Chapter 12 #3
‘I did think about inviting her,’ Owen said, ‘but I decided it was too soon.’ He saw his sister’s face fall and added: ‘Do you remember when Hugh invited you to that birthday party on your fourth date, and his entire family was there? You were a nervous wreck before and after. I’m sure you wouldn’t wish that on anyone else. ’
‘You have a point,’ Rachel allowed. ‘It was pretty scary.’ She gave him another hug. ‘Bring Jenna along for a quiet dinner with Hugh and me when you’re ready. That might be easier than a full-on work event.’
Owen grinned. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I’d like that and I’m sure Jenna would too.’
Out on the manor forecourt the wind was whistling in from the Downs.
The stump of the priory tower looked baleful against a lowering grey sky.
The crows were cawing as they wheeled and plunged on the wind.
Owen wasn’t superstitious, but he could have sworn there was a sense of malevolence in the air.
It reminded him of how little he liked Winterhill Hall, with its brooding presence and unwelcome memories.
It felt as though some evil force was gathering, waiting its moment; a sense of danger that was indefinable and yet reaching out to threaten everything he held dear.
With a shake of the head, he dismissed the idea as fanciful but his sense of disquiet remained.
As he got into his SUV, a bubblegum-pink sports car shot past him in a spray of gravel.
Its driver, a young blonde woman, gave him a blinding smile and a more than friendly wave.
She looked vaguely familiar, he thought, but it was the ostentatious gold and pearl bracelet on her wrist that he noticed.
The pearls were beautiful and shone with a radiance that lit the dark day.
Another wave of emotion broke over Owen without any warning, this time a sense of love and passion that blindsided him.
He could see Marris’s face; she was smiling and holding out her arms to him.
Then the image faded and he found he was still standing on the forecourt in the cold breeze, wondering if he was losing his mind.
* * *
It was a beautiful evening so Jenna had texted Owen suggesting that they meet at White Horse Hill again for a walk after she had closed the shop.
When she turned into the car park, though, she saw that Owen had set up a picnic under the shelter of the pine trees on the edge of the hill.
There was a chequered blanket held down with glass lanterns, plates, mugs and what looked like a selection of her favourite snacks from the local deli in Ashbury.
He’d even brought extra rugs, which, as she zipped up her fleece and wound the scarf about her neck, Jenna realised they were going to need if they sat outside for any length of time.
‘Hey,’ she said, reaching up to kiss him in greeting. ‘It may not be picnic weather but this looks awesome.’
Owen smiled at her. ‘I’m glad you like it,’ he said.
His arms went about her and he simply held her for a moment, looking down into her face.
Jenna could sense something different in him, an intensity that wasn’t usually near the surface.
They’d kept things pretty light between them until now.
On her part that was a natural reserve coupled with the fact that she was all too aware she was keeping secrets from him.
It set up a barrier between them even if it was only in her own mind.
She sensed that Owen recognised this though he didn’t know the reason, of course, and he was giving her plenty of space.
That just made her feel more guilty but she soldiered on, telling herself that it didn’t matter; tomorrow, when she and Bree had ransacked Father Nicholas’s tomb, all the secrets would be gone forever.
She would never need to think about the past again and she could lose herself at last in the sense of recognition, of rightness, that she felt when she was with Owen.
At least, she hoped it would be that easy…
She stepped back out of his arms. ‘Bad day?’ she asked. It felt as though there was something wrong or at least out of kilter, but Owen simply shook his head, taking her hand to draw her down to sit beside him on the rug.
‘It’s been a long day,’ he said. ‘Meetings all the way through. It’s good to get out.’ He gestured to the picnic. ‘There’s chilled wine or hot chocolate, whichever you prefer.’
‘Wine first and chocolate later,’ Jenna decided. She took off her woolly gloves to reach for the French stick and some cheese. ‘A spring picnic is a great idea,’ she said as she buttered the bread. ‘Even if April up here can still be cold. I love it.’
They wrapped themselves in the rugs and shared the bread, cheeses and mushroom paté that Owen had brought, along with cherry tomatoes, hummus and carrot sticks, talking about their respective days as they did.
It was a clear night tonight, not like the misty evening when they had last visited the White Horse.
The new moon was rising above the hillfort and a few stars started to stud the blue-black of the sky.
The wind was cold but somehow that made the chilled wine taste fresher and crisper.
An owl hooted close by in the pines, making Jenna jump.
‘I feel we should have had a campfire,’ Owen said, ‘but you’re not allowed to light them up here, which is fair enough.’
‘And we have the lanterns,’ Jenna pointed out.
‘Nice touch.’ In their pale golden light Owen’s face was shaded and thoughtful.
She liked watching him, the way he moved his hands to illustrate a point when he was talking, the way his sudden smile would light his face, the shadowed line of his eyelashes against his cheek.
Although she tried to keep her mind closed to all thoughts of twin souls and reincarnation, she found herself thinking of Marris and Will Sharington.
She had come to accept that, for her, Owen was Will and she would never be able to fully disentangle the two of them.
Did it matter that Owen did not feel the same, that he could remember nothing of a past life she was sure they had shared?
She did not know, but warmed by the food and wine, she smiled suddenly, realising that Bree would berate her for overthinking things. Her sister had a point.
‘I saw Rachel today.’ Owen was stacking the plates and putting them back in the picnic basket.
‘She’s got lots of plans for the exhibition that they’re putting together to go with the archaeological excavation at Winterhill Priory.
’ He glanced at her. ‘My grandparents have decided to donate the portrait of Marris North to display at the hall, as we now know it was her home.’
Jenna felt a rush of emotion, the tears welling up in her eyes. She had never cried as much as she had in the past few weeks. The past was so close to the surface all the time. So much for her decision to try to ignore it all, to leave it behind.
‘That’s beautiful,’ she whispered. ‘Marris would have liked that.’
Their eyes held for a long moment and then Owen smiled, a very sweet smile.
‘I don’t know why it is,’ he said softly, ‘but I keep getting the weirdest echoes of the past at Winterhill, and even more when I’m with you.
It’s as though I’ve known you before, or there’s some sort of deep connection between us.
It seems far-fetched and…’ He shrugged, a little uncomfortably.
‘Once again it sounds like the most banal line, so I’m going to shut up now. ’
Jenna laughed although her heart was beating hard. She was within a hairsbreadth of telling him everything – Marris and Will, the shared past…
Don’t risk it, it’s too soon, her rational mind prompted her, and then the moment was over and Owen was reaching for the flask.
‘Are you ready for the hot chocolate now?’ he asked.
Jenna nodded, realising that her hands were cold and the chill was starting to seep into her bones.
He poured mugs for both of them, then handed hers across whilst he stoppered the flask.
Jenna leaned back against a tree trunk, sipping hers whilst she listened to the rustling of the night creatures and the faint call of the owl as it moved further off.
She slid her hand into Owen’s and they sat quietly.
‘That was the best thing ever,’ she said eventually when she had drained the mug.
‘It’s the company,’ Owen said. It was fully dark now but she could hear the smile in his voice.
He kissed her, his stubble rough against her cheek.
It lit her up from inside; he tasted of chocolate and warmth, and smelled deliciously of cologne mingled with fresh air. Her stomach swooped with desire.
The kiss turned more urgent and heated. Owen’s bare hand was beneath her shirt, splayed over her ribs, cool against the smoothness of her skin.
Jenna felt herself catch fire, all her fears and inhibitions burning away.
They rolled over on the picnic rug, sending the mugs flying.
Then Owen put his elbow in the pate and swore, and Jenna collapsed into giggles.
‘We’d be more comfortable back at your place,’ she suggested. ‘After all, we’re not teenagers any more.’
‘That,’ Owen said, kissing her again, ‘is an excellent plan.’
* * *
Jenna awoke in the night when the sliver of moonlight slid through a gap in the curtains and fell in a bar of white across the bed.
She was lying in Owen’s arms, her head in the curve of his shoulder, their lower limbs entangled.
She had never felt so relaxed, so happy, so warm in the very essence of her, not in 500 years.
Gently she extracted herself to visit the bathroom and then paused by the window to pull back the curtain and look out at the night.
High on the hill, the tiny curve of moon illuminated the figure of the white horse, galloping through the night.
There was no cloud, only the stars. The lane down the village was a black ribbon and the night was silent.
Yet if she listened very hard, Jenna thought she could hear the chink of harness and the rumble of the cart wheels as it drew up outside the farm, see the shadowy figures from long ago – Marris and Will, bringing a tiny newborn baby to safety with Sam Welland and his sister at Swan Court.
Their voices were a whisper in her mind and even as she looked for them, they were gone and the night was empty.
‘Hey.’ She heard Owen’s sleepy voice, then the creak of the bed springs as he moved to come and stand beside her, one arm warm about her waist. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes.’ Jenna turned to face him, placing a hand against his chest. ‘Very all right, thank you.’
‘Good.’ She heard the smile in Owen’s voice. ‘Then would you like to come back to bed?’
Soon, Jenna thought, she would need to tell Owen the truth, about her present life and what she remembered of the life before.
She knew now that there could not be complete trust without that honesty.
But not now, she thought. Not yet. She could not begin to imagine how he might react.
The touch of his mouth on hers, the scent of his skin, his hands in her hair as he kissed her…
That was all she wanted to think about in this moment. Everything else could wait.