By the time she got to the gate, a few stars twinkled high above in a cloudy night sky. A light gleamed in the window of Peter’s farmhouse, making it seem even smaller and more insignificant against the looming fells. Juliet stood there for a moment, her hand on the top bar of the gate, the dogs nosing her impatiently, wanting to either move forward or turn around.
An emotional crossroads, and she knew then that she’d come here for a reason. To move forward or to go back.
Slowly she reached for the latch on the gate and lifted it. Then she pushed the gate open and walked towards Bega Farm.
She knocked on the front door, her body and brain both cloaked in numbness in an entirely new way, as if she were a spectator watching herself from afar. The door opened, and Peter stood there, a flicker of surprise creasing his features before his expression ironed out implacably. He didn’t speak. Part of her thought in a distant, surreal way,I wonder what that poor woman will say.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted, the words tumbling out of her. “I’m sorry for asking you to—well, you know.”
“Yes,” Peter said flatly. “I know.” His expression hadn’t altered in the least and Juliet felt both cowed and more determined to say . . . something.
“May I come in?”
Silently Peter stepped aside and Juliet left the dogs huddled on the step and came into the kitchen; it was as cluttered and dirty as it had been the last time she’d been there. She wished Peter would say something, anything, but he remained tight-lipped and silent as she wiped her damp palms down the sides of her jeans and gave him what she hoped was a smile.
“How’s your dad?”
“You don’t really care, do you?”
She blinked, startled by Peter’s flatly stated reply. “I—I do care,” she stammered, hating how wrong-footed she felt. How wrong-souled. “I wouldn’t have asked, otherwise. I know how difficult it must be. . . .” She trailed off, willing Peter to take up the conversational slack, but he said nothing. Again. And she was afraid to try another opener.
“Peter, I came here because I really am sorry that I offended you by asking you to—to donate your sperm. I realize now I shouldn’t have . . . that is, I should have realized . . .”
Peter arched an eyebrow, his arms folded. She’d never seen him look so forbidding. “And what should you have realized, Juliet?”
She felt like an unruly pupil called to the front of the class. ByPeter. “That you wouldn’t take kindly to my request,” she answered. “That you’re not the kind of man . . . that youarethe kind of man who would take his responsibilities seriously. And that you’d see bringing a child into this world, no matter how, as your responsibility.”
Peter just nodded, his jaw tight. “Well, I’m glad you realized that,” he said, and it sounded like a good-bye.
Juliet swallowed. “I really didn’t mean to offend you . . . ,” she tried again. She wanted him to give her his slow, easy smile and say in his deep Cumbrian burr that they wereareetagain.
“That doesn’t make it much better, Juliet. If anything, it makes it worse.”
She stared at him in miserable confusion.“How?”
Peter glanced up at the ceiling, seeming to struggle for words. “You and me,” he finally said, choosing each word carefully, “we’re used to being alone. Stuck in our ways a bit, I think.”
“Y-y-y-yes,” Juliet stuttered. “I know.”
“But I wastrying, Juliet. Trying in my own thick way, I know, but still. I thought . . . I thought you saw that. I thought you were coming around.” He finally looked at her, and the misery in his gaze startled her. It also matched her own.
“But I was just being stupid,” she whispered. “I was just being so stupid, Peter.”
Slowly Peter shook his head. “No, you weren’t. You were showing me what you really thought of me. Showing me how stupidIwas, because I didn’t even see it.”
“No,” she protested. “No. It’s because I thought so well of you that I—”
“Wanted to use me? I know I might not be the finest specimen of man around, but I hope I’m still good enough to be more than a stud.” He shook his head, taking a step back, away from her. “Good night, Juliet.”
Juliet gaped at him, horrified that it was going to end like this, that her apology hadn’t been enough. Not remotely enough. And yet she had nothing else to offer. Nothing Peter wanted.
“Good night,” she choked out, and then turned and walked back out into the darkness.
She stumbled down the track back to Tarn House, the dogs hurrying at her heels. She felt frozen, yet as if Peter had taken a hammer to her, and she’d shatter into tiny shards of ice at any moment. She just had to hold it together until she got inside.
Tarn House was cloaked in darkness and quiet; Lucy was still out with Alex and his daughters. Juliet settled the dogs in their beds and walked upstairs. She closed the door to her bedroom; she undressed and put on her pajamas and brushed her teeth.
Then she sat on the edge of her bed and clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking.
