Page 51 of Winter Magic on Railway Lane

Ethan groaned. ‘Don’t cry,’ he said, reaching out to stroke the tears away from her cheek. ‘I hate it when you cry. Listen, it’ll be okay. We’ll think of something.’

She sniffed. ‘We will?’

‘Absolutely.’ He gave her a soft smile. ‘I think between us we can cause everyone enough trouble, don’t you?’

‘It’s been a while,’ she reminded him.

He nodded. ‘Yes, it has.’ He leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. ‘Your dad wants to see you now.’ He stood up from the bed and looked down at her. He went to say something else but shook his head instead, at himself. ‘Get some sleep,’ he told her.

Then he turned around and walked out of the bedroom. Libby closed her eyes, comforted by Ethan’s visit and how much closer they were becoming after so many years apart.

31

Libby took a sip of the water from the glass that Katy had left on her bedside table and sank back against the pillows.

She still couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid as to fall asleep whilst leaving the cocoa beans roasting in the oven. What an idiot! She felt bad for Ethan, who had effectively handed over full use of the kitchen and what had she done? Filled it with smoke and almost burnt it down!

She shook her head. Now she had to ensure the chocolates weren’t ruined. And what if they were? Without the order for the chocolates, there would be no more income for her and her dad for the rest of the year, unless she found a job and fast.

She heard her dad’s soft tread on the floorboards on the landing and looked up as he came into the bedroom.

He looked pale and drawn. All her fault, of course. He had already been upset about Eddie’s stroke and now she had made things even worse for him by giving him something else to fret about.

‘How are you, Elizabeth?’ he asked, standing formally by her bed.

‘I’m fine,’ she croaked. ‘Everything’s fine, Dad. You don’t need to worry about me.’

He looked surprised. ‘Of course I worry about you,’ he told her.

Libby sighed and shook her head. ‘Only because I give you cause to,’ she replied. ‘I’ve always been a pain, making everything worse, making you ill and now look what a mess I’ve created! I nearly burnt down Ethan’s home!’

She felt the tears prick her eyes once more and closed them to try to stop the emotion from overcoming her. She opened them as she felt her dad sit down on the bed next to her.

His blue eyes looked at hers, confused. ‘What are you talking about?’ he asked, his eyebrows crossed into a frown. ‘How did you make me ill?’

‘You know how,’ she blurted out, the shock and fear from the evening’s traumatic events finally coming to the forefront of her emotions. ‘Your stroke, Dad! You think I don’t know that it’s all my fault?’

Her dad look horrified. ‘What do you mean?’ he said. ‘Of course, it wasn’t.’

She shook her head. ‘I know you’re trying to protect me, but it’s true. All that stress I caused you when I was messing about growing up and that triggered something. I know it. I promised Mum I’d take care of you and look what happened! I failed her. And you.’

There was a short silence whilst Libby lay there, the misery almost overwhelming her. She had made such an almighty mess of things.

So she was shocked when her dad suddenly reached out to take her hand. She looked up at him surprised. He avoided her eyes for a while, merely looking down at the contrast between her smooth skin and his wrinkled one. Then, finally, he looked up.

‘I had no idea that you’ve been blaming yourself all these years,’ he said, with a shake of his head.

‘Of course I have,’ she replied. ‘You’re so sad all the time, Dad. It breaks my heart to see you like this when you were always so passionate about your teaching.’

‘But it’s not your fault,’ he said, frowning. ‘That’s on me. I’ve been so stuck in my own misery that I hadn’t seen what it had done to you. I was always too selfish. Too wrapped up with my job and my career to see what a special daughter I had.’

‘Rubbish,’ muttered Libby. ‘I’ve been a pain to you since day one.’

‘Now who’s talking rubbish,’ replied her dad, a smile touching the corner of his eyes. ‘What a terrible job I’ve done as your father to make you feel like this.’

‘Dad,’ she began.

But he held up his hand. ‘Let me get all this out. First of all, it was a blood clot in my brain that caused the stroke. That was it. And there is no way that you could have caused it.’