A Family Forever (Contemporary Romance Novella)

  A Family Forever

  By

  Helen Scott Taylor

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  Copyright © 2012 by Helen Taylor

  Cover design © Helen Taylor

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  The right of Helen Taylor to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the Copyright owner.

  Chapter One

  Victoria O'Shea peered over the fence at the bottom of her garden to see if it was safe to climb into the field. There was no sign of grumpy Farmer Andrews who always harassed her if he saw her on his land, so she slung an old mat across the wire to make it easier to climb over.

  "Come on, Sophie," she shouted over her shoulder.

  "Coming, Mum." Her eight-year-old daughter scampered down the strip of grass that was their backyard, wearing a pink ballet tutu and tennis shoes.

  "When I said change out of your school uniform, I meant into shorts or jeans."

  "I won't get dirty, Mum. Honest. I'll be careful."

  Victoria suppressed a wry grin. The tutu would no doubt end up covered in dirt and leaves, but Sophie was ballet-obsessed at the moment. Victoria didn't have the heart to tell her to change again.

  "You go first, Soph." Victoria grasped her daughter beneath the arms and helped her over the fence, then climbed over herself.

  She reached back into her garden to grab her bag full of hedgehog food and the brush she used to clean out the animals' bowls. They hurried the twenty-five yards to the public footpath that cut across the grassy field. In theory, Mr. Andrews couldn't stop her walking on the footpath—it was a public right of way—even though she was sure he'd love to ban her if he could.

  Sophie skipped on ahead, doing the odd twirl and kicking out her legs in what were supposed to be ballet steps. Victoria knew nothing about ballet, but she had a sneaking feeling her daughter was not cut out to be a dancer.

  The worn path angled across the ten-acre field and ended at a stile leading to a country road. Victoria didn't normally go right to the end but left the path when it reached the fence at the far side. There she climbed through a gap onto the grounds of Larchfield Hall.

  Skylarks soared across the blue sky, singing sweetly. The stress of the day spent teaching at the local art college ebbed away. Friday evening was her favorite time of the week—the time she reserved for checking on the hedgehogs she'd nursed back to health and released.

  Rescuing and caring for injured and sick hedgehogs took a lot of her time and energy, but seeing the animals safely returned to the wild made the hard work worthwhile.

  The hole in the fence where she was heading came into sight and she increased her pace, eager to get off old Andrews's land. She was nearly there when his two mangy collie dogs came charging across the field, barking manically.

  "Quickly," Victoria said, grabbing her daughter's hand. "Run." Sophie took off and Victoria ran beside her, the bag of hedgehog food banging on her thigh with every step.

  The collies reached them, snarling and nipping at their heels. Sophie screamed and Victoria pushed her in front, trying to shield her from the dogs. She'd had enough of Andrews's damn bullying tactics. She quickly moved aside the broken slats of the wooden fence and helped Sophie through the gap to safety.

  "Come on, Mum, please." Her daughter's pale, terrified face and tearful blue eyes fired anger inside Victoria. She would not let the miserable old farmer get away with frightening her daughter.

  She turned to the collies. "Shoo!" She waved her arms and dashed at them, making them back up a few feet, but they continued to bark like mad.

  "Call them off, Andrews," she shouted as the farmer approached.

  With his greasy cap and a few days' worth of gray stubble on his lined face, the man looked like a vagrant. He huffed and puffed, obviously out of breath. After a few moments he whistled to the dogs, who then dropped to the ground.

  "You're trespassing," he wheezed.

  "I was on a public footpath."

  "You ain't on it now. Soon as you step off that footpath you're trespassing on my land. I'll report you to the police."

  "Go ahead." She wedged her hands on her hips and glared at him. "I'm sure they'd like to hear how you set your dogs on a woman and little girl."

  "I'll deny it! It'll be your word against mine." The old man held a shotgun in his hand and waved it at her. She stepped back, her heart rate picking up.

  It wasn't the first time she'd had a gun waved at her. On a photo shoot in Africa, making a program about poachers, she'd actually been shot at. But she'd had bodyguards to shoot back, and she'd expected it there. She didn't expect to be threatened with a gun in the English countryside.

  "Wave that gun at me again, and I'll report you to the police for threatening us."

  At her words, he lowered the weapon to his side and backed up. "I ain't threatening you. I'm telling you to keep off my land."

  Victoria gritted her teeth and met the old man's gaze. "I'll walk on that footpath anytime I like. Go and milk your damn cows and leave us alone."

  She turned her back on him, her neck prickling as she climbed through the fence. A surge of relief wobbled her legs as her feet touched Larchfield Hall land.

  "I don't want to see any of them hedgehogs in my field, either. You hear me?"

  Victoria turned back to the man, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. "They're wild animals, Mr. Andrews. I don't control their movements."

  "You released them. You must stop them coming in my field." He ran his gaze along the fence between Larchfield and his land, as if he expected hedgehogs to scamper out at any moment. "If I see the blighters, I'll shoot 'em."

  Victoria's heart slammed against her ribs. Did he hate her so much that he'd punish innocent wild creatures to get at her? "Why?" she asked, her voice thin with confusion.

  Old Farmer Andrews simply glared at her, then whistled for his dogs and turned away.

  Victoria watched him go, Sophie's hand clasped tightly in hers. She wasn't sure if the man was bluffing, cruel, or crazy. He'd had it in for her from the moment she'd moved in to her cottage and she'd no idea why.

  She just prayed that the new owner of Larchfield Hall turned out to be hedgehog friendly and wouldn't frighten the animals out of the garden.

  ***

  "I like the look of this area, Dad. I want to explore. Are we nearly there?"

  As he drove, Adam Cantrell had been mulling over his schedule for the next few days. At his son's words, he jolted back to the present and examined the quaint English village and woodland outside the car. Adam would probably have enjoyed exploring the countryside as well when he was ten.

  "A couple more minutes, Harry. The house is on the outskirts of the village."

  His son leaned forward, nose pressed to the side window of the car, his iPad forgotten on the floor while his precious camera was clutched in his hands.

  They turned between the tall stone pillars at the entrance to Larchfield Hall and headed along the rutted drive through a mass of overgrown shrubs and greenery. After a hundred yards, Adam swung the car around a dried-up fountain and parked outside
the front door of the imposing Victorian manor house.

  "Wow, Dad. This is cool. It looks like it might be haunted." Harry had his seat belt undone and the door open almost before the car stopped rolling. He jumped out and put his camera strap around his neck.

  Adam chuckled at his son's enthusiasm. It was good to see him excited about something instead of moaning he was bored.

  Climbing out, Adam stretched, his back and shoulders aching after the drive down from London to Hampshire. He was only thirty-six, yet sometimes he felt as stiff and achy as an old man. His doctor said the pain was tension caused by stress, but there wasn't much he could do about that. He had a business to run. Life had to go on.

  The sun still kicked out plenty of heat even though it was nearly six p.m. Adam left his suit jacket in the car and pulled off his tie, unfastening the top button of his shirt.

  "Can I go and explore, Dad?" Harry already had his camera up to his eye, looking at everything through the viewfinder.

  "Of course. How about I come with you?" Adam had intended to make a few calls, but they could wait until Monday. He planned to spend the weekend with his son. Not that he didn't spend plenty of time with him already, but travelling together for work was not the same as having fun.

  Adam gazed at the weeds sprouting through the gravel of the circular drive and the overgrown garden in dire need of cutting back. The house wasn't in a much better state, the paint peeling and timbers rotting. He looked forward to getting this project underway, seeing the building renovated and converted into luxury apartments, and then erecting the homes he planned to build on the ten acres of gardens.

  "Which way, Dad?"

  Harry focused the camera on him and snapped a few pictures. Adam pulled a stupid face, making his son giggle.

  "Let's try down there." He pointed at a path that disappeared between the burgeoning shrubs. He'd only visited the place once before making his offer to purchase, but he'd pored over the plans and diagrams of the site for months. He knew the boundaries, paths, and the layout of the house itself by heart.

  Birds chirruped in the bushes and flew up from the undergrowth as the two of them made their way along the path. They occasionally stomped on fallen branches or pushed aside creepers so they could get through.

  Harry bent and snapped some pictures of the ground.

  "I'm not sure there's much of a market for photos of dirt, pal," Adam observed with a wry grin.

  "It's not just dirt. See the animal footprints here. Do you know what made them, Dad?"

  Adam bent beside his son and stared at the prints. He hadn't the faintest idea. Wild animals were not really his thing. He knew a good racehorse when he saw one and could appreciate a pedigree dog, but that was about it. "Might be a dog, I guess."

  "Whose dog would be in here?" Harry frowned.

  "Good point." Then Adam had a sudden inspiration. "I bet it’s a fox. They're related to dogs, aren't they?"

  "Yeah. I bet you're right." Harry shot some more photos from various angles. Adam watched, inordinately pleased with himself for coming up with a credible answer. Maybe he wasn't such a dunce when it came to wildlife after all.

  They wandered on, pausing often for Harry to photograph leaves, flowers, birds, interesting twigs, and numerous other things. Adam rarely walked in the countryside, he normally only saw it from inside a moving vehicle. But this afternoon he enjoyed the fragrance of the flowers and plants and the sun-warmed earth. Even the sound of the birds and the wind in the leaves relaxed him.

  The tension that rode his shoulders most of the time eased, and he wondered if his doctor had a point when she told him to take more time off and wind down.

  They reached the southern boundary fence and some black and white cows stared at them over the wire, mooing while Harry photographed them. Despite his relaxed mood, Adam couldn't stop his brain mentally charting where the new houses would be erected. He had a blueprint in his head with each plot marked out.

  The properties were to be individual, architect-designed homes with decent-sized gardens. He would have made more money by clearing the whole plot, demolishing the Victorian manor house, and cramming in as many small homes as possible. But that wasn't his thing. He was known for quality developments aimed at the top of the market. He still turned a tidy profit without compromising his principles.

  He followed Harry around a corner and halted abruptly at the unexpected sight of a young girl in a pink tutu. She was twirling in circles, arms arched above her head like a ballerina.

  "Who's that, Dad?"

  "I don't know." But he intended to find out. It wouldn't surprise him if the local kids from the village trespassed on the property, especially as it had been empty for a while.

  He'd had problems with site security at other developments. If kids played in the garden here, it didn't matter much right now, but once the building work started the area would become dangerous.

  Chapter Two

  The girl stared at them wide-eyed with obvious surprise as they approached. She was a pretty little thing with dark pigtails, big blue eyes, and a few freckles on the bridge of her nose. As he got closer he noticed she wasn't alone. Someone was with her, but right now that someone was kneeling with her head under a bush, giving a rather nice view of a shapely female posterior.

  "Mum," the girl said to the woman as Adam approached.

  "Hang on. Nearly done," a female voice replied from under the bush.

  The girl rested a hand on her mother's back. "There's a man here, Mum."

  "A what?"

  Shuffling ensued as the woman crawled out backwards and scrambled to her feet. She was a grown-up version of the little girl, the same dark hair in pigtails, big blue eyes, and freckles. Adam suppressed a smile at the likeness. Her cheeks pinked as she pulled leaves and twigs out of her hair.

  "Who are you?" she blurted.

  "I might ask you the same thing."

  "You might. But I asked first."

  "So you did. I'm Adam Cantrell," he said with a smile to put her at ease. "The new owner of Larchfield Hall."

  "Oh." Her eyes widened just like her daughter's. "I was hoping to see you. I didn't know you'd arrived yet."

  "We've only been here thirty minutes."

  "Oh, well, right. That's why I hadn't noticed your car yet. I'm Victoria O'Shea." She wiped her hand on the thigh of her jeans and held it out.

  Adam shook it, maintaining his smile. He wasn't sure what she was doing on his property, burrowing under a bush, but there was something artless about her that he liked. He doubted she was up to no good.

  "This is Sophie," Victoria said, sliding an arm around her daughter. She smiled at Harry. "What's your name?"

  Adam mentally kicked himself for not introducing his son. Most of the business people he dealt with ignored Harry as if the poor kid were invisible. Adam hated that. Now he'd done the same thing.

  "This is Harry," Adam said, resting a hand on his son's shoulder, trying to make up for his earlier lapse.

  Victoria frowned at him and returned her attention to his son. "You enjoy taking photographs, by the look of it."

  "Yes. I love it," Harry replied.

  Victoria and Sophie both smiled at Harry and he smiled back.

  Adam got the distinct impression Victoria disapproved of him for some reason but obviously liked his son. "So, what did you want to see me about?" Adam said.

  "The garden at Larchfield is a hedgehog release site, Mr. Cantrell. I've been relocating them here for seven years." Victoria laughed. "You probably have more hedgehogs per acre in this garden than anywhere else in England."

  "A Hedgehog release site?" What the heck? Nowhere in the property details or the searches his lawyers ran had it mentioned hedgehogs. If they were a protected species, it would throw a wrench in his plans big-time. "What exactly does this involve?"

  "I rescue hedgehogs and nurse them back to health. When they're fit, I return them to the wild." She waved a hand. "I live about a mile away so Larchfield is
really convenient for me. It's a beautiful garden for hedgehogs, and I can check their progress regularly. That's what I was doing when you came along."

  She pointed at the bush. "I have a hedgehog box here with a mother and three babies inside. There are actually hedgehog boxes tucked away all over your property."

  "The last owner let you do this?"

  "Of course. Lady Welland was my grandmother's best friend."

  "Right." Adam rubbed the back of his neck. The hedgehog boxes wouldn't last long once the contractors started clearing the site to erect the houses.

  How could he not have known about this? It should have been disclosed by the vendors during the negotiations, but he supposed the executors of Lady Welland's estate were equally in the dark. This sounded like a private arrangement between neighbors.

  "I've never seen a hedgehog," Harry piped up.

  "Well, we'll have to fix that. Would you like to see one now?" Victoria said.

  "Yes, please. Can I photograph them?"

  "I don't see why not." Victoria beckoned Harry forward. "I don't want to move the box while the animals are inside so you'll have to kneel and put your head underneath the bush."

  Harry crawled under and Victoria joined him. Sophie scooted around the other side of Harry and crawled under with them. Despite being rather put out and uncertain how to deal with this problem, Adam was once again distracted by the sight of Victoria's shapely jeans-clad bottom.

  He stared for a moment, then started feeling like the guy left alone in the kitchen at a party. Everyone was having fun except him.

  He moved behind Harry and peered through the bush over his son's head. "Can I have a look?"

  "Of course." Victoria backed out again and got to her feet, brushing leaves and dirt off the knees of her jeans. She scanned him up and down, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "You're not really dressed for this, Mr. Cantrell."

  "Call me Adam, please."

  "Okay, Adam. If you're sure you want to join us in the dirt in your snazzy trousers, crawl in beside your son."

  Victoria placed a hand flat on his back as if to guide him and an unexpected rush of sensation ran across his skin.