“I can’t stay long.”
“Obviously.”
“So what does Terrence know?”
I pulled a chair out from the table, and sat on the edge, taking care not to relax. “What is there to know?”
He sighed. “Nothing. There’s nothing to know. Of course.” He looked at me very seriously, and then smiled. “Tell me what he thinks he knows.”
I hesitated. “Well,” I began slowly, “he saw us. The last time I worked here.”
“Saw us what?” His eyes were amused.
“He saw us drinking together in the dining room, the night we had the port.”
“Ah.”
“But I told him nothing happened! I mean, we didn’t even kiss…” My cheeks were getting hotter and hotter, despite the chill of the room. Why did I say the word “kiss”? He sat listening, like he had all the time in the world.
Was he going to admit to his part in that moment that was so intimate, even Terrence could spot it, or was he going to leave me twisting in the wind? I felt like he knew I wasn’t telling the whole truth, which was fair enough, because I wasn’t. When Terrence had grilled me the following night, I’d caved under his expert interrogation …and half a bottle of wine. I’d filled Terrence in on the whole story of Nantucket the year before, and how Roth and I had blurred the line between servant and master, dining together, walking on the beach, and that…embrace. How he had confided in me during his wife’s nervous breakdown.
“That’s true.”
I waited for him to elaborate, to add to the story. He just sat there on the bed, relaxed and confident, looking like he owned the place. I felt something slowly rising up in me, maybe anger. Or was it humiliation? Wasn’t he going to admit to his part? I might not have proof, but I knew he’d wanted me. Didn’t he? I scanned his face for a clue. Feeling foolish, a distant alarm bell was reminding me that I didn’t know how to handle myself around men. My Achilles’ heel was reading how they felt about me. This discomfort was more than I could bear. Was it better to die old and alone with a hundred cats?
A few minutes ago, I’d desperately wanted company. If you’d offered me Jasper Roth dressed for bed, I’m sure I would have answered, “Yes, please!” Now I wanted nothing more than to throw him out.
“All right then,” I snapped, standing up. “I guess there’s nothing more to say.” I crossed to the door, and swung it open, letting in a blast of cold air.
He rose from the bed, and walked over to where I was standing. “If you say so.” He turned from me, and walked toward the house. “Goodnight, Juliet,” I think he said, but it was hard to tell because he was facing away from me.
Moments later, I had shut the cottage door behind me and looked around to make sure no one was around to see anything they shouldn’t. The lights in the main house were off, but it looked like Rose and Seamus might still be awake. Losing my nerve, I considered retreating to my bed to lick my wounds in private. Damn Jasper Roth! As a matter of fact, damn all men! I’d give Edward back his handkerchief right now, and then my ties with all of them would be severed. Clean and simple.
The damp air enveloped me. Was it really twice as cold here as in London, or did it just feel that way? I wasn’t wearing a coat. I had pulled on a robe over my pajamas and slipped my kitchen clogs over my wooly socks. In my domed hand, I carried my tiny keychain flashlight, letting out only as much beam as I needed to find my way. If I shined it any brighter, people would notice me. The ground was lightly dusted with snow and the air was dead silent. The frozen twigs and sticks sounded like bullets as they shattered under my feet.
I rounded the back of the big house and saw only a dim lamplight in Edward’s cottage. Turn back, there’s your sign, Juliet. He’s already in bed. Leave well enough alone. I have to admit, I was a little relieved. Better to sever the ties without a face-to-face confrontation. I crept up to the handmade wooden platform that served as a porch, laid the handkerchief near the saddle, and weighed it down with a rock. The door opened, and I found myself staring at Edward’s bare feet.
“I thought you might be Father Christmas come early,” he said as I stood up. “But even through all those red flannel layers, I can see curves the likes of which the old man never hoped to aspire to.” I said nothing, trying Jasper’s trick. I was hoping he’d fill in the gap by talking, but he was too clever for me. He crossed his arms, and leaned against the doorframe, head cocked, smiling.
Finally, I caved. “I brought you back your handkerchief.”
“Good job, too. I don’t know how I would have survived the night without it,” he twinkled.
A light cut through the blackness and I saw that it was from Terrence’s window.
“Mind if I come in,” I said, pushing past him, over the threshold. “God knows what kind of gossip Terrence will be spreading if he sees me here.”
“What kind of gossip should he be spreading?” Edward asked, in his coffee-rich voice, crossing to the open-plan kitchen and turning on the flame under the kettle. I shook my head, involuntarily. Is there some law in the British books that cups of tea must be forced on all visitors, regardless of the time or occasion?
I walked past the sofa where there was a pile of bed pillows, with some rumpled quilts spread around. A hardback copy of the novel The Privileges splayed open on the sofa’s arm. There was half a bottle of red wine and a glass on the coffee table. Aside from that area, where he’d obviously been relaxing, the cottage was tidy for a man’s house. His shoes and boots were lined up in a row by the door and dishes were in the drainer. Through the open door, I could see that his bed was made.
“Well, he could tell people I’m a liar, and he’d be right. I’m embarrassed to admit this to you, but I don’t know if Ben is fine or not. I should have told you in the kitchen: we broke up. I caught him cheating on me, this morning.”
He looked right in my eyes. “Did you come to bring me my handkerchief or did you come to tell me you broke up with your boyfriend?” I took him in. He had on a hunter green ribbed turtleneck over a pair of Black Watch plaid pajama pants. On his head was a wooly cap, which looked hip and youthful in a way I hadn’t expected from Edward. The impulse to slide myself into his arms was so strong, I practically swooned. “Or,” he said softly, “is there something altogether different you came to tell me?”
I clutched the back of a barstool. A breakfast counter separated the kitchen area from the entrance hall. “I…I suppose I came to apologize for lying.” My face was growing warm.
“Is that another lie?” He leaned across the counter, his face inches from mine.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Your Ben story seems less a lie and more a sin of omission. Anyhow, your secrets are your own to keep.” For half a wild second, I thought he might lean in and kiss me, but he stepped back into the kitchen. Reaching into the cupboard above his head for a mug, he said, “I was making tea, but would you rather have wine?”
Turn your body toward the front door, and walk out of it, Juliet. Coming here was a bad idea. Mother always counsels her patients who’ve ended a relationship not to start another for one year.
“I’ve
