She turned it over and opened it and then pulled out a sheaf of papers stapled together.
She started to read but couldn’t make head nor tail of it and so looked at him. ‘I don’t understand. This is the pub? The one that sold?’
Marc nodded. ‘I bought it for you for Christmas, so you can create the place you wanted. I know it seems excessive but I spoke to Zane and he said that St William’s Charity can work alongside you and it’s totally doable.’
Christa turned over the page and kept reading. Marc had bought her the pub?
‘Why?’ she looked at him, still confused.
‘Are you angry? Do you think I’ve gone too far?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s your money; you can do what you like with it. No, I wanted to know why you did this for me?’
Marc sat back and thought for a moment.
‘You know I say I help people but all I do is give people money. I don’t know what it’s doing, or even if it’s helping anyone at all. I mean, I funded trees once because I liked gin. It’s not that I don’t get there is need but I have avoided seeing the need close up because of what I saw as a kid.’
Christa listened intently as he spoke. He stared at the fire.
‘I was ashamed and when I see poverty, I freak out. It reminds me I could lose everything and end up back trying to work out how to feed my family. But you showed me what help is and why it matters. You showed up and I realised I need to also.’
She laid the papers on her lap and turned to him.
‘So that’s why?’
But Marc shook his head.
‘No.’ He thought for a moment and finally looked at her. ‘I did it because I believe in you. Because you’re remarkable and you make me want to do better and put more good into the world. Because you make me want to be a better father and ex-husband and because you can help people in a way that is generous and kind; something I need to do more of.’
She put the papers on the table. ‘These are wrong,’ she stated.
‘Why?’ He picked them up and leafed through them.
‘I’m not Christa Playfoot anymore. I’m going back to my maiden name.’
‘Good idea, what is it?’
‘Hartley,’ she said and looked at him. ‘It meant deer clearing in Anglo-Saxon times.’
‘That’s nice, deer,’ he said and she smacked his leg. ‘Terrible pun.’
He laughed and took her hand.
‘Would you change your name again if you remarried?’
‘Probably not,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to the first time but Simon insisted, said it would be best for business. That was a lie.’
‘Just so you know, I wouldn’t expect you to change your name.’
She laughed. ‘Are we getting married?’
‘Most likely,’ he said and he sounded so sure that Christa didn’t doubt him for a minute, nor did she panic. She didn’t know when she’d come to the realisation but she knew Marc and his boys were her future.
‘You bought me the pub for Christmas,’ she said incredulous. ‘You’re going to be really disappointed when you open my present tomorrow.’
‘Oh? What is it?’ His fingers were tracing patterns on her leg now, pulling the pink silk of the skirt up to show some of her thigh. She felt goose bumps on her skin and she shivered a little.
‘A woollen scarf and some fudge,’ she said. She took a moment and then pushed her leg against his hand.
