Love in Another Town (7 page)

 

I
N HIS WHOLE LIFE
Jake had never missed anyone the way he missed Maggie Sorrell. She had only been gone five days, but to him it seemed like five months.

It would be another ten days before she returned to Kent, and he knew he was going to be miserable until then. He was glad they were involved professionally as well as personally, working on the remodelling of Havers Hill. It made him feel closer to her, especially when he went to the old farmhouse. Her presence was everywhere.

For the same reason, he'd been up to the Little Theatre in Kent twice, to tinker around with the lighting for the play, and he planned to go there again before she returned.

The woman designing the costumes, Alice Ferrier,
was a friend of Samantha's and Maggie's, and he enjoyed chatting to her, and to the stagehands working on Maggie's sets. It gave him a sense of belonging to Maggie's group, was like being part of a large family, and he enjoyed the camaraderie. Also, it helped to deflect the loneliness he was feeling in her absence.

Until he met Maggie, Jake had been self-sufficient, going about his business, doing his own thing, occasionally seeing the odd male friend, and he'd had a couple of short-lived affairs. But he had never relied on anyone for anything.

Now he felt that Maggie was necessary to his well-being, his very existence, and this bothered him. He disliked being dependent on another human being; it made him feel vulnerable.

At the outset of their relationship, the night they had slept together for the first time, Jake had come right out and said it – told Maggie that he loved her. It was true, he did.

But Maggie had not declared herself. He was not really worried, although he would like to hear her say it, because he knew she cared about him. Cared a lot. She gave herself away constantly.

Thoughts of Maggie continued to swirl in his head as he went out of the kitchen and crossed the yard, heading for the old red barn in the field at the back of the house. He had turned it into a studio and workshop, and he wanted to complete the plans he was drawing up for the exterior lighting at Havers Hill Farm. He wished Maggie had been with him at the farm today; finally he had come up with solutions for some of the more intricate lighting problems and he would have enjoyed explaining them to her.

Jake paused as he walked down the path, staring at an unusual brown-coloured bird with an orange breast that had just flown out of the giant oak which shaded the lawn. As the bird hopped along at the edge of the grass he wondered what species it was. He had never seen this kind of bird before. The garden and fields surrounding his house were full of wildlife, as were the wetlands that stretched beyond. Canada geese and ducks made the wetlands their habitat.

Wandering on towards the barn, he stopped again as a chipmunk skittered across his path and disappeared into the innards of an old stone wall; the entire place was a haven for these funny little creatures and squirrels and rabbits. A fleeting thought crossed his mind – that this place would be a natural wonderland for a child.

As Jake struggled with the lock on the door, which was stuck, he could hear the phone ringing inside, but by the time he managed to get the door opened it had stopped.

Could it have been Maggie phoning from Scotland? he wondered. He hoped so; she had said she would give him a call this week. He depressed the button on the answering machine.

‘It's me, Jake,' he heard Amy's voice saying. ‘I've got to talk to you. It's urgent. Please call me.'

Immediately he dialled her apartment. The phone rang and rang. There was no answer. Just as there had been no answer yesterday, even though he had received the same kind of message on his machine last night. Obviously she wanted to talk to him about something, but when he returned her calls she was not there.

Walking over to the long table which served as a desk for him, he resolved to buy her an answering machine. Since she hadn't bothered to get one, as he had suggested months ago, he was going to have to do it for her.

Jake sighed under his breath. That was the story of his life with Amy. For as long as he could remember, ever since they were twelve, he had always been the one to take care of everything, and he had always had to look after her. She was like a baby. She couldn't manage to do the simplest task. Eventually it had begun to irritate him.

The odd thing was he
wanted
to take care of Maggie, to look after
her,
even though there was no need. She was such a competent woman and well able to take care of herself. Over the last few months he had come to know her well, and he was aware that she was clever and practical, but he still felt the need to protect her. Certainly he saw a vulnerability in her, a softness he found most appealing.

Pushing aside thoughts of Maggie and Amy, Jake turned on the architect's lamp he used on the old oak table, pulled a drawing pad towards him and began making sketches for the exterior lighting systems at Havers Hill Farm.

The red barn where he was working had become a refuge for him since he had moved into the house. He found the big open space conducive to work, whether it was designing lighting effects, tinkering with lamps and other electrical equipment at the bench, or painting at the easel under the big window situated at the far end of the barn. These three areas were quite separate and self-contained, and he had furnished the barn
sparsely. It was austere, painted white, and only the things required for his work had been used. His one luxury was a CD player, so that he could listen to music whenever he felt like it.

Jake concentrated on the plans for lighting the trees at Havers Hill for an hour, and then he tried Amy's number again. There was still no answer, and immediately he turned his attention back to the plans in front of him. He had always had tunnel vision, and this had served him well.

At nine he stopped working, shut off the lights, left the barn and went back to the house. He found a cold beer in the refrigerator, made himself a cheese-and-tomato sandwich and took his evening snack into the living room. After turning on the television, he sat down in the chair, ate his sandwich, drank his beer and absentmindedly channel surfed. He was preoccupied with thoughts of Maggie, missing her, wanting her, longing to see her.

When the phone rang again Jake jumped up, grabbed it and exclaimed, ‘Hello?' hoping it was she.

‘It's me,' Amy said. ‘I've been trying to get you for two days. Why haven't you called me back, Jake?'

‘I have, Amy,' he answered, striving not to sound impatient. ‘I got your message when I came home from work last night. I phoned you. No answer. I tried you at the store this morning and was told it was your day off. I just missed your call by a few seconds tonight. You must have gone out immediately, because there was no answer and I dialled you within minutes.'

‘I went to the movies with Mavis.'

‘I see.' He cleared his throat. ‘You said you wanted to talk to me urgently. What about?'

‘Something important.'

‘Then tell me, Amy, I'm listening,' he said, sitting down on the arm of the sofa. When there was no response from her, he said in an even tone, ‘Come on, Amy, tell me what this is about.'

‘Not on the phone. I need to talk to you in person. Can't you come over?'

‘Now?'

‘Yes, Jake.'

‘Amy, I can't! It's too late! It's turned ten, and I have to be up very early. Let's talk now if it's so important to you.'

‘No! I have to
see
you.'

‘Well, I'm not driving over to New Milford at this hour, so you can forget that!'

‘Can I see you tomorrow? It's really urgent that we meet.'

‘All right,' he agreed, although he did so reluctantly.

‘Tomorrow night, Jake? I could make you supper.'

‘No, no, that's not necessary,' he replied and, thinking swiftly, he improvised, ‘I have to go to New Milford tomorrow morning to pick up some equipment. I need it for the job I'm doing in South Kent. How about if I come to the store around noon? I'll take you to lunch.'

‘I guess so … I wish you could come over now …'

‘I'll see you tomorrow,' he said firmly. ‘Good night, Amy.'

‘'Bye, Jake,' she muttered and hung up.

Later, as he undressed, Jake asked himself if he had made a mistake, agreeing to see Amy. There was no question in his mind that she was going to grumble about the divorce, try to talk him out of it. She was
already procrastinating; there had been no word from her lawyer. He wasn't even sure she had been to see him again. He was going to have to do something about it himself, take matters into his own hands, he decided, if he ever wanted to be free. As usual, Amy was incapable of handling it.

When they met the following day, the first thing Jake noticed about Amy was that she had made an effort with her appearance. Her wispy blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and tied with a blue ribbon, and she had applied a little make-up.

Nevertheless, as he sat looking at her across the table in the Wayfarers Café in New Milford, where he had brought her for lunch, he thought she looked tired. She was only twenty-eight, but it struck him now that she appeared older, a little worn down. But this was nothing new, really; there had been something lack-lustre about her for the past few years. Amy had faded quickly. It saddened him really, and he couldn't help feeling a little bit sorry for her. She wasn't a bad person, just unfocused, disorganized and isolated.

They chatted about inconsequential things, looked at the menus, discussed what they would like to eat. In the end they both settled on the Cobb salad and iced tea.

Once the waitress had taken their order and they were alone, Amy said, ‘So what's the job you're doing in Kent?'

‘A farmhouse,' he explained. ‘A very old place, actually. It's picturesque and has beautiful grounds. It's a challenge, especially the interiors. I'm also doing the outside, creating lighting for the landscaped areas and
the pool. It's a big job for me and I'm pretty excited about it.'

She nodded. ‘I know you like doing intricate work, the fancy stuff, and you're good at it, Jake.'

‘Thanks.' He gave her an appraising glance and said, ‘What is it you want to talk to me about, Amy?'

‘Let's wait until after lunch.'

‘Why?
You've been calling me for two days, asking me to meet you, saying it's urgent, and now you want to wait.'

She nodded. Her mouth settled in a stubborn line.

Jake let out a small sigh. ‘Whatever you say, Amy, but I do have to go back to work you know. In a couple of hours.'

‘My mother doesn't think we should get a divorce,' she blurted out, and then took a quick sip of water, eyeing him over the rim of the glass.

‘I know that,' he replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. ‘Is that why you wanted to see me? To discuss the divorce? Has your mother been going on at you?'

She shook her head. ‘Not really.'

Jake leaned forward over the table and pinned her with his eyes. ‘Look, Amy, I'm sorry it didn't work out, really sorry. But there it is … these things happen, you know that.'

Before she could answer the waitress was back, placing the salads in front of them, returning a second later with the glasses of iced tea.

They ate in silence for a while. Or rather Jake ate; Amy picked at her food.

Finally she put down her fork and leaned back in the chair.

Jake glanced at her, frowning slightly. Suddenly she
looked pale, paler than usual, he thought, and she seemed to be on the verge of tears.

‘What is it, Amy? What's wrong?' he asked, putting his fork on the plate. When she didn't answer, but gaped at him oddly, looking scared, he pressed, ‘What's the matter, honey?'

‘I'm sick,' she began and stopped with abruptness.

His frown intensified. ‘I'm not following you. Do you mean you feel nauseous at this moment? Or are you saying you have an illness?'

‘Yes. I went to the doctor, Jake. I haven't been feeling well.' Her eyes brimmed. ‘It's cancer. He told me I've got ovarian cancer.'

‘Oh my God! Amy! No! Is he sure?' Jake leaned forward and took her hand, holding it tightly in his. ‘Is the doctor certain?'

‘Oh yes,' she whispered.

For a moment Jake was at a loss for words. A compassionate man by nature, he filled with sympathy for her. He wondered how he could comfort her, and then realized there was no way. His words, if he could find the right ones, would be cold comfort. Far better to leave them unsaid. And so he sat there, holding her hand, patting it from time to time, hoping he was making her feel less alone.

 

I
T HAD RAINED EARLIER
, and as Maggie walked down the path that led through the garden of Sunlaws House Hotel she paused for a moment and lifted her eyes to the sky. The sun was coming out again, penetrating the light clouds, and quite suddenly a rainbow trembled up there above the trees, a perfect arc of pink and blue, violet and yellow.

Maggie smiled inwardly, thinking it was a good omen. Her mother had been the most positive person she had ever known, one who had always believed in the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, silver linings and bluebirds bringing happiness.

Mom was an eternal optimist, she thought, still smiling to herself, filled with the fondest of memories. I'm glad I inherited that trait from her. If I hadn't I don't think I would have survived the debacle with Mike
Sorrell. They would have taken me away in a strait-jacket. But she had indeed survived and life had never been better for her, she decided. And then she thought: how many people get a second chance at life?

When she reached the end of the path, Maggie turned around and headed back to the hotel. She and Samantha were staying here overnight, en route to London by rented car. They had driven down from Edinburgh and Glasgow, and had arrived at Sunlaws in time for lunch.

The manor was in Kelso, in the area known as The Borders, in the heart of Roxburghshire. The gracious old house, which belonged to the Duke and Duchess of Roxburghe, had been turned into the most charming of country hotels.

Sunlaws was handsomely furnished, full of mellow antiques and fine paintings, and it was imbued with the comfort and welcoming warmth that Maggie loved. It was a look and an environment that she strove hard to create in her own decorating schemes for her clients.

The landscape around the hotel was equally captivating, and it reminded her of the northwestern highlands of Connecticut. The moment she had set eyes on it she had begun to feel homesick.

Maggie now realized that she couldn't wait to get back to her house in Kent. And to Jake. He was constantly on her mind; she rarely stopped thinking about him, wishing he were here, wishing he could be sharing this trip with her. And she wished he had been with her when she bought the antiques in Edinburgh and Glasgow. They were for the farmhouse and were good pieces made of dark, ripe wood, some of them
handcarved, and all were very old and beautifully made. They would sit perfectly in the rooms at Havers Hill Farm, would underscore the mood of the house and its overall feeling of antiquity.

Maggie was glad she had come to Scotland with Samantha. The trip had been highly successful for both of them. Apart from the antique furniture she had purchased, she had found other interesting things: antique lamps, porcelains and all sorts of unique accessories.

Samantha had invested in a variety of fabrics which she planned to sell in the studio shop she was opening in three months' time. Maggie's favourites were the Scottish wools, mohairs and tartans, which had taken her fancy as well as Samantha's.

All in all they had done well, and Maggie made up her mind to come back next year. With Jake. He had never travelled abroad and had recently confided that he would enjoy making a trip to England one day.

She had missed him, missed his warmth and affection, his sense of fun, his dry humour, his passion, and his constant cosseting of her. He made her feel so wanted, so loved, in a way which Mike Sorrell never had.

She heard her name and glanced up, peering ahead, shading her eyes against the bright light with her hand. She waved when she saw Samantha coming down the path towards her.

‘I've been looking all over for you!' Samantha exclaimed, tucking her arm through Maggie's, falling into step. The two of them continued on to the hotel together.

Maggie said, ‘I love this time of day, just before dark. It's magic.'

Samantha nodded. ‘So do I. And that's what they call it in the movie business …
the magic hour.
Apparently cinematographers think it's the most wonderful light for filming.' Samantha shivered. ‘Let's go inside, Maggie, it's turned coolish. There's a breeze blowing up for one thing, and it smells of rain.'

‘I'm a bit cold myself,' Maggie admitted.

They increased their pace, and once they were inside the hotel Samantha looked at her watch. She said, ‘It's nearly seven. Let's go and have a drink in the lounge. There's a huge fire blazing in there. It might be July, but they know something about these cool Scottish nights, the locals do.'

A short while later the two friends sat in the comfortable lounge. It was furnished with deep leather chairs and sofas, and there were wonderful old paintings on the walls. Vases of flowers were everywhere and their mingled scents filled the air. The only sounds were the ticking of a clock somewhere at the other end of the room and the hiss and crackle of the logs burning in the huge marble fireplace. Silk-shaded lamps had been turned on and the lounge had a soft glow to it.

Samantha looked around and said, ‘It's so intimate and cosy in here, and the room has a real country-house feeling to it, don't you think?'

‘It's a look that's hard to reproduce properly,' Maggie said. ‘The British do it so well, maybe because it's endemic to their way of life.'

Samantha merely smiled and took a sip of her white
wine. Then she glanced across at Maggie. ‘I've really enjoyed the trip, haven't you?' 

‘Yes, I have.'

Now Samantha eyed her carefully and murmured, ‘But you've missed Jake, haven't you?'

Maggie smiled. ‘A bit …' She laughed, added, ‘A lot actually. How did you guess?'

‘You've seemed distracted sometimes, and sort of … well,
faraway
is the best way of describing it.'

Maggie was silent. She averted her face for a brief moment, sat gazing into the fire, a quiet, reflective expression settling in her eyes. After a moment she glanced at her best friend and said, ‘There's something I want to tell you.'

Samantha nodded. ‘And oddly enough, I've got something to tell you. But you go first.'

There was a fractional silence. Maggie then said, ‘I'm pregnant, Sam.'

‘Good God! You can't be! Surely not! Not in this day and age! Don't tell me you didn't use anything, for God's sake!'

‘Yes. I missed my period for the second time last week, when we first got here. And no, we didn't use anything.'

Samantha sat back, gaping at her askance. ‘There's something out there called AIDS, Maggie.'

‘I know. But … well … I trust Jake, I know he's not promiscuous.'

‘When you slept with Jake you slept with everybody else he's ever been with … you don't know anything about
them.'

Maggie did not respond. She leaned back against the tapestry cushions in the leather chair and stared
into space. Then finally rousing herself, she muttered, ‘You said you had something to tell me. What is it?'

Samantha hesitated, cleared her throat, and leaning closer to Maggie, she said quietly, ‘You'd better know this, even though it might hurt more than ever. Jake's a married man, Mag. I found out just before we left, but I didn't want to tell you then and upset you. However, I thought you should know, now that we're heading back home. I purposely waited so as not to spoil your trip.'

Maggie said quickly, ‘But I already know that! He told me himself, weeks ago. Actually, it was a few days after we became lovers. He was very honest with me, Sam. He said he had been separated for a year, living alone for that time, and was in the middle of a divorce. Are you suggesting he's still living with his wife?'

Samantha shook her head and said swiftly, ‘No, no, I'm not.'

‘Who told you he was married?'

‘A client. She bought me a present from the bath and body shop in New Milford. When she gave the basket of goodies to me, all kinds of aromatherapy products, she said they'd been recommended by Amy Cantrell. I suppose I must have reacted to the name, and my client said something about Amy being the wife of Jake Cantrell, the lighting expert. But if you say he's separated, then I'm sure he is.'

‘And he does live alone,' Maggie asserted. ‘I've been to his house several times.'

‘Why didn't you tell me he was in the middle of a divorce?'

Maggie shrugged. ‘I didn't think it was particularly important, Sam.'

‘What are you going to do about the baby, Maggie?'

‘I'm going to have it, of course.'

Samantha gave her a questioning stare. ‘What about Jake? I mean, what do you think he'll say? Do?'

‘I'm sure he'll be pleased. I hope so. But in any case it's my choice, and only mine. I'm certainly not going to have an abortion.'

Maggie leaned forward, and her face was suddenly bright with happiness and hope, when she added, ‘While I was walking in the garden earlier, I couldn't help thinking that not many people get a second chance in life. I
did.
The baby's my second chance, and Jake of course. I think I'm very lucky.'

‘Do you think he'll want to marry you?'

‘I don't know … I don't really care … about making it legal. I can bring up a baby myself and support a child. I'm very competent, Sam.'

‘You don't have to tell me! I know that only too well,' Samantha remarked pithily.

‘Maybe you think I'm crazy,' Maggie ventured. ‘Here I am, forty-four years old, pregnant by my much younger lover of twenty-nine, who's not even divorced yet, whom I'm not sure even wants to marry me.' She began to laugh and lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. ‘And do I want to marry him?' Maggie shrugged and lifted a dark brow.

Samantha shook her head wonderingly. ‘There's nobody like you, Maggie, when it comes to coping. Let's not forget that you came through a pretty rotten situation with your husband of twenty-odd years who
decided to take a walk. A situation which might have felled many another woman.'

‘Don't spoil my day! Don't mention Mike Sorrell. Anyway, getting back to Jake, he does love me.'

‘He told you?'

‘Yes, he did.'

‘Do you love him, Mag?'

‘Yes. Very much.'

‘You're very brave, Maggie.'

‘Oh, Sam, I'm very lucky …'

Samantha Matthews was glad she had insisted that they stay at Brown's Hotel. It was handy to Piccadilly, Bond Street and just about everywhere else, being in the centre of the West End. It was easy to walk to all the shops, and cabs were readily available.

Now as she hurried down Albemarle Street, making her way back to the hotel, she could not help wondering what Maggie had been doing this afternoon. Her friend had insisted on going off alone, and had behaved in the most secretive way. But she would soon know; Maggie would eventually tell her.

It was hot and muggy this afternoon and a storm threatened. Samantha decided to ask the head porter to order a car and driver for the evening ahead. They were going to the theatre and then on to dinner at The Ivy and the last thing they needed was to be caught in the rain.

When she entered the lobby Samantha made straight for the porter's desk. After ordering a car, she took the lift up to the suite she and Maggie were sharing. It was her treat, her birthday present to Maggie. ‘But you've already given me that gorgeous bag!'
Maggie had protested when she had made the announcement in Scotland. Samantha had merely smiled at the time and refused to listen. 

Maggie was still out.

Samantha dropped her bag and packages on the sofa in the sitting room and went through into the bedroom. Taking off her dress and stepping out of her high-heeled shoes, she put on a silk robe and lay down on her bed. She was tired from rushing around all day and wanted to relax before dressing for the evening.

After a moment her thoughts settled on Maggie. She loved her like the sister she had never had, and there was no one she felt closer to, or cared more about. Not unnaturally, given the circumstances, she was worried about Maggie. It was she who had introduced Maggie to Jake Cantrell, and she felt responsible for the current situation. On the other hand, Maggie was a forty-four-year-old woman who was highly intelligent and extremely smart. If she didn't know what she was doing, then Samantha didn't know who did.

Samantha sighed under her breath. There were no doubts in her mind about Maggie's capabilities, and in many ways she admired the attitude she was taking about the baby. But what about Jake? Would he come through for Maggie? And what if he didn't? Could Maggie really manage to bring the baby up on her own? That took guts, which Maggie had, of course. She'll be all right, no matter what, Samantha decided. And I'm there to help her. Samantha smiled to herself. Their motto had always been: through thick and thick and thin and thin.

The telephone on the nightstand between the two
beds began to ring. Reaching for it, Samantha said, ‘Hello?' 

‘Is that you, Samantha?'

‘Yes, it is. Who's this?' she asked, failing to recognize the somewhat gruff male voice at the other end of the line.

‘It's Mike Sorrell, Sam.'

Samantha was so surprised she almost dropped the receiver. ‘Oh!' she exclaimed and then added in an icy tone, ‘What can I do for you, Mike?'

‘I'm looking for Maggie.'

‘She's not here.'

‘When do you expect her, Sam?' 

‘I don't know,' Samantha replied, as cold as ever, ignoring his attempt at friendliness. 

‘Have her call me, please.' 

‘Where?'

‘I'm staying at the Connaught.'

‘You're in London!'

‘I'm here on business.'

‘How did you know where we're staying?'

‘I tracked you down, via your assistant in Connecticut. When all I could get was Maggie's answerphone, I phoned your studio.'