The old lady looked concerned. ‘He might have seemed that way to you,’ she continued. ‘You probably did need time to spread your wings before marriage and luckily you were tough enough to take it. Sometimes you just have to trust your instincts.’
She shrugged. ‘And it hasn’t all been bad for Connor. He loves his work. Has made a difference to so many couples. And, yes, with the work he does now, he does have to weigh risks and make decisions so he can help a woman come to a viable pregnancy, and he’s used to organising things.’
The faded blue eyes looked directly at Kelsie. ‘But Connor’s nowhere near controlling. What on earth made you think that?’
‘My father was a very domineering man. Worse when he drank. My mother left him, one Christmas, when I was fourteen. She died not long after and I never saw her again.’ She looked out the window where lonely countryside stretched away into the distance. ‘I vowed I would never let someone run my life again. Or ruin it.’
Winsome shook her head. ‘No wonder you weren’t sure you were doing the right thing, getting married, if your home was unhappy.’
Then her eyes focused on Kelsie and her voice didn’t waver. ‘But Connor is a world away from how you say your father was. I think it would be quite normal to have trust issues after that.’
Was that true? Was that a big part of the reason she’d run that day? She’d thought about it a lot since then. Had she been scared to love because of her parents’ bad marriage? ‘It’s probably why I’ve never really been into Christmas since then, though Connor bought me a little tree once.’ She thought about that and couldn’t help but smile. ‘It was very cute.’
Winsome studied her with sympathy. ‘That’s the sort of thing Connor does.’ But she frowned as she thought it through. ‘So you left Connor all those years ago because you thought he was like your father?’
Had she? ‘I guess a few things were said when I left home that started me thinking. It seemed to fit into a few thoughts I’d already had about wishing I could just run my own life for a change. But blaming Connor doesn’t seem quite as logical when I look at it now.’
Did it mean that Connor had never been the reason she’d run away? Was that how it had been? Was that why she’d still not found a man she was comfortable to share her life with? Or was it because she’d been waiting for the magic she’d experienced with Connor? She didn’t want to consider that she’d blown it with him for a second time.
Winsome was gazing off into the distance. ‘A good marriage is worth waiting for.’
Kelsie thought about the man Connor had become, how wonderful he’d been with Anna and her baby, his sense of humour, his sincere affection for his grandmother, the way he’d held her when she’d let him.
Then she thought about the way he’d organised her in the run-up to their wedding that had never happened. What if none of it had been his way of controlling her but all so it would be easier for her? And she’d balked and panicked unnecessarily when she’d let him down.
She thought about the last twenty-four hours, how they had been able to talk and connect when they hadn’t been fighting over silly things, how he’d made her laugh.
Winsome had reached the point of her story and Kelsie came back to the present. There was new determination in his grandmother’s voice. ‘He needs a life partner to give him balance.’
Didn’t we all? But Kelsie wasn’t going there. ‘I hope he finds one.’ She had such a lot to think about before they arrived.
Winsome didn’t look at all put out by her noncommittal answer. In fact, she looked like the mischievous older lady from Venice all those hours ago. ‘Oh, I think he will.’
Connor was having a day from hell.
His flight across the Channel had been horrendous, with turbulent wind gusts and heavy sleet, and he decided he hated helicopters almost as much as trains.
Plus he’d been unsure if he had done the right thing by his grandmother or by Kelsie, but at least they’d been on the ground. Safe in the damn train.
It hadn’t actually snowed on the flight but it had been falling heavily on the wild drive to the hospital.
Connie Wilson’s labour was being stubborn. Stuck in the on-off contraction phase that robbed the mother of sleep. Her uterus contracted irregularly and inconsistently in strength, and therefore she wasn’t any closer to actual birth but a lot closer to exhaustion. It was a pattern of an hour of contractions, none for two hours, three hours of contractions, and then none.
Connie and Harry were physically and emotionally exhausted and stressed and he felt bad that he hadn’t been there earlier to allay their fears.