Quietly Yours (Quiet Love #3)

1.

Ada

I didn’t expect a painting on the wall of an investment firm to make me feel so overwrought. Just looking at it had tears trickling down my cheeks.

I was normally very self-composed in public places, but I was still reeling from the news of my father and stepmother’s passing. Grief had me acting out of character. Sniffling, I pulled a tissue from my bag and dabbed at the wetness beneath my eyes.

The painting wasn’t anything like the sterile, abstract images you normally saw in places like this. Meaning practically radiated from the canvas. It could’ve been the setting from Wuthering Heights , a vast and moody landscape depicting a rolling countryside akin to the Yorkshire Dales. It made me remember Dad so keenly.

He was a voracious reader and used to say I was made to be a heroine in an Emily Bronte novel, while my sister, Frances, stepped right out of the pages of Jane Austen.

When we were children, the comparison irked me. Why was I the one who ran across the Moors in bare, muddy feet and knotted hair destined for a miserable ending while Frances sat in elegant parlours having tea, taking turns about the room while dancing joyously towards her happily ever after?

It was only years later I truly understood what Dad meant, how well he saw me back when I was too young to truly see myself. I was a Bronte character through and through, prone to bouts of emotion, my personality stubborn and my looks intense, mainly due to my untameable mop of brown hair and my dark, bottomless eyes.

My dad and I had been through our share of issues, but in the end, he was the person who knew me best, probably because we were alike in many ways. And now, he was gone. It felt like thorns were cinching around my heart, pricking the tender organ and squeezing tighter and tighter until I couldn’t stand the pain.

Up until two days ago, I’d been fine—albeit—working long hours managing a care home for the elderly and living in my dad and stepmother’s spare bedroom. In exchange for low rent, I kept the house clean, did all the grocery shopping and tended to the garden. It was hard work, but it was a good deal, especially considering I didn’t want to live on my own. I’d always hated being in an empty house or apartment. I needed the comfort of knowing someone else was nearby doing their own thing. Someone who would hear me cry out if there was an emergency, for instance.

With Dad and Leonora gone, I was no longer fine. The house was disturbingly quiet without them, and it heightened my grief while also exacerbating my phobia of living alone.

Over the years, I’d become a fearful person in certain ways, and I wondered if I hadn’t been bestowed the fate I had, if my accident had never occurred, would I be better equipped to survive alone? Would I be able to sleep alone in a house without worrying about the worst happening?

“Miss Rose?” the receptionist called, breaking me from my inner turmoil.

I glanced up, hoping she was about to tell me Mr Oaks was at long last ready to see me. I’d been waiting for over an hour, and my leg was beginning to cramp. Not to mention I felt incredibly out of place in the waiting area of the shiny corporate office building that belonged to my stepmother’s estranged son. I’d tried getting hold of him over the phone all day yesterday but was informed he was unavailable. I hadn’t wanted to come in person, but he needed to know what had happened to our parents.

He needed to know his mother was gone.

Emotion welled in my throat once again.

Two nights ago, I’d received a call from an official in Thailand. The worst call of my life. My father and stepmother had been there on holiday and embarked on a private boat tour when a storm had hit. The boat had capsized, and everyone on board had perished, except for the tour guide, who was in serious condition in hospital. Honestly, I felt like I was in a waking nightmare. It was the sort of thing that happened in movies, not real life. I was in a state of shock, but arrangements needed to be made, and I was the only one around to make them. Those arrangements included informing Jonathan of his mother’s passing.

I’d seen countless photos of him that my stepmother, Leonora, kept around the house. Through those pictures, I’d observed his evolution from an adorable little boy to a slightly gangly teenager and finally to a handsome grown man with a stern, serious sort of face. The adult pictures were well over a decade old so who knew how he’d changed since. Most likely, he’d become sterner and even more serious, if his mother’s description was anything to go by. We’d never met in person. I was pretty sure Jonathan didn’t even know I existed. He hadn’t been a part of his mother’s life for a long time, which was something I could never get my head around.

I mean, I understood having issues with a parent since Dad and I went through an extended period of not speaking, but Leonora was one of the nicest people I’d ever known. Seriously, my dad had lucked out when he’d met her. I’d considered her a close friend, and we’d spent a lot of time together cooking, watching TV, going on weekend outings. She was a lovely, kind-hearted person, so to think she had a son who chose not to be in her life was incredibly confusing to me.

“I’m sorry,” the receptionist went on. “But Mr Oaks isn’t going to be available to see you today.”

My gut sank. I hadn’t wanted to state outright my reasons for being there. Considering the strained nature of their relationship, I’d thought it better to inform Jonathan privately of his mother’s passing. It was too raw, too insensitive, to leave as a message for his assistant to relay, and yet he appeared to be leaving me no other choice.

Still, I couldn’t do it. I was dealing with my own grief, so I knew how painful this was. I knew the suffering that was ahead for Jonathan, especially if his reasons for not seeing his mother were as complicated as Leonora sometimes insinuated. The least I could do was bestow upon him the kindness of telling him discreetly.

“What about tomorrow?” I asked.

Her look was apologetic. Clearly, her boss was being a dick, and she was trying to be polite about it. When I’d arrived, I’d told her I was Conor Rose’s daughter there to speak with Mr Oaks. Jonathan had always had a problem with his mother marrying my dad. He’d thought he wasn’t good enough for her, which, once upon a time, was true. But Dad was a rare case. He’d rehabilitated, changed his ways. He wasn’t the same man he’d been when I was a child.

“My apologies, but Mr Oaks has stated he’s unavailable indefinitely.”

I exhaled heavily. I really didn’t need this stress when I was already drowning in funeral arrangements. Not to mention figuring out how on earth I was going to have two bodies repatriated all the way from Thailand.

“Okay, thank you for letting me know.”

I tried to wrangle my frustration because he could’ve at least done me a solid and told his receptionist he wasn’t prepared to speak with me when I’d arrived. Instead, he’d left me waiting for over an hour, and my leg was killing me. I didn’t normally need to use my cane so long as I got enough sleep and wasn’t on my feet a lot during the day. But I’d barely gotten any rest since I received the news of Dad and Leonora, and sitting for extended periods on hard, uncomfortable chairs could also cause some cramping.

I stood, wincing at the nerve pain in my leg, unsure of what to do. I briefly considered sneaking upstairs, but it appeared that the lift was broken. An auburn-haired woman stood talking to a repair man about how long it was going to take to fix. My gaze went to the door that led to a stairwell then to the board on the wall that listed the floors and where each office was located.

Jonathan Oaks’ office was five floors up, which meant climbing five flights of stairs. I wasn’t enthused about the exertion, but it needed to be done. He probably thought I’d come seeking to repair the relationship between him and his mother, hence why he was stonewalling me. I’d bet he was sitting in his office right now and could’ve easily spared me a few minutes. And sure, I was mad about his lack of consideration in making me wait, but I adored his mother. She’d welcomed me into her life and her home when I’d just come out of a long-term relationship and had nowhere else to go, helped me patch things up with my dad, and that was why I refused to treat Jonathan with the same level of disrespect he was showing me.

When the receptionist was distracted by a phone call, I slipped into the stairwell and started my climb. By the time I reached the floor where Jonathan’s office was located, my leg was throbbing, but I refused to take out the telescopic cane I kept in my handbag in case of emergencies. My stubborn side hated appearing weak, especially in front of a man whom I knew already thought I was scum due to his misinformed opinion of my father.

The floor required an employee swipe card to enter, but I managed to slip in behind two men who were deep in conversation about forecasts and market dips.

I held my head high as I walked determinedly towards Jonathan’s office, looking completely out of place in my scuffed Nikes, jeans that had seen better days and worn parka, my thick, unruly brown hair pulled back in a hastily styled French plait. I felt drab amid the stylish, designer clad finance workers who passed me by. Still, I wouldn’t be deterred.

My love for my stepmother was what fuelled me.

When I reached Jonathan’s office, clearly the largest on the entire floor, judging by the thick double doors, I lifted my hand and knocked.

“What is it, Therese? I’m on the phone with David,” a deep, masculine voice called out. Something about that voice had hairs rising on the back of my neck.

Inhaling a deep breath for courage, I placed my fingers around the handle and pushed. Stepping inside, I found Jonathan sitting by his ridiculously large desk, phone held to his ear as his gaze lifted. That same gaze beheld me for several beats, allowing me a moment to take him in. He hadn’t changed much from the photographs I’d seen. His hair was slightly shorter, with some grey at the temples peppered into the blond. He had broad, strong-looking shoulders encased in a suit that appeared custom tailored to his physique.

Lastly, I beheld his eyes, so light a shade of blue they were almost grey. There was something in his features and countenance that gave me pause. He struck me as a man who rarely smiled. There were no laugh lines around his mouth, no crinkles at the eyes, suggesting they were rarely lit with joy.

I became aware that he was taking me in just as acutely as I was him. His attention went to my face, wandering to my hair for a prolonged moment then down over my outfit before he said to whoever was on the other end of the phone, “Sorry, but I’ll have to call you back.”

He hung up before levelling me with a frown, his tone displaying how inconvenienced he felt. “You’re not Therese.”

“No, I’m not,” I said, my voice a little shaky because there was something undeniably intimidating about him. Perhaps it was the expensive suit, his extraordinary handsomeness or merely the fact that he radiated “I’m the boss” energy. Whatever it was, it took effort to continue, “My name is Ada Rose. I’m Conor’s daughter, and I—”

“Get out!” he glared, standing and striding towards the door. “I told Amy not to let you up, and now, I hope she’s prepared to freshen up her resume because—”

“Please,” I said, holding up both hands. “Don’t fire Amy.” I assumed she was the kind and apologetic receptionist downstairs. “It’s not her fault. She told me you weren’t available, but I snuck up here when she wasn’t looking. I wouldn’t normally resort to such measures, but I have something I need to tell you, and it’s important I do so in person.”

At that, his frown intensified. He was only a foot or two away from me, and a waft of his cologne—it smelled just as expensive as his suit—hit my nose. He was also very tall, practically towering over my five-foot-five frame.

“Whatever you’ve come for, I’m not interested. I expect it’s money?” He cast his icy gaze over my worn clothes and discount handbag. I bristled. “My mother probably mentioned my wealth in passing, and you thought you’d try your luck scamming some cash out of me? Well, it isn’t going to happen. Now, please leave before I call security.”

I blinked, struggling to form a coherent response. I’d never been spoken to with such unmasked disdain. He’s Leonora’s son , I reminded myself. I wouldn’t lash out at him, no matter how much of an arrogant prick he was being.

“Jonathan, I mean, Mr Oaks,” I responded evenly, battling against my temper. “I promise I’m not here to scam you or whatever else you’re thinking. I have some news about your mother, and I’d really like for us to sit down and talk because it isn’t something appropriate to blurt while you’re shoving me out the door.”

What I said seemed to give him pause. He must’ve read something in my eyes or heard the hitch of emotion in my voice because he stepped back from the door, though his mistrustful gaze never left me.

“What news of my mother?”

I glanced towards his desk. “Can we sit?”

“Fine. You have two minutes. I’m a very busy man.”

“Evidently,” I responded, unable to keep the slight attitude from my tone that time. His eyes flashed to mine, his expression withering, but he didn’t retort. Instead, he sat and motioned for me to take the seat in front of his desk.

I sat and rubbed my hands on my jeans. They were shaking, and Jonathan noticed. His expression softened the tiniest bit. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about, Miss Rose?”

I swallowed thickly, thinking of the two people whom I loved so dearly and who were no longer with us, just gone from the world. It felt wrong. Not real. Tears welled behind my eyes once again, but I managed to blink them back.

“There’s no easy way to say this,” I told him, my voice quiet as I met his gaze. “Your mother and my father were in Thailand for the last few weeks. They’d been planning the trip for years. It was one of their bucket list items. Well, I received a couple phone calls and updates from them, and they’d been having an amazing time, but …” My words fell off, my throat clogging. I cleared it and forced myself to continue, “Two days ago, I received a call from a Thai official. His English was heavily accented, and at first, I couldn’t understand what he was trying to tell me. Eventually, I comprehended that our parents had gone out on a private boat excursion. It had been booked for months, but there were adverse weather conditions. In the end, they forged ahead with the tour, but a storm hit, and the boat went under.”

When I paused, I saw that Jonathan was staring at me with a hard, inscrutable expression. “What are you saying, Miss Rose? Is my mother in the hospital? Is she injured?” He picked up the phone like he was about to start making calls.

“I’m so sorry, Jonathan,” I croaked. “She didn’t make it. Neither of them did.”

The phone dropped to his desk with a muted thud. For a moment, it felt like time stood still. Jonathan was silent, just staring at me while a parade of emotion marched across his face. I couldn’t imagine what he was feeling. I’d lost my dad, but our relationship was good. Solid. Years ago, it hadn’t been. In fact, there was a long period when we didn’t speak at all, and I tried to imagine how I’d feel if he’d passed away before we had the chance to reconnect. Jonathan’s eyes shone with feeling while his face turned blank. I reached inside my bag for some tissues and pulled one out to dab my eyes before offering the packet to Jonathan. He glanced at it then shook his head.

So, he wasn’t a crier. Some people weren’t.

“I understand this must be very shocking news, and I’m sorry to be the one to bear it.”

His forehead crinkled, his brow furrowing while his hand resting on the table clenched into a fist so tight I thought his veins might pop. Turning his head, he glanced out the window for a long moment, glaring at the clouds as though trying to eviscerate them with his gaze. His lips were pale, his jaw flickering. I could only imagine what was going through his mind. The turmoil. I felt for him despite his general rudeness and lack of consideration in attempting to avoid meeting with me today.

“I don’t understand. Why on earth would they still go out if there was a storm coming?” he said at last.

“I’ve been asking myself the same question. I think maybe the tour providers refused to give them a refund or something silly like that, so they’d taken the chance,” I replied softly.

His expression hardened as he glowered at me. The shock of it knocked some of the air from my lungs. “That doesn’t sound like something my mother would do. It must’ve been Conor. That bastard probably pushed for them to go out, and now—”

“Hey, that’s my father you’re talking about. And he adored your mother. He’d never risk her life like that. I’m sure they underestimated the severity of the storm.”

“He might’ve been your father, but he was a lowlife alcoholic,” Jonathan spat. “He never deserved Mam, and now, he’s taken her from me forever.”

“He was sober for over twenty years,” I said, trying to keep my anger at bay because a deeper part of me knew Jonathan was in shock and lashing out. “And there’s no sense throwing blame. They’re both gone, and there’s no changing that.” I sniffled, removing the notepad from my bag. “Believe me, I want to rage at the injustice of it all, but there are practicalities that need to be dealt with.”

At that, Jonathan’s attention went to my notepad before his eyes lifted to meet mine. “Practicalities?”

I blew out a breath. “I’ve been trying to communicate with the authorities over in Thailand about repatriating the bodies, but it’s been a struggle, especially with the language barrier. I’ve written down some instructions I was given, as well as numbers to call, but I haven’t made much headway despite spending half the day yesterday on the phone.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Jonathan said, surprising me when he stood and walked towards me. He snatched my notebook from my hand and tore out the two pages where I’d written my notes before handing the pad back to me. “Hey, you can’t just—”

Before I could finish, he lifted his phone and pressed a few buttons, ignoring me completely. “Therese. Yes. Clear the rest of your schedule for the day. I have an urgent matter I need you to attend to. You’ll also need to locate a Thai translator and hire their services for the week.” I presumed Therese was his assistant. “All right. Thank you.”

When he put the phone back down, his unfathomable eyes—their glacial blue shade somehow matching his frosty personality—returned to me.

“You can go,” he said, his tone cold and dismissive, and my stomach bottomed out. I couldn’t imagine how someone as kind and generous as Leonora had a son as mean and abrupt as Jonathan.

“What about the funeral arrangements? They always spoke of being buried together.”

“I’ll take care of that, too,” he stated, and I frowned.

“For both of them? But you hated my father, and quite frankly, you haven’t been in your mother’s life for a long time. I think I’ll know better what they’d both prefer.”

Something flickered in his jaw, something a lot like fury mixed with shame. “Fine. You do the funeral, then.”

“Okay, well, perhaps we should exchange numbers so we can keep one another updated on everything?”

“Therese’s desk is just outside. You can take her number and give her yours. Whatever you need to inform me of, she’ll make sure I hear it.”

Again, so cold and dismissive. I tried not to be affronted that he clearly wanted nothing more to do with me. The fact that he was prepared to repatriate the bodies was enough of a weight off my shoulders, though. I didn’t need him to like me.

“Okay. I’ll get out of your hair, then,” I said, wincing when I pushed up from the chair to stand. It was going to take at least two days of rest for the pain in my leg to subside, and those were two days I didn’t have. There was far too much to be done. Jonathan must’ve seen my pained expression because something like concern broke through his cold facade for a second.

“Miss Rose, are you all right?”

I held up my hand. “I’m quite fine,” I said, though the strain in my voice was evident. “And again, I’m sorry we’re meeting under such awful circumstances.”

Jonathan nodded but said nothing as I endeavoured not to limp my way out of his office. Shutting the double doors behind me, I exhaled a heavy breath then searched for this Therese person. A middle-aged woman with short brown hair sat at a desk nearby that had been empty when I’d arrived. She glanced up as I approached.

“You’re Therese?” I asked.

She nodded and gave a kind smile. “Yes, how can I help you, dear?”

“Mr Oaks told me to provide you with my number and to get yours. There’s some information I’m going to be forwarding him in the coming days.”

“Of course.”

After exchanging numbers with Therese, I made my way back to the stairwell. This time, I needed to use my cane. My leg was going to be no good for the rest of the day. It was a good thing my right leg was fine, allowing me to drive an automatic. My little Toyota Yaris was a Godsend for getting about.

I was one flight down when the woman I’d seen talking to the repair man about the broken lift appeared. She wore casual clothes, and a set of keys hung at her hip, so I presumed she was some sort of building maintenance person.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed, seeing my struggle. “The elevator is out, and I’ve had a nightmare getting someone to come and repair it today.”

“It’s okay. These things happen,” I told her with a tight smile. I hated being a nuisance.

“Here, take my arm. Let me help you,” she went on.

Normally, I’d politely decline because I was a little sensitive about needing help from strangers, but this woman seemed nice, and somehow her offer of help didn’t have me bristling like it normally would. Maybe I was just so exhausted that I didn’t have it in me to bristle anymore.

I made it to the bottom of the stairs much more easily with her help and thanked her as I left the stairwell.

“You take care now,” she said as I left and walked outside to where I’d parked my car. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I let my head fall back against the headrest while I rubbed my knee. I really needed to try and get some sleep. I’d called in to work letting them know I had a family bereavement and would be out for several days. My administrative assistant, Rina, knew most of my job and could fill in for me while I was gone. Well, at least now Jonathan had been informed, and all I needed to do was focus on the funeral. Maybe after that I would finally have time to grieve.

Starting the engine, I began the journey home. Home to a house that was now far too big and empty without the two people who’d been the heart of the place.