Page 19 of Tears of Gold

Why does being his wife seem like a different lifetime… a path that we might not be able to reach?

I nod, my heart aching. “At home.”

It’s dark, the night long having set in when he walks into the bedroom. Jeremy is in the spare room at the Mews, I couldn’t leave him. Couldn’t bear to walk away from him and his grief. I don’t know him, but he’s family now and I’ll do what I can for this new family of mine. I broke the news to Gerard; no one had called to let him know. He came over with a bottle of whiskey which he drank with Jeremy.

I checked on my little sis, Tabitha. She’s still crying. Lewis is still with her but for how long I don’t know.

I don’t know how much more any of us can take. Grief and heartache chase us all, toying with us from within the depths of shadows we can’t escape.

I’m holding my phone when my gaze lands on the tired shadows of Eli’s face. I’ve been writing the same message to Abi for the last hour, sat up against the white crisp pillows on Eli’s bed. We are getting married.

For some reason I can’t send it.

My thumb won’t hit the green button.

It’s the wrong time. The wrong place.

A tear slips down my cheek as he steps closer.

“It’s okay, he’s fine.” He drops to his knees on the mattress, pulling me into his arms.

A wild sob wrenches from deep within me. “Thank you. Thank you.”

His lips rain kisses on my face, absorbing my tears with his touch. “Just love me, Faith.”

I pull him close, desperately clinging to him and I love him with everything I have.

Six

Rain and black. It’s the same as in August: rain splatters on black umbrellas, the air is tight, and from under it I struggle to remember how to breathe. I didn’t expect to attend two funerals in two months. Eight weeks and so much loss and pain.

My hand clenches Eli’s as hard as I possibly can, and I try to ignore the rising swell of nausea that won’t go away. The stress of the last few days has left me strung on a shoestring.

Next to me, Tabitha slumps against Lewis whose face is grim and set hard like chiselled flint.

The summer of long hot nights and playing with glass seems a very long time ago.

On the dais, Peter lies in his chrome black coffin. One last pretentious flare from the man who I have learned didn’t have anything ostentatious about him.

It was all a front.

He and Jeremy lived a simple life. He paid himself the same wage as Jeremy earned as a teacher. Every other penny went into an account that is now frozen and waiting for probate to settle.

Too much bureaucratic red tape for a man who laughed like no one was listening and wanted to prank call his brother.

I sneak a glance at Jennifer. She’s sat, her back straight and tall, but with her face hidden behind a black net attached to her hat. Eli reaches over and squeezes her hand and for a long moment we are all tied together.

The vicar is stepping up to the pulpit when the clatter of the door at the back of the Bowsley local church squeaks. Eli and I both turn, and I smile as Jeremy walks in with an older couple—his parents. The man is tall and pale, his glasses similar to his son’s. His mother is stunning. Her skin the depth of ebony, her powerful frame well concealed behind a sharp suit.

Jeremy meets my gaze and I nod. I knew he would come. Jennifer sobs a little, but Jeremy—with his head held high—sits on the empty pew at the front on the other side of the aisle.

I settle back and continue to hold Eli’s hand. Wondering when we will all wake up from this nightmare

“You came.” I smile up at Jeremy and clink a glass of champagne against his. The Faircloughs drink champagne for all occasions.

“You were right. What you said the other night.” Jeremy’s dark eyes hold mine and I cringe.

“I was unkind. I’m sorry.”