Page 66 of Summer At Willow Tree Farm

It was Dee and Ellie’s turn to looked shocked.

‘Are you joking?’ ‘Four weeks!’ they blurted out in unison.

‘I know it’s a bit mad,’ Maddy said, ‘but I can’t wait to get hitched. And we’re only talking about a glorified party. I don’t want too much fuss. As long as I can wear my dress I’m good.’

‘But why the rush?’ Ellie said, confused now.

‘I want it to be in the summertime, so we can all be outside,’ Maddy said, her eyes still bright with enthusiasm. ‘We could have it one Saturday evening after closing the shop. String fairy lights across the farmyard like we did after the barn clear-out. Maybe add lanterns and flowers to make it magical.’

Ellie could already envision it, but, even so, four weeks wasn’t long. Maddy might think a wedding was nothing more than a glorified party, but even with a small guest list, it would be an important event in the young couple’s life. And if she was planning it, she wanted to do it right. ‘We could still make it magical at the end of September?’ she offered.

‘We?’ Dee said. ‘Will you still be here then?’ The hope in her voice made Ellie’s mind up for her.

‘Yes, I thought I could stay till the end of September. As long as Miss Durden is happy to have Josh enrolled for the start of term. I want to make sure the shop is properly secure before I hand over the reins and head back to the US.’

‘Sweetheart, that’s marvellous.’ Her mother gripped her hands, the pleasure in her voice swelling the ache in Ellie’s chest. She’d have to talk to Josh about the divorce, and their long-term plans for the future before he started school again with Toto, so he didn’t get confused. But, for now, why not extend their summer an extra month?

‘I’ll ring Marjorie tomorrow and have a chat about the logistics,’ Dee added.

Ellie smiled. This was the right thing to do, she couldn’t possibly run out on everyone right after the opening. And now they had a wedding to plan.

‘So there’s no need for you to rush the wedding,’ Ellie said, addressing Maddy again. ‘We could schedule for the end of September, and give ourselves another three weeks of planning time. Two months is much more doable than one.’

Maddy’s face went spotlight red. She slanted a furtive look across the meadow to where Art and Jacob were now sharing a beer with Rob and Annie Jackson. The Peveneys had already headed home with a sleepy Melody.

‘Actually, there kind of is a need to rush the wedding.’ She swallowed audibly, her excitement and joy palpable in the evening light as she placed a hand over her abdomen. ‘I want to be sure I’m not too pregnant to fit into that dress.’

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ellie picked her way through the woods, the moon and the floating buzz of the dragonflies edging her path. Crickets rustled in the muggy midsummer air. It had been a hot day, and the night was close and uncomfortable.

She’d tried to get an early night once they’d returned from Maddy and Jacob’s house-building party, but she’d been lying in bed, listening to the sounds of the house settle around her as Dee put Toto and Josh to bed, and Art tramped up the stairs then back down again, probably to put a few extra hours in at the workshop.

And sleep had eluded her.

The woods had beckoned. The thought of a midnight walk to the millpond was too tantalising to resist. Having made the decision to stay in Wiltshire another month, she had hoped that her anxiety about returning to the US would have begun to calm, but if anything it had got worse.

She felt edgy and tense, her insides hollow and achy and somehow heavy after the news of Maddy’s pregnancy. She was overjoyed for the couple, of course she was. Maddy had confided in her and Dee that she intended to tell Jacob tonight, their first night in their new home. And Ellie had no doubt at all that he would be ecstatic. She also had no doubt at all that Jacob would make a brilliant dad, because he was more than ready to take on that responsibility.

But the news had made her think about the night she and Dan had discovered together they were expecting Josh. The panic, the anxiety, and the trauma of what had followed, when they’d gone to the family planning clinic to discuss their options and she’d run out again in tears, deciding to keep the baby no matter what.

She adored Josh now, of course she did. He meant everything to her. He was the only good thing to have come out of their marriage. And, because of him, she could never regret the decision she’d made that day. But the memory of Dan’s face, confused and scared and yet supportive, as she’d told him her decision and he’d struggled to do the right thing, still haunted her. Dan hadn’t been ready for that commitment. And neither had she.

Was that the real reason he’d always found it so hard to be faithful? And why she’d allowed herself to go through the motions for so long, while knowing she no longer loved him? The failure of their marriage was an indictment of both of them really and all the immature decisions they’d made along the way without ever thinking through the consequences. Until it was too late.

And Josh had paid the price.

She had to speak to her son. Soon. She’d spent the last few hours lying in bed running through all the ways to have that conversation with him, and she still didn’t know what to say. How to explain it all. He’d been so happy in the last few months, away from Orchard Harbor, away from the pressures of real life. And so had she. But was avoiding making decisions really an improvement on making the wrong ones?

She heard the splash of water ahead of her and saw the derelict brick structure of t

he old millhouse looming over the lake ahead, now overgrown with weeds and bracken. A rambling rose bush climbed up one side, its flowers a dark glossy red in the moonlight, making the millhouse look like something out of a fairy tale. A gloomy and derelict fairy tale worthy of a Tim Burton movie. Walking under the weeping willow that shrouded the water’s edge, she stopped dead as the splashing became louder, closer, and she realised it wasn’t just the lap of water on the bank.

Across the pond, she saw someone powering through the water with swift, fluid strokes. The swimmer’s dark hair bobbed as the person stopped and gripped a tree root, to lever themselves out of the water.

Her heartbeat ticked into her throat. The ache in her abdomen sank lower as wide shoulders, followed by a broad back, rose from the dark pond. Rivulets of water slicked the planes of muscle, which tapered to the lighter strip of flesh defining his buttocks, as he climbed onto the bank in one fluid, athletic movement.

Art.

---