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Jackson reaches out a hand and pats my back consolingly, just like Dad had done earlier. “We’re going to head back to Carter’s Cottage, but I’ll be back here tomorrow.”
“OK,” I say.
“Try and get some rest,” Jackson says, as he closes the door behind him.
I don’t get any rest though because I can’t sleep. At about four in the morning, I find myself on the porch overlooking Ben’s vast and manicured garden, watching the early dawn with a steaming coffee in my hand. I sit there for a long time, wishing for something that can never be. Wishing I could turn the clock back and change what I did – say what I should have said – warned Emma when I had the chance.
“It’s beautiful at this time of the day,” Ben’s voice comes from behind me.
The sun has not yet risen, and I can imagine it’s only about five thirty. But there he is, with a coffee of his own in hand. He lowers himself down into the chair on the other side of the wooden garden table, and continues to look out at the changing colors of the sky.
I don’t speak. I don’t really have anything to say, and besides, I don’t feel like talking. Whether Ben senses that or not, I don’t know, but he doesn’t speak again either. We both just sit there for the longest time, watching the sky morph in its beauty, and listening to the morning chorus of the many species of surrounding birds.
He offers me breakfast sometime later, but I shake my head. “I’m good. But thanks.”
“Well, I’m going to eat. The marquee arrives today. If I don’t eat now, I might not get the chance later.” He stands and walks away, calling back over his shoulder. “You can find your way around the kitchen when you’re ready.”
The huge truck, containing the marquee, arrives at the same time as Bree and Jackson. I wasn’t asked to help, but I join in any way. It’s a distraction, if nothing else, and besides, it’s a huge undertaking. Just unloading the pieces of canvas, the huge heavy metal pipes, the rope, and all the fittings, takes several hours. We have to get it from the truck to the field next to Ben’s garden. It’s where the wedding is taking place. There are four guys who came with the marquee, but Jackson and I helping, definitely makes things easier. Of course, Jackson does far more of the heavier lifting than me. But then, he is built like the side of a house, and about three inches taller.
The tables also arrive, and Bree is left to coordinate the people who have delivered them. More people arrive, and I learn that these guys are going to decorate the marquee. It’s organized chaos, but by the end of the day, great progress has been made. The decorators will return tomorrow to finish off, and the day after that, is the wedding.
In the evening, Bree had to return to Carter’s Cottage, leaving me, Ben, and Jackson to relax on the porch with some well-deserved beers.
“Those guys really know what they’re doing,” Ben says, referring to the men who had brought the marquee.
“Well, it is their job, Dad,” Jackson quips. “You’d like to think so.”
I smile at the banter between father and son, and then Ben says, “So, Finn. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Dad,” Jackson blurts.
“What?” Ben says, lifting his shoulders. “Maybe it’s something I can help him with.”
“It’s all right,” I say, waving a hand at Jackson. “And thanks, Ben. But I doubt it. I’ve screwed up in a big way, and I don’t think there’s anyone who can help me now.”
“You don’t know that,” Ben replies.
I nod. “Yes, I do. I kept important information back that would have saved someone getting hurt. Because of my stupidity, they suffered.”
“Who is this they, you keep referring to?” Ben asks.
“Her name is Emma. She’s Sylvie’s best friend. She’s been staying with us for a while.”
“Oh, yes,” Ben says. “I heard there was a new and pretty face in town. Tell me what happened.”
I repeat to Ben what I had confessed to everyone else the night before. The older man listens intently, and then afterward, he stays quiet for a long time.
“So, you see,” I say, after he offers no advice. “There’s nothing you can do. I’ve blown it. There’s no coming back from here.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Ben says, shaking his head.
“You don’t know her, Ben. She’s quiet and shy. She’s been protected from living her life by her fussing mother, and so, this incident has impacted her more than it might anyone else.”
“I remember that Fenton fella,” Ben says. “A real piece of work, from what I can recall. You know. You’re taking all the responsibility of his actions on your shoulders. He has some blame to bear too.”
“Emma would never have been with him had I told her what the man was like. I am the source of this entire circumstance. If she had known, she would never have got into that car.”
“Maybe not. But you can’t see the future, Finn. You couldn’t possibly have known something this bad was going to happen. I think you’re being too hard on yourself. You made a mistake. That’s all.”
