Authors: Ruth Saberton
Tags: #wreckers, #drama, #saga, #love romance, #Romantic Comedy, #smugglers, #top ten, #Cornwall, #family, #Cornish, #boats, #builders, #best-seller, #dating, #top 100, #marriage, #chick lit, #faith, #bestselling, #friendship, #relationships, #female, #women, #fishing, #Humor, #Ruth Saberton, #humour
Winter Wishes (37 page)
How could she ever have survived leaving Polwenna Bay and Danny? It would have broken her heart. Sitting here now, with her hand resting in his, Jules felt as though all her Christmas presents had come at once.
Thinking of Christmas presents, Jules had already opened one earlier. It had been left for her in the vicarage porch and, like something from
Alice in Wonderland
, was tied up with a red ribbon and labelled
Read me!
Such a flamboyant gesture could only have come from one person. Once Midnight Mass was over and Danny had headed back to Seaspray after a thousand kisses, Jules had curled up in bed to open the gift. She’d been taken aback when she’d realised she was holding Cassandra Duval’s latest manuscript.
The Reverend’s Renegade Heart
Flipping open the first page, Jules had swiftly found herself transported into the eighteenth century and a small Cornish town peopled by wreckers, smugglers and feisty tavern wenches. The occupants of this oddly familiar town were the flock of the hero, who was none other than the dark and brooding Reverend Julian Matthews. With a heart full of passion, a secret and savage past fighting in the colonies and a crypt full of smuggled goods, he was as torn and tortured a hero as any reader of romance could long for. He was perhaps not quite as
energetic
as Lord Blackwarren, but the good Rev was soon flung headlong into a passionate love affair with the squire’s daughter, Tana, and tempted by the sultry Eleanor. Jules couldn’t help herself: she was hooked. She’d been unable to stop reading, no matter how heavy her eyes grew. By the time Santa had circled the globe, the snow had finished falling all around and the daylight had started to steal over the rooftops, Jules had devoured every page. Caspar was right – it was his best book yet. The descriptions of the “fictional”
town were so vivid she could taste the tang of salt and hear the seagulls cry. The hero, an injured soldier turned vicar, was so plausible and familiar that she kept shaking her head in disbelief. That she had played a small part in helping Caspar create this was a humbling thought.
I hope you like it
, Caspar had written beneath THE END,
because this book wouldn’t exist without your help and friendship. I also hope you like the hero. In him two people have come together to make one perfect whole… I wonder where the inspiration for that came from? x
A war-hero vicar? Who could ever guess where Caspar got his ideas? Yet now, amidst the chatter of the excited Tremaine family, Jules glanced at Danny – best friend, hero and love of her life – and knew that Caspar was absolutely right. With Danny she felt a completeness and a peace that she could never have imagined before. Even if she spent the rest of eternity with him, it would still never be long enough.
“Here we are! Sorry to keep you waiting, but the roads have been appalling!”
The dining-room door flew open and Richard Penwarren appeared. His nose was red from the cold and his glasses were steaming up in the warmth. Laughing, Tara slipped them from his nose and wiped them carefully on her sleeve, before replacing them tenderly. She looked different, Jules thought. Softer somehow and less spiky, as though all her sharp edges had been smoothed away like sea-washed pebbles. Tara’s mouth was curling upwards rather than being set in its usual determined line, and her eyes shone. The brittle energy that Jules had come to associate with Morgan’s mum had vanished completely; instead she looked like a woman who’d let go of a huge burden.
“The path is really slippy. I thought we’d never get up. It’s just started snowing again, too.” Tara was stepping back to allow Richard to push a wheelchair into the dining room. “Jake, we’ll need a load more salt if this carries on, or else we’ll never get Ivy back. Either that, or we’ll have to borrow the quad bike.”
“I can’t possibly ride on a quad bike! I… Oh! Actually, why not? It could be fun and, anyway, what’s the worst that could happen? Falling and hurting myself?” laughed a voice that Jules recognised – although she’d never heard it sound so jovial before. No, this was a voice that was usually heard complaining, so Jules did a double take when she saw Ivy Lawrence in the wheelchair. Either the Christmas sherry was very strong indeed or Ivy was actually smiling. Surely not? Charles Dickens and Cassandra Duval combined couldn’t have made that up!
“Welcome to Seaspray, Ivy,” Alice said warmly, bending down and kissing her guest’s cheek.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Ivy said – and, sure enough, the boot-button eyes that usually glared at anyone rash enough to get close were creased with smiles rather than criss-crosses of ill temper.
Morgan, wide eyed, was hiding his camera under the table. “I promise I won’t take any pictures of you,” he said quickly when he saw Ivy looking.
“You can take as many as you like, my dear,” Ivy reassured him. “If it wasn’t for you I might not have even seen Christmas.” She winked at Issie. “Let’s see if I do break that lens. Or maybe, just maybe, I’m not quite so much of a wicked old witch as I was?”
Issie squirmed. “I’m sorry about saying that.”
“Don’t be. You were right,” Ivy said. “I was behaving like a wicked old witch and I’m sorry. I’d like to make amends, if I can.”
“Well, I certainly think people have appreciated your gifts to the village. You really were a Christmas angel,” Summer said. “My dad was thrilled with the hamper.”
“The cakes you made were wonderful,” Jules told her.
“And Polwenna benefitted a lot from your donations to the Christmas lights fund,” Jake added.
But Morgan was confused by this change.
“You’re not cross I looked in your window?” he asked cautiously, his camera still out of sight.
“Cross? You saved my life, young man,” Ivy told him. “If you hadn’t done that, who knows how long I would have been on the floor with my hip dislocated? You’re a hero. Just like your father and,” she smiled up at Tara, “like your mum is for rescuing me.”
“Absolute fact,” Danny assured his son. “It’s OK, mate, you’re not in trouble.”
“Anyway, you’re not a wicked old witch,” Tara said firmly to Ivy, helping Richard move a chair and seat their guest at the table. “Did your daughter think that about you when you called her earlier? Did your grandchildren Or were they thrilled to hear from you?”
A solitary tear slipped down Ivy’s cheek. “I just wish I hadn’t left it so long.”
“Sometimes it takes a while to say the things that mean the most,” Danny said quietly, looking at Jules as he spoke.
“But it’s never too late to put things right. Or to start again,” Tara added, reaching for Richard’s hand.
The doctor pulled her close, nodding. “And what better time to do all that than at Christmas?”
Jules nodded too. “Some secrets have to be shared and truths told if people are to be happy.”
“I don’t have a flipping clue what you lot are going on about but I’m starving. Can we please eat?” Nick pleaded, looking longingly at the food.
Alice laughed. “We’re all here now so why not? Jules, would you do the honours?”
“Absolutely,” Jules said.
She put down her glass and smiled at the people gathered around the table, people who had become so dear to her since she’d moved to the village. And, of course, Danny was the dearest of them all. Her heart overflowing with love, Jules bowed her head to say grace, and the thankful prayer came as easily as breathing.
As the snowflakes kissed the village, Jules knew with all her heart that winter wishes really did come true.
THE END
Ruth Saberton is the bestselling author of
Katy Carter Wants a Hero
and
Escape for the Summer
. She also writes upmarket commercial fiction under the pen names Jessica Fox, Georgie Carter and Holly Cavendish.
Born and raised in the UK, Ruth has just returned to Cornwall after living in Grand Cayman for two years. What an adventure!
And since she loves to chat with readers, please do add her as a Facebook friend and follow her on Twitter.
Twitter:
@ruthsaberton
Facebook:
Ruth Saberton
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