Chapter 20
TWENTY
It was a blistering hot day. Rita sat beneath the Singing Tree, knees hugged to her chest, her back against the inscription on Archie’s bench.
The wind moved through the leaves above, setting them whispering in a way that always felt like they were trying to tell her something she wasn’t quite ready to hear.
She stared out across the ocean. Gulls were screeching into the wind; the horizon looked back at her, its perfect line a leveller for any human being.
She let her mind drift, inevitably, to the kiss.
She hadn’t seen him since. She touched her lips absently, remembering how unexpectedly tender it had been.
How Jago had looked at her, not like someone to fix, but like someone already whole.
And how, despite everything in her that had wanted to lean into it, her feet had carried her the other way.
The truth was, she didn’t really know much about the man at all, only that he lived across the meadow and that he belonged to the Jenken family.
And while the historical feud between the Jorys and the Jenkens wasn’t spoken of often, it ran deep enough to still cast a shadow.
It was when Archie was still alive that she’d first read – through the ever-entertaining Queen of the Seahaven Bay Facebook Gossip Group – that Jago Jenken had once been married.
The post had been tucked between a photo of someone’s lost cat and a heated debate about seagull-proof bins.
At the time, Rita had skimmed past it, but now, with that unexpected kiss lingering on her lips and Jago’s quiet acts of kindness stacking like Russian dolls, she found herself wondering about the woman who’d come before.
What had happened between them? And in a town as full of gossip as Seahaven Bay why she had not heard more.
What would Archie want for her future, she wondered.
He had never been a jealous man; a selfish one sometimes, but he always had her best interests at heart.
He had always encouraged her to do more if she wanted to.
But she had been happy with her life, the majority of the time, and had taken to motherhood well.
She had enjoyed being the organiser. And even though now she really was the organiser of her own destiny, a new relationship had been the last thing on her mind.
For she’d built something. Something real. And tomorrow five paying guests would arrive with bags and expectations and a need for peace, and she was ready (she hoped!) to meet them with everything they needed for a truly relaxing escape.
The melodic song of a blackbird above drew her gently out of her thoughts.
As her eyes drifted down, they landed on the cubby hole.
On impulse, she crouched and reached in, not expecting to find anything.
Then after a good root around, her fingers brushed against something, causing her to act as if she’d been burned.
‘No bloody way.’ She laughed. Slowly, carefully, she drew out a small white piece of folded paper, her curiosity rising like a tide.
If you don’t know what to do, do nothing and let the answer come to you.
No name. Typed again. Just that single, steady sentence.
Rita stared at it, her heart twisting. For a fleeting moment, she wondered, could it have been her husband?
Maybe, somehow, he’d left it behind. Maybe she’d missed it when she was here with Sennen before.
A message from the past, waiting to catch her just as she was about to fall.
She smiled, because wasn’t that exactly how the retreat idea had come to her?
Out of nowhere, just when she needed it most.
Tucking the note into the pocket of her jeans, she headed to the yurts. She opened up all of the flaps to let the morning air drift in then headed back down the meadow path toward the barn. As she came around the corner, she stopped dead.
The space behind the barn, just yesterday a bare patch of concrete, now stood adorned with a smart white marquee.
The front was rolled open, and she could see picnic benches had been arranged snugly inside.
Fairy lights were strung inside and out.
Her hand flew to her heart. Her bottom lip wobbled.
There was clearly more to Jago Jenken than met the eye and on this occasion, his actions spoke louder than any words ever could.
She stood for a moment, overwhelmed, then turned at the sound of gravel crunching.
A taxi pulled up on the courtyard and out tumbled Kelly with a bright pink wheelie case, owl-like sunglasses pushing back her thick blonde locks and red lipstick perfectly in place.
‘Reeeeeeeet!’ she squealed, flinging her arms in the air like a game show host. ‘The glam squad has landed!’
Rita blinked, then burst out laughing.
Kelly marched toward her, lifting a giant red tote bag. ‘Voila! One beauty kit. Hair dye, face creams, mini mani station, and my best chat. Hope you’ve got the vino blanco on ice.’
Rita opened her arms and let herself be hugged, hard and fast, nearly choking on the familiar sickly perfume that her best mate had been drenching herself with daily for years.
‘Wine, yes. Sanity, debatable.’
Kelly pulled back and beamed. ‘Doesn’t matter. You’ve got me now.’