‘I like Deborah. Queenly. Like something from the Old Testament.’
‘Oh.’ She blushed, and hated herself for it immediately. ‘I don’t think that was the intention. Mum isn’t overly religious. Also, I feel like any queens in the Old Testament probably got their villages razed to the ground for being idolatrous harpies, or something.’
‘Haha. You’re probably right. I kinda like that, though.’ He grinned. ‘I’m enjoying the image of you as a sexy Old Testament queen. In robes. Throne room. Line of suitors. I’d fight them all off for your attention, of course.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind.’ She looked up and met the eyes of the young woman behind the till at the shop, who gave her a curious look. ‘And… I’d like a drink, if you’re serious. I don’t really know anyone in the village and it would be nice to get out and see Loch Cameron while I’m here.’ She lowered her voice a little, feeling self-conscious. But, then, she thought:you’re a grown woman, and free to do what you want. If you want to go for a drink with this guy, then go.
‘That would be awesome. Give me your number and we can arrange a time. I’m free tomorrow night. Or most nights this week, actually.’ He reached into his pocket for his phone. ‘I tend to go to the gym most nights, but I can have a night off.’
‘I could do tomorrow.’ Deb tried – and failed – not to think about Kyle in the gym, as she rattled off her phone number. Today, he was wearing light blue jeans that hugged his large thighs, heavy work boots and a tight blue shirt that showed off a heavily muscled chest. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up to expose tanned, muscular forearms.
Dear lord, she thought. Did men like Kyle just walk around in the normal world all the time, and she’d just never noticed them before? Or was he some kind of aberration? A tall, built, sexy aberration that exuded testosterone and masculinity like a prowling tiger?
Maybe, since the operation, she was slowly becoming aware of men again, now that she had her body back. She was still healing, but something was starting to happen to her. She felt more connected to her body than she had in years, and she felt… different. She feltalive.
‘Great. I know a really nice restaurant. I’d love to take you there. I can pick you up, if you want? Or meet you there if you’d prefer?’
‘I can meet you there,’ Deb decided. At least if she had her car then she could leave whenever she wanted to. Independence was important, and she might not have been out on a date for some years, but she wasn’t an idiot.
‘All right. I’ll text you the details.’ Kyle looked like an excited schoolboy. ‘Awesome.’
‘Well, I should probably get going.’ Deb picked up the books she’d placed on the table.
‘Okay. Me too. I’ve got a site meeting in half an hour. I was taking a little break. I guess it was meant to be, right? That we met? It’s the fourth time. Like fate is trying to push us together.’
‘I don’t know about fate. I don’t really believe in it. But… maybe.’ She felt her cheeks colouring again and thought,what am I DOING?She couldn’t think of a time that a man had actually ever made her blush. It was ridiculous.
He went to the counter and paid for his books – a crime thriller and a nonfiction book about ancient Peru, Deb noted. She followed, standing behind him and waiting for him to finish at the till. From behind, she could also admire his physique, and watch his back flex and move as he took the books in a bag from the shop assistant. God, he was beautiful.
‘See you soon, then.’ He paused, turning towards her. For a moment, Deb thought Kyle was going to kiss her, but he just smiled. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’
Somehow, she’d gone into a little local bookshop for something to read, and come out with a date.
Not just that – a date with a man that made her go weak at the knees. This definitely wasn’t what she’d expected when she’d taken the last-minute job in Loch Cameron.
TWELVE
The next morning, there was a knock at the cottage door as Deb was doing some gentle stretches. Slowly, her fitness was returning, though her middle still felt weak after a few hours of sitting up, or after a walk. Still, she was slowly returning to her body, like an old friend she used to know. She had missed feeling strong and flexible; and, the more she was able to exercise, the happier she felt. Yoga had always been good for her mind as well as her body.
She walked into the hallway and opened the door, expecting some book packages for Gretchen, but the postman handed her a parcel wrapped in brown paper addressed to her.
‘Deborah Sutherland?’ he asked. ‘I know it’s usually post for Miss Ross but I know you’re renting here.’ He was probably in his fifties, with an Irish accent, and was always chipper.
‘That’s me,’ Deb smiled, taking the package curiously. Who was sending her packages? ‘Thank you.’
‘Just look at that view. If I wasn’t working, it would be a perfect day for a picnic and a couple of beers,’ he sighed, looking out at the wide expanse of the loch, which, today, was reflecting the clear, crystal blue sky. It reminded Deb of those pictures you saw of lakes where you didn’t know where the sky ended and thewater began. As they both gazed at the view, two hawks circled lazily on the thermals, high in the cloudless expanse. There was something so calming about looking at such a wide panorama: it gave Deb a feeling of freedom, as if she was one of the hawks.
‘Well, at least you get to be outside,’ Deb said, wriggling her toes in the spring sun. ‘I think I’m going to bring a cup of tea out here for a while and enjoy it, though. You’re right.’
‘Indeed, indeed.’ The postman tipped his baseball cap to her. ‘Enjoy the sun. Vitamin D!’
As it was so sunny, Deb sat on the front step and unwrapped the parcel, frowning as she took out a small, ring-bound notebook with a plain brown cardboard cover that featured the name of a company she didn’t recognise and the word NOTES. It looked old: the pages had that yellowish-brown tinge at the edges, and felt fragile. The font of the text on the cover was old-fashioned. She opened it, looking curiously at the childish handwriting within.
Strange. Who would send her a child’s journal, or was it a diary?
There was a note with it, which Deb unfolded and read.
Dear Deborah,
