Naomi didn’t speak as she looked around the little room, and then, still saying nothing, she walked towards the rocking chair and laid one hand on the carved arm.
“Do you like it?” Emily asked hesitantly. “I borrowed it from the manor. They had a bunch of furniture in storage. I’m not sure why, but it reminded me of you for some reason.”
“There was a rocking chair in your bedroom, when you were small,” Naomi said, her voice so soft Emily strained to hear it. “I used to sit you on my lap and read to you there.”
“Goodnight Moon,” Emily whispered. Her eyes filled with tears she didn’t completely understand.
“That was one of your favourites.” Naomi turned around, a look of such despair on her face that Emily couldn’t keep a couple of tears from trickling down her cheeks. “We were happy then.”
“Oh, Mum. We can be happy now, too.”
Naomi shook her head, and then she covered her face with her hands. “I’ve made such a mess of things,” she said in a muffled voice. “How can you not hate me? I know I made your childhood a misery. I’ve known it all along.”
“Oh, Mum.” Emily’s heart ached to hear her mother’s confession. “I don’t hate you at all. I love you, and I don’t want there to be any regrets. Let’s live in the present, and for the future.” Emily crossed the room to put her arms around her mum. “I’ve made a mess of things too sometimes, but I’m learning not to, and to see my way through the mess. You can too, Mum. We can do it together.”
Naomi let out a shuddering sound. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”
“Together,” Emily insisted. “We can be strong enough together.”
Her mother remained in her embrace for a moment longer, as Emily held her gently, wanting to imbue her with her strength and love. Then Naomi moved away, wiping her face, trying to smile.
“What a pair we are,” she said.
“Yes,” Emily agreed. “We’re a pair.”
*
The next few days were challenging as both Emily and her mother tried to find a new normal. Emily worked half the day from home, to keep her mum company, and then spent the afternoons in the office.
Olivia had stopped by with several meals, a dozen freshly made scones, and an offer for Naomi to visit the day centre where her mother went—to do some watercolours.
Naomi had brightened at that possibility, and although it made Emily a bit anxious, she agreed her mum should at least give it a try.
A week slipped past without her seeing Owen; she didn’t even know if he’d left Wychwood already. Every time she thought about talking to him again, begging him to give her a chance, she told herself there was no point. It was already too late. Maybe that made her a coward, but then he was one, as well. Or, the far worse possibility, he was indifferent and over her.
On Saturday Harriet arranged for everyone to go out—Alice and Ava, Olivia and Ellie, Emily and Naomi. They all gave the shuttered façade of The Drowned Sailor a poignant look before heading to the only pub in town, turning their noses up at The Three Pennies’ la-di-da atmosphere.
“White truffle chips?” Ava said in disgust. “Who eats those?”
“Actually, I think they’re delicious,” Harriet admitted with a grin. “But the ‘roast cod loin with balsamic crumb’ is a bit much. Why not just call it fish and chips and be done with it?”
“I wish The Drowned Sailor had done food,” Ava said with a sigh. “Good, plain pub fare—that’s what this village needs.”
“I told Owen the same thing,” Emily said, even though it hurt to say his name. “Nothing fancy, just plain, good food.”
“Exactly.” Ava nodded her approval. “And I suppose he said no because he’s a man?”
“What does being a man have to do with it?” Ellie asked with a laugh.
“Men can be so stubborn. They don’t want to fail, or be seen as failures.” Ava shook her head. “Owen really needs to learn that lesson.”
A silence fell that made Emily shift uncomfortably in her seat. Her mum glanced at her, noticing her unease. “Who’s Owen?” she asked.
The silence stretched on as Ava gave her a significant look, and Alice, Ellie, and Olivia all waited to see how Emily would answer. The trouble was, she had no idea what to say.
“He owned the other pub in the village—” she began weakly, only to have Harriet cut her off with a strident tone.
“He’s only the love of your daughter’s life,” she pronounced. Naomi looked at Emily in surprise.
“What…? You haven’t mentioned him.”
There was a lot she hadn’t mentioned. Over the past week Emily and her mum had been making strides, finding a new and welcome intimacy to their relationship, but she hadn’t told her about Owen…or her broken heart.
“It’s over,” she said numbly.
“Only because you’re both as stubborn as one another,” Harriet flashed. “You’ve got to fight for him, Emily.”
“Perhaps he should fight for me,” Emily flashed back before she could think through her response.
“He has,” Ava said softly. Everyone turned to her in surprise. “All along, he has. Maybe now it’s your turn. Isn’t that how relationships—how love—is supposed to work?”
Emily was silent, her eyes stinging as she realised the truth of Ava’s words. All along Owen had supported her, encouraged her, been gentle and patient with her in so many ways. Yet at the first trial, when he’d been the one to falter, so had she. She’d taken her lead from him, instead of trying to fight, like Harriet and the others had encouraged her to.
“Owen’s planning to move on tomorrow,”
