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He sounded so uncharacteristically uncertain that Gwen turned to him, both touched and concerned. “That’s asking a lot of you,” she remarked, “especially when you’re here to visit your daughter, and you have a grandchild on the way.”
“I don’t mind,” John assured her, although Gwen thought he still sounded uncertain. “I like having a project. Retirement hasn’t really suited me, I’m afraid!” He let out a little laugh that sounded rather sad, and Gwen suddenly had a jolt of understanding—John was bored, and maybe lonely, in this life of retirement and widowerhood.
And she understood; she’d felt the same after David had died, even after the worst of the grief had passed. She’d felt as if she were drifting through her days, as if she’d lost her anchor. She’d had to completely reorient herself, and in some ways, over twenty years later, she was still in that process. John had been widowed for only two years. He still had to be reeling.
“Of course,” he continued, “I don’t want to commit to a project and then find I can’t finish it. But the things I’m talking about wouldn’t take too long—and, in truth, I’m not sure how useful Izzy’s going to find me, once the baby comes.” He smiled crookedly. “What she really wants is her mum.” He glanced down at his feet, the smile sliding off his face, and impulsively, unthinkingly, Gwen reached out and rested her hand on his arm.
“I’m so sorry, John. It must be hard, about to have your first grandchild without Michelle.”
“Yes, well. It’s been two years—”
“And that can feel like nothing,” Gwen interjected quietly. “And, at the same time, like a lifetime.”
“Yes.’ He nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes, that’s exactly how it is.”
Feeling a bit self-conscious now, Gwen removed her hand from his arm. “Well, if you think you can do all these things, I wouldn’t say no,” she told him. “Your ideas sound marvelous, and I don’t think anyone else could even begin to manage it. Matthew made the obstacle course, but I think that’s the extent of his woodworking ability, and he’s got a lot of other things to do, besides.”
“I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes,” John said quickly. “This seems like it’s a wonderfully homegrown, family affair. I don’t want to come between anyone, or seem like I’m trying to take over.”
His thoughtfulness touched her, even as it gave her a second’s pause. Would Matthew feel hurt if she asked for John’s help? The garden had been her son’s domain, and he was rightfully proud of all he’d accomplished—the firepit, the obstacle course, the climbing frame.
“You wouldn’t be,” she said at last. “And, really, it’s all hands on deck now. We’ve got photographers coming next week to do an article on our Christmas week, and as you can see, it’s not looking very Christmassy!”
“Well, then, I’d best get started,” John replied cheerfully. “Shall we have a cup of tea while we talk it over?”
They headed back to the kitchen, which was quiet. Ellie was upstairs, giving the bedrooms a last check, and the children were in the games room, setting up the crafts for the children arriving later in the day. Gwen didn’t know where Sarah or Matthew were, but she was grateful for the quiet, as well as the privacy, as she made them both cups of tea.
She’d been rather excruciatingly aware of both Ellie and Sarah’s speculative looks when John had arrived, as well as that awkward moment when he’d stepped out, hands outstretched, almost as if he’d been about to embrace her. He hadn’t been, of course, and Gwen suspected the only reason she’d felt as if he had, had been Sarah and Ellie’s glances of obvious, avid curiosity. What did they think was going on? she wondered in exasperation, even as she knew she could easily guess.
But she’d only reconnected with John yesterday, even if today it seemed as if he was going to become a regular feature of her life, at least for a little while. That didn’t mean they were anything but old friends, though. Absolutely not. John was still clearly grieving Michelle, and as for Gwen herself…
She let that thought trail away without finishing it, because the truth was, she wasn’t sure how she felt about this new development in her life. She certainly didn’t want to feel out of step with John. He was lonely and missing his wife, and he wanted to help. That was all.
“David has some woodworking tools in one of the garden sheds,” she told him as she handed him a cup of tea and joined him at the table. “You’re welcome to take a look and see if there’s anything you can use, or even use the shed as a space to work. I’ll have to give it a bit of a clean first, though!”
“Never mind about that.” John looked at her seriously. “Are you all right with this, Gwen? I… I don’t want to be a lonely old man inserting myself into your busy life.” He ducked his head, embarrassed, as Gwen gazed at him in surprise.
“That’s not how you see yourself, I hope,” she replied after a moment.
John smiled sadly. “Sometimes it is. Truthfully, I think Izzy asked me to stay because she felt sorry for me. Her husband Sam’s parents are coming a few weeks after the baby is born—they’re the ones she really wants to stay, because they’ll be more helpful than I am, I’m sure. Not that I’m averse to changing nappies or anything like that!” he added hastily, and with his usual rueful grin. “I look forward to it. But in situations like these, I think a new mum really wants a woman’s touch.”
“Well, yes, I can see that,” Gwen allowed, “but that doesn’t mean she isn’t appreciative of your help and company, as well.”
John just shrugged, and Gwen’s heart ached for him. Beneath that cheerful bonhomie was clearly an ocean of loneliness and grief. How well she understood it! It made her like him all the more, and, strangely, it made him more approachable and easier to talk to. Yesterday she’d been a bit disconcerted by his cheerful confidence, so at odds with her own uncertainty, but today she felt as if she understood him completely, or certainly better than she had before.
With the same unthinking impulsivity as before, she reached over and covered his hand with her own. “It will get better, you know,” she told him quietly, “and easier. It takes time—more time than you’d ever think or hope, really. But it does happen eventually, I promise.”
When he smiled at her, his eyes looked damp, and he rested his other hand over hers, the feel of it comfortingly warm and solid. “Thank you,” he said simply, and they smiled at each other.
They were still sitting like that, hands clasped, when Matthew walked into the kitchen and did a very obvious double take, which had them springing apart like guilty teenagers. “Hello,” he said to John, sounding thunderstruck. “I don’t believe I know you?”
John stood up, smiling easily enough, although Gwen could tell he was a bit discomfited by Matthew’s obvious, and not entirely friendly, surprise. “Actually, you do, although I must admit, it has been quite a while. I’m John, John McCardell, a very old friend of your father’s.”
“Of my father’s?” Matthew repeated, and Gwen had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from making some stupid retort. If Matthew was trying to defend her honor, or something silly like that, he was going about it in a rather clumsy way.
“Yes, Matthew, I’m sure you remember?” she remarked, her tone a bit tart. “John met Dad at Swansea. We had some camping and caravan holidays together, when you were small. With Izzy and Michael?” She glanced at John. “What’s Michael doing now, anyway?”
“Working in London and happily single.” John smiled and then glanced at Matthew, who was not quite frowning, but not smiling, either.
