Chapter 52
FIFTY-TWO
Rita slipped quietly out of the farmhouse, the door clicking shut behind her.
The world outside was hushed, suspended in that soft grey stillness of civil twilight, the fleeting time when night had loosened its grip, but day had yet to take hold.
Even at this unearthly hour, she’d put on mascara and lipstick, a summery floral dress, and her old denim jacket.
As she crested the hill, a slow bloom of colour began to stretch across the horizon.
Jago was already there, sitting on Archie’s bench beneath the Singing Tree. Hands clasped between his knees, head bowed like a man in prayer. When he looked up, his eyes met hers, full of that complicated warmth that had begun to rise between them in recent weeks.
She walked the last few steps toward him, slow and cautious.
‘I wasn’t sure you’d come,’ Jago said, smiling softly.
‘I wasn’t sure either,’ she replied. ‘But I needed to know what this is. Whether it’s real… or just grief playing tricks on us.’
He tapped the bench beside him. ‘You timed it perfectly. Look.’
Slowly, the sun began to rise, inching up from the edge of the sea like a great golden coin being pushed through the surface of the world.
‘I’ll never tire of this,’ Rita murmured.
‘And I’ll never tire of you.’ He took her hand and kissed it gently.
‘A new start. A new day, Rita Jory.’ The dimple appeared.
‘And whenever you’ve got a spare second, minute, hour, month, year…
I want to spend it with you.’ He looked at her through his impossible lashes.
‘I meant what I said the other night. My love for you is real. I didn’t plan any of this.
But you’re just so damn beautiful, how could I not? ’
Rita gave a sad smile, folding her arms against the morning chill. ‘You should’ve just told me everything.’
‘I know,’ he said quietly. ‘I was scared. Scared it would end this before it even began.’
She let out a long breath. ‘I loved him, you know. With everything I had. And he loved me. He really did.’
‘I know.’ Jago’s voice was barely a whisper. ‘I saw it. I envied it.’
Rita brushed her fingers along the edge of the bench.
‘He’s gone, but he’s still everywhere. In the sea. In this tree. In Thomas’s stubbornness. In Sennen’s laugh. But he’s not here, not in this moment. Not in this… ache I feel when I see you and don’t know what to do with it.’
Jago reached out and tipped her chin up, kissing her softly on the lips. ‘I’ll never replace him, Rita.’
‘I know that.’ She nodded. ‘But I want you to know this isn’t just because you remind me of him. You’ve shown me who you are. Helping with the yurts, paying for Stan’s time, the marquee, delivering Vince and Billy, the flowers to wish me well… You’re a good man, Jago Jenken.’
He stood and helped her to her feet. ‘So… what do we do with it?’
She looked up at him, eyes glassy but calm. ‘I think… we stop running. From this. From ourselves.’
When he leaned in and kissed her, she didn’t think, she just melted. Warm lips, and the sexy feeling of a night’s stubble against her cheek. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie.
Somewhere behind them, a blackbird startled into flight.
Rita pulled away, breathless. ‘The yurts are unlocked,’ she whispered. ‘You know if we wanted to… talk more. Or maybe not talk.’
‘Oh very much not talk,’ he replied, his expression smouldering.
They ran. Giggling like teenagers, hand in hand across the field.
The grass was damp underfoot, the air crisp and clear.
Rita’s laugh echoed across the High Meadow far louder than she meant it to be.
Jago ducked through the flap, holding it open for her like a gentleman, even though his eyes said something far less chivalrous.
The yurt was dim inside. The air cool, but neither of them noticed.
Rita tugged his top off. He pulled her dress over her head.
Clothes were strewn across the rug. For a moment they just stared at each other, half naked, breathless, vulnerable.
It was clumsy at first, arms knocking, knees bumping, a low laugh here, a whispered ‘hang on’ there, but it was real, raw, breathless sex that came not from lust alone but a measured understanding of each other and what was to come.
Afterwards, they lay tangled together, her head on his chest, both of them staring up at the lantern swaying gently above them.
‘That was unexpected.’ Rita snuggled into him further.
‘Speak for yourself.’ Jago smiled. ‘I’ve been planning that for days.’
She thwacked him with a pillow. ‘You absolute…’
‘… gentleman,’ he finished, grinning, the dimple oh so evident.
Eventually, they dressed slowly, shyly. Rita’s hair was a mess. Jago’s socks inside out. They opened the yurt flap and peered out, checking the coast was clear.
Hand in hand, they headed towards Jago’s Defender. Once inside, Rita took a breath.
‘You’ll need to be patient with me.’ She searched his face. ‘I can’t promise I’m fully ready for whatever this is. But what I can promise is that I want to be.’
‘Then I’ll wait.’ He beamed. ‘For as many sunrises as it takes.’
And as the sun rose quietly over High Meadow, Rita Jory smiled to herself. Letting it be was its own kind of wild, and for once, she truly understood what that meant.