NYA KNEW SHE’D be a fool not to be worried about going to her mother’s house with Theo. Mum was an astute observer, who far too often noticed things other people missed, and didn’t hesitate to comment. Yet, to her surprise, Mum said nothing untoward, and seemed too wrapped up with Hope to perhaps notice the change in her daughter.
And Nya was sure there must be some outward signs of the turmoil raging inside.
Oh, she thought she did a good job pretending the easy relationship she’d always had with Theo was unchanged, but she knew it was just a façade. Her heightened awareness of him, and the way her gaze was constantly drawn back to him, made her self-conscious. She spent much of the visit trying to find anywhere else to look, rather than at him, and with her fingers fisted, so as not to touch him in passing.
Telling herself it was just the after-effects of their kiss the night before didn’t help. In fact, it made it worse, because it brought their embrace back to mind, and caused crazy waves of heat to rush from her torso into her face.
But somehow she got through tea with a smile on her face, and when Mum suggested they bring Hope to visit again the following day, did her best to dodge the invitation.
‘Theo will have Hope tomorrow, Mum,’ she said, knowing she was contradicting what she’d said to Theo earlier, about being willing to take care of the infant the next day herself. ‘And I’m sure he has other plans.’
‘I don’t actually.’ Theo smiled, looking so adorable with Hope nestled against his chest in the carrier, Nya could hardly stand it. ‘I just planned to hang about. Maybe tutor Hope on the finer points of football while we watch a match or two that I’ve missed today.’
‘In that case, definitely bring her back here,’ Mum said, the laughter in her eyes belying the acerbic tone of her voice. ‘I’ll have to counteract that with a discussion about Beowulf and the beauty of Old English literature.’
Theo laughed as he bent to kiss Iona’s cheek, and Nya shook her head at the two of them, although she couldn’t help laughing too.
‘That was nice,’ Theo said as they set off walking back to Nya’s cottage. ‘I really like your mother a lot. She’s always interesting.’
Nya laughed, only just stopping herself from muffling the sound with her hand. ‘You mean colourful?’
Theo’s eyes glinted with laughter. ‘She is that, but no, that’s not what I meant.’ His lips pursed for a moment, as though he was trying to find the right words. ‘Iona always struck me as the type of person who doesn’t give her trust or friendship easily, but once you’ve earned it, it’s immovable. That’s something I can appreciate.’
‘You’re rather like that too,’ she said, although the realisation surprised her in a way. ‘But without Mum’s sharp edges.’
Theo shrugged one shoulder, tipping his head back to look up at the moon, which was waxing and, although not yet full, lit up the lane. His profile was rendered sharp by the play of light and shadows, and as Christmas lights flashed colours across his dark skin, she found him heartbreakingly handsome.
‘I learned to be careful of people, to recognise that not everyone will have my best interests at heart. But, at the same time, I actually like most of the folks I meet. I’m just not willing to let everyone into my inner circle.’
She nodded, hearing the self-reflection in his words, appreciating his candour.
‘Mum’s life hasn’t always been easy,’ she replied. ‘And I think that’s another thing you have in common too.’
He slanted her a look from beneath lowered lids, his lips twisting slightly, before relaxing into a smile again.
‘Maybe. I’d never really been one to self-analyse, but for the last year I feel as though it’s almost all I’ve done, when I’m not working. And I still don’t have any answers.’
They were at the corner of the high street now, and she stopped him with a hand on his arm, unable to resist touching him.
Just in sympathy, she told herself, as she would have done at any time at all during their long friendship.
‘Sometimes you have to accept there aren’t any easy answers, and sometimes no answers at all.’ Then, because the air around them felt too heavy, and she was fighting the urge to tug him close and kiss him again, she let go of his arm, and said, ‘Are you ready for our secret mission?’
His teeth flashed as he grinned. ‘What are you up to?’
‘Come this way, and you’ll see.’
When she turned up the road, away from her cottage, he followed. There were a few people on the high street, and from the sounds of it The Dolphin pub was full, but the farther they got from it, the quieter it became.
‘Are we going to the hospital?’ he asked.
‘Shush,’ she said, looking around as they approached the postbox near the entrance to Carey House. ‘We’re stopping here.’
‘What are you up to?’ He spoke quietly, as though her surreptitious behaviour had infected him.
‘You’ll see.’
The postbox topper was the first she’d ever crocheted, and she was quite proud of it. She’d created a retro winter scene of a pond partially ringed by trees, with couples in Victorian costumes skating on the surface. Around the edge she’d attached holiday-themed ornaments that dangled down on ribbons.
Definitely over the top, but hopefully worth the effort.
Pulling it out of the bag, she carefully fitted it over the top of the box, heaving a sigh of relief when it actually fitted properly, and the trees and figures stood up without drooping.
When she stepped back to look at it, Theo was close by her side, and when he put an arm around her shoulder, she couldn’t bring herself to move away.
‘That’s beautiful.’ He sounded enthralled. ‘And impressive. But why...?’
‘Let’s get out of here,’ she replied. ‘I can’t be seen in the vicinity. I’ll explain later.’
Then, setting a brisk pace, but trying not to look too conspicuous, she led the way back towards home.
‘It’s called yarn bombing,’ she said, once they were far enough away, and there was no one around. ‘It’s a type of street art, not illegal, but sometimes frowned on by the powers that be. The ladies of our fibre arts group have been doing it for a few years. You must have seen some of our work around the place.’
‘I have, and always thought they brought a bright spot to the streets. Why would it be frowned on?’
‘Well, it’s sometimes seen as a nuisance—not as bad as graffiti, but in the same vein. Usually, though, they leave it up for a while, especially when it’s close to Remembrance Day, and the artwork is military or poppy themed. As long as it isn’t impeding the public in some way, the council here in Carey Cove doesn’t seem to mind.’
‘So, why all the cloak and dagger, then?’
He was laughing at her, a bit, but she liked that better than the solemn and stern Theo she’d been used to seeing recently.
‘Well, half the fun is in leaving everyone guessing who actually did it. This time, no one will think it’s me.’
‘Why not?’
They were turning into her driveway then, and she knew, suddenly, she didn’t want the night to end just yet. Without looking at him, she said, ‘Because I’m known as a knitter, not a crocheter.’
He chuckled softly, the sound tickling down her spine, making her shiver. ‘You know I don’t have a clue what the difference is, right? But I’ll take your word for it, and promise not to spill your secret.’
‘Thank you.’ At the door now, before she lost her nerve, she said, ‘I’m going to bathe Hope when I go in. Would you like to help?’
‘I would,’ he said, in a calm tone that nonetheless sent a little shiver along her spine. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Her fingers felt a little unsteady as she fitted the key into the door, and she took a deep, silent breath to get them under control. Hopefully she wouldn’t eventually regret the invitation, but just then, as they walked into her living room, all she felt was elated.
Nya turned on her Christmas tree, bathing the house in twinkling lights, reminding Theo of how very sterile his own home looked.
‘I should put up some decorations,’ he said as Nya helped get Hope out of the carrier. ‘Every time I see yours I think so, then I just forget about it.’
‘And get a Christmas tree.’ Nya laughed up at him, her dark eyes sparkling. ‘Do it for Hope, if you won’t do it for yourself.’
‘Of course,’ he replied, laughing with her. Feeling ridiculously happy to be with her and Hope, and invited to participate in the evening ritual. ‘I’m sure Hope will appreciate a tree.’
It wasn’t until they were at the kitchen sink, Hope kicking her little legs on the counter while he undressed her, that Theo realised the close quarters he’d be in with Nya during the bath.
Too close, he thought, as his arm brushed the side of Nya’s breast and his breath hitched momentarily in his chest.
Steady on.
But even while concentrating on undressing the squirming Hope, his awareness of Nya kept growing.
A soft scent he recognised as purely her own.
The sight of her capable hands as they moved to turn the water on and off and gather the supplies closer to the sink.
Her body’s warmth, which seemed to reach out to him.
And every time their bodies touched, a bloom of heat spread from the spot, until his entire body vibrated with warmth.
Desire.
‘Here we go,’ Nya said gently, reaching over to pick up Hope so as to place her on the rubber sink liner. Hope’s eyes opened wide for a moment when she was submerged in the water, and then her little legs and arms started waving back and forth. ‘Oh, you love your baths, don’t you, sweetie?’
He didn’t know exactly what the emotion was that overtook him, but the backs of his eyes prickled, and his voice came out a little roughly when he said, ‘I’ll hold her for you, and you wash.’
‘Thank you.’
They fell into a rhythm that only served to increase the sense of intimacy enveloping them in Theo’s mind. Working together to wash Hope’s hair, both of them leaning close, so from the corner of his eye he could see the smooth curve of Nya’s cheek. He searched for a topic of conversation that would put some emotional distance between them, and decided it would help to remind himself of Nya’s unavailability. Maybe that would dissipate this growing longing tightening his muscles and making him light-headed.
‘May I ask you a very personal question?’ he asked, not really sure whether he wanted her to answer yes or no.
‘Of course,’ she replied, still in that sing-song voice she used with Hope, but he saw the way she shot him a quick sideways glance. ‘Anything.’
‘Why did you never remarry?’
The hand wielding the washcloth paused for an instant, and then resumed its gentle stroking.
‘Do you know, I don’t think anyone has asked me that so bluntly before.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said quickly, but she shook her head.
‘Don’t be. It’s better than people just assuming they know and giving me unsolicited opinions.’ She was quiet for a beat, and then continued, ‘The short answer is that I never found anyone who made me want to get married again.’
‘And the long answer?’
‘Could you sit her up, just a little, for me, please?’ He did as she asked, holding Hope up so Nya could wash the little back easier. ‘The long answer is that when Jim died, I was so devastated it took me two years to think about him without crying. He’d always warned me that with him being in the army the possibility of his death in action was very real, but I was too young, too inexperienced to believe it would happen. And staying in Andover was too painful. I’d see a uniform in the distance, and my heart would leap, and then break again when it hit me that it wasn’t Jim.
‘Would never again be Jim.’
She paused, leaving Theo wondering if that was all she would say, but then she sighed, and shook her head slightly.
‘Coming back to Carey Cove was an effort to seek comfort. Being closer to Mum, seeing familiar faces and visiting old haunts helped me heal, but it was never meant to be permanent. I always thought at some point I’d be “ready”.’ She put down the washcloth and used soapy fingers to do air quotes. ‘Then I’d leave again and move on with my life. But somehow months turned to years, comfort turned to comfortable, and when my career was going so well, it felt like a sign, and I put any other plans aside.’
‘So it wasn’t that you consciously decided not to marry again—just that the opportunity never presented itself?’
‘Something like that.’ The little snort she gave wasn’t quite laughter, but it was close. ‘Carey Cove isn’t crawling with eligible men, and the times I go to Falmouth or Penzance, it’s not to party or go to clubs. I’ve dated a little over the years, but that brings me right back to where I started—with not finding anyone who could make me feel even a fraction of what I felt for Jim.’
He’d been right. This was a subject that helped get his head back on straight.
Obviously, Nya had been so intensely in love with her husband that no one had ever been able to compete. He’d even heard Hazel mention that December first was Jim’s birthday, which was why Nya had taken the day off. Probably to visit his grave.
Realistically, who could compete with a man who would, in Nya’s mind, always remain young, full of joy and life?
Nya had turned aside to pick up the towel she’d placed close to hand, and Theo let out a silent breath, keeping his focus on Hope, who looked relaxed and sleepy after her bath.
Here was someone whose life he could make a real difference in, even if it were for just a short time. And he needed to remember it was all for a little while—that no matter how homey and lovely being with Nya and Hope felt, it wouldn’t last.
Remembering that was the only way to save himself from further heartbreak, and he was determined to do just that.
Yet there was no mistaking the tender ache around his heart as he watched Nya wrap Hope in the towel. Telling himself it would be wise to leave to return to his own life didn’t work, and it was only when Nya went towards her bedroom with Hope that he realised he couldn’t stay a moment more.
The intimacy of going into that room with Nya, to be under the laughing stare of her beloved husband, felt like too much to bear just then.
Even so, it took considerable strength of will to make his goodbyes, and leave the lovely warmth of the cottage behind.