“These things can take time, Tristan.”
“And it is damnably frustrating.” The words escaped him in a growl.
Morwenna turned to face him. They had crested the hill and now stood with the beauty of Wolvesley woods unfolding beneath them. A slight breeze rustled the branches of the ancient oak trees and the silvery song of a ruddock floated through the warm air.
“Now tell me what istrulytroubling you.” She arched her blonde eyebrows. “I doubt the logistical challenges of sourcing wood can put my eldest son in such a foul temper.”
Under her watchful gaze, he felt his anger turn to desolation.
“Could it be, Tristan, that it is someone close to all our hearts who has disturbed your equilibrium?”
“Jonah put me out of sorts. He always does. But he is gone now,” Tristan muttered.
His mother sighed loudly. “You well know that I do not speak of Jonah.” She shook her head in exasperation. “The two of you are more alike than either of you would ever admit. In more ways that e’en I first realised.” She fell silent, her eyes fixed determinedly on the tree tops as if she had said more than she intended.
“What do you mean?” Tristan grudgingly gave in to his curiosity.
“You resent Jonah because of his cleverness. He resents you because of your strength. Is that not enough?”
“Nay, Mother. That is not what you meant at all.”
She put her head to one side. “Very well. If you insist. I believe a certain young lady has come between you.”
One name floated across his mind. “Mirrie?”
“The very same.”
“Why should she—?” Tristan stumbled. He had given his parents a very poor explanation for Mirrie’s hasty departure from Wolvesley and, to his surprise, they had accepted it with little questioning.
“It was clear to a great many of us that Jonah had a special place in his heart for Mirrie when you were all growing up,” Morwenna said, fondly. “It was hard for him, to give that up.”
Some response was expected of him, but he could not properly form it.
“But he put his feelings to one side, because of you.”
“Why would he do that?” Tristan was nonplussed. “I never asked it of him.”
“You had no cause to. I doubt you were e’en aware of how he felt.” Morwenna put her hands in the small of her back and tilted her face towards the sun. “The ways of love are eternally strange. Jonah would have given heaven and earth to Mirrie. But Mirrie has only ever had eyes for you.”
Tristan’s pulse picked up speed, although he kept his expression neutral. “I saw some silly graffiti in the school room.” He plucked at some long grass and shredded it in his fingers. “But it was youthful nonsense. Mirrie may have felt that way about me for a short time when we were children. She admitted as such.”And Jonah knew it too,he realised, with a pang of self-awareness. “But ’twas naught serious.”
Morwenna smiled at him gently. “Is that what she told you?”
He nodded.
“I would not call Mirabel a liar. But perchance she was forced to make certain statements to protect her dignity, or, more likely, the friendship that exists between you. Perchance she rightly sensed that you were not ready to hear such a declaration.”
Tristan felt himself on uncertain ground. “You are telling me that Mirrie has long had feelings for me?” He flinched at the awkwardness of asking such a question of his own mother.
She met his gaze. “Aye, that is the truth of it.”
“Well, she has put them away from her now.” He scratched at his head, frustration swirling in his gut once more. Hadn’t he asked,nay begged, Mirrie to give their fledgling relationship a chance?
“Such feelings are not easily put away. Methinks Jonah knows this as well as anyone else.”
Tristan groaned out loud, then flung himself down onto the springy grass. “’Tis all a mess, Mother.”
She carefully lowered herself down beside him. Not talking. Giving him the space he needed to think it all through.
