Chapter 33
Teddy
I hadn’t slept a wink.
The festival was completely sold out, everything was as ready as we could make it, and I should have been focused entirely on making sure the day went smoothly. But instead, I kept replaying what had happened in the warehouse.
Seriously, how had I let that happen again?
Okay, I obviously knew how. I was powerless around Chloe.
Every ounce of control I’d cultivated over the course of my life had flown out the window the moment I’d seen her there, wet from the rain, the twinkle of the string lights glistening off her.
Now that we’d broken the seal, I wanted to do nothing but touch her.
Nothing but make satisfied little noises come from that perfect mouth of hers.
So it was no surprise, really, that we’d ended up here yet again. But it was also unsurprising, given the reality of our situation, that she couldn’t have just pretended. I didn’t blame her.
I was up long before sunrise, restless energy coursing through me despite my exhaustion, Kate Bosworth staring smugly down at me from my wall.
The rain had stopped for the moment, so I decided to hike up the hill behind the farm while I could.
Maybe some fresh air and physical exertion would help clear my head.
So I pulled on last night’s clothes and headed out.
Willow trotted happily ahead of me, giddy to be outside after days of being cooped up, not straying far from the light of my headlamp.
At the top of the hill, I looked down at the farm spread out below me in the pre-dawn darkness.
A few lights were on, including in the shepherd’s hut – Chloe must have been up early, too, probably running through last-minute preparations.
The orange of the plastic mesh in the parking lot glared up at me from below, and I could see the polytunnel we’d erected as a covered walkway.
We’d put it up quickly enough that it wouldn’t last long, but as long as it lasted the day, we’d be fine.
The portable toilets had been delivered a couple of days ago, and we’d had them placed as close to the warehouse as possible, cutting holes in the side of the polytunnel for access.
It would be the driest rain event possible.
I reached into my pocket, and my hand found the birthday present I’d made for Chloe.
I’d have to give it to her in a few days, but since finishing it yesterday, it hadn’t been more than a few feet from me.
I ran my finger over the ridges of it and closed my eyes, trying to summon the vision of the future I wanted at Gwenynen; the one I’d pictured so many times.
The one that made it apparently impossible for Chloe and me to be together.
But as I did, I shouldn’t have been so surprised that Chloe was there, too. Handing me supplies as I tended to the hives. Cuddling with Willow on the sofa at the end of the day. Her hand in mine as we sat with our backs to the tree in the orchard where I’d comforted her just a few days ago.
And when I tried to imagine the farm without her …
well, I simply couldn’t anymore. If I tried to remember what it was like before her, remembering bottling alongside Jen or harvesting vegetables on my own – or even when Mom had been here, my fingers finding my pendant as I thought of her – there Chloe would come in my mind’s eye, pointing her phone at me or just admiring me from the doorway.
She’d get her hands stuck in and help, no matter what we were doing.
She’d become integral. However great Gwenynen had been before – however much it had felt like home – her energy and ideas and passion had made it better.
Her just being there had made it better.
And as long as I’d pictured my perfect life here, now all I seemed to want was a version with her in it. It was so much sweeter.
Not that what I wanted counted for anything.
I had three weeks left until I was due to leave, but honestly, after last night, I was ready to rip the Band-Aid off.
I wasn’t sure what good it would do me to linger, torturing myself with what could have been in an alternate dimension where I didn’t have to worry about profit margins or visas or grants or what was waiting for me back home.
Willow and I made our way back down as the sky started to lighten, the rain coming back in a gentle pitter-patter.
When I came back into the house, I bumped into Chloe in the kitchen making breakfast. The first thing I noticed was that she’d changed out of her pyjamas.
I thought about saying something – maybe making a quip about her shorts, or telling her what I’d been thinking up on that hill, desperate to say something to bridge this awful, inevitable gap between us – but I knew it was better to just keep my mouth shut.
Today wasn’t the day to make things harder on her.
Luckily, Jen walked in, too, and we all ate breakfast together, Maggie showing up just as we’d launched into logistics.
We each had a role to play today. Jen was running the art lessons now, and Maggie was on bar duty.
I was responsible for helping food vendors as they arrived, and then directing car parking once guests started showing up.
Simple, straight-forward tasks that would keep me busy and out of Chloe’s way.
Chloe herself would, of course, be running around, keeping everything working in perfect harmony like a conductor.
She’d worked so hard for all of this, and despite the curveballs thrown at her, I knew already that she’d done it.
It would be hours before we could say for certain, but I felt sure she’d pulled it off.
She deserved everything she wanted, even if I couldn’t be a part of it.
* * *
As the day progressed, and we got closer to the two o’clock start time, I found myself seeking Jen out. Things had been different between us this summer, and I didn’t relish the idea of being teased or prodded about things with Chloe, but she still felt like my safe place.
In the end, I nearly collided with her as she was leaving the warehouse.
On her face was an expression I rarely saw her wear: she was nervous.
My first thought, strangely, was that something had happened with Maggie, maybe because my own mind was stuck on things with Chloe – but then I remembered her business was having a major first.
“How are you holding up?” I asked her.
Jen gnawed on her lip. “I’m terrified, honestly.”
“It’s just kids,” I joked. “If they surround you, just throw paint in their faces and make a break for it.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that.”
I laughed. “No, I know.”
“It’s just, I’ve been getting by making and selling mead for so long, running the occasional workshop.
It’s just me and the bees, you when I’m lucky, and Maggie…
” She trailed off wistfully, her eyes searching the farm behind me.
“Well, the point is, this kind of growth, all these people … it scares me.”
“You made the right choice,” I said, as confidently as I could muster. “The farm doesn’t just belong to us anymore. It can mean something to the whole community now. Even if things do get more … complicated as a result.”
Jen studied my face. “That’s quite an admission, coming from you.”
“Yeah, well.” I shrugged. I didn’t feel like being psychoanalysed right now.
She pulled me into a fierce hug. “I love you, you know. Whatever happens, that doesn’t change.”
“I know,” I said into her shoulder. “I love you, too.”
We stood like that for a long moment, blocking the warehouse door, and I felt some of the worry and heartache leach out of me into the ground.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” I told her as we separated, willing it to be true. Even if it didn’t feel like it just yet.
* * *
The festival did go well. Better than well, actually.
I spent most of the time in the car park, directing traffic and helping people navigate the muddy field toward the polytunnel, beyond which the warehouse was thumping with music and ringing with laughter and conversation.
It was satisfying work, seeing the steady stream of families and couples and groups of friends, all arriving with excitement and anticipation, even if I did have to stay perpetually soaked to the bone in order to pull it off.
I saw familiar faces throughout the afternoon.
Alice and Dylan arrived with others from their local club, and I promised I’d find them later.
I also may have accidentally agreed to come to club meetings next year, but I couldn’t quite hear over the rain, so I could probably claim ignorance.
Then the D Chloe – and all of us, really – had worked so hard to make the most of the council’s investment. To show them that we deserved the funding, and that we were the right place to have awarded it.
But instead, watching them go inside without me, I felt a bit useless.
Like I wasn’t necessary to any of that success.
Like, if I didn’t come back next year after all, things would just carry on without me.
Hell, maybe they’d even be better, because I wouldn’t be around to get in anyone’s way.
They would struggle with the beekeeping and the garden planning for a while, but Jen managed that during the slow season without me.
Between the three of them, I was sure they could make do.
Jen would be sad, sure. But the thing I cared more about than anything else, Gwenynen Hollow itself, wouldn’t miss me. It wouldn’t suffer without me. And that was what hurt the most. That I could spend so much of my life and my passion pouring into a place only to be…
Inconsequential.
I stood in the rain, unaware that I was waiting to park cars that wouldn’t show. Everyone who was coming was already inside, in the light and warmth, having fun without me.