Chapter 37
Rae stood on the porch overlooking the fields of fruits and families, her grip on the wooden railing extra tight.
Somehow, she’d done it – not without an entire village supporting her through it, of course.
The fair had only begun an hour ago, and already Sweetbriar overflowed with crowds lining up to pick their own berries and splurge at the countless stalls, with a few fairground rides, bouncy castles, and even a face painter entertaining the younger children by the river.
She’d worried that the free entry price wouldn’t be enough to earn back the outgoing costs, but if business continued like this even for another few hours, she had every faith that a profit would be made soon enough.
Her jams and chutneys were going down a treat, Myra offering out samples of Rae’s special ‘Sweet Raeberry Jam’ – a blend of tayberry, apple, dark chocolate and a refreshing dash of mint.
She’d only come up with it because she hadn’t been able to sleep over the last few nights, and instead of getting lost in her head, she had found herself gravitating back towards the kitchen like old times.
She’d also distracted herself by baking with Gran, strawberry shortcake, fruit tarts, and – Granddad’s favourite – traditional cranachan stocked alongside ice cream and sorbets in the farm shop’s new fridge and freezer.
She hadn’t had nearly enough time to experiment yet, but she looked forward to getting her fingers sticky once everything calmed.
Beside her stood Gran with her hands on her hips, turquoise linen shirt rolled up to her elbows. ‘We’ll never have a peaceful summer after this,’ she grumbled.
Rae rolled her eyes, no longer expecting praise from the contrary woman. Still, when she slipped on her sunhat to head back into the throng, Gran’s cool fingers curled around her wrist, stopping her.
‘It hasn’t been this busy in years, hen. You’ve done well.’
Rae softened, trying to muster a thanks – until Gran sniffed. ‘Even if it is my wines drawing most of them in.’
‘Of course, Gran. Why else would they be here?’ Rae grinned and hopped down the steps.
With the fluffy white clouds patterning the blue sky and laughter floating all around, she felt both grounded and weightless.
She was right where she needed to be, and though she was unsure what her future would look like, she was in no rush to go somewhere new.
She waved at Cam on her way to the strawberry fields to supply the pickers with more baskets.
The redhead was slumped against the Raindrop Cafe’s stall, where iced coffee and paninis were on offer.
Colin manned the stall beside her with his teas, and Graeme served refreshing cocktails with fruit from the fields.
On the opposite side of the picnic area was Pam’s Pies, and Eiley had parked up her book bus on the very edge.
With the monarch butterflies dancing through the air and bright energy pulsing all around, it felt more like a festival than a fair.
It would be even better later when a local folk band played in the tent where, less than a few weeks ago, Harper and Fraser had celebrated their marriage.
She could imagine it like this for years to come.
More events, more celebrations, more joy.
This was how she remembered summers, and she wanted that for every child here.
Even her uncle and cousins had turned up to enjoy it, currently taking pictures by the huge cardboard strawberries and blueberries that Martha and Vik had painted together, with holes cut into them for people’s faces.
With nobody set to take over, she couldn’t predict how Sweetbriar’s story would end, but that fate felt far away now that she didn’t have to worry.
If it was her who filled Dad’s shoes, she’d be thrilled to stay and watch her home thrive again.
She so rarely witnessed her hard work paying off, always another dish to plate up, another customer to please, another order to fill.
She hadn’t realised just how gratifying it could be to taste the fruits of her labour – literally.
When her mind promised, You’ll be okay, she dared to believe it this time.
She was so busy chatting with her volunteers that she only noticed Myra helping a pyjama-clad man out of a taxi once the door had slammed shut.
She blinked, dashing over to be sure she wasn’t seeing things – but it was her dad taking slow steps towards the fence to greet her. His peaky pallor still contrasted with his beard, but his eyes creased with a wide grin at the sight of her.
‘Surprise.’
‘I thought you weren’t getting discharged until tomorrow!’ She tried to envelope him gently, but he had no such plans, arms a bruising clamp around her middle.
‘The nurses got sick of me,’ he joked.
She could believe that. He’d been pulling his hair out on the recovery ward, so sick of hospital food and staring at the pale curtains that she’d been supplying him with homemade meals, crossword books, and Nintendo Switch games.
‘I didn’t want to miss this,’ he said quieter, his heavy palm stroking her spine. ‘I know how hard you’ve worked, and I know it’s been more difficult than you’ve let on. You’ve done us all proud, kiddo.’
Her heart leapt into her throat. ‘Thanks, Dad. I love you.’
‘As nice as this is, you’re crushing wee Simon.’
She hopped away, forgetting about the stoma bag beneath his dressing gown. ‘Does it hurt?’
‘Naw. Just takes some getting used to is all.’ He squeezed her hand a final time. ‘I’ll go and make myself look presentable. You enjoy yourself, aye?’
With Myra hooking her free arm through his, Rae nodded. Though she felt guilty about heading back into the fun, she knew he didn’t need her hovering around. He had someone else to look after him, now.
She continued like that for the rest of the afternoon, helping Martha at the farm shop, Vik with the cleaning, making sure the volunteers were fed and watered as the afternoon heat soared.
The farm became a dazzling patchwork of green, blue, gold, flowers and fruit and laughter interwoven through every acre.
When she returned to the farm shop, it was clear Martha and Vik had been enjoying the preserves, their fingers and faces sticky as they smeared crushed cherries over one another.
Vik clamped her sturdy arms around Martha to stop her from ruining her black muscle tee, the two of them laughing like children.
‘You two have had too much sugar,’ Rae pointed out, nudging them aside to help an elderly lady waiting at the counter.
She’d bought a jam of every flavour, claiming it was the best she’d ever tasted.
Rae beamed at the compliment and threw in a free bottle of Nan’s strawberry lemonade to show her thanks, only realising afterwards that there weren’t many items left to sell.
She supposed she’d be busy replenishing the stock next week, then.
‘I made you a present,’ Martha claimed, wrestling out of Vik’s arms. She produced a long daisy chain, resting it on the crown of Rae’s head.
Overcome with warmth, Rae fingered the delicate petals, feeling like a child parading as a princess again. ‘I love it. Thank you.’
‘I love you,’ Martha declared. When she swung herself around Rae’s neck, almost sending them both toppling, Rae caught a whiff of gin on her breath, and it all made a bit more sense.
‘Have you perhaps been enjoying Graeme’s cocktails?’
‘I was thirsty!’
‘I’m not judging,’ Rae promised. She intended to get a little bit tipsy herself once all this was over.
Tonight, she’d cook for the volunteers to thank them for all their hard work, have her own little celebration.
After the summer she’d had, she deserved it.
She was trying her best to not think of Struan, and succeeding at least eight per cent of the time, which was an improvement compared to the previous zero per cent average.
She was more worried about what would happen when Martha went back to St Andrews. They’d have to keep their distance, while being confined to the small town, and history had proven that wasn’t easy. She might have to tack a Best Friend’s Brother Keep Out poster onto the wooden Sweetbriar Farm sign.
‘Does the grape and currant chutney pair well with cheese?’ a customer interrupted.
Rae turned to offer a cheery affirmation, only to do a double take.
Denise shifted gingerly in front of the counter, one hand wrapped around the brown leather purse strap on her shoulder.
She wore an airy floral summer dress that grazed her ankles under a cropped denim jacket, nails painted the same deep pink as her lips.
Rae couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her on the farm: perhaps a few weeks before her husband had died, when she’d come to pick Martha up from a study day and ended up staying for dinner.
‘Mum,’ Martha breathed, that intoxicated haze quickly sharpening, her defences with it, arms crossing as Vik formed a protective stance at her side.
Rae hadn’t thought that Denise would actually come even as she’d extended the invitation again on the phone earlier this week, but she’d overheard Martha glumly wondering whether her mum would even be there at the wedding, and it had spurred her into offering Denise a final chance at making things right.
She didn’t want to see her best friend sad on her wedding day.
‘Hello, love. Hello, Vik.’ She smiled shakily.
‘Why are you here?’ Martha stuttered out.
‘I couldn’t pass up the invitation.’ She cast Rae an appreciative nod, her silvery blond bob feathering over her shoulders. ‘I owe you both a massive apology. I felt rotten when you left the other weekend. I should never have said those things.’
‘Why not? You clearly meant them.’
Denise dipped her head, motioning to one of the picnic benches on the edge of the strawberry field. ‘Let’s sit down for this, shall we?’
‘I’ll get you some drinks,’ offered Rae, only for Martha to stop her with a hand on her arm.
‘Stay. You’re the reason she’s here.’
She couldn’t tell if it was an expression of gratitude or an accusation, but Rae obeyed, following Martha, Vik, and Denise to the bench. She sat beside Denise, fidgeting with the hem of her dress as Martha stared her mother down. ‘No Michael?’
‘Not today. Bowls.’ Denise anxiously twirled her silver wedding band around her finger. She still wore it after all this time, proof that some loves endured. It seemed as though Rae was the only one destined never to experience it.
‘It wasn’t about you, Vik,’ Denise began. ‘I want you to be happy, no matter who that’s with, Martha. I know how special it is to feel like you’ve met the person you’re meant to be with forever. It’s all I wanted – for both of my children.’
As Martha’s hand fell into Vik’s, Rae convinced herself that she’d imagined Denise’s sidelong glance in her direction.
‘I was focusing on the wrong things.’ Denise’s voice grew thick.
‘My only comfort after losing your dad was the thought that one day, I’d get to see pieces of him in your wee bairns.
But that was silly. It doesn’t matter if my grandchildren don’t have his eyes or his smile.
They’ll have his love and intellect, just like you do.
’ She reached across the table and took Martha’s free hand.
Martha flinched but didn’t pull away. ‘And even if they don’t, it won’t matter.
I’m so proud of you and Struan, exactly as you are. I was wrong to expect more.’
Martha sniffled, looking down at their intertwined hands. ‘I think Struan needs to hear that, too.’
Denise smiled. ‘He already did on the way here.’
Rae’s bones turned molten. Here. He was here.
‘He’s waiting for you all in the orchard,’ she added.
As the others stood, Rae remained rooted to the bench, dress wrinkling in her closed fists as she tried to control her breathing. She wasn’t ready to see him yet. He was supposed to be in Glasgow until next week, and she hadn’t had time to rehearse her I’m-not-at-all-in-love-with-you face.
‘Rae?’ Martha asked, holding out her hand.
‘I… erm, need to set up the tent before the band gets here.’ She climbed off the bench, clumsy legs thwacking the wood in a way that would surely leave a bruise.
‘No, you don’t.’
‘I do,’ she insisted.
Martha clamped her hands down on Rae’s shoulders, caging her in. ‘No,’ she said pointedly, ‘you don’t. You told my mum to come here and fix things. I asked the same thing of Struan.’
‘What do you mean?’ Rae whispered, afraid something would shatter if she spoke too loudly. Afraid Martha would somehow remember how angry she was with them both.
‘You’re my best friend,’ Martha said softly.
‘I’m not going to let you stay miserable any longer.
You love my brother, and that’s weird and icky, but it also makes complete sense that my two favourite people in the whole world might be each other’s favourite people.
I was being selfish. I wanted to keep you all to myself because you’ve always been my best friend, and I dread the idea of that changing.
But you deserve the love he wants – pathetically, desperately – to give you.
I want him to take care of you, Rae, and I want you to take care of him. ’
Rae choked on something between a laugh and a sob. ‘Really?’
Martha nodded. ‘Really. I’m sorry I didn’t handle this well. I’ve been told I have some issues with control.’
‘I’m sorry I did this all wrong,’ Rae replied. ‘I never wanted to hurt you.’
‘I know.’ Martha squeezed her shoulders, eyes twinkling. ‘Come on. Let’s stop all this pining nonsense once and for all.’
Rae took her hand, and together, they made their way through the crowds towards the orchard.
Towards him.