Yorkshire Lassie I mean. Is that what he called you?”
“A version of it, I suppose…Miss Yorkshire…that’s what he called me.” She smiled as she heard his voice in her head.
“Ah, I see. Sorry. If I had-a-known I would’ve called you something else.”
“What would you have called me? You didn’t know my name anyway.”
“Probably ‘ Wee Crabbit Lassie ’” His mouth curled up at one side so she knew he was jesting.
“And what does that mean?” Her eyes squinted at him suspiciously as she was fully aware that it was probably an insult.
“Ohhh…it means pretty and quiet.”
“It does not! I know you’re being mean. Tell me the truth,” she chastised.
“You sure? Okay, you asked for it. Wee as in little and crabbit as in bad tempered.” He visibly winced, as if he expected her to thump his arm.
“Huh, you can talk!”
“Aye, that’s true.”
Greg knew she was right. He hadn’t exactly made the best first impression to the village newcomer. He deserved all he got. He watched as she stared into the cup of steaming liquid and his heart ached. He understood her grief more than she could possibly know. He wanted to reach out and comfort her; tell her things would get easier. But what was the point? She clearly didn’t like him, so what would his words mean?
After a few moments he dared to speak again. “You alright now?” he asked his guest passenger.
She didn’t speak. She just shook her head slowly as the tears came again. She covered her face with one hand as her shoulders shuddered.
Greg removed the cup from her hand and he moved toward her sliding an arm around her shoulders. “Hey, c’mon, shhhhhh, you’ll be fine. Shhhh. It gets easier, I promise you that.”
He stroked her hair as she let more of the raw emotion spill out onto his denim jacket. He sat there comforting her for what felt like hours, just letting her cry, holding her tightly and fighting back his own tears of grief that had bubbled to the surface.
Finally, she raised her head as her tears subsided. He looked into her red, puffy eyes and saw the raw pain she was feeling. He reached up and almost touched her face to express his empathy, but he thought better of it and placed his hand on the steering wheel.
“C’mon, we’d better get ye home. They’ll all be wondering where you’ve got to.”
Greg put the vehicle into gear and released the handbrake. It was a gutsy vehicle. She noticed the Land Rover badge on the steering wheel. That figures she thought. Looking at his left hand she noticed the indentation where a wedding ring had once been. She wanted to ask him about his family and his wife, but decided to save those questions. She wasn’t sure she could digest any more information at the moment.
They pulled up outside the cottage and the front door opened immediately. Brad, Renee and Josie came running out. They shouted out in unison, some unable to hold their feelings.
“Mallory, thank fucking goodness!” Josie clapped her hands over her mouth when she received a disapproving glance from Renee.
“Oh thank, God, Mallory!” Renee exclaimed “We’ve been worried sick!” She pulled her cardigan around her shoulders to guard against the chill wind.
Greg appeared at the passenger side and opened the door. Mallory tried to get out of the vehicle.
“Whoa there lassie, you’ve nothin’ on your feet.” He scooped her up with ease and began to walk toward the door. Brad did not appear happy about this gallant action and quickly followed him inside.
“Who are you, pal?” He asked in a rather threatening manner, his broad Yorkshire accent becoming more evident in anger. “Why does she look like she’s been dragged through an ‘edge?” Brad clenched his fists at his sides.
Greg’s jaw clenched at the insinuations as he placed Mallory on the sofa.
“I found her on the beach sobbing her heart out, if you must know. She’s nothing on her feet and no coat. Have you any idea how cold it gets
“A version of it, I suppose…Miss Yorkshire…that’s what he called me.” She smiled as she heard his voice in her head.
“Ah, I see. Sorry. If I had-a-known I would’ve called you something else.”
“What would you have called me? You didn’t know my name anyway.”
“Probably ‘ Wee Crabbit Lassie ’” His mouth curled up at one side so she knew he was jesting.
“And what does that mean?” Her eyes squinted at him suspiciously as she was fully aware that it was probably an insult.
“Ohhh…it means pretty and quiet.”
“It does not! I know you’re being mean. Tell me the truth,” she chastised.
“You sure? Okay, you asked for it. Wee as in little and crabbit as in bad tempered.” He visibly winced, as if he expected her to thump his arm.
“Huh, you can talk!”
“Aye, that’s true.”
Greg knew she was right. He hadn’t exactly made the best first impression to the village newcomer. He deserved all he got. He watched as she stared into the cup of steaming liquid and his heart ached. He understood her grief more than she could possibly know. He wanted to reach out and comfort her; tell her things would get easier. But what was the point? She clearly didn’t like him, so what would his words mean?
After a few moments he dared to speak again. “You alright now?” he asked his guest passenger.
She didn’t speak. She just shook her head slowly as the tears came again. She covered her face with one hand as her shoulders shuddered.
Greg removed the cup from her hand and he moved toward her sliding an arm around her shoulders. “Hey, c’mon, shhhhhh, you’ll be fine. Shhhh. It gets easier, I promise you that.”
He stroked her hair as she let more of the raw emotion spill out onto his denim jacket. He sat there comforting her for what felt like hours, just letting her cry, holding her tightly and fighting back his own tears of grief that had bubbled to the surface.
Finally, she raised her head as her tears subsided. He looked into her red, puffy eyes and saw the raw pain she was feeling. He reached up and almost touched her face to express his empathy, but he thought better of it and placed his hand on the steering wheel.
“C’mon, we’d better get ye home. They’ll all be wondering where you’ve got to.”
Greg put the vehicle into gear and released the handbrake. It was a gutsy vehicle. She noticed the Land Rover badge on the steering wheel. That figures she thought. Looking at his left hand she noticed the indentation where a wedding ring had once been. She wanted to ask him about his family and his wife, but decided to save those questions. She wasn’t sure she could digest any more information at the moment.
They pulled up outside the cottage and the front door opened immediately. Brad, Renee and Josie came running out. They shouted out in unison, some unable to hold their feelings.
“Mallory, thank fucking goodness!” Josie clapped her hands over her mouth when she received a disapproving glance from Renee.
“Oh thank, God, Mallory!” Renee exclaimed “We’ve been worried sick!” She pulled her cardigan around her shoulders to guard against the chill wind.
Greg appeared at the passenger side and opened the door. Mallory tried to get out of the vehicle.
“Whoa there lassie, you’ve nothin’ on your feet.” He scooped her up with ease and began to walk toward the door. Brad did not appear happy about this gallant action and quickly followed him inside.
“Who are you, pal?” He asked in a rather threatening manner, his broad Yorkshire accent becoming more evident in anger. “Why does she look like she’s been dragged through an ‘edge?” Brad clenched his fists at his sides.
Greg’s jaw clenched at the insinuations as he placed Mallory on the sofa.
“I found her on the beach sobbing her heart out, if you must know. She’s nothing on her feet and no coat. Have you any idea how cold it gets
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