Bachelor Dad on Her Doorstep (17 page)

‘And the authors can use these tables for signings afterwards, you know, dear. I mean, once the crowd hears our three guests, they’re going to want to buy the books. And yes, we do have plenty in stock,’ she added when Jaz opened her mouth.

Jaz closed it again, noticed Boyd Longbottom sorting bottles of wine in the stockroom and nodded towards him. ‘How?’ she whispered.

‘I said to him this morning—“Boyd Longbottom, I need help with our Jazmin’s book fair and I don’t know who else I can ask.”’

Jaz’s eyes widened. ‘It was that easy?’

‘Well, now, he did say—“If you agree to have dinner with me tonight then I’m all yours, Audra Lavender.” And he said it so nice like. A lady shouldn’t turn down a nice offer like that, should she?’

‘Of course not.’

Jaz couldn’t help thinking back to the way Connor had told her he loved her—as if he couldn’t help but say it; as if there hadn’t been another thought in his head.

Jaz leant forward and clasped Mrs Lavender’s hand. ‘I’m pleased for you.’

The older woman’s eyes turned misty. ‘Thank you, dear. Boyd and I, we’ve wasted enough time now, I think.’

Jaz straightened and her heart started to thump, but she wasn’t sure why. She searched the room for Connor but couldn’t see him anywhere. He was the usual reason her heart rate went haywire.

‘Mrs Lavender, thank you for everything you’ve done today. I…’

‘Did you really think we’d leave you in the lurch?’

‘I certainly didn’t expect you to take so much upon yourselves.’

‘Why not?’

Jaz stared, and then didn’t know quite what to say.

‘You’ve given an old woman a new lease of life. You’ve
given your staff a fun and harmonious working environment. This book fair, it’s galvanised us, made us work together. You’ve made us feel as if we matter.’

‘But you do!’

‘Precisely, Jazmin Harper. We all matter. Even you.’

Before Jaz could respond, Mrs Lavender rushed on, ‘And I don’t know what you did to charm Mr Sears, but it was well done. The moment he saw Boyd and I wrestling with the barbecue, he was across the road like buckshot. He started directing and things just fell into place.’

‘I’m very grateful.’

‘Jazmin, dear, you’re one of us. We look after our own.’

Jaz felt the walls of the community wrap around her and it felt as good as she’d always imagined it would.

‘I…well, now that I’m here, what can I do?’

‘Mingle. Chat and charm. Bask in the glow of the fair’s success. And take care of that arm. Everything else has been taken care of. We know where to find you,’ she added when Jaz opened her mouth to argue. ‘If we need to.’

Jaz had to content herself with that. She mingled. She chatted. As she moved about the room, it occurred to her that she felt comfortable here—here in Clara Falls, of all places. More comfortable than she had ever felt anywhere in her life before.

‘Your mother would’ve enjoyed this,’ Mr Sears said, coming up beside her as the guest authors prepared themselves for the readings.

The scent of frying onions still seasoned the air. She glanced out of the window behind her. Connor had taken over the sausage sizzle. A pulse fluttered in her throat. She had to swallow before she could speak. ‘Yes, she would’ve had a ball.’

Mr Sears followed her gaze. He turned back to her. ‘Don’t make the same mistakes Frieda and I made.’

‘Which was?’ She held her breath. It was none of her business but…

He stared back at her. ‘I loved your mother from the first
moment I clapped eyes on her.’ His lips tightened briefly. ‘I understood why she wouldn’t get involved with me when I was married. But when my wife died…’

Mrs Sears had died over ten years ago, when Carmen and her brother were just small children.

‘I didn’t understand why she wouldn’t take a chance on us then. I knew she loved me.’

‘Didn’t she ever tell you why?’

He was quiet for a long moment. ‘She said we couldn’t be together until all the children were grown up. She said her reputation would make things too difficult for them.’

Jaz’s jaw dropped.

‘And I took that to mean that she cared more about what people thought than she cared about me.’

He broke off for a moment, then pulled in a breath. ‘I wanted the bookshop so badly because I suspected the letters were in the building somewhere. And I wanted it because it was part of her. I treated you very badly, Jazmin. I’m sorry.’

‘Apology accepted,’ she said without hesitation. ‘But, speaking of the bookshop, I am looking for a business partner.’

His eyes suddenly gleamed. ‘The two of us could make Frieda’s dream a reality.’

She nodded.

‘We’ll talk about this further.’

She smiled. ‘That’s what I was hoping you’d say.’

He sobered again. ‘I let my disappointment that Frieda wouldn’t marry me turn my love into something ugly and twisted.’ He reached out, touched her hand briefly. ‘Don’t you go and make the same mistake.’

Then he was gone.

Jaz’s heart pounded and burned. She turned to the partially completed portrait of Frieda on the back wall for guidance.
Oh, Mum, what do I do?

The partially completed portrait didn’t give her so much as a hint or clue.

Perhaps if Jaz could finish it…but she couldn’t seem to bear to.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t bear to. She simply couldn’t do it—it was as plain as that. Something blocked her, something stood between her and her ability to find and execute that final essence of Frieda.

Would Frieda want her to take a chance on Connor?

She glanced out of the window again. Sun glinted off his hair and yearning gripped her. But…

No! Fear filled her soul. She couldn’t risk it; she just couldn’t. She’d won more today than she had ever expected. She had to content herself with that. It would have to do.

The rest of the afternoon breezed along without so much as the tiniest push from Jaz. Everyone agreed that the author readings were a huge hit—not least the authors, who must’ve sold dozens of their books between them.

Connor packed up the sausage sizzle and disappeared. Jaz did her best not to notice.

Just when she thought the day was starting to wind down, a new buzz started up. Connor stood at the back of the room, in the same spot the guest authors had, calling for everyone’s attention.

Jaz blinked and straightened. She chafed her arms and tried to look nonchalant.

‘As most of you know, today wouldn’t have been possible if it wasn’t for one special lady—Jaz Harper.’

She gulped, tried to smile at the applause that broke out around her.

‘Jaz returned to Clara Falls to honour her mother’s memory, and to make her mother’s final dream a reality. I can’t tell you all how glad I am to see the town come out in such numbers to support her.’

Jaz noticed then that most of the tourists had wandered off—they’d probably left after the readings. The people who were left were almost all locals.

Connor gestured to the partially completed portrait on the
wall behind him. ‘As you can see, Jaz means to leave a lasting memorial of her mother here in Clara Falls. It only seems fitting that the grand finale to the day should be Jaz putting the finishing touches to her mother’s portrait. If you agree, put your hands together and we’ll get her up here to do exactly that.’

No way! He couldn’t force her hand this way. She wouldn’t do it. She
couldn’t
do it.

But a path had opened up between her and Connor and everyone was clapping. Some people cheered, yet others stomped their feet, and Jaz had no choice but to move forward.

‘What is this?’ she hissed when she reached him. ‘Payback?’

‘Just finish the damn picture, Jaz.’

His voice was hard, unrelenting, but when she glanced into his face the gold highlights in his eyes gleamed out at her. ‘Connor, I can’t.’ She was ashamed at the way her voice wobbled, but she couldn’t help it.

He took her hands in his. ‘What is it you focus on in the photographs that you turn into tattoos? What is it that you see in those photographs of people you don’t know, but capture so completely that you bring tears to the eyes of their loved ones?’

She searched his eyes. ‘Details,’ she finally whispered. She focused on the details—one thing at a time, utterly and completely.

‘Will you trust me on this?’

She stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. ‘Yes.’

He wouldn’t lead her astray on something so important. Even though she had hurt him. She knew that with her whole heart. He would try to help her the way she’d helped him.

He handed her the photograph of her mother. ‘Forget that she’s your mother, forget that you ever knew her, and focus only on the details.’

She stared at the photograph. The details. Right.

Then he handed her a paintbrush. ‘Paint, Jaz.’ Only then did she notice that he’d already arranged her paints about her.

Jaz painted. The scent of autumn engulfed her and she painted.

She’d finished the eyes and nose, the brow and the wild hair already. Now she focused on the mouth—the lips wide open in laughter, creases and laughter lines fanning out from the corners. She focused on the strong, square jaw with its beauty spot, then the neck and the shoulders.

She lost herself in details.

As always happened, when Jaz finished the last stroke she had no idea how much time had passed. She set her paintbrush down and stepped back, and the room gave a collective gasp. Jaz heard it for what it was—awe. It meant she’d done a good job.

She couldn’t look yet. She needed all those details to fade from her mind first.

She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, unutterably weary. Strong arms went around her and drew her in close, soaking her in their warmth and strength. She wanted to shelter in those arms—Connor’s arms—for ever. He’d remained standing behind her the entire time she’d painted, his presence urging her on, ordering her to stay focused. And she had.

But she couldn’t stay here in his arms. At least, not for ever. She’d already made that decision—she couldn’t afford to let the worst of her nature free in the world again.

But, before she was ready to let him go, he was putting her from him. ‘Are you ready to see it?’

She pulled in a shaky breath, managed a nod. He eased her back towards the crowd, then slowly turned her around to face her finished artwork.

Jaz stared. And then she staggered as the impact of the portrait hit her. She’d have fallen flat on her face if Connor hadn’t kept an arm around her.

Frieda laughing in the sun.

Her mother stood in front of her laughing, filled with happiness and goodwill and her own unique brand of fun, and Jaz ached to reach out and touch her.
This
was how Frieda would want Jaz to remember her.
This
was how Frieda would want everyone to remember her.

Oh, Mum, I loved you. You did know that, didn’t you?

Yes.
The word drifted to her on an autumn-scented breeze and suddenly her cheeks were wet with all the tears she hadn’t yet shed. The tightness in her chest started to ease.

Oh, Mum, what do I do?

No answer came back to her on a breeze—autumn-scented or otherwise, but the answer started to grow in Jaz’s heart the longer she stared at Frieda’s portrait.

Be happy. That was what her mother would say. It was all that Frieda had ever wanted for her.

Did she dare?

She scrubbed the tears from her cheeks with hands that shook, then turned to face the hushed crowd that stood at her back. ‘I want to thank you all for coming here today—for supporting me and Frieda and the bookshop. If she could, I know my mother would thank you too.’ She paused, dragged in a breath. ‘I came back to Clara Falls with a grudge in my heart, but it’s gone now. I’ve finally realised my true home is here in Clara Falls and—’ she found herself smiling ‘—it’s good to be back.’

The crowd broke into a loud round of applause. Mr Sears brought it back under control after what seemed like an age. ‘Okay, folks, that’s officially the end to the book fair…’he sent Jaz a sly look ‘…for this year, at least.’

Good Lord!

She thought about it. An annual event? The idea had merit.

‘Now, there’s still plenty of cleaning up to be done,’ Mr Sears continued, ‘so those of you who are willing to stick around…’

Jaz couldn’t help but grin as he took control.

Connor touched her arm. ‘Jaz. I…It’s time I headed off.’

The golden lights in his eyes had disappeared. Leaving? But…no! She didn’t want him to go.

Her mouth went dry.
She didn’t want him to go.
It hit her then. Denying herself the chance of building a life with Connor, of being with him—that was hurting her just as much as his lack of faith in her had eight years ago.

Did that mean she’d turn back into that desperate, destructive person she feared so much?

She all but stopped breathing. Her fingernails bit into her palms. She hunched into herself and waited for the blackness, the anger, to engulf her again…and kept waiting.

She lifted her head a little, dragged in a shaky breath, and counted to three. She lifted her head a little higher, and slowly it dawned on her. The blackness—it wasn’t coming back.

She’d learned from the mistakes of the past.

She was stronger, older, wiser.

She wasn’t afraid any more!

She wanted to dance. To sing and dance and—

She glanced into Connor’s face and the singing and dancing inside her abruptly stopped. Had she left it too late? Had Connor finally run out of patience…and love?

She glanced at Frieda’s portrait, then back at Connor.

‘I love you.’ She said the words as simply and plainly as he had to her earlier in the day. She didn’t know if it was too late to say them or not. She only knew she had to say them.

Connor froze. He backed up a step. ‘What did you just say?’

She grew aware that the people nearest to them had turned to stare. She leaned in close to him and whispered the words again. ‘I love you, Connor.’