CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Avonlea – Now
“The roof, Jamie? Really?” I scold the man in front of me, but I can barely hold in the smile that wants to take over my whole face.
Seeing him come down the ladder, followed by Lennox, made my heart skip a beat… and not out of fear. No, it was because I know, even if Jamie doesn’t, that he just shared something that he loved as a kid with his own kid and… damn. Just damn.
“It was my fault, Mum,” Lennox explains, eyes downcast. The smile that was on his face when I stepped outside fades to a frown.
“Nah, it’s on me, Nox. If I hadn’t told you about the roof, you wouldn’t have been up there,” Jamie says matter-of-factly with an apology in his eyes. Then his brow furrows, likely at whatever face I’m making.
He called Lennox “Nox”—just gave him a nickname like it was the easiest, simplest, most inconsequential thing in the world—and I felt everything in me shift with that single word. I can see Lennox’s wheels turning too, like he’s mulling over the name and deciding if he likes it.
Nox.
His lips pull up at the corners, eyes sparking in the afternoon sun… I guess he does.
“Nox?” he asks, testing it out for himself.
Jamie startles. We’d been locked in some kind of stare-down, so when he looks at Lennox, he must realize what he said. “Oh, yeah… Sorry, I have a tendency toward nicknames or shortened names… I can call you Lennox. I don’t know where that came from.”
“No, I like it,” he says, glee emphasizing every word. “Nox is cool.”
“Well, then Nox it is,” Jamie proclaims, and with them standing side by side, I see every similarity they share. Physically it’s mostly their eyes and their smiles that stand out, but even just the way Nox said cool reminded me of Jamie when he was ten.
“Buddy, why don’t you go grab your book and hang out for a few minutes in the tire swing. I’d like to talk to Jamie.”
“I’m going to go read in the parlor instead, is that okay?” Lennox asks, running off through the door behind me before I can answer.
“Sure,” I mumble under my breath, only to catch a small chuckle from Jamie.
I shoot him a playful glare and he instantly stops. “I’m sorry if I overstepped with the nickname…”
“No, it’s okay. He likes it. I can’t blame him—it is cool.” I chuckle and lean against the frame of the door, looking over my shoulder to see a few of the kitchen staff watching us. “Can we talk for a minute?”
I close the door and walk toward the bench swing, sitting at the far corner. This is such a dangerous place for us to be, the place we kissed…
“Of course. I promise I didn’t take him up there. I was looking for him, and there he was.” Jamie sits opposite me, crossing his booted foot over his knee. The picture of casual confidence. I always loved that look on him, but it’s even better now as an adult.
“I know. He wouldn’t have been able to resist the allure of such a thing once he knew it existed.” I raised an adventurer, what can I say.
“That’s also my fault though,” Jamie says with a sheepish smile.
He has no idea, because as much as I raised an adventurer, Lennox’s shared blood with Jamie made him one.
I shrug and reach back to loosen my apron straps.
“He would’ve found his way up there eventually.
You did. We did. More often than not.” I look up toward the roof.
So many memories carried on the breeze of that space.
They permeate into the shingles, the rocks of the chimney, the smoke on the wind.
“I appreciate you going up after him. I’m sure you have other things you could be doing.
I’m sure Angus and Aileen do too.” I press my fingertips into the bridge of my nose to alleviate a growing headache.
“I wasn’t prepared for him to be here this week. I just—”
“Hey.” Jamie closes the distance between us on the bench—only by a few inches, but I feel them disappear one by one like barriers falling between us.
“It’s fine that he’s here. None of us mind.
This is—” He stops and swallows hard. “It’s your home too.
It always has been. Gran and Grandad have always loved you like a granddaughter, and I know they’re thrilled to have Nox here.
You should have seen how excited Grandad was when I told him I’d make the swing happen for him. He lit up like a Christmas tree.”
I can imagine it… But if I had to guess, the reason Angus was so excited was because he knew it was a father building a swing for his son. Something Jamie still doesn’t know.
This is so hard.
“Jamie,” I say at the same time he says, “Avi…”
“Sorry,” he continues when I stop.
“No, it’s okay, you go.” I lean back against the bench seat, willing the courage to build up so I can just say what I need to say. He can talk first, I can talk second. I’ll just tell him. Waiting for this weekend be damned.
“I’m really glad you’re here. I know I wasn’t in the beginning. I know I let my own stuff get in the way of telling you that.” He reaches across the space and gently lays his hand over the one I have resting on the back of the cushion. “But I am.”
He squeezes my fingers in his and my breath catches in my throat as tingles race up my arm.
His words fill me with warmth, the same way a hot cup of tea would, and I let my hand turn in his until our fingers interlace.
They still fit together perfectly—like they did when we were children, like they did when we were teenagers, like they did when he made love to me in the back of that campervan.
I tuck my chin to hide my blush at the thought. God. That is the last thing I need to be thinking about right now.
I swallow over the lump rising in my throat and look up into the eyes of the boy—the man—I have always loved. Even if I didn’t want to. “Thank you, Jamie. I’m glad you’re here too.”
We sit like that for what feels like hours, but it’s likely only minutes before the back door flies open and Hamish looks out at us with a raised brow and a smirk. “Chef, we need you.”
I jump up, putting space between us and brushing my hands down my slacks.
“Right, sorry, Hamish. I’m coming.” My steps take me closer to the building, but I can already feel the tug back toward the swing.
The tug of the piece of my heart that I thought was long lost but may still be there, attached to the heart of a man I didn’t know I still wanted.
I look over my shoulder one last time before going inside and the soft expression on Jamie’s face is what I’ll see every time I close my eyes for the rest of the day and the last thing I’ll see when I close my eyes tonight.
It’s the same one he used to give me when we were young. It’s the one that made me love him so damn much.
“Mum.” Lennox drags out my name, exasperated because I just flicked flour into his face.
I’m obviously a very mature parent.
“Len-nox.” I enunciate the two syllables with the same irritated tone, a smile on my lips.
It’s late… Probably too late for a ten-year-old to be up making biscuits, but I had to wait for the kitchen to close. This might not have been my most responsible mum move, but Lennox asked… and I couldn’t disappoint him. Especially as I’ve been pretty busy with work the last few days.
He shakes out his blond waves and the flour that dusts his skin like white freckles complement the brown ones.
“You wanted to make late-night cookies, so you have to deal with my shenanigans,” I say, ruffling his hair and knocking the remaining flour from it.
He huffs out a sigh but looks pleased as he rolls out more dough on the floured surface of the butcher block. “Well, just don’t expect me to clean it up.”
I bark a laugh because his attitude is all me, and I can’t even fault him for it.
Angus and Aileen went to bed hours ago, and I haven’t seen Jamie much today—I haven’t seen him much since our little chat on the swing two days ago. I’m not sure whether he’s working on his book, avoiding me, or if he’s just trying to give me space.
“Ready to put those ones in?” I ask, reaching for the tray Lennox has been placing the rolled dough onto.
“Yeah.” He slides it toward me.
“Thanks, bud. And thank you for how good you’ve been about my work schedule this week. I’m sure it’s not a lot of fun for you.”
He shrugs. He’s had schoolwork to do and I’ve seen him a couple times with either Angus or Aileen looking over his shoulder while he worked. He even had Jamie looking at something yesterday in the parlor when I went out to check on him.
I spent five minutes creepily watching them from afar and wondering…
Wondering how they’ll both feel once they know who the other is.
Wondering just how angry they’ll be with me for keeping it from them.
But I wanted to protect them—I did it for them…
or at least that’s what I’ve spent the entirety of Lennox’s life telling myself.
“It hasn’t been that bad. Aileen offered to walk with me into town tomorrow and show me around a little. That’s okay, right? I can go?”
“Of course, Lennox. If anyone knows the fun places in Cluaran to show you, it’s Aileen… well, and Angus, but I’m guessing a walk might be a bit much for him.”
He sticks pretty close to the desk in the kitchen or the cottage, and even small trips between them tend to leave him out of breath. I should offer to take him into town next week on my day off, to spend a little one-on-one time with him.
The idea of losing him feels like a physical weight in my soul, and I don’t want to miss out on this time now that I have him in my life again.
My heart is even heavier for Lennox, who is just getting to know Angus—his great-grandfather—and the idea of that loss for him makes my eyes prick with tears.
“Aileen said we could bring him back a treat.” Lennox moves around the kitchen, looking in the drawers and cabinets, curiosity his constant companion.
“That sounds like a good idea. So, you’re enjoying being here?” I ask, hoping he really is excited for this move and will be happy here. Happier than he is in Glasgow.
“I wish I didn’t have to go back this weekend,” he says, deflating against the counter. “Couldn’t I just stay?”
I sling an arm around his shoulders and pull him into my side. Goodness, I feel like he’s grown another inch somehow. “I wish you could, but you’ve got to go and finish the school year. It’s only a few more weeks.”
He sags against me with a frail nod. I press my lips to the top of his head and squeeze him tighter. “I miss you, Mum.”
“I miss you too,” I whisper.
The buzzer of the oven pulls us apart and I have to nearly restrain Lennox to stop him from grabbing a melty, gooey chocolate biscuit straight from the tray. “Give it a second to cool, will you?” I roll my eyes with a laugh and he pouts, long lashes framing his emerald irises.
“I’ll clean up and we can put these on a plate to take home, aye?”
“I hope you don’t plan to take them all home with you.
” Jamie’s voice comes from the door and I whirl to see him standing there in a pair of light grey joggers and a navy hoodie.
It has a white willow tree printed on the front with a branch drawn down one sleeve.
His hair is damp, framing his face like he ran his fingers through it moments before pushing into the kitchen, and his wire-rimmed glasses are perched against the bridge of his nose.
“We can share, right?” Lennox asks, and all of the sadness about school and going home are gone in a flash.
“Of course, bud.” I turn to Jamie. “Want one now?”
The look Lennox gives me could make a bear cower.
“Mum! You said I had to wait for them to cool.” He’s incredulous, and I release a bark of a laugh.
Jamie chuckles from across the kitchen too.
Then Lennox joins in and there’s a symphony in the sound, the three of us laughing together.
It feels easy, normal, domestic… The way a family would sound laughing together in the kitchen over late-night biscuits.
The heaviness in my chest now creates a different kind of ache. A longing for something I’ve never let myself imagine.
“I’ll wait for them to cool. Nox, you want to help me give the lobby a quick once-over to make sure everything is squared away for the night while your mum cleans up her mess?
” Jamie gives me a pointed look, one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lips, then flicks his gaze to the flour spread around the prep station.
I probably have a good bit on myself as well.
“Aye, okay.” And in a flash, Lennox is on his way out the door past Jamie, who follows behind him.
He turns at the last second, his gaze raking down my body then back up to my face. Every part of me warms under that look, especially when it settles on my mouth. “You’ve got a little something… right there—” He swipes his thumb along his bottom lip, then he walks out in pursuit of my son… his son.
My tongue darts out and tastes the flour there, part of me wishing it could have been Jamie’s tongue to swipe it away.