I held out one hand, and as his wrapped around mine, it released something inside me. The rough warmth of the farmer’spalm, riddled with callouses and scars of old nicks, felt as familiar and comforting as my own bed, or the texture of floured dough beneath my fingers.
Comforting, familiar and yet brimming with potential that zapped a thrill up my arm and straight to my heart.
I twisted around to face him, the anticipation plain across his features. He reached up his other hand, and I half jumped, half fell into his arms. Lifting my chin to meet his gaze, I found more than I could have hoped for in those gentle eyes.
‘Thank you,’ I said, because it was all I could come up with.
Then, while I was still too shocked to hold back, I stretched up onto the toes of my boots, and pressed my lips against his.
I perhaps should have been embarrassed that we embraced as long as we did, me clinging onto his jacket as my fingers turned to ice, him wrapping his arms around me in a futile attempt to brace against the freezing gusts blowing in off the sea as we kissed. I didn’t care about the cold, the crick in my neck, his family hooting and hollering behind him. I’d spent six months missing this.
When we finally broke apart, chests heaving like a scene fromBridgerton, mouths grinning, eyes dancing, Pip bent to rest his forehead against mine, and whispered the only thing that mattered.
‘Welcome home.’
Later that day, after we’d unpacked my one small bag, and the giant suitcases Blessing had snuck along without telling me, Pip picked us up and we headed over to the farm for a welcome gathering. It turned out the pasties and pot sausage Blessing and Ben had prepped was for our own party. We ate squeezed intothe farmhouse living room, dining room and kitchen. Just about everyone I’d met previously was there, plus plenty of others I hadn’t. We sang Christmas songs, accompanied by Richard’s accordion, and a couple of people found space for a dance, while the enormous fireplace crackled and the children dozed under blankets or curled up in laps.
‘Care for some fresh, island air?’ Pip asked, once the guests began to disperse.
‘It’s a bit late to watch the sunset.’
‘Aye, but the full moon over the water is just as bonny.’
Bundled up in hats, gloves and thick scarves, we strolled along the footpaths, gripping tightly to each other as we slid down the steps to the beach. The sky was like nothing I’d seen before – there wasn’t a great deal of ambient light in Sherwood Forest, but out here was a whole different depth of darkness. That was, apart from the moon, and more stars than I’d thought possible.
Pip stood behind me, arms wrapped around my torso.
‘I’ve missed that sound.’
‘What, silence?’
‘No, the sea!’
The air was still, so the waves were gentle as they broke upon the icy sand.
‘I guess I don’t much notice it any more.’
‘There’s a lot you islanders take for granted.’
‘Oh?’
‘Family, friends and all those shared memories. Knowing who you are, and where you belong. Whichever genius invented pot sausage.’
Pip smiled, and in the moonlight, his face looked cast in silver. ‘You know I love it here. I try not to take it for granted, but without you, it felt a lot harder to appreciate.’
‘Well, I’m here now.’
‘I thought about leaving,’ he said, after a while.
‘What?’ I turned to face him, still pressed up close so we could share some warmth.
‘I’d even lined up an interview for a farm manager job at a place near you.’
‘Pip, you couldn’t! I love the forest, but there’s nothing there for me any more. It would make no sense for you to move.’
‘Well, we can both be very grateful that Blessing turned up, so we can give this a try, first.’
‘No.’ I pulled away so he could see how much I meant this next statement. ‘I’m not an islander, so I don’t take what you have here for granted. I’m thrilled to have some genuine family now – that’s a whole other story – but I can visit them, and they’d love to come here. This place is it for me. I’m planning on a lot more overseas adventures with Blessing. Maybe one day with you, if you can get away from the farm, but this is my home now. My safe harbour. Where I’ll leave a legacy for my children.’
