Chapter Nineteen

Daniel looked anxiously out his back windows, his view obscured by the sheets of rain tumbling down outside. The gutters were close to overflowing from the deluge, and yet, over the roar of the storm, he could hear the lowing of his animals, seeking shelter wherever they could find it out in the fields behind the farmhouse.

For once, the weather reports had it right – they had predicted at least a few showers, and Mother Nature had delivered in spades.

A rollicking good storm, complete with the requisite thunder and lightning, had began pelting the countryside about ten minutes before, much to Daniel's relief and delight – the fields definitely needed this.

His poor animals were certainly going to be traumatized in the morning though, Daniel thought with an inward wince. He always hated walking the farm the day after really big storms – assessing any damage, fixing the fences where a sheep or a cow made a break for it during the worst of the thunder, and soothing the animals as best he could.

From the looks of it, this storm was going to be one of those that required a lot of fence mending, Daniel thought as a vicious streak of lightning buzzed down from the heavens, temporarily illuminating the world outside before plunging it back into darkness.

Sighing, Daniel turned away from his back windows, wandering with his hands in his pockets towards the kitchen, deep in thought as he mentally reviewed his day. He'd spent all afternoon on the phone with his accountant, and then with his solicitor. He was desperately hoping to acquire some land abutting his own – old man Pargetter was finally selling off pieces of his land in order to be able to manage what he had more easily. Pargetter was getting on it years, and though Daniel hated to see him semi retire, he was still ready and willing to snap up what land he could.

The books have been tight the last few years, but steadily improving. Hopefully the bank would see it that way as well, and Daniel would be able to add to his green fields without too much hardship.

If the solicitor fees didn't do him in first, he thought ruefully.

He'd made good on the land he had been given – after years of living dangerously close to poverty, and with having to replace old and aging equipment at increasingly close intervals, Daniel had managed to turn things around, and to be turning a quite healthy profit.

And Rosa thought farmers lived in abject poverty their whole lives, Daniel thought, annoyed.

So far, he'd managed to avoid the dole, he thought with a wry grin.

Glancing up from the fridge, where he had bent to retrieve a beer, Daniel could see… he squinted through the sheets of rain, and then refocused.

Yes, it was definitely Sophie Roberts over in the Fairfields kitchen.

She appeared to be sitting nervously at the kitchen table, facing him, her fingers picking at the tablecloth laid there, her spine ramrod straight, her mouth in a tight, white line.

Very un-Sophie like stance, he thought, leaning forward to get a better look. Normally she's dancing or reading or arguing…

At that moment, a ground shaking crack of thunder echoed across the fields, and Daniel watched as Sophie's mouth opened in a silent scream. He couldn't hear her audibly, but he could hear her shriek of terror in his mind.

The same shriek he'd heard during the mouse "incident".

Obviously, she'd never had to live through a Welsh storm.

He continued to watch her, feeling almost protective of her as she cowered and shrieked, but she did not cry, though her features were ashen. Her fingers tightened into balled fists, but she did not move, did not break her tall stance.

She was going to beat this storm, no matter what, he realized with a start. This is like a battle of wills…

He flattened a hand against the pane of glass, as though he could reach out and comfort her in some way.

As though she would ever stand to be comforted by him, he thought with a snort.

She thought him a smug, nasty bastard.

From how he had treated her, he could understand the thinking.

As he continued to watch and wince each time the thunder and lightning startled her, he realized she was nothing like Rosa.

Same flame coloured hair, but nothing else. And even then… Rosa's hair was stick straight, and always cut in a harsh, angular bob. On the other hand, Sophie's thick hair tumbled down her back, all soft curls and waves that a man could lose himself in forever.

Yet another difference between the two women.

Rosa was… hard. Angular. Short.

She was a sweet talker, a manipulator, a ball breaker.

Rosa showed no emotion unless it would gain her something – and that definitely wasn't Sophie's way at all.

Sophie was… soft. Warm. Comforting.

She was emotional and warm hearted, delicate and teasing. She had a temper that went from zero to a hundred and back again, but she was willing to give anyone a second chance. She had a beautiful smile and appeared to have no "game plan" for using him for money, position, advancement or benefit.

She was just… Sophie.

Sweet, silly Sophie who was afraid of spiders and mice, who cowered from thunderstorms but refused to cry, who worked hard and tried new things at that bookstore of hers, who gave him a tongue lashing when he had certainly earned it but at times appeared willing to forgive him for his missteps.

No, Sophie was definitely no Rosa.

Maybe it was time to finally let that ghost go, and let a breath of fresh air back into his life.

And that breath went by the name of Sophie.

His hand still splayed on the pane of glass, Daniel vowed to remain watch over Sophie until the worst of the storm was over, to make sure she was alright with his own eyes.

And if the storm didn't eventually slack off, he'd damn well walk through the torrential rain himself to comfort her.

It's the least he could do.

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