Christmas at the Cove

Her mother’s concerned gaze ran over Carrie’s face. “You’re having second thoughts?”

Carrie swallowed and closed her eyes as, once again, guilt pressed down on her that her reasons for finding Scott weren’t entirely motivated by their daughter. What kind of person grieved her husband for a year and then began to have thoughts about a man she hadn’t seen for three years? She opened her eyes. “I’m just scared of what will happen once Scott sees me after all this time.” She exhaled and stared through the open café door at the bustling platform. “I have no idea if he still lives in Templeton. Worse, we both made it perfectly clear we would draw a line under that time from the moment I left. Now, when I turn up out of the blue and tell him he has a daughter...”

Her mother frowned. “If you’re not ready, wait. Belle is little more than a toddler. You have time.”

Carrie sighed. “Do I? If Gerard’s accident didn’t teach me how quickly life can change, nothing will. What I want doesn’t come into it. I have to do this.” Carrie forced a smile in a bid to allay the worry in her mother’s eyes. “I’m being silly. Everything will be okay. Belle has a right to know her birth father. Scott was a really nice guy. I’m sure he still is.”

“Well, if he’s in Templeton, you’ll find him.” Her mother gripped her hands and smiled softly. “I can still come with you, you know.”

Carrie shook her head. “I have to do this alone.” She winked. “Besides, if Dad has to look after Belle on his own for more than a few hours, God knows what we’d come back to.”

Her mother laughed. “Well, there is that, I suppose.”

Carrie lifted her chin, her stomach knotting. “I should’ve done this years ago and then maybe the guilt I’m feeling wouldn’t be quite so heavy.”

“You were adamant you didn’t want a stranger in Belle’s life.” Her mother cupped Carrie’s jaw. “You didn’t know this man. You still don’t. You did what you thought was right at the time. No good will come of looking back.”

Carrie frowned. “But what if I’m wrong now? What if...what if this is more about what I need to do to clear my conscience than what’s right for Belle?”

Her mother’s gaze filled with sympathy. “If you want to turn around and walk out of this station right now, we can. Lord knows, I’d be lying if I said the fact you’re getting on a train to find a man you don’t know doesn’t frighten me half to death.”

Trepidation and fear of the unknown battled as Carrie’s heart hammered. “I want a fresh start in the New Year. I want to pick myself up and start living again. The chances are Scott won’t want anything to do with Belle, or me, which is fine. I can come back home knowing I did my best by Belle and we’re free to live our lives, just the two of us.” Liar. Scott’s her daddy. Her family...and you’ve not had a single day in the last three years when he hasn’t snuck into your head.

Despite the lines wrinkling her mother’s brow, she smiled and her gaze softened. “You’re a brave woman taking control of your life.” She glanced toward the window and the idling train beyond. “No matter how much your father and I are going to worry about you the entire time you’re in Templeton.”

Carrie looped her hand through her mother’s arm. “No matter what happens next, Gerard was my husband, and I’ll never forget how much he loved us, but I have to do this.”

“Then don’t let the lessons he taught you about love be wasted. You’re human and you need to let this guilt go. Belle is the best thing in your life. She’s your daughter and you love her. Tracking down her biological father will never change the fact that little girl is yours.”

Carrie exhaled, uneasy, before picking up her suitcase. “Come on. I need to hurry before the train leaves without me.”

They walked from the café onto the platform. The smell of bacon, burgers, grease and oil gripped Carrie’s stomach as she glanced toward the train waiting to take her on the most terrifying journey of her life.

The conductor’s whistle blew, making her start. Her mother pressed a firm kiss to Carrie’s cheek. “Your father and I will keep Belle so busy she won’t give you a second thought. You’ll be home for Christmas and we’ll have a wonderful time. I promise.”

Carrie grasped the handle of her suitcase and pulled back her shoulders. “I’ll call as soon as I’m settled in the hotel. Give Belle a big good-night kiss from me, okay?”

Her mother wavered as tears glazed her eyes. “Of course. Now go. Quickly.”

The whistle blew a second time and, with a final glance at her mother, Carrie rushed for the train. “Hold that door.”

The burly conductor scowled as she leaped past him into the carriage. Carrie walked along the aisle as the train rumbled into motion. She drew on every ounce of inner strength that had gotten her through losing her loving husband and Belle’s real father...no matter what DNA might argue.

She hefted her suitcase onto the overhead rack and slid into a vacant seat, resolutely turning her face from the platform for fear she might see her mother and bolt for the exit.

The train picked up speed and left the station. Barely a mile or two had passed before the slowly darkening sky surrendered its cargo and spat sleet violently against the window. Carrie flinched. It was as though God showed His disapproval of her plans. Only He knew what the next few days held, but either way, she had to go through with tracking down Scott. The past few weeks had been filled with her constant contemplation of whether or not she and Scott could’ve had a chance of making it work. And she couldn’t go on another day wondering, worrying...maybe even hoping.

Gerard’s death had caused a huge shift inside her and Carrie refused to continue to live with the punishing belief she’d walked away from Scott out of pure, unadulterated fear.

Fear of the passion he brought out in her.

It had been spellbinding and stripped her of her usual sensibility; made her feel she could conquer the world...albeit without responsibility or thought of anything or anyone.

Heat rose in her face and she forced the traitorous smile from her lips. No one lived like that.

Yet still she wondered if he would look the same or if he’d recognize her. All Carrie remembered of him was his wild, intense, vivid blue eyes and unruly jet-black hair...and his body. Always his damn body.

She dropped her gaze to her clenched hands and stared at her wedding band. Gerard was gone. Killed having suffered severe internal injuries in a motorbike accident. Never to return. Never to hold her in his big capable arms and tell her everything would be okay. Time and again, Gerard had suggested they find Scott and tell him about Belle...and time and again, Carrie suspected his motives were based in his need to ease her anguish, than wanting to invite another man into the life of the little girl he considered his own.

Carrie inhaled. She’d always told him there was no need; that she was happy. His dying request and the look in his eyes proved all too clearly he knew she wasn’t as happy as she should’ve been.

She swallowed. She’d been selfish in her reasons, weak in her motivation. The fear that the sudden and powerful pull she’d felt for Scott the week Belle was conceived would reignite the moment she saw him again had held her back. How would she fight it when it consumed her so completely before? She hadn’t looked for Scott all this time for the pure terror of hurting Gerard. She loved Gerard, adored him, but not once had he evoked the same passion.

Carrie swiped at her face. She was a coward and now Gerard had been taken from her. It was a lesson. A lesson she learned fast and felt deeply.

Guilt clenched around her aching heart. She’d clung to Gerard like he was a buoy in the turbulent ocean during the emotional upheaval of an unexpected pregnancy. A quiet, intelligent and funny writer she’d dated on and off and whose company she loved—yet the special frisson she sought in her heart and in her life hadn’t materialized between them.

Pregnant, afraid and unsure of the future, Carrie had been prepared to raise Belle alone, but Gerard had softly and patiently shown her she didn’t have to. After months of his pursuing her, she’d welcomed his love with open arms and given hers freely. When they married, just a few months after Belle was born, Carrie stood tall and proud before the registrar on that hot August day and pledged her love and life to the man who had shown her his heart.

Now it was time to start again. To face all the fears she’d had when she made the decision not to tell Scott about Belle.

With her parents’ love and support, Carrie had gotten through the past twelve months, knowing her precious baby was surrounded by people who loved her. Scott was a stranger. A man who could insist on seeing Belle when Carrie knew nothing about him. If she’d told Scott about Belle when she was born, he might have asked Carrie to move to Templeton, away from everything she loved and worked for at home. She hadn’t been prepared to do that then...and wasn’t sure if she would be now. Either way, she had to reconnect with Scott so she could live her life authentically. No more secrets.

She stared through the window at the passing countryside. She might finally be doing the moral thing, yet the feeling that returning to Templeton would be her undoing lingered. She couldn’t allow anything to dissuade her from her plans to build a life of her own making...for her and her child. Relying on Scott hadn’t been an option in the past, and it wouldn’t be now.

Everything in her life would be open, honest and real.

She stared at her wedding band. She wanted to start again, but this only remaining token of her marriage was the hardest to remove.

Scott had made love to her as she’d never been made love to before or since. She’d never forgotten the stranger filled with passion and a brooding intensity that was thrilling and exciting—entirely impossible to resist, but lust didn’t last. Scott’s skillful hands and rock-solid body had taken her to places she would’ve never known...but lifelong trust wasn’t built on good sex.

The aura of complexity surrounding Scott sparked an instinct in her that he wasn’t ready to love and cherish her. It was very probable she’d feel the same if and when she tracked him down in Templeton.

Carrie closed her eyes.

Hindsight had shown her that her marriage with Gerard was rife with the unresolved, lingering issue of Scott and his paternity to Belle. She refused to allow a hurtful boulder like that to remain in her life any longer.

Her nights with Scott were meant to be a single moment in time...then they’d conceived a child. The first time they made love they’d been careful...the other times need had overtaken caution and neither of them had thought of protection. She’d never done anything so impulsive as to call work and say she’d been struck down with a stomach infection so she could spend a few more nights with a man she’d only just met. She never lied. Period. Scott had brought out all sorts of unpredictable behavior in her...and instead of her fearing the liberty, Carrie found herself craving it.

Desperate for distraction from the cruel thoughts racing in her head, Carrie snapped open her eyes and yanked her tote bag from the seat beside her. She extracted a paperback and smiled wryly at the cover. Living Your Life Your Way. She opened the book and made a resigned effort to immerse herself in spirited decision-making.

* * *

THE TRAIN RUMBLED beneath Carrie as it slowed and she shifted forward to get a better view through the window. The track ran high through the hills above the Cove before proceeding on a downward spiral toward the heart of Templeton town center. When she’d last seen this view, it had been a balmy July evening and the sun had lit the small seaside town in all its picture-perfect glory. The multi-colored houses, the rows of quaint thatched cottages on the outskirts and the beach with its tumbling rock formations had been idyllic.

Now the town shone beneath a twinkling blanket of lights and huge, illuminated Christmas decorations. Carrie smiled as the reds, golds and greens flickered and danced. Dusk would soon fall and she didn’t doubt the seaside town would look more beautiful than ever. Her smile faltered and she slumped back into her seat. She couldn’t be seduced by its beauty...and she couldn’t be seduced by the thought of anything substantial existing between her and Scott, either.

The train shrieked to a stop and the gray evening light turned dark under the shadow of the platform’s metal lattice overhang. Passengers stood to retrieve cases and bags, but Carrie remained stock-still in her seat.

It was six days before Christmas. She’d find Scott, tell him about Belle and if he reacted in any way she couldn’t handle, she’d get the first possible train out of there. Everything would be fine. It was nothing more than a case of ripping off the Band-Aid and exposing her open wound to the air so it could start to heal over. Yes, she’d been selfish in her decision-making as far as Scott was concerned, and even though Gerard’s sudden death had rocked her soul and broken her heart, she was stronger than ever before. She knew her heart and mind, made her own decisions and molded her own destiny. The first step was making this the last Christmas she kept her secret hidden.

The New Year would be a different year for her, and possibly Scott.

Carrie shook off her melancholy and pushed to her feet, forcing her chin high. She heaved her case from the rack and purposefully headed toward the nearest exit.

She was in Templeton, but this time she was all grown up, her naivety well and truly quashed. The woman Scott had known was gone and now the mother of his child stood in her place. There would be no racing heart and pumping blood upon sight of him. No instantaneous need to have him touch her, kiss her and take her under again and again until she couldn’t breathe.

This time, she’d be entirely in control.

* * *

SCOTT WALKER SNATCHED a rag from the engine of the car and wiped his grease-smothered hands. He stared toward the open double doors of his garage and wandered closer. The sleet came down harder than when he’d disappeared under the car’s hood half an hour before. He grimaced.

Less than a week to Christmas and he had yet to buy a single present for his mum and three younger sisters. If he didn’t sort something out soon, they’d undoubtedly team together and strip him naked before working him into the ass of the Christmas Day turkey.

Then there were the women he’d taken out over the last few weeks...

Damn. He was stuffing whichever way he looked at it. To men, a few dates meant a nice time and a little kissing and flirting. To women, a few dates often meant a hell of a lot more. Guilt slithered over his shoulders and he steadfastly shook it off. He had nothing to feel guilty about. Honesty was his steadfast priority and he’d been careful his entire life not to promise a woman something he couldn’t deliver.

He’d never cheated nor left a woman’s bed without a kiss and his number, should she ever need to call. He enjoyed a busy social life and worked on plenty of cars that belonged to the women he’d dated after they amicably went their separate ways. He might be considered a bit of a rogue around town...but he wasn’t a liar, and the women he dated knew that. Scott clenched his jaw. Or at least, most of them did.

Wandering back to the car, he shook off the niggling irritation over the split with one particular ex and stuffed the oily rag in his back pocket. He planted his hands on his hips, surveying his completed handiwork. The car was now running like a dream and he’d cleaned it all down as well as topped off the oil and water.

Slamming the hood closed, he strolled around the other two cars waiting to be serviced before ascending a set of iron steps to his office. He closed the door and headed for the small fridge. He pulled out a beer and snapped off the top. Taking a long slug, he strode to his desk, collapsed into the chair and lifted his booted feet onto the desktop, crossing them at the ankles.

The cold beer slid welcome down his throat as thoughts of what he had planned for the next year filtered into his mind. He’d worked long and hard, bought the garage and made it enough of a success he would be bidding on an auction for garage number two in the New Year. He smiled. He was on his way.

Financially stable and continuing to provide for his family, he found life was good and settled, just as he planned. He took another drink. Even though he was nothing like his AWOL father, he couldn’t deny the thought of relationships, marriage and babies sent him running for cover.

That didn’t mean he would up and leave his family anytime soon. He was just fine and dandy living his life single and on his terms. Ignoring the ache in his chest, Scott took another pull on his beer.

The fact remained he still avoided serious relationships like his life depended on it. He couldn’t go there even if he found a woman he wanted. Not until he was ready to be a father and a provider and, by God, he wasn’t ready for either yet. There had been one woman that made him think he’d risk everything he held dear to be with her forever.

Forever lasted less than a few days before she disappeared out of his life again.

Scott took another drink. So he’d done his duty and continued to focus on looking after his mother and sisters as he had for the seven years before that fantastic week. He couldn’t deny his blood pumped with adrenaline, pulsed with a need for excitement and adventure...even some good old-fashioned romance from time to time, but he wouldn’t do that to himself, or a woman, until he was sure they’d both be around for the long haul.

The tension that knotted in his gut when he considered a committed relationship told him all too clearly he was nowhere near ready.

Scott hefted his feet from the desk and approached the office window. His Benelli motorbike was parked near the entrance of the garage, ready and waiting, primed to within an inch of her metallic life. Every time he revved her up, it was as though the bike urged him to just get the hell out of Templeton and onto the open road.

“No can do, sweetheart. No can do.” The weight of his familial obligations pressed down on his chest and Scott drained his beer.

He tossed the empty bottle into the recycling bin and whipped his leather jacket from the back of his chair. He shrugged it on, snatched his keys from inside the top drawer of his desk and strode toward the door. He locked it behind him and hurried down the steps, eagerly approaching his bike.

His heart pumped with anticipation for the freedom he felt whenever he rode her. He kicked the machine off its stand and wheeled it into the yard. He narrowed his eyes to look at the jet-black sky. Rain spattered his face. The gathering clouds would soon cover any stars that dared to appear when the mid-December temperatures slowly edged toward freezing.

He took his helmet from the box at the rear of his bike, pulled it on and straddled his favorite female. He gunned the engine and satisfaction roared through him as the powerful bike ignited his adrenaline and need for speed. Snapping down his helmet’s black visor, he accelerated onto the road toward Templeton’s town center.

He eased off the gas as he merged with the chaotic holiday traffic crawling along High Street. Colored fairy lights danced across his vision and he glanced toward the decorated shops on either side of him. The bustling summer season felt like an imagined memory. The Templeton shop owners were nothing if not resourceful, and each year the shops that kept the tourists happy with little pails and shovels in summer kept the residents happy at Christmastime with an array of gifts, original artwork and knickknacks only a woman needed.

Knowing he had to do something in the way of appeasing his coven of female relations, Scott reluctantly pulled into a parking space outside one of the shops. Cutting the engine, he slid off his helmet and ran his hand through his hair. He glanced toward a latticed window donning a particularly festive display and grimaced. Christmas was about time with family, laughing and joking, while consuming far too much food and beer. It wasn’t about sparkly red baubles, dancing reindeer or plastic Santas clutching their juddering bellies.

Get your ass in there and get this done, Walker. He swung off the bike and stowed his helmet.

Pocketing his keys, he took a deep breath and purposefully marched toward the shop. He raised his hand to push the door when it swung abruptly open. Upon sight of the woman’s long blond hair and hourglass figure trussed up in a fur-collared winter coat, he stepped back and waved his hand to the side in a theatrical gesture of gallantry. She barely glanced at him as she continued to coo and chatter into the cell phone glued to her ear, but he saw enough of her pretty features to cause his entire body to freeze and his grin to vanish.

Her soft floral scent whispered beneath his nostrils and her mumbled “thank you” seeped into his ears, burrowing deep into his mind. She hurried away along the street. Scott stared after her, his heart a granite rock in the center of his chest. That hair. That figure.

He swallowed. The short length of her coat showcased stocking-covered, shapely calves that he’d never forgotten. He couldn’t be mistaken. It was her.

He released his held breath and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Not now. Not after all this time...

CHAPTER TWO

THE CHRISTIE HOTEL was wonderfully, quintessentially English. As a lifelong lover of all things Agatha Christie, Carrie had fallen in love the moment she walked into the Art Deco lobby earlier that evening. Unable to resist her producer’s habit of people-watching, she’d happily taken the key from the receptionist, dumped her case—after a little squeal of nostalgic satisfaction at the bedroom’s decor—and hurried back downstairs.

Now, as she stood in the hotel’s lobby, she released her held breath on an appreciative sigh. A gorgeous ruby-red carpet stretched out in front of her, leading to the closed beveled-glass, creamy-white doors of the bar at the far end. On either side of her, dual chairs were placed around low tables where people sat and chatted over a glass of wine or brandy. Plinths holding huge floral cascades of every imaginable color boosted the décor, the gilded mirrors reflecting the light in prisms around the vast space.

When her gaze travelled the height and breadth of the gloriously lit Christmas tree in the very center of the lobby, all thoughts of the dreaded task of tracking down Scott momentarily vanished. As she wandered closer, Carrie delighted in the exquisite 1930s ornaments and trinkets overflowing from its branches. She smiled, wishing for a sleek satin evening gown, and strolled toward the bar.

Despite being a habitual single-bottle-of-beer kind of girl, tonight she’d order a dry martini, just for the hell of it.

She slid onto a vacant barstool. The bartender, dressed in a black tuxedo, white dress shirt and bow tie, was young, good-looking and currently serving an elderly couple at the end of the bar. Carrie couldn’t wipe her smile as she stared around the room. The subtle light emanating from old-fashioned lanterns cast the intimate space in a soft amber glow; the dark wood paneling, bar and stools added warmth and security. The open-topped, pristine-white piano in the far corner was the cherry to her visual cake. Heavenly.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

The bartender’s gaze darted in quick time from her face to the V of her sweater, but Carrie shook off the threat of annoyance, determined to wallow in the beauty surrounding her awhile longer. She forced a friendly smile. “Hi. Could I have a dry martini, please?”

His green eyes glinted with flirtation. “Coming right up.”

While he mixed her drink, Carrie swiveled around on her seat, her imagination on perpetual overdrive. Each and every person relaxing in the bar served as a potential character in a future TV project.