Dreaming Of You. Margaret Way
moistened her lips and got her voice back under control. ‘The day before I was due to come home, my mother rang. She told me Faye was pregnant and that you were the father. And that you were engaged.’
Connor dragged both hands back through his hair. He collapsed to the leatherette cube as if he’d lost all strength in his legs. Jaz leant heavily against the wall by the unfinished portrait of her mother.
She reached up to touch it, then pulled her hand away at the last moment. She glanced back at Connor. ‘You have to see that I couldn’t come back once I’d heard that.’
‘Why not?’
‘There’d be no chance for you and Faye to sort things out if I’d done that.’
She didn’t mean to sound arrogant, but it was the truth. For good or ill, she and Connor would’ve picked straight up where they’d left off—in each other’s arms.
He shot to his feet. ‘Am I supposed to take that as some kind of noble gesture on your part?’
That tone would’ve shrivelled her eight years ago. It didn’t shrivel her now.
‘Noble? Ha!’ She glared at him. ‘I can’t see there’s much of anything noble in this entire situation.’ She pushed away from the wall. ‘But a baby was going to be involved and…and I wasn’t going to interfere with that.’
His glare subsided. He bent at the waist, rested his hands on his knees and didn’t say anything.
‘But how could you?’ Her voice shook. ‘How could you sleep with my best friend? Faye, of all people!’ The pain of that still ran deep. ‘Why Faye?’
Very slowly, he straightened. The emptiness in his eyes shocked her. ‘Because she reminded me of you. I was searching for a substitute and she was the nearest I could find.’
The breath left her body. She fell back against the wall. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
What was there to say? It was all history now. It was too late for her and Connor.
The silence stretched—eloquent of the rift that had grown between them in the intervening years. Connor finally nodded. ‘Goodnight, Jaz.’ And he made for the door.
For a moment she still couldn’t speak. Then, ‘If you tell Melly I broke her confidence…it will hurt her.’
He stopped, but he didn’t turn around.
‘I don’t think she deserves that.’
He seemed to think about that and then he nodded. ‘You’re right.’ He took one further step away, stopped again…and then he turned. ‘Do you seriously think that, given more time, she would’ve confided in me?’
‘I’m convinced of it.’ She tried to find a smile. ‘Wait and see. She still might yet.’
She thought he might say something more, but he didn’t.
‘By the way, did you know that Carmen Sears is looking for an after school job?’
He frowned. ‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘She’d make a great babysitter for Melanie.’
‘But she’s—’
He broke off and Jaz couldn’t stop her lips from twisting. ‘Yes, she’s a rebel Goth girl. And she seems like a nice kid. Just thought you might be interested, that’s all.’
He stared at her for a long moment. ‘Why did it take you so long to come back?’
The tone of his voice gave nothing away, and for a brief moment a sense of loss gaped through her. She shrugged and strove for casual. ‘Pride, I guess, and resentment at the way things turned out. I was angry with you and Faye. I was angry with my mother. I wanted to forget.’
She shrugged again. She had a feeling she might be overdoing the shrug thing but she couldn’t seem to help it. ‘In the end it became a habit.’ A habit that had broken her mother’s heart.
She lifted her chin. ‘Goodnight, Connor.’
First thing Thursday morning, Mrs Lavender put Jaz to work changing the book display in the front window. Jaz had a feeling it was a ploy to stop her from fretting about their lack of customers.
‘It hasn’t been changed in nearly two months. Look, we’ve all these lovely new bestsellers…and it’ll be Mother’s Day in a couple of weeks. It needs sprucing up!’
A shaft of pain speared straight into Jaz’s heart at the mention of Mother’s Day. She kept her chin high, but Mrs Lavender must’ve seen the strain in her face because she stilled, then reached out and touched Jaz’s hand. ‘I’m sorry, Jazmin, that was thoughtless of me.’
‘Not at all.’ She gulped. She would not let her chin drop. ‘I’m the one who didn’t come back for the past eight Mother’s Days. I have no right to self-pity now.’ Oh, she’d sent flowers, had phoned, but it wasn’t the same.
‘You have a right to your grief.’
Jaz managed a weak smile, but she didn’t answer. She deserved to spend this coming Mother’s Day burning with guilt.
She made Mrs Lavender a cup of tea, noticed Connor’s truck parked out the back, and the burning in her chest increased ten-fold.
‘Have you looked these over, Jaz?’
Jaz had just climbed out of the window, pleased with her brand new display. She glanced over Mrs Lavender’s shoulder. ‘Oh, those.’ A printout of the sales figures for the last three months. A weight dropped to her shoulders and crashed and banged and did what it could to hammer her through the floor. ‘Appalling, aren’t they?’
‘You have to turn these around, and fast.’ There was no mistaking Mrs Lavender’s concern. ‘Jaz, this is serious.’
‘I…’ She was doing all she could.
Mrs Lavender tapped her pen against the counter, ummed and ahhed under her breath. Then her face suddenly lit up. ‘We’ll have a book fair, that’s what we’ll do! It’ll stir up some interest in this place again.’
‘A book fair?’
‘We’ll get in entertainment for the kiddies, we’ll have readings by local authors… We’ll have a ten per cent sale on all our books. We’ll get people excited. We’ll get people to come. And, by golly, we’ll save this bookshop!’
Jaz clutched her hands together. ‘Do you think it could work?’
‘My dear Jazmin, we’re going to have to make it work. Either that or make the decision to sell up to Mr Sears.’
‘No!’ She cast a glance towards the back wall and the unfinished portrait of Frieda. ‘I’m not selling to him.’ She hitched up her chin. ‘We’ll have a book fair.’
She and Mrs Lavender spent the rest of the morning planning a full-page advertisement in the local newspaper. They discussed children’s entertainment. Jaz started to design posters and flyers. They settled on the day—the Saturday of the Mother’s Day weekend.
If the book fair didn’t work…
Jaz shook her head. She refused to think about that.
At midday Mrs Lavender excused herself to go and sit on her usual park bench to torment Boyd Longbottom.
‘What’s the story with you and Boyd Longbottom, anyway?’ Jaz asked.
‘He was a beau of mine, a long time ago.’
Jaz set her pen down. ‘Really?’
‘But when I chose my Arthur over him, he swore he’d never speak to me again. He’s kept his word to this very day.’
‘But