CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Gretta was nervous about seeing Jakob again. Combined with her worry over whether Bertie was okay and the fact that funerals were sad and sombre affairs, she wasn’t looking forward to today.
There was a part of her that hadn’t got the memo, however, and that was her heart, because it kept missing a beat every time she thought of Jakob – which was far too often and for far too long.
It was his fault. If he hadn’t said what he’d said just before he’d left the other day, she’d have been able to put their kiss to the back of her mind. Pretend it had never happened. Ignore how it had made her feel. But he’d told her he wasn’t sorry, then had left her alone for three days to reflect on what he’d meant.
Mind games – that had been her first instinct, her default setting; and no wonder after Landon. He’d been a master player. Jakob, though…? She didn’t think so. Admittedly he could be abrupt and blunt sometimes, but not sly or mean, and he wasn’t manipulative. He said what he meant, and not for effect or to provoke a reaction. So when he’d said he wasn’t sorry he’d kissed her, he’d been telling the truth.
But what did it mean?
Gah! She was fed up thinking about it, but she couldn’t stop, which was incredibly annoying because her mind was preoccupied with him when it should be concerned with more important things, like work, for instance.
So it was with trepidation that she heard the doorbell ring and went to answer it.
Jakob was wearing a suit.
Wow! Her eyes widened and her breath caught. He looked phenomenal: sexy, handsome, and totally at ease. A suit suited him.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
‘Let me grab a jacket.’ Gretta was wearing a smart, black knee-length dress and low heels. She’d felt overdressed until she’d seen Jakob. She hadn’t known what to expect – jeans and a tee shirt, maybe? If that’s what he’d turned up in, she wouldn’t have cared; he was paying his respects, not taking part in a fashion show.
Not much was said on the drive to Thornbury until Gretta realised it was unlikely he’d come straight from work dressed like that. ‘I could have met you at the church,’ she pointed out. ‘You needn’t have picked me up. And you’ll have to drive all the way back to Picklewick again to drop me off.’
‘I wanted to, and I’ll be going into work after the service,’ he said, ‘so I hope you don’t mind if I call into mine on the way back, so I can get changed?’
Gretta didn’t mind at all. She was curious to see where he lived. After all, she knew very little about him, just that he had two dogs (Trixie didn’t count because he was fostering her) and his parents walked them for him while he was at work. It wasn’t a lot, was it, considering he knew quite a bit about her?
He was as reticent and as private as she, and if he hadn’t been there the day she thought she’d seen Landon walking down her street, she would never have told Jakob about him. And they wouldn’t have kissed.
Did she regret it? She wasn’t sure…
There was only a handful of people in the church when Gretta and Jakob arrived, and by unspoken agreement they sat in a pew a few rows back. Gretta recognised Miss Manning, the elderly woman she’d bumped into in the street the other day with Bertie, but the turn-out was distressingly small.
‘I’m glad we came,’ she said, leaning to whisper in Jakob’s ear. He smelled of shampoo and soap. And himself. It was a smell that had lingered in her nose long after the kiss had ended— And she really shouldn’t be thinking about that at a time like this.
‘Me, too,’ he replied, his voice low. ‘There aren’t many here, are there?’
‘Bertie should have been here,’ she said, a hitch in her voice. ‘Mr Butler loved that dog, and the dog loved him.’
‘Bertie wouldn’t understand.’
‘I know, but still…Is he okay, do you think?’
‘I expect so.’
Gretta’s chin wobbled, and when Jakob glanced down at her, she pressed her lips together to hold back the sudden tears she didn’t want him to see.
But he saw anyway because gently, hesitantly, he put his arm around her.
She stiffened, then slowly relaxed into him. Safe, that’s what she felt, and cared for. He wasn’t doing this for show or to exert any kind of pressure or control – he was doing this because she was in need of comfort.
Throughout the brief service, he kept his arm around her as she battled with her unexpected grief for a man she’d lived next door to for two years but had only spoken to when he’d been dying. She’d cut herself off so thoroughly from everyone and everything (apart from her cat) that she’d known nothing about the man whose funeral she was currently attending.
Ashamed, Gretta bowed her head and let her tears fall.
Jakob merely held her tighter.
When the coffin was carried out of the church, she followed it with her eyes and whispered, ‘Bertie is okay, Mr Butler. He loves you and misses you, but he’s okay.’
Her heart aching, she waited for the handful of the mourners to leave, then she and Jakob filed out behind them. There was some milling about as the coffin was loaded onto the hearse ready for its journey to the crematorium, and Gretta waited for an opportunity to speak to Erica.
‘Thank you for coming,’ the woman said. She looked tired and drawn.
‘It was a lovely service,’ Gretta replied. ‘I wanted to pay my respects.’ She glanced up at Jakob, who hadn’t left her side. ‘We both did. How is Bertie?’
Erica pressed her lips into a thin line. ‘I don’t know how my uncle put up with him. He’s destroyed my favourite shoes and stole a loaf of bread off the table when my back was turned. You ought to have seen the mess. Oh, well, I dare say he’ll settle down when he gets into a routine, which we should do now the funeral is over.’ She heard her name being called. ‘Sorry, the vicar wants me. Thanks again for coming.’
‘That’s that, then,’ Gretta said sadly, as they left the churchyard.
‘I don’t feel like going back to work just yet,’ Jakob said. ‘There’s a nice cafe around the corner – fancy a coffee?’
Gretta didn’t want to go home yet either, so a coffee sounded good.
‘I would also suggest an early lunch, but my appetite’s deserted me,’ he said when they entered the cosy little cafe, and found a free table by the window.
‘I don’t think I could face anything either.’
‘Will you be alright on your own?’ he asked, then looked away, and she got the impression he felt awkward as he added, ‘I mean, I’ll have the dogs to take my mind off it, but when you work from home…’
‘I’ll be fine. Just a bit sad, that’s all. Poor Mr Butler, I should have been a better neighbour.’
Jakob reached across the table and took her hand in his. ‘You stepped up to the mark when he needed you. You took care of Bertie like he asked. Don’t beat yourself up over it.’
Gretta gave him a small smile. He really was a nice guy, and she realised her sadness wasn’t solely due to Mr Butler and Bertie – it was because this really would be the last time she’d see Jakob.
However, Jakob wasn’t seeing her right now. He was gazing over her shoulder into the street, his expression stricken.
Gretta tried to see what had caught his attention, but there wasn’t anything obvious. But when she turned back to him, his face was white, as though he’d seen a ghost.
I should expect it, Jakob told himself. If you live in the same small town as your ex, you were bound to bump into them eventually.
He hadn’t ‘bumped into her’ as such, in that he was in the cafe and Clare was on the pavement outside, but their eyes met briefly and he knew she’d seen him. The contact had been too fleeting to gauge her reaction, and she was gone before he’d collected himself.
Distracted, he finished his coffee, then drove home to change out of his suit, leaving Gretta to wait for him in the car. He was desperate for a few moments alone, because the encounter with Clare had knocked the wind out of him. It was one thing glimpsing her in the distance; it was quite another being close enough to see that she hadn’t changed a bit. If anything, she looked even more polished and glamorous than when she’d been his.
Ah, but she was never truly yours, was she? his sub-conscious piped up. She’d liked to share her love, and the fact that she’d worn his ring hadn’t held her back.
It took him seconds to strip off his suit, shirt and tie, and change into his more usual attire of hiking trousers, walking boots and tee shirt, and he was back in the car in just over a minute.
‘That was quick,’ Gretta said.
‘I told you I wouldn’t be long.’ He started the car and reversed off the drive.
‘Thanks for coming with me, and for the coffee,’ she said.
‘It was my pleasure.’ He blanched as he realised how that sounded. ‘I didn’t mean my pleasure . It was a funeral, not a—’ He hunted around for a suitable word, but couldn’t find one.
‘I knew what you meant. Are you okay? You seem a little…’ It was her turn to hesitate, and he guessed she didn’t know how to describe his odd behaviour without being rude.
‘Not too keen on funerals,’ he said.
‘Nor me. I’m glad it’s over.’
He couldn’t think of anything to say for the rest of the journey, so he didn’t, and when he brought the car to a halt outside her house, all he could manage was, ‘See you around.’ Although, he highly doubted he would. Their paths hadn’t crossed before Bertie, so there was no reason for them to cross now.
And that, more than anything that had happened today, made him feel incredibly sad.
‘Did it go alright?’ Maisie asked when he arrived at The Forever Home Kennels a short time later.
‘As well as funerals go,’ he replied. ‘There weren’t many there.’
‘That’s so sad.’
Yeah, ‘sad’ was the word of the day, he mused, as he checked on the work schedule and saw what still needed to be done.
It was whilst he was working out which of the dogs could be walked together, that he had the first of the three missed calls from Clare that he would receive over the next couple of hours.
When he saw her number come up, he sucked in a sharp breath, shock surging through him. He let the call go to voicemail, but when he checked a few seconds later, she hadn’t left a message. Perhaps it hadn’t been her? Perhaps he’d mis-remembered her number, and it had been someone else phoning him?
The second time the same number appeared on his screen, he didn’t answer, but this time there was a message. ‘Hi, it’s me, Clare. Call me?’
Her voice sent a tremor down his spine. The last time he’d heard it had been when she’d told him she was leaving. But at least he knew for certain that this number was hers.
What could she want? To apologise? To explain? To be friends?
Ha! As if that could ever happen. He thought about blocking her, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Part of him wanted to know why she was phoning him, but another part, the self-preservation part, thankfully wasn’t permitting him to phone her back.
Knowing her, she’d soon get the message and give up. Or become distracted by some other man.
That was it , Jakob surmised: she was bored and at a loose end, so she thought she’d see whether she could pick up where she’d left off. He was under no illusion that if he let her back into his life, she’d soon be out of it again when she found someone else to amuse her.
He was once more debating whether to block her for his own sanity, when he had yet another call, quickly followed by a message.
Can we talk?
This time he did block her because he was scared he might be weak enough to let her back into his life – and terrified he might discover he still loved her after all.
Gretta emailed the final book blogger and sat back. Another job ticked off her to-do list, but there were plenty more left. She’d take a break, have something to eat and stretch her legs, then—
Where would she stretch her legs to? A walk around the block without a canine companion to accompany her seemed odd.
Just something to eat then, although she didn’t know what. She hadn’t had much of an appetite since Bertie left, and the funeral earlier today had killed off what little remained.
Appalled, Gretta closed her eyes: bad turn of phrase.
But it was true, she hadn’t felt like eating. It was now gone six in the evening though, and whether she felt like it or not, she should have something. Anyway, Zaza would be demanding to be fed soon. Bertie’s absence hadn’t affected the cat’s appetite.
Gretta made her way downstairs, her back and hips stiff from sitting at her desk for so long. As she opened the fridge and closed it again, her mind was on Jakob. Something had upset him in the cafe earlier, but he’d brushed it off. She could tell though, because his whole demeanour had changed in an instant. He’d closed up, tension apparent in his hunched shoulders, rigid jaw, and white-knuckled grip on his coffee mug. He’d not said much afterwards, replying to her in monosyllables, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. Was he worried?
Gretta wasn’t sure, but Jakob hadn’t been the same man he’d been a minute earlier.
She’d sat in his car, waiting for him to get changed, and wracked her brains. Had it been something she’d said or done? She didn’t think so…But whatever it was, he hadn’t wanted to talk about it, and he’d been keen to take her home.
Gretta was concerned by how much that hurt.
The sound of her doorbell ringing made her freeze, but only for an instant. There was only one person it could be! Her heart thumping, a smile spreading across her face, she hurried to answer it.
Yanking the door open, she said, ‘Jakob—’ Then stopped.
Taylor was standing there; a visibly pregnant Taylor, and she was holding a large bunch of orange roses and apricot-tinted gerbera.
‘What are you doing here?’ Gretta knew she was being blunt and unfriendly (un siste rly), but the words tumbled out as disappointment set in.
‘Can I come in?’
Gretta glanced up and down the street, then stood to the side.
‘These are for you.’ Taylor thrust the bouquet at her.
‘You’re pregnant.’
‘I know.’ Her sister’s expression became wry as she stroked her bump.
Numb, Gretta showed her into the living room. ‘How long? I mean, how—?’
‘How far along? Twenty-six weeks.’
‘That’s…’ Gretta tried to work it out in her head, but she couldn’t get her brain to function. The last person she’d expected to see was Taylor .
‘Six months.’
‘Bloody hell, Taylor! You could have told me on the phone.’
‘I’m not here because I’m pregnant, although I thought you should know since you’re going to be their aunt.’
Floored, Gretta sank onto the arm of a chair.
‘Do you mind if I sit down?’ Taylor asked, somewhat sharply.
‘God, no, please do. Is there anything I can get you? Water?’
‘The flowers are from Mum.’
‘Oh, right. Tell her thanks.’
‘You should tell her yourself. What’s going on with you, Gretta? Don’t you think you’ve been a cow for long enough?’
‘What?’ Gretta’s mouth dropped open. ‘ Me? I’m not a cow.’
‘You certainly act like one. Ever since you and Landon got together, you thought you were too good for us. You never visited our parents or me. You never invited us to yours; hell, you couldn’t even be bothered to phone! Then you walk out on Landon, and no one hears from you for weeks, months even. It nearly destroyed him. If it was up to me, I’d let you rot, but it’s killing Mum and Dad. They’re worried sick about you.’
At the words ‘it nearly destroyed him’, Gretta began to laugh. It was high pitched and rather manic, and she couldn’t seem to stop.
Taylor stared at her in disbelief, her mouth agape. ‘What the hell is so funny?’
‘Landon,’ Gretta gasped, wiping her eyes. She was uncertain whether they were tears of laughter or pain. ‘ He nearly destroyed me . And you —’ she hitched in a breath, the tears definitely from pain now ‘—didn’t even notice. None of you did! You never have. Miss Invisible, that’s me. Bolshy Taylor, flighty Sierra, and invisible Gretta.’
‘Oh, grow up, Gretta. You’ve never been invisible. You were Miss Goody-Two-Shoes, the perfect daughter. Do you know how many times Mum held you up as a paragon of daughterly behaviour when me or Sienna went off the rails?’
‘She did not!’
‘She did . I can’t believe you didn’t notice. Or is all this an excuse for behaving like a—?’
‘It’s not an excuse! If I was such a ‘ paragon of daughterly behaviour’ how come none of you noticed what Landon was doing to me?’ Gretta screeched.
Taylor froze, then she began shaking her head as Gretta’s words sank in. ‘Please don’t tell me he hurt you. Please don’t say that.’ She looked distraught, and the shock and dismay on her face was enough to calm Gretta a little.
‘He didn’t hurt me physically,’ she explained, wiping her face with her sleeve. ‘It was emotional abuse. Landon wrote the book on gaslighting.’
Something seemed to click into place for Taylor. ‘You’ve got a cat .’
‘Yes.’
‘You didn’t have one before because Landon didn’t like them?’
‘Yes. I told you that on the phone.’
‘You did, but I didn’t realise what you meant. Oh, Gretta, why didn’t you tell us?’
Gretta’s voice was small as she said, ‘I was invisible, remember?’
‘ No, you weren’t. Look at me Gretta, you’ve never been invisible. You were sensible and conscientious, a bit of a goody-two-shoes, but that’s what we love about you.’ There were tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘Please tell Mum and Dad what you’ve told me.’
‘I’ve hurt them,’ Gretta realised. She also realised something else: that she was still allowing Landon to control her. She’d thought she was free of him, but by running away and hiding from the world she hadn’t been free of him at all – she’d been doing exactly what he’d programmed her to do.
Was she free of him now? Now that everything was out in the open? Did he really have any more power over her?
She thought not. She was done with hiding away, done with thinking that she wasn’t worthy of being loved. It was time she started living again.
And maybe time to start loving again, too…