Page 78 of An Unholy Affair
‘Would it work?’
Jack shrugged. ‘Who knows, but shall we give it a go?’
* * *
Eveline squaredher shoulders and knocked on Simon’s door. Normally, she wouldn’t have questioned the lunch invitation. But since Jack had arrived, the status quo had been disrupted, and she knew Simon wasn’t happy about it.
God, I trust you. But why did you bring Jack into my life? If it is to help him, then I promise I will accept that. But he kissed me back! So why did he then reject me? Please God, what am I doing wrong? I’m so confused right now.
Simon opened the door and beamed at her. ‘Ah, there you are. Come in, dear, let me take your coat.’
Eveline smothered her feelings under a practiced and professional smile. ‘Thank you, Simon. You’re looking very smart. Are you off somewhere later?’
He hung up her coat and glanced at his coral pink shirt. ‘No, no. I wore this for you.’
Why?‘Well, it looks lovely.’
He preened. ‘Thank you. Why don’t you go on through to the dining room? I’ve set up in there.’
Simon’s Georgian house was not as big as the rectory, but was in far better shape. Simon’s wife, Rosalind, had died just before Eveline had moved to Foxbrooke, but her personality and style were evident throughout the house. The wallpaper was pale green and pink stripes, and oil paintings of country scenes hung from the dado rail. The furniture was antique mahogany, and Denby China and polished silverware sat atop an embroidered white tablecloth.
‘Oh Simon, this looks beautiful. What a treat.’
He held a chair out for her and she sat.
‘Elderflower pressé with soda?’
‘My favourite. Thank you.’
He turned to the sideboard, and Eveline failed to stop her mind from travelling back a year ago to a bar in London. She hadn’t had the drink since that night.
Simon presented it to her. ‘There we go. Now let me get the food. I’ve made belly pork.’
‘Ooh, yummy!’
He chuckled and left the room.
Eveline sat back, the forced smile falling off her face. She was glad that Simon’s mood seemed much improved. She didn’t want anyone to be unhappy, and he’d been so out-of-sorts recently. But she still didn’t want to be here. She wanted to be with Jack.
Taking a sip of her drink, she closed her eyes and replayed the previous afternoon. Shivers of pleasure ran across her skin. She wanted to believe that God would make things right, but he couldn’t control everything. And despite Jack’s physical reaction to her in bed, he’d made it crystal clear that he didn’t want to be with her. Twice.
What can I do? I can’t force him to be with me.
‘Here we are!’ Simon entered and placed a perfectly cooked pork roast in the centre of the table. ‘You carve and I’ll get the rest.’
Apart from the meals she’d had at Foxbrooke Manor with Estelle, Eveline couldn’t remember the last time anyone had gone to this effort just for her.
Simon returned with a tray of apple sauce, gravy, roast potatoes, and vegetables. ‘The pork is from Priscilla,’ he said. ‘I froze that joint you gave me.’
‘How wonderful! Thank you, Simon and thank you, Priscilla.’
‘Would you like to say Grace?’
‘I’d love to.’ Eveline bowed her head. ‘Lord, we thank you for this meal and for filling our lives with blessings. May this wonderful food and the friends we share it with nourish us. Amen.’
They filled their plates and chatted amiably about church matters. Eveline kept up the happy façade, avoiding any talk of her supposedly radical plans for Saint Saviour’s, but it all felt so facile. Guilt nagged at her. Simon was being lovely, but she wanted to talk truthfully and authentically about her ideas. She wanted to be herself. With Jack, she could be. But Jack didn’t want her…
When their plates were empty, Simon brought out a trifle—another one of her favourite dishes.
