His Christmas Bride-To-Be. Abigail Gordon

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СКАЧАТЬ Bartlett’s rebuffs of the previous evening, there was no way she was going to concern herself about that. He was the one who’d suggested a chat in the lunch hour, and in the days when she’d been employed there she’d often missed her lunch due to pressure of work.

      ‘Yes,’ he told her, unaware of the thoughts going through her mind. ‘Just one question. Am I right in presuming that it will all start from what is now your house?’

      ‘Yes, of course,’ she replied, the cold hand of dread clamping on her heart. Until the man she’d thought had been her father had been laid to rest she couldn’t even contemplate what she was going to do in the future if Glenn didn’t want her back at the surgery.

      It was possible, taking note of his manner towards her, that he could be feeling that enough was enough. That having found her and brought her back to where Jeremy Chalmers had wanted her to be … and the rest of it, he’d had enough without her being forever in his sights.

      Maybe after Sunday, in the relief that the slate had been wiped clean, she would be able to see everything more clearly. As far as she was concerned, it couldn’t come quickly enough. So, getting up to go down to Lydia’s office in the basement for the coffee that she’d suggested, Emma wished Glenn goodbye and left him deep in thought.

      In the days that followed Emma felt as if she were in some sort of limbo. She wandered around the shops for suitable clothes to fill her wardrobe against winter’s chill, while trying to ignore signs of the coming of Christmas already on view in some of them.

      It was the last thing she wanted to contemplate, spending Christmas in the house that had been left to her in its present state. It had always been basic and she’d often wondered why her mother had never complained, but now she understood. Maybe Jeremy had expected gratitude instead of requests for a brighter home from the woman he had married to save her name.

      She supposed she could give the place a makeover or alternatively put it up for sale and move to somewhere smaller and more modern and not so near the bustle of the town, but until Sunday’s ordeal was over she couldn’t contemplate the future.

      It was done. The event that Emma had been dreading had taken place and, with Lydia beside her and Glenn Bartlett hovering nearby, she had coped. There had been a good turnout, as she’d expected, and now the staff of the practice and a few of Jeremy’s golfing friends were gathered in a restaurant in the town centre for the meal she’d organised.

      Emma was feeling that now the future was going to open out in front of her, though not as an exciting challenge. More as if it was hidden in a mist of uncertainty. As she caught the glance of the man who had brought her home from a foreign country to an uncertain future, she felt her colour rise at the thought of asking for a return to her previous position in the practice. He was so obviously wanting an end to their unwanted connection.

      Did he ever smile? she wondered. If his expression was less closed and sombre he would be the most attractive man she’d ever met. His hair was dark russet, his eyes as blue as a summer sky—but always with no joy in them.

      It seemed that he was unmarried, not in a relationship of any kind, and lived alone in his delightful property, with the occasional visit from his elderly parents.

      Her smile was wry. It seemed as if neither of them was fulfilling their full potential. His life sounded almost hermit-like. Or was it that he had enough to think about with the job and being there for his folks? Although they sounded anything but fragile.

      She was being observed in return. What was it that Jeremy Chalmers had done to cause his daughter the degree of hurt that he’d confessed to when he’d lain dying? Glenn asked himself. It had been enough to make her leave Glenminster and only be prepared to return in the event of his death.

      Emma didn’t come over as the weak and whingeing type. Whatever it was, she didn’t carry her sorrows around with her, as he did. Maybe they weren’t as dreadful as the burden he was carrying, having Serena there one moment and the next gone for ever. If they’d had a child to remember her by he might be coping better.

      The funeral party were getting ready to leave. He got to his feet and joined them and as Emma shook hands and thanked them for their time and their support, he waited until they’d gone and asked, ‘Do you want a lift home, Emma?’

      She smiled. ‘No, I’m fine. Lydia is going to take me, but thanks for the offer. And also thanks once again for the way you have been there for me, a stranger, at this awful time.’ Her smile deepened. ‘I promise I will not cause any more hassle in your life.’

      Before he could explain that his moroseness came from coping with terrible grief every moment of every day, she had gone to where the practice manager was waiting for her, leaving him to return to the empty house that he had turned into his stronghold against life without Serena. For the first time since he had gone to live there Glenn was reluctant to turn the key in the lock and go inside, and when he did so, instead of its comforting peace, a heavy silence hung over every room.

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