Chapter 15 CIRCUMSTANCES CHANGE
Chapter 15
C IRCUMSTANCES C HANGE
Present Day
On the plate in front of her is the makings of a semitraditional English breakfast: roasted tomatoes and potatoes, baked beans, two poached eggs, and vegan sausage. And bread and butter and jam, which she knows is homemade. Everything they do at the Smythun is so well thought out and particular. Even the tea is the best she’s ever had. After giving her best attempt, she’ll spread the rest out on the plate to make it look like she did better, as she doesn’t want to hurt his feelings.
Then again, he left her and her libido on the plate last night by not making a move. Maybe she should make a point by showing her own lack of appetite. If he’s not going to eat her American dessert, she’ll snub his English breakfast. She rolls her eyes at herself. Thank God no one can read her thoughts.
Checking her email, she finds one from Sarah at Winchester College.
I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to push the meeting to Monday if you can. I’ve taken ill and won’t be coming in today. Might we connect Monday?
Charli drops her head. “What the hell,” she mutters. She sighs and looks around, unsure what to do. Marvin would be furious if she asks for another day.
Noah seems to pick up on her mood when he returns to the table. Only one other table is taken, a German couple studying a map.
“You don’t like my breakfast?” he asks.
“Oh, no, it’s not that. It’s just ... I’m so full from last night.”
He nods. “Everything else okay? You seem a little less charged than earlier.”
She looks up into his cobalt eyes, finds so much comfort there. “Ugh, I got an email from Sarah at the college. She’s sick and can’t meet me till Monday.”
“Monday? Great, you’ll stay the weekend?” He lets out a smile that makes her feel so wanted.
“No,” Charli says. “I can’t stay the weekend. I have a flight home Sunday. And work on Monday.”
Noah leans in so close she can smell the menthol of his aftershave. He’s still wearing a light beard, but he cleaned it up this morning. “Guess you’ll have to change it,” he says. “And push off work for another couple of days.” He gestures toward the ceiling to the room above. “You can keep your room.”
She considers the offer. Of course she’d be willing to spend the extra money and/or be fired if what she’s doing here can save her father. “But all my stuff is back in my hotel in London.”
“Then we’ll go get it.”
What is it with this guy? He doesn’t even try to kiss her, but he wants to ride back to London with her? “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”
He raises his hands. “Look, Charli. I’m not pushing you. Do what you want. But if you’re here to find more out about your family, I’m happy to help. If not, go do your thing.”
“It’s not that easy,” she says. “I’ve already maxed out my vacation days.”
“Call in sick, then.” Brazen as ever, he slides into the chair next to her and scooches it up toward her. He reaches for her hand under the table; she doesn’t pull away.
“Stay through the weekend,” he says. “I’ll help you find your grandfather. We’ll eat some good food. Do some walking.”
She can’t imagine calling Marvin and asking for even two more days off. Then again, why not? She can’t leave now. Her father is far more important than her waste of a job, and she’s this close. Even if it’s the most far-fetched and desperate attempt ever made to help someone, she can’t stop now. Would a weekend with Noah be the worst thing in the world? How nice it would be to let go and have a no-strings-attached fling. What else is she going to do?
“I can see your pretty little brown eyes wandering about,” he says, “your mind churning over the idea. C’mon, Charli.” He’s fiddling with her hand, running his thumb over her skin.
She’s unable to pull away from his gaze. He’s got her right where he wants her.
He leans even closer. “Shall I beg?”
She pulls her hand away and falls back in her chair. “Oh, jeez, Noah. We met yesterday. I could be a serial killer, for all you know.”
He doesn’t laugh at her stupid joke. “I’m willing to take the chance, Charli. I don’t understand it, but it feels like ... I don’t know, like our paths crossed for a reason. What is the harm in spending some time together?”
Now hold on, she thinks. Let’s not start getting cosmic again.
“Don’t you feel it?” he asks.
“Again . . . we met yesterday.”
He sits back. “Okay, sorry. I get a little excited sometimes. All I’m saying is that if you walk out that door with your bag this morning, I think we’ll both wonder why we couldn’t have given each other the gift of a few days. That’s it. A weekend.” He smacks his hands together. “Then you can be done with me. Chew me up and spit me out.”
She swallows, tasting the sweetness of the idea. Having booked a flight that allowed free changes makes this decision so much easier.
“Forget all that anyway,” he says, going in for the kill. “Let me show you around Winchester. If you tell me a little bit more about your search, maybe I can help. I happen to know people.”
She wonders if he’s playing her. Either way, she could use some help.
“What do you say? And if it turns out that you’re a serial killer, I’ll show you where I’d bury me.”
It’s her turn not to laugh.
He takes her hand again. “Don’t make me kidnap you.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Wait, you can make serial killer jokes, but I can’t be a kidnapper?”
“Fine,” she says.
“Fine, what? I can be a kidnapper or you’ll stay? If it’s the kidnapping, I promise I’ll only tie your hands loosely.” Noah wiggles an eyebrow in jest.
She smiles at his ridiculous humor, and in that instant, they both know ...
She’s staying.
“Let me call my boss and the hotel. I’ll see if they can check me out and store my bags. I left it open ended. Then I’ll change my flight, and we’ll go from there.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
She sneers at him, albeit playfully. “I’ll probably be fired.”
“You’re better than that job anyway. Let’s meet outside in an hour, and you can tell me what you’re working on regarding your family.”
Upstairs, she successfully extends her flight to Tuesday and convinces the hotel to pack up her things and check her out. The call to Marvin can wait, as it’s too early back in the States.
Right on time, she finds Noah standing in a sunny spot on the cobblestone street. He’s holding two cups of coffee. “Care for one?”
She takes it and thanks him, shoving away what his chivalry does to her. “Okay, so are you ready to hear about my family?”
“Absolutely. Let’s go take a seat.”
They find an open bench on the sidewalk. “Okay, Charli Thurman, tell me all about why you’re here. Let’s see if we can crack the code.”
She’s decided that she doesn’t need to share everything with him, especially the constellation. Instead, she gives him only what he needs to know to help her. As she takes the two photos from her purse, she says, “I’ve successfully populated most of my family tree going back to the sixteen hundreds, save one branch, and that’s this man.” She shows him the picture of her third great-grandfather when he was older, the one with his wife, Margaret. “We, meaning his family, know him to be Samuel Hall. He had kids who had kids, who eventually led to my mother.”
Charli explains more, including the clue of the tie, and then hands him the second photo. “This is him when he was younger. My guess is that it was taken before he came to the US.”
“Oh, I’d say so. I think I know the spot.”
Her head perks up. “Really?”
“Possibly. We can head over that way.”
“Um, yes, please.” She’s not sure what she’s going to do when she gets there, but the prospect of finding the actual setting of the photo seems like a massive break. “If you flip it over, that’s the only other clue.”
“For Miles,” he says.
“So maybe he’s Miles, maybe he’s Samuel. That’s what I’m hoping the college can help with.”
Noah stands and drops his coffee cup into the recycling can. “Let’s head that way, and we’ll go from there. First, though, you still haven’t been inside the cathedral, right?”
“No, but I’m not sure what that has to do with finding my ancestor.”
He makes a face that says, How could you ask that question? “You can’t come to Winchester without going inside the cathedral. Let’s pop in; then we’ll continue past the college to the river.”
Charli starts to protest, but he’s already leaving. She pours out the rest of her coffee and recycles her cup, then follows him down the street. They pass through a gate that opens up into the vast lawn that surrounds the cathedral, and she looks up in awe. It’s a marvel, a stone cacophony of arches and towers that radiate with power. Perhaps her search can wait a moment.
“You know that show The Crown ?” Noah asks. “They were filming up until yesterday. It was a bit mad.”
Noah guides her through the entrance and says hello to his friend working the front desk. A minute later they are standing over Jane Austen’s bones. Imagining the literary power that must fill the entire city, she reads the epitaph.
“I can’t believe I’m this close to greatness.”
Noah grins. “Well, they say she might have been scooted over a little bit to here. When they ran heating, a guy had to go through the floors.”
She cocks an eyebrow.
“That’s part of the insider’s tour.”
After he shows her the rest of the cathedral, surprising her with his historical knowledge, they walk through the West Gate, and he points out Cannon Street, which used to be the red-light district.
“So close to the college?” Charli asks.
“It was a different time, wasn’t it? I’m sure the students were forbidden to even think of passing through there.”
Noah soon leads them away from town, and they follow a dirt path until the river Itchen comes into view. Planks are set out over the muddy patches to help people cross over them. Swans float by. Locals in their waxed jackets and muck boots walk their spaniels and Labradors. In the distance behind a weary fence, a flock of sheep grazes. Beyond the river and open field, the terrain rises up into a series of green hills topped with clusters of trees.
Charli pulls out the photo with a gasp. “You’re right. It has to be somewhere over here.”
He leans in to look with her. “I don’t recognize the tree. But it could have been chopped down. Either way, you at least know now that you’re in the right spot. These two lovebirds were right around here one hundred and fifty years ago. How about that?”
She’s seeing the picture in a whole new light now. Her grandfather must have been experiencing his first taste of love. She can nearly feel it. “How sad,” she says. “Something must have happened between them. I wonder if they were still together when he left for the States. It must have hurt so badly. But why did he leave? His parents weren’t even with him. I wonder if he was running away.”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Noah says. “You know, the students at the college are typically born of a high class, unless they’re on scholarship. You must come from strong stock.”
She turns to him. “It’s been watered down through the years.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
Charli tries to find the exact spot of the photo by examining the trees. “It’s not quite right. Maybe around the bend.”
They look together to where the river winds into the forest. Some wire fencing stops them from going much farther. “Can’t go that way, but let’s keep following the path. The river winds back around. Perhaps we’ll find something there.”
Charli takes another look and slips the photos back into her purse.
Moving along again, Noah glances at her. “You know John Keats, right? The poet.”
“Sure.”
“He used to make this walk every day. Wrote one of his most famous poems here, ‘To Autumn.’ ‘Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; conspiring with him how to load and bless with fruits the vines that round the thatch-eves run ...’” He stops. “Something like that.”
Charli bites her bottom lip. “Did you just quote Keats to me as we walk through the Winchester countryside?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“You’re good,” she says. “You realize it’s in iambic pentameter, don’t you?”
“I wish I could say I did.”
Duh dum, duh dum goes her heart, and it scares her some. No, it scares her a lot. The duh dum turns to air-raid sirens as she considers what he’s doing to her, making her feel this way. Perhaps for the first time she realizes leaving him Monday might hurt. What is that all about?
Noah crooks his arm out. “I want to show you something.”
She laughs to herself. “Another detour from our search?”
“We’re close. Trust me.” He continues to hold his arm out, waiting on her.
What the hell. She slips her hand in, and they walk in tandem for a while.
“How about your family?” she asks, jumping in before he’s the one asking questions. “What are they like?”
“I’ve a sister, Marianne,” he says, as church bells chime in the distance, “who is a complete loon. And I love her with all her flaws. My brother, Wesley, is ... he’s still trying to find his way, let’s say that. My parents have been running the pub together for forty years, my grandmother before that. There are aunts and uncles and cousins spread all over Winchester. Small town like this, I’m related to just about everyone.” He shares a few of their stories as they go deeper into the country.
They come to a section where the plank has sunk into the mud. Noah holds out his arms. “May I help you over?”
Charli can’t say no. He lifts her like he is carrying her over a threshold, and as he navigates the mud, she feels a flurry in her chest.
“Thank you,” she mutters, appreciating the gesture.
Soon an old church with several sprawling buildings attached comes into view, surely the origin of the chiming bells from earlier. “This is the Almshouse of Saint Cross,” he says. “For as long as it’s been around, travelers have shown up for the Wayfarer’s Dole. You’ve heard of someone on the dole, like on the take. It’s a handout ... of beer and bread. I thought we’d stop in.”
Charli is intrigued and allows him to continue distracting her from the reason she’s here. “Wait, they still do it?”
“Every day,” Noah says. “Shall we?”
How can she not go with the flow a bit? Fun is not an emotion she knows or does well, but she’s certainly getting a taste now. They pass through a corridor and stop at a heavy wooden door. “It’s in the gift shop now,” he says.
“The gift shop? So they get you with the free beer and bread but push a T-shirt on you once you’re there.”
“Yeah, I suppose it’s more of a novelty these days, but there was a time when a stop here was the only way someone could get by.”
They walk through the doors, and a heavily tattooed woman Noah’s age says, “Hello, Noah.”
He makes introductions—she’s an old friend—then says, “We’re here for the Wayfarer’s Dole. Long journey to get here, you know.”
“Can’t have you thirsty and hungry now. Give me a moment.”
Charli glances around at the books and trinkets. No T-shirts, though. The lady returns with two cups of beer and two thick slices of white bread.
“I didn’t believe you,” Charli says, taking her share.
“I would never lie to you,” Noah says.
Oh, but I’d lie to you, she thinks.
Walking back outside, they both sit on the same side of a table—very close to each other, facing the expanse of the courtyard, where the grass is turning green. A monk does tai chi in the far corner.
She takes her first bite of the bread. “That is as bad as it looks.” She sets it back down on the plate and reaches for the beer.
“It’s a bit stale, isn’t it? I suppose this is an example of what English food tasted like back in the old days.”
“The beer isn’t so bad, though,” she says, tasting the hops as it goes down.
“No, I think we’ve gotten that one right since the beginning. My father often talks of the holy trinity: God, family, and good ale.”
“What’s he like?” she asks.
He crosses his arms. She’s so close she can smell the beer on his breath. “He’s a simple man—not in a bad way. He adores living in Winchester and is quite sure it’s the center of the universe. I find myself a little more curious of what else is out there.”
He glances at her lips before continuing, and the gesture leaves her wondering what might come.
“Don’t tell me it’s too late.”
“No, it’s not too late.” He rubs the stubble of his beard. “But I do have an obligation here.” With that, he turns to the monk doing tai chi and takes a sip of beer.
She takes in his side profile, his sharp features. What a handsome man. And a good one too. “You seem like such a sweet and loyal guy, taking care of your family. But I hope you’re not putting your life on hold. People like you deserve the world. You should make sure you’re realizing your potential.” She can’t believe the words leaving her mouth.
He turns back to her with a cocked eyebrow. “People like me? What does that mean?”
She thinks about how to answer. “I don’t know. Honest, genuine. Selfless. Kind. Worldly.”
It’s his turn to blush, and he does so wonderfully. “No offense, but I don’t get the sense that you throw out such compliments that often.”
She’d be mad if he wasn’t so spot on. “No, I don’t. But something tells me you need to hear them.”
He takes a peek at her lips again before saying, “I’m flattered. Thank you.”
The heat is a little much, so Charli brings them back to her question. “Seriously, there’s nothing wrong with working in a pub. At all. Look at Victoria. She’s so happy there. But are you? You’re very good behind the bar, but is it quenching the thirst inside of you?”
Appreciation glows in his eyes. “I can find a way to be happy anywhere.”
“That’s slightly, kind of ... sort of ...” She stops, amazed by how hard it is for her to say it.
“Sort of what?”
“I don’t know. You make me see the world a little differently. I appreciate that.”
A quiet moment bubbles up to the surface as their eyes lock.
“I hope you’ll come back,” he says, inching toward her.
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
He gently places a hand on her thigh. “Because England looks good on you.” He plants a kiss on her lips that rattles even the most brittle parts inside her heart.
They take a different route on the way back but are unable to find the exact spot where the photo was taken. Charli accepts that the passing of time has made finding it nearly impossible. It’s okay, though. How would it help her cause? She is also starting to accept that there’s not much more she can do right now, so she leans into simply enjoying the moment. It’s not only for herself either. Noah seems to have needed their time together too.
As they stroll back through town, Noah asks, “How did your love of books come about?”
“You keep going after my Achilles’ heel, huh?”
“I’m simply curious.”
“Don’t worry, I can talk books all day.”
Charli finds herself amazed that she is both being honest with him and that she wants to share so badly. “I mentioned my mother to you. I had a tough childhood, and books became my escape. I taught myself to read and burned through young adult books when I was five or six. I love stories, love curling up somewhere and disappearing into another world.”
He casts a glance over and then returns his eyes to the busy sidewalk. “The way you talk, it makes me want to get back into it.”
“You should.”
“I know. But television is so much easier, isn’t it? Especially football.”
“Yeah, but books are so so sooo much better.”
Charli talks about the authors that changed her life—Alice Hoffman, Alice Munro, Pat Conroy, Ann Patchett—and Noah reciprocates by taking her to some of his favorite places in Winchester: the Great Hall, the city mill, a couple of cemeteries. They occasionally dip into a pub for a pint. She always drinks a half pint, because she can’t keep up with him. They stop in a boutique so she can dress herself for the rest of the weekend. He’s patient with her, sits on a couch in one place, a cracked leather chair in the other, and happily critiques her as she models potential purchases from the discount racks.
Before they know it, it’s close to dinnertime. He takes her back to the inn so that she can call Marvin and change for dinner. After drying her hair, she dials her boss’s number and is more than thrilled to leave a message.
“Listen, Marvin, it’s Charli. I know you’re going to be mad at me, but I need two more days. It’s just my mom ... I can’t leave her yet.” Charli lets some sadness rise out of her, which isn’t hard to do when she’s talking about her mom. “I have my computer if you need anything while I’m away. Thank you for understanding.” She ends the call, confident she’s made the right decision. Noah had said she’s better than her current job. She doesn’t know about that, but she’s where she needs to be right now. She takes her time writing a follow-up email, restating the message she left on voice mail. At the last minute, she decides to copy Marvin’s boss, as it might better her chances of him treating her more like a human being. A twinge of guilt hits her as she presses send.
Charli puts way more effort into dressing than she usually does, starting with a bra and panties that she quietly bought in the boutique. She’s not sure he’s going to see them, but she’s thinking odds are in his favor. She slides into a velvety red dress that flares at the bottom, then uses the mirror to tastefully apply makeup.
At seven, they walk arm in arm to a restaurant called the Chesil Rectory. She wears a cashmere scarf to fight the wind. He’s drummed up a jacket and has to be the best thing going in Winchester.
The outside of the restaurant is the kind of place where Bilbo Baggins might live, featuring a thatched roof and exposed beams that show through the cream stucco. They have to duck to squeeze in through the entrance. Once they’re inside, it’s a fairy tale of a restaurant, with ancient timbers holding up the ceiling. Candles burn atop every table. The flames of a fire lick the charred brick of a chimney. Odors of grilled foods drift in from the kitchen. Servers in white shirts snap to attention as Noah and Charli pass by.
The hostess leads them upstairs to a cozy table tucked away from the others. As they wait for drinks, Noah says, “Queen Elizabeth owned this building back in the sixteenth century. When she married at the cathedral, the marriage nearly bankrupted the town, so she gave this place to the city. It eventually found its way to these guys, who make some of the best food in England.”
Charli looks at him with admiration. “How do you know so much?”
“Comes with the territory of being an innkeeper, I suppose.”
“You say I’m the one who doesn’t realize how amazing I am. That’s ...” The words get caught in her throat, but she has to finish. “I’ll tell you this ... whatever your ex is doing now, she’s missing out. I’d bet the world on that.”
Another blush that he does so well. “You’re nice to say so.”
“I mean it. And I do hope you chase your own dreams, whatever they are. It’s so admirable what you’re doing for your family, but at some point you have to break away and quench your own thirsts.” She’s good at giving advice when she sees someone who actually deserves more than they’re getting out of life.
“We’ll see,” he says, and the way he says it makes her feel a little depressed.
In fact, the intimate quiet that follows yanks her out of the moment. She let her guard down more than she should, and there’s something brewing between them that seems like it’s going to be hard to shake.
When the bread comes out, Charli eats her feelings. And it’s the best sourdough she’s ever had in her life. They serve it with a homemade butter and a side of dukkah spice. They share a smoked trout next, pulled right from the river Itchen. It’s served with flake almonds, braised raisins, and grilled gem hearts. For the main, she has a veggie plate that brings tears to her eyes, to-die-for butter beans, black garlic, crisped artichoke, and pureed cauliflower. He goes for the scallops and prawns with a champagne and squid ink risotto.
“Are you kidding me?” she says, after her first bites. Focusing on the food lessens the fear that crept up earlier. “I’m still wondering why people think England has bad food.”
“I think the French started that rumor.”
They share a laugh.
After dinner, he walks her along the river. Deciding he will indeed get a peek at her underwear, she stops and peers into his eyes. “Don’t you live around here?”
Noah smiles. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“Oh, you weren’t? We just happened to be in the area.”
Grins and smiles and flickers of a craving rise up into the air.
He lives along the river in a small apartment building that was once a mill. Funny how everything here was once something else. Not that architecture is even a blip on her radar. They push through the doors, and she barely takes notice of his space. They’re tugging at each other, hitting counters, stumbling over chairs.
“Is it possible to extend your flight out a few months?” he asks, as they collapse onto his couch.
“Don’t push your luck,” she says. And she means it. He’s about to get lucky unless he starts talking about a future again.