Page 83 of Not Just for Christmas

‘I know you’re fine, and I know you can manage on your own, but I’ve got some thoughts, and I’d really like you to hear me out. Come on.’

He got up and held out a hand to me. Our fingers slid together, our bodies almost touching as I stood up and a jolt of electricity pinged through me.

‘I can manage on my—’ I stopped mid-sentence as he put a finger on his lips.

‘Trust me.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Fine.’

Chapter 35

Dylan lit their way across the yard with a torch.

‘Do you ever get used to the smell?’ he said, trying to hold his breath.

‘What smell?’ said Lucy, pulling on her gloves.

He laughed softly. ‘I guess it’s no worse than a Brooklyn subway station after midnight.’

‘Only after midnight?’

‘No, but that sounds more poetic.’

‘The smell of urine gets more poetic late at night?’ she snorted. ‘So what are we doing out here anyway, other than comparing the relative stench of our home turf?’

‘All I’ve seen out here is a bunch of tumble-down buildings, most of which I wouldn’t put chickens in, let alone paying guests. I wanna know which ones you had earmarked for your holiday business.’

‘No.’ She stopped in her tracks and glared at him. ‘I’m not doing this.’

‘Doing what?’ He held his hands out. ‘Come on, what’s the harm in looking?’

‘Because there’s no point.’ Lucy groaned, jamming her hands on her hips. ‘The idea was for me to run a holiday business while Jack ran the dairy herd with Pete’s help. I haven’t got Pete for much longer and I’m scarcely coping as it is. This isn’t the time to be taking on a new project.’

‘Hey.’ He pulled her hands from her hips and held them. ‘There is a point. Because you are still here bringing up your son, and your future needs to be one that has you leaping up in the morning, glad to be alive. You deserve that.’

Locks of her hair had escaped from her hat and his fingers itched to sweep them off her face and tuck them behind her ear.

‘I dream of the day I wake excited to get up.’ Her chin sank onto her chest and his heart broke for her.

‘Then let’s indulge ourselves with thinking nice thoughts,’ he pleaded, ‘even if it is only a fantasy.’

She looked up at him and gave a resigned huff. ‘Fine. I’ll show you.’

Together they walked across the farmyard, past the slumbering cows in the sheds, pausing briefly for Lucy to pop her head in on the newborn calves and continuing on to a row of outbuildings.

‘You’re wrong about the chickens,’ she said as he swung the torch beam inside the barn on the end of the row. ‘Because this one would make a lovely hen house.’

It was the tallest of the buildings, double height, with a ladder leading up to a hayloft over the ground level.

‘I stand corrected,’ he acknowledged. ‘But if you were to convert it, that would make a fabulous mezzanine up there.’

‘Are we ignoring the fact there’s no power or running water?’ she raised an eyebrow.

‘Oh yeah.’ He waved a hand dismissively. ‘Forget about the practicalities. Imagine you’ve got a blank page, and you can do anything you want at Merrydown. Come on, what would your dream look like?’

She blew out a weary breath. ‘On days like today when the milk has to be destroyed and I miss my parents so much it hurts, I don’t even want to see a future for me on the farm.’

He felt a tug of love for her. She was such a fighter, always looking on the bright side; he felt privileged that she was letting him see her true feelings. ‘This place has certainly tested you over the past few years.’