Chapter 26
26
The next morning, Fraser froze in the middle of Bridge Walk. He carried a crate full of fairy figurines and handcrafted miniature houses, having cleared his table in the shed of every single one, including a few he’d only finished this week. He’d thought it wishful thinking to expect to sell so many, but now…
Harper and the preschool team had worked hard to make this festival a special one. Welcome signs with the kids’ handprints were hung on the bridge. His stall was draped with vibrant bouquets, a handmade seasonal wreath, and a small sign that Harper had printed off at the library yesterday. Like the business cards she’d designed, it read Handmade by Fraser and featured whimsical woodland motifs on a wood grain background. A tagline read: Beautiful unique ornaments and furniture, upcycled and sustainably crafted from Highland wood .
Without warning, Harper popped up behind the table, arms brimming with more flowers. “Boo!”
“Ah!” He stepped back, putting a hand to his chest. “Jesus, Harp! You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
Judging by the glint in her eye, that had clearly been the goal. She looked like one of his woodland fairies today, with a crown of sunflowers on her head and her lips stained a rich burgundy. She wore a burnt orange and brown plaid skirt that accentuated the curves of her hips, matched with a turtleneck and her new suede jacket. He grinned, remembering how she’d bounced into the cabin yesterday afternoon with the shopping bag in her hands, rejoicing that she’d found a French Connection piece for five pounds – “Five Great British Pounds, Fraser! That’s the same price as a posh coffee!” – among the racks.
Stepping forwards again, he motioned to the elaborate display. “Are you kidding with all this?”
She glanced around as though she’d only just noticed it herself. “You don’t like it?”
“Of course I bloody like it, you mad woman.” He placed his crate of wares on the table and rested his hands over it. “You just shouldn’t have gone to so much effort. You’re busy enough as it is.”
Harper’s smile faltered as she tied a handful of marigold stems with a neat twine bow. “Not that busy at the moment.”
“Busy enough. You’re writing a future Nobel Prize winner. Or whatever awards exist for books.” He rounded the stall, unable to stand all the obstacles between them. When he entered the side door, though, he didn’t like what he found. Harper’s mouth drooping at the corners unhappily.
Something was wrong. Had been all week. She’d claimed otherwise, but he’d still noticed a difference. It had been harder to coax laughs from her when they walked Bernard before he started work. Easier to get her to hush up in the evenings when he was trying to focus on The X-Files , which she’d insisted they watch together, only to chatter all the way through, mostly about how she couldn’t decide whether she was more in love with Mulder or Scully. Secretly, he liked hearing her voice over those of the actors. But whenever he’d asked if she was okay, she’d brushed him off.
He was pretty sure it was nothing to do with him. They’d been intimate more and more each day, getting lost in one another’s bodies every spare hour they had. She’d stayed over at his house the night before last and they’d taken advantage of his bathtub, which had fitted them both. He’d worried briefly that she might want to end things with him, but she didn’t act like that was the case when they were together.
She was just… different.
He poked her in the soft flesh between her ribs. “You okay?”
Harper nodded swiftly. “I’ve not been writing much this week. That’s all.”
He felt a pang of guilt. Was it because of him? She’d put so much work into the festival, into the business he’d been hellbent on not starting until she encouraged him, and then there’d been helping Andy out at the B&B and working on Flockhart’s marketing plans, too. And the preschool. And checking up on Eiley. Had Fraser’s overwhelming community burned her out?
“How come?” He took her hand, pulling her closer so she would stop using the flower arrangements as a distraction.
“Just writer’s block.” She shivered as though dispelling an unwelcome thought, before brightening so quickly he felt whiplashed. “No time for that today, anyway! Let’s get your fairies on display! Are you nervous?”
He was, actually, but less so with her here. Before he could even think about setting up the stall, he locked his arms around her waist, his nose grazing hers before he kissed her. “Thank you for doing this for me. You’re pretty amazing.”
“I am pretty amazing,” she agreed. “But you’re welcome. Thank you for letting me be part of it all. And for letting me be the first person you trusted with this.”
He kissed the crease between her brows gently. “Who else would have forced me into this?”
She slapped his arm lightly, feigning offence. “I did no such thing! I just… nudged.”
“Aggressively.”
“Attentively,” she corrected.
“Annoyingly.”
“ Adorably .”
They paused for a beat, exchanging soft expressions of amusement. He felt energised, as he often did with her, but something more, too. Today felt like a new beginning. Of course, he was terrified of showing his work to the town, his mum, and his sisters, but he was excited, too. He’d been hiding this part of himself for too long.
“I’m just beginning to think maybe you miss your career,” he said, opening the lid on his crate and beginning to unload his figurines from their protective paper. “You came here for a holiday, but you’re still using your expertise to help the rest of us. That boss of yours must have been a wee shitebag to let you go.”
He waited for a witty response, or at least something to acknowledge she’d heard him.
But she offered nothing. When he turned around, she was focused intently on readjusting the pile of business cards on the side, though they’d already been stacked neatly.
He frowned. “Harp?”
“ What ?!” shrieked a voice outside the stall. Fraser held his breath. He didn’t need to look to know who it belonged to. “ No. Way !”
When he turned, Cam was already dashing over to them, gasping at the rows of figurines. She wore her blue Raindrop Café apron, having complained the evening before over dinner at her house that Alice was putting her “out on the street” to man their coffee stand. Afterwards, Fraser had babysat while she and Sorcha ventured out on their first date since Archie’s arrival. If he hadn’t forced her to hand the baby over, she never would have gone, but he knew how important it was that they step away. After Sorcha had birthed Isla, Fraser had watched a disconnect grow in their marriage that had almost devastated Cam beyond words, and he didn’t want that again.
“Morning, Cam.” He sighed now, rubbing his eyes. He loved her. He really did. But out of everyone in his family, she was the loudest, and he hadn’t even had breakfast yet. She was also the most unpredictable, so he had no idea what she’d be loudly saying next.
“I can’t believe this!” she shouted shrilly. “It was you ! You made the ornaments on the Fairy Trail!”
“Surprise.” He waggled his fingers unenthusiastically, nerves drawing tight beneath his skin.
“How could you not say something sooner? The kids would have lost their shit if they knew!” She picked up the fairy closest to her, inspecting the wings of the boy he’d chiselled. He’d used Sky as inspiration for that one, with the red tones in his floppy hair – Sky hated haircuts, so Eiley let him grow it as long as he wanted – and loose green clothes to match his nephew’s favourite Peter Pan pyjamas. Cam shifted her keen gaze from the figurine to Harper. “Did you know?”
Harper seesawed her hand. “A little bit. Not when he took me to the trail, though.”
“Sneaky, sneaky bastard,” Cam uttered. “My brother is a liar!”
“A very talented liar,” said Harper.
Fraser winced. He didn’t want to be branded as that.
“Look. This one’s for you.” Nervously, he grabbed the auburn-haired fairy with tattoos and forced it into Cam’s hands. “And Sorcha.” The one with brown skin and dark clothes came next. He’d also made one each for the kids – and almost one for everybody in the village, he’d realised only after he’d finished carving them. All of his inspiration came from the faces he saw every day, and not only that, but he’d wanted to make sure that even strangers found themselves in the collection. Some were seated in moss-covered wheelchairs, or used crutches like his mum. Some were plus-size like Harper, and some were androgynous like Andy. He’d fashioned hijabs from recycled fabric and included stretch marks and scars like the ones he loved to explore on Harper’s body. After seeing how happy the bisexual colours on her writing desk had made Harper, he even hoped to create a Pride collection in time for Belbarrow’s small parade the coming summer.
As predicted, Cam softened as she faced the fairy version of herself, tracing the outline of her miniature fringe and pierced button nose, as well as the roundness of her stomach. She sniffed when she picked up Sorcha’s piece. If he knew his sister, she was probably trying to force her tears to crawl back deep, deep inside. Cam wasn’t a crier. “Can’t you let me be mad at you for a minute?”
“No.” Relief washed over Fraser, and he pinched his mouth between his fingers to keep from grinning.
“Does Mum know?”
“No. I’d like to surprise her and Eiley when they come later.”
Cam set the figures down and reached across the table, grabbing Fraser’s head between her heavy hands so she could squeeze his cheeks together. He groaned, ignoring Harper’s laughs at his expense. “She’s going to be ever so proud of little Frasy Baby,” she cooed like he was ten years old.
“Get off me, you daft sod.” He slapped her off finally, but not before she pinched his nose.
Then, she turned to Harper. “Are you sure you have to leave Belbarrow? You’ve only been here a month, and my brother’s already spilling his deepest, darkest secrets.”
Harper’s mouth opened, then closed. For once, she didn’t seem to have anything to say.
Cam pocketed her new figurines and rocked on her heels, apparently oblivious. “Well, make sure you come to Raindrop’s stall later. Alice made cheesecake, and I’ll be bored shitless standing there alone in the cold.”
Cam ruffled his hair, then shook her head to show her disapproval a final time. Then, she kissed Sorcha’s figurine. So many emotions in such a short space of time. He could barely keep up.
When she left, he let out a relieved breath.
One down, two more to go.
Harper took his hand and squeezed. “I think that was Cam language for Your work is wonderful. Thank you .”
He chuckled at that, and he knew Harper was right. Still, he doubted Cam would let him live his secret down anytime soon.