She was more worried about what would happen when Martha went back to St Andrews. They’d have to keep their distance, while being confined to the small town, and history had proven that wasn’t easy. She might have to tack aBest Friend’s Brother Keep Outposter onto the wooden Sweetbriar Farm sign.
‘Does the grape and currant chutney pair well with cheese?’ a customer interrupted. Rae turned to offer a cheery affirmation, only to do a double take. Denise shifted gingerly in front of the counter, one hand wrapped around the brown leather purse strap on her shoulder. She wore an airy floral summer dress that grazed her ankles under a cropped denim jacket, nails painted the same deep pink as her lips. Rae couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her on the farm: perhaps a few weeks before her husband had died, when she’d come to pick Martha up from a study day and ended up staying for dinner.
‘Mum,’ Martha breathed, that intoxicated haze quickly sharpening, her defences with it, arms crossing as Vik formed a protective stance at her side.
Rae hadn’t thought that Denise would actually come even as she’d extended the invitation again on the phone earlier this week, but she’d overheard Martha glumly wondering whether her mum would even be there at the wedding, and it had spurred her into offering Denise a final chance at making things right.She didn’t want to see her best friend sad on her wedding day.
‘Hello, love. Hello, Vik.’ She smiled shakily.
‘Why are you here?’ Martha stuttered out.
‘I couldn’t pass up the invitation.’ She cast Rae an appreciative nod, her silvery blond bob feathering over her shoulders. ‘I owe you both a massive apology. I felt rotten when you left the other weekend. I should never have said those things.’
‘Why not? You clearly meant them.’
Denise dipped her head, motioning to one of the picnic benches on the edge of the strawberry field. ‘Let’s sit down for this, shall we?’
‘I’ll get you some drinks,’ offered Rae, only for Martha to stop her with a hand on her arm.
‘Stay. You’re the reason she’s here.’
She couldn’t tell if it was an expression of gratitude or an accusation, but Rae obeyed, following Martha, Vik, and Denise to the bench. She sat beside Denise, fidgeting with the hem of her dress as Martha stared her mother down. ‘No Michael?’
‘Not today. Bowls.’ Denise anxiously twirled her silver wedding band around her finger. She still wore it after all this time, proof that some loves endured. It seemed as though Rae was the only one destined never to experience it.
‘It wasn’t about you, Vik,’ Denise began. ‘I want you to be happy, no matter who that’s with, Martha. I know how special it is to feel like you’ve met the person you’re meant to be with forever.It’s all I wanted – for both of my children.’
As Martha’s hand fell into Vik’s, Rae convinced herself that she’d imagined Denise’s sidelong glance in her direction.
‘I was focusing on the wrong things.’ Denise’s voice grew thick. ‘My only comfort after losing your dad was the thought that one day, I’d get to see pieces of him in your wee bairns. But that was silly. It doesn’t matter if my grandchildren don’t have his eyes or his smile. They’ll have his love and intellect, just like you do.’ She reached across the table and took Martha’s free hand. Martha flinched but didn’t pull away. ‘And even if they don’t, it won’t matter. I’m so proud of you and Struan, exactly as you are. I was wrong to expect more.’
Martha sniffled, looking down at their intertwined hands. ‘I think Struan needs to hear that, too.’
Denise smiled. ‘He already did on the way here.’
Rae’s bones turned molten.Here. He was here.
‘He’s waiting for you all in the orchard,’ she added.
As the others stood, Rae remained rooted to the bench, dress wrinkling in her closed fists as she tried to control her breathing. She wasn’t ready to see him yet. He was supposed to be in Glasgow until next week, and she hadn’t had time to rehearse her I’m-not-at-all-in-love-with-you face.
‘Rae?’ Martha asked, holding out her hand.
‘I… erm, need to set up the tent before the band gets here.’ She climbed off the bench, clumsy legs thwacking the wood in a way that would surely leave a bruise.
‘No, you don’t.’
‘I do,’ she insisted.
Martha clamped her hands down on Rae’s shoulders, caging her in. ‘No,’ she said pointedly, ‘you don’t. You told my mum to come here and fix things. I asked the same thing of Struan.’
‘What do you mean?’ Rae whispered, afraid something would shatter if she spoke too loudly. Afraid Martha would somehow remember how angry she was with them both.
‘You’re my best friend,’ Martha said softly. ‘I’m not going to let you stay miserable any longer. You love my brother, and that’s weird and icky, but it also makes complete sense that my two favourite people in the whole world might be each other’s favourite people. I was being selfish. I wanted to keep you all to myself because you’ve always been my best friend, and I dread the idea of that changing. But you deserve the love he wants – pathetically, desperately – to give you. I want him to take care of you, Rae, and I want you to take care of him.’
Rae choked on something between a laugh and a sob. ‘Really?’
Martha nodded. ‘Really. I’m sorry I didn’t handle this well. I’ve been told I have some issues with control.’
