She’d say this.
Henry would offer that.
Jake will accept … what exactly?
How much would Jake think equalled a good deal?
Erik glanced up from where he’d been reading in the kitchen. ‘Your bed will be much more comfortable.’
He stood and crossed the kitchen floor to her, and Ella’s tummy fluttered because she didn’t know how to handle this moment. She didn’t think she’d ever be ready, and now here it was and she had no idea what to do.
Except say no, and mean it.
She ducked her chin, avoiding Erik’s eyes. ‘It won’t solve anything. You know that.’
‘Mhmmm. I do not know that.’ He caught her around the hips, tugging so she fell across the arm of the couch and into his lap. ‘I do not know that at all.’
His arm came around her shoulders and it was the hug she needed. A squish that offered friendship and asked nothing, and if it could only stay like that … but no. Erik’s lips touched her forehead and his fingers played with her hair and Ella heard his heart thumping clear as day where her ear lay on his chest.
Erik had the biggest, most generous heart of any man she’d ever known and she couldn’t use that generosity now. It would be cruel to him, and it wasn’t the right thing for her.
She pushed up gently. He resisted, but only for a second, then he let her go.
‘I’m sorry, Erik.’ Ella kissed his nose. ‘Thank you for coming. Is there anything else you’ll need? You should be warm enough and there are more pillows in the cupboard if you need them.’
‘This is a terrible waste of a comfortable bed, I think.’
‘It’s a very comfortable couch.’
‘Mhmmm. I see you in the morning.’
‘Sleep well.’
Ella poured herself a glass of water and took it to her room. Erik moved about in the lounge: gentle vibrations and white noise, the whump of air as sheets and rugs got spread.
She undressed and pulled a singlet nightie over her head. Flicking on the bedside lamp, she climbed into cool sheets.
It took a long time for sleep to come.
Perhaps because she knew Erik was there, tossing and turning on the couch. Perhaps because she half wondered if he might knock on her door in the night and ask again to come in.
Would that be so bad? Ella asked herself, staring up at the ceiling. Would it be so wrong?
The answer was yes. It was wrong for both of them.
Ella rolled over on her pillow and swept her hair out from where it was stuck under her cheek. When she closed her eyes, the movie tape starring Henry Graham and Jake began playing again in her head.
She’d say this.
Henry would offer that.
Jake will accept … what exactly?
Jake’s answer danced dollar signs in her dreams.
* * *
‘Ella?’
Ella burst out of the most beautiful dream to find Erik by her bed. ‘What’s wrong?’
The mattress caved beside her as Erik sat. ‘You called out. I hear you.’
‘Are you sure? I’m fine.’
Erik put his hand over her brow. ‘You’re hot.’
‘I’m fine,’ Ella said, trying to sit. Erik’s weight over the sheet made that near impossible and she gave up.
Already the dream receded, draining into the sieve of her mind. It had been about Jake, and flying. They could both fly, like cockatiels. Flitting and flirting through the trees.
Ella’s cheeks flamed. What had she called out? Dear God, not Jake’s name? ‘I promise you. I’m fine. Go back to bed. I’m sorry I woke you.’
The white figures on her beside clock glowed 1:07 am.
‘I did not sleep. I will sleep better if I will be here with you,’ he said.
‘Erik.’
He heaved himself off the bed, and ran his hand through his hair. ‘Okay. I’ll go.’
Ella stretched in the bed, picked up her pillow and plumped it, turned it over, rolled to her shoulder so she faced the clock and closed her eyes.
A tear squeezed from behind her eyelids.
Life would be so much simpler if she could love Erik Brecker the way he wanted to be loved, with all her heart and her body and every breath in her lungs.
That’s the kind of love Erik deserved.
She flopped to her back and stared at the ceiling. She didn’t want to let her thoughts drift in the tangle of her marriage, so deliberately she set them in another direction.
Henry would offer this.
Jake would accept that.
She’d say this …
* * *
When Ella woke, Saturday morning breakfast was already waiting. Erik had made German apple pancakes and he and Sam hounded Ella to hurry, because they wanted to explore the Tree Top Walk near Walpole.
They had a wonderful day. Sam had been as relaxed as she’d seen him in months. There was something about those tingle trees that dwarfed the problems of the world, and Ella shoved all the thoughts and emotions that Erik’s visit had stirred to the back of her mind, enjoying the sense of freedom and space from being up in the canopy of those massive trees.
She even managed to stop thinking about Henry Graham and Jake and the Honeychurch house … well, almost.
After Sam went to bed that night, Ella started hunting through her music, thumbing through the titles, trying to work out what she felt like listening to. Something fun. Boogie Wonderland? Boney M?
‘Are you playing this crazy disco tunes?’ Erik asked.
‘It’s not crazy. Disco is fun.’
‘Hmm. Lucky I bring these, eh?’ Erik held up his headphones.
He’d always hated her choice in music.
Ella put the record back in its place on the shelf. ‘I don’t have to play music. We can just talk.’
‘Okay.’
After a while, Erik’s eyes hooded and his chin dropped to his chest. He’d always been a shocker for falling asleep on the couch.
She got up to turn the light off and sat there in the dark, nursing her glass of wine.
