felt her heart flutter in panic as she glimpsed the huge French doors she recognized from her one and only visit before. Behind them lay the garden, she thought, as she dragged her feet with inhuman effort, her body fighting the unavoidable with every ounce of strength it still possessed.

‘
So, I surprised James big time,’ his mother was saying, dimples appearing in her youthful cheeks. ‘I just arrived last night and called him from the airport. You see, I knew that if I made it official, he would go crazy trying to make things perfect, that’s the type of person he is. I didn’t want him to fuss so much, you understand?’

Blue eyes waited for her approval, so she nodded, the movement of her head just a bit jerky. It was enough to keep his mom going as she reached for the brass handle and swung the door open, stepping aside.

‘
Well, you’ll find him down there.’ She gestured to the bottom of the large, sprawling garden. ‘Since I’m banned from coming any closer than ten feet, I think I will let you to it. If you need anything, I’ll be inside. I still need to unpack my stuff before anyone else gets to it. Apparently James has hired a housekeeper for this place, can you believe it?’ She sounded genuinely appalled, her blue eyes stern. ‘I tried to talk him out of it, of course. If I’m to stay around for a while, I can do some things just as well. But he told me he had other plans for me, this son of mine.’

Emily nodded and walked out to the wraparound terrace that paved the back of the house with large, square slabs of what she thought had to be slate. Another flight of stairs led down to the lawn, the neat path cutting it in half as it ventured deeper into the garden.

She walked slowly, prolonging the moment for as long as she could. She imagined Violet watching her from the window, wondering why she was moving so slowly.

The pale sun came from behind the clouds, bathing the November landscape in its golden rays. It had been a cool morning, the moisture that clung to the grass and bushes rising in swirls of grey fog, the delicate mist losing its battle with the sunshine. It was beautiful and surprisingly cheerful, Emily thought as she plodded forward, her eyes making out the shape of a building, half hidden in the rhododendron bushes. Violet called it small, she recalled, smiling at what small meant to different people. It was big enough to be a cottage, she mused, walking up to its pale walls filled with large windows. It had been restored from previous disrepair, the new roof and window frames making her recall her last visit here. She hadn’t caught a good glimpse of it at the time, but remembered the workers bustling around.

She walked around searching for the door, her heart beating loud enough for her to hear it. She had to calm down, she decided, taking a deep, steadying breath. If she were to survive the next moments, she had to be stronger than the bundle of nerves she had become. She had to face James as an equal, braving the brunt of the anger that was sure to follow. And never, ever, show him how her heart was breaking at the thought that most probably it would be their final good bye. He would have no reason to seek her company afterwards.

Tears, silly and obstinate, burned in her eyes, her throat tight and her hands cold. Great, she scolded herself, furious with her own treacherous mind. She was falling apart before she even laid eyes on him. How would she fare with his magnificent face staring at her in what would have to be angry disbelief? There was only one way to find out, she decided, desperate as she stood there on the verge of tears. Anything was better than the pain that threatened to swallow her until there was nothing left. She raised her hand and knocked, her knuckles hard against the wood of the door. She was ready.

James heard the sound of someone knocking as he stood on a ladder precariously balanced against the wall. Hopefully it wasn’t mom trying to sneak in and catch a glimpse of her birthday surprise, he thought with indulgent amusement. Never one to take well to the need to wait, she had pestered him with questions during their hasty breakfast, her blue eyes eager and excited. He was happy to see her like that, he thought as he put down the drill and stepped down, his feet carefully searching for the rungs.

His mom’s unexpected homecoming had crossed his plans for her. The workers had finished later than expected with what he had planned to be her own art studio during her stay at the Black House. They were done now, though. He had decided to step in and tie up the remaining loose ends, his years of working with Steve on many projects coming in handy.

As a part of keeping him out of trouble, Steve had enlisted his help in his work at the local shelter. He helped out at the construction of the additional wing, surprised at how much he actually enjoyed that kind of labor. Many weekends he drilled, nailed, hammered, and cut, taking pride in the end result.

All that was left were some small final touches. As it was to be a painting studio, he had consulted an artist friend to find the best possible way to divide the space between the working part and the display. He hoped he got it right, he mused as he watched the bright space fill with sunlight. Hopefully his mom could spend many happy hours there doing what she loved most, he thought, as he dusted off his old jeans while walking to the door.