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It had been quite bemusing watching the fastidious Max as he’d moved around the far-from-clean henhouse collecting the eggs for her, after declaring that he had every intention of being a help rather than a nuisance while he was staying here.
But all thought of amusement had faded when March had called him into the farmhouse to take the telephone call, May wondering exactly what Jude was calling the other man about, as taut as wire by the time Max rejoined her.
She glanced up at him now, noting the slight frown between his eyes. ‘Everything all right?’ Once again she kept her tone deliberately light.
‘Fine,’ he confirmed ruefully. ‘Jude has to go away for a few days, that’s all,’ he added dismissively.
Had to? Or had Jude simply decided to do so?
May’s heart had skipped a beat at the news, although she wasn’t sure whether it was from relief or despair. After last night, half of her wished she never had to see Jude ever again, and the other half longed to do so. Because she loved him with all her being!
She curled up inside every time she thought of being in Jude’s arms the previous evening, of the intimacies they had shared; how could they possibly face each other again without remembering that intimacy?
They couldn’t, was the obvious answer, and maybe these few days’ reprieve were exactly what she needed to face that moment if—when—it came. The fact that Jude had removed himself from the area pointed to the fact that he wasn’t too eager for the confrontation, either!
But, unfortunately, it also meant there was no possibility of him taking up her offer of selling the farm to him immediately…
Which, the awkwardness with Jude apart, left her with the same problem as yesterday: how did she avoid April Robine coming here and introducing herself to January and March?
‘Er—’ she gave Max a bright, meaningless smile ‘—is Jude going away on his own, or is Miss Robine accompanying him?’ If April were going, too, then that would solve that problem for a day or so, too.
Max gave her a searching look, May returning that look—she hoped—with smiling indifference.
May had come to know Max quite well over the last few weeks, knew he was a man of deep reserve, that aloofness no shield for his undoubted intelligence.
Although, January had confided in her yesterday, Max seemed to be making some effort to actually contact his own estranged mother, with a view to at least removing the strained relationship that had existed between them since his mother’s desertion of her husband and son when Max was still only a child.
May hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry yesterday when January had sat and told her all this as the two of them had enjoyed a cup of coffee together, the situation so like the one that May now found herself in with their own mother.
Although, for obvious reasons, she hadn’t been able to tell January any of that…
‘I didn’t ask,’ Max finally answered her. ‘Is it important?’ he added softly.
‘Of course not,’ May dismissed briskly—a little too brisk, she realised as Max gave a troubled frown. ‘January wasn’t breaking any confidences, but she mentioned to me yesterday that you are trying to contact your mother, that you may be inviting her to the wedding?’ She deliberately made an abrupt change of subject.
Max’s brow instantly cleared. ‘I’m thinking of it,’ he confirmed dryly. ‘Meeting January, falling in love with her, being loved in return, has changed my outlook on things somewhat,’ he acknowledged ruefully.
‘I would think it might.’ May smiled warmly.
He nodded. ‘I’ve come to realise that not everything is as black and white as I always liked to think it was, that what happened over thirty years ago, seen through the eyes of a young child, didn’t necessarily happen the way I remember it,’ he added self-derisively.
May gave him a frustrated look; nothing Max had said so far, about his own mother’s desertion, was helping with the situation she now found herself in with April. Was it really that easy? she wondered. Was it possible to forgive, if not forget, the childhood abandonment by one’s parent?
‘What is it, May?’ Max prompted concernedly. ‘You’ve been very—preoccupied, since we all came back,’ he explained at her questioning look. ‘Not your normal self at all.’
May gave him an inquisitive look. ‘And just what is my “normal” self?’ she said ruefully.
He shrugged. ‘Calm. Decisive. Level-headed. Able to see a situation clearly where others sometimes can’t,’ he added, obviously referring to his own inability a few weeks ago to recognise his true feelings for January.
And, like Max, May knew she was no longer any of the things he had described her as being.
Because of Jude. Because of April Robine. Just because of this whole awful, complicated situation.
‘Jude mentioned to me that you have offered to sell the farm to him, after all,’ Max continued evenly.
May could feel the guilty colour heighten in her cheeks. Of course there was no reason why Jude shouldn’t have mentioned the offer to Max; he was still the other man’s lawyer, after all. It was just… ‘Then he shouldn’t have done,’ she snapped. ‘I haven’t had chance to discuss it with January and March yet—’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Max shook his head dismissively. ‘May, Jude isn’t going to accept the offer.’
