Epilogue

[Author’s note: this chapter directly follows the Prologue.]

She grabbed him arm and forced him to face her, pulling back her hood to reveal a wild tangle of flame-red hair framing brilliant green eyes. She was incredibly beautiful. She was...

“You ... you can’t be...”

He staggered backward. One step. Two. Three.

“She told me...”

He fell to his knees, ignoring a cluster of sharp pains as they struck gravel and began sinking into the mud.

“You’re ... you’re not...”

“I’ve been waiting for you, Lucas Bronson.”

Luke stared at her. Every organ, every nerve, every fluid and tendon and neuron in his body frozen in disbelief.

And then everything started working again.

“No. You’re not her. You can’t be. You’re too young. I’m ... sorry about my reaction.”

“Too young? That depends on your intentions, doesn’t it? Maybe I’m older than you think.”

“No, I mean...” His face, already flushed from trying (and failing) to hold back so very many tears, reddened further.

“You’re right, though. I’m not her.” Her expression turned grave. “I’m sorry I’m not.”

“But how can you...?”

“ ... look so much like her? Believe me, the day we met was quite the shock. Anyway, as you can probably feel, the weather’s about to turn lovely again.” Indeed, a fresh mist was already coalescing into a size sufficient for the disruptive purposes of gravity. She held out her hand and pulled him to his feet. “Come with me before the deluge resumes. I have coffee, tea, leftover roast mutton, whisky if you promise not to go cartwheeling naked into the Irish Sea, and a warm fire. I also have a washer and a dryer. Because you, Mr. Bronson, are a mess.”

“More than you know. And call me Luke,” he gasped, still trying to regain the breath he’d lost while in shock over her appearance.

“Luke I shall call you. I’m Rhoswen Maddox, but feel free to call me Rose. Everybody else does.”

She led him down the slope to her house. They were about halfway there when he realized that she was still holding his hand.

“Here,” she said, handing him a pile of flannel. “My brother left these behind the last time he visited. I think they’ll fit you. If you don’t mind wearing pajamas in front of a woman you just met, that is. You can change in that room over there, and meanwhile I’ll see about laundering your trousers. Your coat, though...” She clicked her tongue. “As much as I’ve always dreamed about a handsome man falling to his knees the moment he sees me, I’m not sure introducing that much mud to your expensive coat was a good idea.”

He stared at her, dumbfounded, before blurting out, “You don’t just look like her, you talk like her.”

“Do I?”

“Like she used to, I mean. When I first met her. Like you’re...”

“Flirting, Mr. Bronson?” she shot back with a twinkle in her eye.

“I asked you to call me Luke.”

“Let me flirt the way I want, Luke. Especially as I’m still waiting for you to go change into your evening wear.”

Eyes wide, he turned and retreated to the bedroom she’d indicated. He heard her musical laugher as it chased him through the doorway.

“This is so good,” he moaned through a mouthful of mutton sandwich elevated by an assortment of homemade pickles and spreads. “I noticed sheep in the yard. Am I eating one of your own?”

“She was a sweetheart, but it was her time,” Rose responded with a soft smile.

“Are there more I didn’t notice?”

“You’re asking if I’m a farmer? No, I’m a numbers girl. I do taxes, I do accountancy, I work with barristers and solicitors, I assist with business plans, and so forth. There aren’t that many people all the way out here, so I take on anything I can get. Anyway, I don’t think Oxford would’ve appreciated me making such extensive use of their services in order to raise sheep. It’s a hobby, and a delicious one, but I keep animals because there have always been animals on this land. I feel like I’d be letting my ancestors down if there weren’t. Just sheep and chickens, though. Cows are too much trouble, and goats cause too much.”

“So you grew up here?”

“Yes. With my parents, an older brother, and an uncle. The uncle nipped off to Australia ages ago, my brother fell in love with — and, just as importantly, in — London, and when I finished university, my parents took an early retirement and moved up near Inverness. Apparently, the weather here wasn’t bad enough for them,” she added with a chuckle. “So now it’s just me and whoever’s next for the oven, which I suppose makes me the wicked witch of somewhere. I’ve certainly got the hair for it.”

“And you?”

“And me?”

“Are you ... I mean, I don’t know if you’re...?”

“So impertinent, Mr. Bronson.” She held up her left hand, waggling her unadorned fingers and smirking at his discomfort. “I am as you see.”

He couldn’t help but stare at her, even though she’d repeatedly caught him doing so with no reaction other than an amused smile. The resemblance was uncanny to the point of impossibility. Even her body was nearly the same; perhaps a little more slender, though still with unexpectedly generous curves. It was only when focusing on specific details that the differences appeared. For Luke, it was profoundly unsettling, and eventually he was moved to repeat himself. “I still can’t believe how much you look like her.”

“Pause that thought for now, Luke. Here’s another thing she and I have in common: I like to get to the point. It makes me unpopular with certain villagers who don’t much care for that particular trait, though most of them are already disinclined to listen to a woman anyway. And so, skipping right to the end: I’ve asked my friend Manon to gather your things and bring them here.”

“How do you know where I’m staying?”

“There’s only one inn, and Manon works there. Cute, short dark hair, flirtatious by nature, asked you why you looked so sad.”

“Ah, right. I remember her.”

“You should, especially because she thought you were handsome but overburdened. She wanted to take you back to her house and ‘heal’ you,” she explained with a smirk. “There’s a longer answer to your question, but let’s save that for later. Since you’re the only guest at the moment, she’s going to pack up your room and handle your checkout. Any shocking discoveries amongst your unmentionables that I need to warn her about?”

“No shocking discoveries, save for the dullness of my color palette. But she’s really just going to stroll into my room and pack my things?”

“It’s a small village, Luke. We rarely lock our doors. If there’s no trust, none of this works. And you haven’t exactly unpacked.” In response to his frown, she added, “Manon’s also the entire housekeeping staff during the slower months.”

“It feels like I’m being watched.”

“I’m repeating myself, but it’s a small village. For better or worse, everybody knows everybody else and their business. There’s not much to do or see around here, and even if there was, you wouldn’t be here for it at this time of year. Once you arrived, it didn’t take very long to follow the clues to their obvious conclusion.”

“Since I’m being kicked out of the inn, where am I staying?”

“Not in a manger, though given the number of sheep we have in these parts, I can probably call around if that’s your preference. Tonight, you’re having dinner with me and sleeping in the room you changed in. Tomorrow ... well, we’ll discuss that later.”

“You travel more lightly than any American I’ve ever known,” groused Manon as she dragged his bags over the threshold, “and yet you still have too much luggage.” She hung her drenched outerwear on a hook, slipped out of her boots, and crossed to the fireplace, energetically rubbing her hands. In a way he hadn’t while mired in despair, Luke realized just how adorably pixieish she was. The fact he hadn’t noticed until now was yet another indication of just how lost he’d been since he arrived. He suddenly felt more than a bit awkward about what he was wearing.

Rose turned to Luke. “How long have you been in Wales?”

“It, uh, took me four days to get here from Cardiff. Four and a half if you add the trip from Heathrow.”

“Four days? Did you walk?”

“No, I...”

“Never mind, I think I understand. Manon, his car’s going to be okay where it is, right?”

“I don’t know. With the thousands of holidaymakers we’re expectin’ for this glorious week of sun and sand, we might need that extremely valuable parkin’ space.”

“Indeed,” Rose snickered. “Can I offer you some coffee? Tea? Something stronger?”

“No thanks, though the last one’s temptin’. I’m still on the clock, though with him gone it’s not like we have any customers. I should just sod off for a few hours and see if anyone notices.”

“The lads will drink you dry.”

“Ha! We’re cleanin’ the hoses, and those tossers wouldn’t know how to reconnect the taps. Anyway, the weather’s too crap to take a day off, and I should be gettin’ back.”

“What do we owe you?”

“For this?” she scoffed. “Nothin’. Maybe a back massage, since I threw it out totin’ that suitcase.”

“Of course. Do you want it clothed or naked?” Luke’s eyebrows shot up.

“Naked, of course. But I didn’t mean from you, handsy,” she said, turning her head to wink at Luke.

Rose laughed, both at Manon’s forwardness and Luke’s bewildered expression. “Seriously, let me offer you something. What would you like?”

“Taxes.”

“No one likes those. Are you sure you won’t take a chicken instead?”

“I can buy a bloody chicken at the bloody butcher. You’re the best with taxes, and you know I hate numbers.”

“And yet, they let you operate the till.”

“I’m fine when the money’s comin’ in. It’s when it’s goin’ out that I get confused,” she said through a tight smirk.

“Okay, okay,” Rose gave in, “I’ll do your taxes. Again.”

“Thanks, love. Oh, and Mr. Bronson?” Manon sidled up to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, leaving her hand on its twin a bit longer. “Your receipt’s in your suitcase. I tucked it into those nice silk boxers of yours. Closest I’ve gotten to anyone’s business for a while. And if you don’t mind me sayin’ it, you already look less sad than you did. I’m not surprised, though. Rose has that effect on people. If you’re goin’ to be around for a while, look me up at the pub. I’m available for back massages anytime, though if you want me naked you’ll have to wait until we’ve closed and I’m done tidyin’ up.”

“Uh...”

Rose cackled as Manon stepped into her boots, put on her coat, and left.

“Sorry about that. She’s not always so direct about her intentions, though I’ve seen it happen before. You must have made quite an impression.”

“I’m standing here in flannel pajamas with my mouth hanging open. I’m not sure what impression I could possibly be making.”

“Maybe she thought you were sending her a message,” she countered with a sly smile.

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“I know. I’ve been told it happens anyway.” His heart skipped at the implication; there could be only one source for that sort of information. “For what it’s worth, if you’re after an uncomplicated shag you could do a lot worse. Despite the façade, she’s a sweet girl. A firecracker in the bedroom too, or so I hear.”

“I’m not here to...”

“She’s not either. That’s why it might work. Anyway, I’m not your matchmaker or your madam. Suit yourself.”

He decided that he needed to at least try to join the banter. “Are ... this is none of my business, but that conversation about a massage got me wondering ... I mean, have you two...?”

“With Manon? Mr. Bronson, I’m shocked that you’d ask such an invasive question of someone you’ve only just met!” She waited through about a minute of his sputtering attempts at an apology before bursting into laughter again. “We were just winding you up. I have seen her naked during one of those whisky-fueled swimming excursions I mentioned, or at least in theory I have, but it was pretty dark at the time. Sorry, I don’t remember any details or I’d share them, but you can see for yourself that she has a cute little body, and I assure you that she’s not shy about showing it off, in or out of the bedroom.”

He shook his head, diverting the conversation back towards her. “I’ll take it under advisement, but like I was saying, that’s not what I’m here for. What I want to say instead is that I can’t believe I’m standing here having such lighthearted chat with someone I’ve only known for a few hours, when I’ve spent the last few days in an emotional coma. I didn’t think anything or anyone could cheer me up, but somehow you’re accomplishing it. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do.”

“Rose, I’m incredibly grateful, and I’m touched by your generosity and your hospitality, but why are you doing this?”

“Because eventually, someone was going to phone and warn me that a pervert was staring down at my property, trying to catch a peek.”

He gaped at her for a while before breaking into a helpless smile. “See?”

“Been a while, has it?”

“Longer than I can remember,” he answered, slowly sinking back into his depression as the memories reassembled. “It was a serious question, though. You didn’t have to take me in, do my laundry, feed me ... none of it. Yet you are, and for a complete stranger. Why?”

“I wouldn’t exactly say you’re a stranger, but don’t ask me what I mean by that yet. And speaking of laundry, if you’ve taken four days to get here, that means you’ve got more that needs doing. Pile it up by the closet over there and I’ll take care of it for you. But the answer is obvious: I’m here to help you find what you’re looking for.”

“Which is? Because even I don’t know. My grand strategy pretty much ended where you found me.”

“You’re going to have to figure that out for yourself. But if you really want to pay me back...” She studied him speculatively. “How are you in the kitchen?”

“I can hold my own.”

“Luke, this is delicious. I feel like I’ve eaten this before, yet you used so many things that came from my property in a way I’ve never seen.”

“Have you ever had shakshouka?”

“Middle Eastern stew? Eggs, tomatoes, and so on? Yes I have, and I see what you mean, but...”

“Well, you had a little more leftover mutton and you also had its fat, so I fried the rest until it was crispy and used the rest of the fat to crisp the toast. You had herbs. You obviously didn’t have chiles, but you had radishes, which offer their own kind of heat. And you had all those amazing preserved tomatoes, which is really what inspired the dish. So all that plus onion, garlic, the cheese that you said your neighbors made from your ewes’ milk, and of course those wonderfully fresh eggs. It’s more than a bit of a diversion from the original, but I really enjoyed making something that’s mostly from your own land. Let’s call it Welsh shakshouka. I can’t even imagine what the actual name would be in your language.”

She laughed, and as it had already done so often, the sound lifted his spirits and soothed his anxieties. “Don’t sell me out to the authorities, but despite my teachers’ best efforts, my only real language is English, plus whatever French and Latin I’ve forgotten since Oxford. You’d have to ask an actual expert what to call this, because when it comes to Cymraeg I’ve the grammar of a Labrador Retriever. Though I’m sure there’s a ‘y’ in it somewhere. By the way, I’m sorry I don’t have any wine to offer you.”

He’d been smiling at her self-deprecating humor, but at the mention of wine a flood of associations suddenly overwhelmed him, and he fell back into a numb sadness. “I...”

“Luke, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to stir up unwanted memories.” To his surprise, her hand was covering his.

“No, it’s okay. Really. Your kindness and your company have turned what started as a truly wretched day into a surprisingly lovely one, and I drink more than enough wine. Anyway, being here is obviously going to stir up memories, unwanted or otherwise. Isn’t that why I’m here in the first place?”

She nodded sagely. “Do you want seconds, or can I clean up?”

He flipped his hand over so that they were holding hands. She made no attempt to pull away; on the contrary, her fingers supportively tightened around his. “Join me for seconds, and then I’ll help you clean up.”

“Mr. Bronson, are you flirting with me now?”

“I’m having seconds with you.”

“Suit yourself.”

“This is really nice. It’s Welsh whisky? Penderyn is the name of the distillery, if I remember correctly. Which bottling?”

“You’re right, though your pronunciation is atrocious. It’s the...” She picked up the bottle and squinted at the label. “The Bryn Terfel. He’s an opera singer from here. There was a whole line of these, and maybe there still is, but it appears I’m down to two bottles. I suppose I should amend that.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a spirits aficionado.”

“I won’t, because I’m not. I’ve certainly tossed enough down my throat over the years, but the only thing I’ve learned is that it makes me do stupid things, like midnight swims in the altogether. I like it, though.”

Silence fell over the room, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Luke was staring at her again, mesmerized not just by her obvious beauty, but by the exquisite torture of her uncanny resemblance to someone he thought he’d never see again. Eventually, she looked up and met his gaze, saying nothing. His hands started to shake. He wasn’t sure if it presaged the imminent return of tears or something else, but he was trembling and he couldn’t seem to stop it.

She gracefully rose from her chair and held out her hand. “Luke,” she said quietly, “come with me.” She led him to a thick rug right in front of the fire and pulled him down to the floor with her. At first he was confused, then he wondered if she intended something else and his breath caught in his throat, but she was sitting with her legs crossed and indicating that he should do the same. As soon as he complied, she slid closer.

“I know you look at me and can’t help but see her. Even if the circumstances were completely different, it would be hard not to because we look so very much alike. But I’m not her, yet I bear the pain in your eyes whenever you stare at me like that. I want you to see the ways that I’m not. Give me your hand.”

It was still quivering as he reached for her, but she took it between hers and moved it to the side of her face. “I know you must have her memorized, even after all these years. I want you to look at me, and I want you to touch me as well. Explore the differences. Move even closer if you’d like. You can use your other hand, too.” With a glint in her eyes, she added, “Unfortunately, this offer only extends to skin that’s currently exposed.”

“Rose, I wouldn’t...” He started to pull away, but she stopped him.

“If this was a date, I’d gradually expose more and more skin just to see if you’d be bold enough to take me up on the invitation,” she said with a sly smile. “But I’m taking this seriously, and I want you to as well. I’m here to help you however I can, but there are so very many years of sadness in your stare, and it’s an enormous burden for me to take on all at once. If you can convince yourself to see me rather than her, even though I fully understand she’ll reappear from time to time, then I believe I can summon whatever strength you need.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think anyone has that much strength.”

“Try me,” she answered, her brilliant emerald eyes full of defiance.

She moved his hands over her skin. Tracing her ear, her forehead, her eyelids, her nose ... even her lips, during which it was impossible to deny the sensuality in their contact. He did eventually move closer, studying her features and her skin itself. He ran his fingers through her hair, watching the way it took up the firelight and seemed to move with the flames.

Finally, he backed away. “You’re right. In countless superficial ways you are her, but you’re not. You’re Rose. I understand that now. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. Rose isn’t so bad once you get to know her. But it’s true she’s not Kathryn, and she never will be.”

“That’s the first time you’ve said her name.”

“I wasn’t sure you were ready.”

“I have to say: what you just did — what you’ve been doing for me all day, really — was more like her than anything in front of my eyes.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” she said, leaning forward and hugging him. He was keenly aware of her soft breasts as they pressed into his chest, but he embraced her in turn and did his best to ignore the enticement.

“Don’t be sorry,” he replied as he eased her out of his arms. “It was a good memory. I didn’t expect to have any of those here.”

“Manon would be happy to help change that.”

“I’m sure she would,” he said, almost managing a laugh. “But as I keep insisting, that’s not what I’m here for. Plus, it would be a form of avoidance with which I’m all too familiar. Maybe I’ll change my mind at some point, but for now, especially given the setting, I can’t afford that particular distraction. Anyway, I doubt anything she could do for me could compare to what you’re doing for me.” Rose raised an eyebrow, and Luke flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to suggest...”

She patted his knee. “I know you didn’t. But you should be careful about saying things like that, Luke. The last time I got near anyone’s ‘business’ was long, long before Manon’s last time.” He gulped and blushed, but it was clear she enjoyed gently teasing him in this fashion. “Now, I think we should finish that bottle before we call it a night. Assuming you’ll join me in this worthy effort, of course.”

“How much is left?”

“I’m not sure. Does it matter?”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

She stood and walked around the room, extinguishing lights, leaving the room illuminated solely by the fire. He also stood, fidgeting nervously, until she flung a sofa cushion at him. “Lean that against the table.” Confused, he complied. “This one too.” Another six pillows and cushions from various pieces of furniture flew into his arms, and he arranged them under her direction. “Now, sit down and relax instead of fluttering about like a startled hen.”

Moments later, she was standing between him and the fire, holding the bottle and their glasses. “Why are you all the way over there?”

“I was leaving you room.”

“You ‘leave me room’ by sitting at the center of the pile like you’re supposed to. There. Now lean back.” As he did, she nudged his legs apart with her foot and sat down between them, sliding backward until she was leaning against his chest. Pouring an unhealthy quantity of whisky into their glasses, she handed him one and clinked them together. “Here’s to memories. Especially good ones. Most especially new ones.”

“Uh, Rose, what are we doing?”

“We’re sitting in front of my fireplace drinking whisky.”

“But...”

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No. Yes. No. And yes.”

“Well, that clears it all up, then. And by the way, you don’t have to let your arms flop uselessly at your sides. Put them around me. I swear, it’s like you’ve never held a woman before.” She didn’t wait for him to acquiesce or argue, tugging on both until they were encircling her stomach. “Don’t worry, I promise to throw a drink in your face if you touch something you shouldn’t.”

“You’re her again right now. This is her.”

Rose was quiet for a while before answering. “I promise you she loves this.”

“But ... look, for the sake of clarity, can I just...?”

“You really know how to kill a romantic mood, don’t you?”

“Is that what this is?”

“I turned off all the lights and we’re drinking whisky while snuggling in front of a fire. Where I come from, that’s usually considered romantic. Are customs different on your planet?”

Once again, he came dangerously close to laughing. “I just ... Rose, please listen to me. My heart and my mind are a pile of rubble, and even more so than usual because I’m here. I don’t trust anything they’re saying to me right now. My day began in a haze of misery, yet since you found me it’s been so much better than I’d ever expected, and for that I have only one person to thank. You look and sound so much like her, you feel so much like her, and as I said, what you’re doing right now is her. In fact, she and I did something almost exactly like this once, a week or so before our relationship turned physical. But I don’t know anything about you, and I’m not sure I know anything about myself anymore. I know this is exactly what you mean by killing the mood, but I have no idea what we’re doing, and before I do or say something monumentally stupid with a person who’s been unaccountably, unimaginably kind to me, I feel like I need to understand what’s happening.”

He felt rather than heard her sigh. One of her hands caressed his forearm for a few moments before returning to her lap. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I can see how this must seem like a barrage of impossibly mixed signals from someone whose very existence is the biggest mixed signal of all, at least to you. That’s because a mixed signal is exactly what all this is.” To his consternation, she pressed even more tightly against him. “Starting from the top, and being as pointed as I warned you I can be: this isn’t a prelude to sex, or at least it’s not intended to be. To be outrageously blunt, and perhaps even to fluff up your damaged psyche a bit, I would quite willingly go to bed with you this very night, even though we’ve just met. Not just willingly, eagerly. Given the circumstances, however, I think we both know that’s something that could start, go, or end very, very badly, and that’s why we shouldn’t rush into it.”

“For what it’s worth, Kathryn and I are alike in more ways than you know. That I was immediately attracted to you wasn’t just unsurprising, it was something for which I was already prepared. For me, this is like skipping ahead to what was always going to happen without all the unnecessary preliminaries and mucking about, though I understand the same isn’t true for you. Yes, my attraction to you is working in your favor in terms of my willingness to have you in my home, do your laundry, feed you my recently deceased sheep, pour you half of my dwindling stock of whisky, and at least attempt to have a romantic interlude in front of the fire. One that I hope you’ll eventually let me have, once you can bring yourself to stop whinging. But I have other, more personal reasons for everything I’m doing that we won’t discuss tonight.”

“As for what we’re doing right here and now, it’s partly about you, but it’s also fairly selfish. I live alone, as you can see. My lack of companionship is by choice, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about that lack. I have friends — Manon, as you’ve certainly already guessed, is one — but I have neither romantic interests nor casual lovers at the moment. There are good men in this area, but they’re all married, some of them even happily. The rest ... well, in a place this small it’s always complicated, and the social price for a misguided liaison is much higher, so after a few errors in judgment I decided it’s just not worth it. I miss sex, of course, but when that becomes an unmanageable problem, I go elsewhere and find someone that I won’t have to see every week at the grocer or the pub to satisfy the urge. What I can’t satisfy is my desire for touch. For contact. Unfortunately, the sheep haven’t started looking good enough just yet.”

Her joke demolished the last of his resistance, and Luke finally broke out in laughter. Rose seemed so startled that she twisted around to watch. Rather than saying anything, he pulled her back into his chest and kissed the back of her head — he wasn’t sure if she even felt it through all her hair — whispering, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. If I’d known animal erotica was the key to your happiness, I’d have led with it.”

“Well, you made me laugh. But since you’re being so open with me, I’ll do the same: unfortunately, laughter isn’t the same as happiness. I know that’s a churlish thing to say when you’ve done so much to try to change that status, and it’s an especially coldhearted thing to say when a beautiful woman is in my arms, unburdening herself of secret motivations and unrequited lusts, but it’s the sad truth. Still, you did make me laugh, and I really don’t remember the last time that happened, or at least the last time it wasn’t feigned and hollow. So maybe there’s hope for me after all,” he said, though he didn’t actually believe it.

This time, when her hand stroked his arm, it remained there. “It’s a roundabout compliment, but I’ll take it. Anyway, if this is too confusing or difficult I’ll detach and sit beside you, if that’s really what you’d prefer.”