A Karat of Patience

Chapter Twelve

The early morning air had a wintry bite to it, making Christine's skin prickle with discomfort. She wrapped her coat tighter around her body and took a drag from her cigarette, watching the tip glow strikingly in the dreary, grey mist. Christine rarely smoked, but whenever she did, the orange light reminded her of Stevie at her ill-fated wedding. She remembered giving Stevie a cigarette, the flame casting an eerie glow across Stevie's face. She had looked like an angel that night, despite the marriage itself being a colossal mistake. But Christine knew she was the last person to judge, having made a mountain of mistakes in her life. One of which was as recent as last night...

Christine sat upright against the headboard with the bed sheets tucked primly around her naked body. She listened to the toilet flush in the adjoining en suite, and glanced disinterestedly as her one-night-stand emerged with a lazy grin on his conventionally handsome face.

"Wow, that really was something," he said with a low whistle, sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing Christine's ankle through the duvet. "You should stay the night, love. I am well known for my morning fry-ups."

"I can make a fry-up for myself, thanks," Christine told him dryly as she snatched her leg away and pushed off the blankets. "I should go."

"What's wrong?" He looked genuinely bewildered and Christine felt a twinge of guilt as she slid on her underwear and jeans. He was a nice enough man—a friend of a friend Christine had met while apartment hunting in London—but she couldn't see herself shagging him again. She craved the soft and meticulous touch of a woman: a woman who wore a crescent moon necklace, and took her time to make sure Christine reached her peak over and over.

She finished dressing and turned to look at him kindly. "Look, you're a lovely bloke, but I'm still trying to get over someone else. I was wrong to think that this was the way to do it. I'm sorry."

His answering sigh insinuated he'd heard that line too many times before. "Well, why don't you stay and we'll talk about it?" he offered hopefully.

"It's private," she snapped. He winced and hung his head like a wounded puppy, and the guilt Christine felt this time was like a punch to the gut.

In a desperate attempt to redeem herself, she bent down to give him an apologetic kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you around. I'm going now."

"Do whatever you need to do, Christine."

The thought of their tense, awkward goodbye caused Christine to shudder and she inhaled on her cigarette again. She leaned against a paddock fence and stared into the gloomy fog, noting how it seemed to stretch on forever, holding Wickhambreaux tightly in its icy clutches. The landscape was depressing, and Christine longed for the warm water and sunny skies of Maui. She wanted to dig her toes in the glittery white sand and feel the salty breeze against her skin. Truthfully, Christine felt there was nothing left for her in this tiny village anymore. She was made for something bigger... something more magical.

Christine stubbed out her cigarette with her boot and headed down the frost-covered footpath. She reached the sign marking the official entrance into Wickhambreaux and turned around, gazing solemnly at the weathered road that lead back to her old life. With a determined intake of breath, Christine faced forward, and continued walking.

----

"Sula's a dog, Lindsey," Christine sighed exasperatedly as she tossed a folded pair of jeans into her suitcase. "Of course she's going to bark here and there."

"Stevie doesn't keep her quiet on purpose just to piss me off," Lindsey grumbled. "Tell me, is it that hard to leave her at home?"

"Sulamith's her daughter," Christine told him firmly. "And if Stevie heard you make comments like that she'd chop your head off. You know that, right?"