Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
The next day, Jude was rearranging his front-table display when Rita pushed open the door to Sail Away. A tiny brass bell tinkled overhead, the kind that always made her feel like she’d stepped into some cheesy Christmas movie, rather than Seahaven Bay’s only bookshop.
He looked up over his glasses and smiled. ‘Ah, my favourite retreat queen. What can I tempt you with today? Meaningful poetry? A Victorian tome? A calendar of the French rugby team?’
Rita quipped, ‘I’m surprised Jilly hasn’t bought the latter up in bulk.’
They both laughed.
‘Is Teo behaving himself?’
Jude’s eyes twinkled. ‘No, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. We live together well, if that’s a thing. Helped by us having plentiful time apart as he works so hard.’
‘Aw, I’m so pleased for you both. And just let me know when I need to buy that hat or give him an extra day off.’
‘OK, and this is when I swiftly change the subject and ask again what books you are looking for?’ Jude grinned.
‘I need something for the Spring Awakening Retreat that is happening right now,’ Rita smiled. ‘Spring-ish. Soul-searchy. But not depressing. I’ve got a few in who are in need of a lot of TLC and I want to add it to an Easter basket I am creating for their last week.’
‘Gosh you really are the hostess with the mostest, Rita Jory, and OK…’ He clasped his hands together, clearly delighted to have the perfect answer.
‘I have just the thing.’ He led her to a little stand decorated with paper daffodils made from old maps and picked up a hardback with a botanical-design cover.
‘The Wild Remedy, Emma Mitchell.’ Rita started to flick through it.
‘This,’ Jude said reverently, ‘is spring in book form. A nature diary. Drawings. Reflections. The kind of writing that makes you want to breathe more slowly and look at moss.’
Rita laughed. ‘As looking at moss is exactly what our guests think they’re coming for. You’re so funny.’
‘It’s gentle. Honest. Not preachy. And there’s something lovely about giving people permission to notice the world again.’
Rita felt her heart pinch, warmly. ‘Have you got seven? I ideally want one for each guest, one for me and sounds like Zenya will love this too. It’s perfect; you are so clever!’
Jude blushed. ‘Yes, I’ve got just enough. And…’ Jude plucked a stack of pale-green bookmarks from behind the till. ‘I got these printed.’ Rita noticed that each one had a tiny line drawing of a hare leaping through wildflowers, and beneath it, the line, You are allowed to begin again.
Rita stuck out her bottom lip. ‘Aw, Jude… they’re gorgeous. I will take a handful and do add them to my invoice.’
He shrugged, suddenly bashful. ‘Well. Spring is for renewal and all that.’
‘Yes it is.’ Her hand drifted unconsciously towards her stomach.
Jude wrapped the stack in brown paper, tying it with twine, and popped them directly into Rita’s bag. ‘If anyone asks why this book, tell them Jude says nature is the cheapest therapist.’
She grinned. ‘I might get a sign printed on every yurt that says just that.’
He winked. ‘Just send me the royalties.’
‘Absolutely!’
Rita stepped out into the glorious spring sunshine, the warm light glinting off the water of Seahaven Bay.
Fishing boats rocked gently in the harbour, their hulls painted brightly against the deep blue, and gulls circled overhead, calling and swooping in lazy arcs.
The faces of passers-by were full of ordinary happiness: children chasing each other along the quay, couples laughing over ice creams, an old man fishing with a patient dog by his side.
She paused for a moment, watching a little girl wobble along the edge of the quay, holding her mother’s hand, and two boys dart past, shrieking with laughter.
Her chest tightened in a curious mix of longing and tenderness.
For just a second, she imagined holding a tiny hand of her own again, feeling that effortless joy of discovery, the way the children’s energy seemed to make the sun brighter.
Suddenly, everything felt just a fraction less overwhelming. Spring was properly here. The world was blooming. And for the first time in a while, she felt like she could meet it, and her secret, without crumpling entirely.