Fragrance of Violets by Paula Martin

young people looked at each other, and Abbey was impressed again by the way he encouraged them to think.
    “How far in the past do you mean?”
    She raised her eyebrows in surprise when Charlotte Morris asked the question. The shy fourteen year old rarely contributed to any discussion although Abbey had recognised her potential as an actress.
    Delight zinged through her at the interest which lit up the girl’s face. The same interest was reflected in faces of the others. It seemed she wasn’t the only one to be affected by Jack’s charisma.
    “However far in the past you want to go,” Jack said in answer to Charlotte. “You could find out, for example, what life was in your parents’ or grandparents’ time, and compare the problems they had when they were younger with your own issues today. You might go even further back, into the nineteenth century, and think about young people at that time. They faced a lot of similar problems, you know. Jobs? Yes, they were expected to continue family traditions—farming, slate quarrying, working in the copper mines, even blacksmiths and carpenters, but what if they didn’t want to do that? What other opportunities did they have?”
    The discussion went on as the teenagers compared and contrasted their own lives with what they’d heard from their parents or grandparents about life forty or sixty years ago. The atmosphere became charged with a buzz of excitement, and Abbey realised they’d hit on something that could work. A portrayal of life for young people in Lakeland, past and present.
    She let Jack lead the discussion, which he did with confident ease, until she checked her watch and saw with surprise that it was nearly nine-thirty.
    “Okay, time to finish. Jack’s given you lots to think about. During this coming week, how about doing some research on life in the past for people your age?”
    “Concentrate on three or four aspects,” Jack said. “Ask your parents and grandparents or other older people, and see if you can find out about the nineteenth century, too, because I guarantee you’ll discover that young people faced very similar issues.”
    Abbey nodded. “Next week, we’ll try to create scenes that highlight comparisons and contrasts.”
    The young people tidied the barn and said their farewells. Some were walking in groups to homes in the village, others were picked up by parents from farms and homes further away. When they’d all left, Abbey’s nerves tightened again. Being alone with Jack filled her with too many conflicting emotions.
    “Thanks for coming. Your ideas were great.”
    “I enjoyed it.” He flicked off the lights and held the door for her. “Hopefully it’s given them something to think about, and after all that talking, I need a drink. How about you? Want to go to the White Lion?”
    Part of her wanted to run away from Fir Garth, to escape home where she could examine her muddled thoughts in private. The other part longed to sit next to him in the pub, feel his arm brushing against hers, let her eyes connect with his, talk and laugh like they used to do.
    It didn’t make sense that she could be attracted to him and yet resent him at the same time. Besides, he was grieving for his fiancée. She was in danger of making a complete fool of herself.
    She shook her head. “Not tonight, thanks. I need to go home now, but thanks again for the use of the barn and for talking to the kids.”
    She set off toward the gate.
    “Abbey, wait.”
    She didn’t want to wait, or turn around, or talk to him any longer, or feel the hot rush of desire she didn’t understand, or deal with the battle between her head and her heart.
    How could she maintain a casual friendship with him when everything inside her was on fire? She desperately wanted to distance herself from him, physically, mentally, and emotionally.
    Instead she stopped, and reluctantly turned to face him.

 
    CHAPTER 9
     
    Jack breathed again. He knew he’d have to tread carefully if