Romantic Train Ride Part Fourteen Written By S D Hudson

This is SD Hudson Magic.

Welcome to episode 14 of my first ever romantic sleep story.

The last time we saw Rebecca Dregoran,

She was making a slow recovery in the comfort of her own home,

Back in Fort Denning.

Jake meanwhile was getting more and more desperate to speak to her.

But before we begin,

Let's take a moment to focus on where we are now.

Take a deep breath in through your nose.

Then let it out on a long sigh.

That's it.

It is time to relax and fully let go.

Feel your shoulders melt away from your ears.

Feel the pressure seep away from your cheeks.

And know that you are safe.

This is your time.

And your place.

And here we are.

Back in Scott Lake town,

Where Jake has just taken another sip of whiskey after a pleasing phone call.

It no longer burns his throat.

He's used to it now.

Jake sat back heavily on his leather sofa.

So Olivia would be prosecuted,

Would she?

They had CCTV evidence.

Good.

All the more reason to celebrate.

That footage must have shown clear intent.

He could only imagine what was going on in her mind that day.

The poisonous so-and-so.

He didn't bear thinking about.

But Olivia would never really pay the price,

Would she?

She had half the town in her pocket.

Or in her bed,

Depending on what time of day it was.

It had taken everything he had not to launch her across the room all those weeks ago when she sat sporting a fresh new handbag and matching lapdog.

He promised her then hell would freeze over before he'd entertain any ideas of her.

And he'd kept to his word.

Rebecca dominated Jake's every breath now.

She consumed everything he did whilst he was awake and everything he said in his sleep.

The anticipation was killing him.

Telling his father was supposed to make things easier.

But there'd been such an atmosphere in the days after he confessed.

He thought it better to leave and avoid stressing the old man anymore.

As for Olivia,

She'd certainly been conspicuous in her absence from work.

Doubtless she was still milking father for everything she could get.

That was usually where his sympathies lie.

Stress,

That's what she'd say,

Had caused her to veer off the road.

Stress and worry about why he had refused to marry her.

What story she would spin.

Jake took another long sip before standing up.

This was a nice flat when all was said and done.

Its view across the mountains was almost panoramic.

The morning sun flooded into the lounge,

Leaving its brazen kiss on the start of each new day.

And the mature lime trees lining the street outside brought songs of hope from Thrush and Blackbird.

But what he liked best of all was that it was his.

Bought and paid for.

No one could take that away from him.

It was no surprise Anika and Ahmed were happy when they were here.

This apartment block was amongst the best in town.

He checked the bare walls.

There were marks where once Ahmed's pictures were stuck.

It was hardly a home yet.

But if father disowned him,

He'd make it one.

Why was he torturing himself like this?

That would never happen,

Would it?

But he'd heard nothing since leaving that day.

It had taken all he had to finally speak his mind.

Then he had no choice but to leave.

It wasn't right expecting the old man to face that atmosphere when he was recovering from yet another hospital stay.

But what was done was done.

With any luck in time,

His father might just come to see things from his point of view.

He stood up and walked over to the old piano.

Apparently,

Rebecca had found it in a charity shop and gifted it to Ahmed,

So he said.

It had been too heavy to take with him.

And there she was again,

Rebecca haunting Jake's every thought.

No one had even been back to collect her things.

Everything next door must still be just the way she left it.

I wonder.

He sped to the front door and yanked it open.

The oriental mat was still there.

Rebecca's ornate brass knocker,

Still as shiny as a new pin.

No one had been,

Not in all this time.

She was never coming back,

Was she?

He lifted the corner of the mat.

This was ridiculous.

Who did that nowadays?

He lowered it and turned back.

But that was the point,

Wasn't it?

Rebecca was ridiculous.

She wasn't like other people.

She didn't expect the worst of other people.

This time he lifted the whole thing,

And there,

Sitting in the same place it had sat for all those weeks,

Was the bright shiny key to Rebecca's front door.

Meanwhile,

Over in Fort Denning,

Rebecca was helping her mother to clear a pathway through the recent snowfall.

She loved the fresh air.

It brought life to her cheeks and brilliance back to her eyes.

You have a rest now,

Mum.

I've got this,

She declared as she felt the old energy return.

She'd always been strange that way.

The more energy she used,

The more she had to spare.

No chance of you wearing yourself out any time soon,

Is there?

Mrs.

Tregoren joked,

Her warm breath dancing in the frosty air.

None,

Rebecca laughed,

Shuffling faster still.

Now's as good a time as any,

Mrs.

Tregoren said to herself as she jumped straight in.

I got a letter this morning.

Oh yeah?

It's from Denning Primary.

Rebecca slowed a little.

Okay.

It's about their teacher training programme.

Rebecca stopped mid-scoop.

Now why would they be sending you letters about that?

Well,

Mrs.

McGray's still there,

As you know,

And we all keep in touch.

Really?

This was no coincidence,

And Rebecca knew it.

Her mother had been meddling again.

Reverend Kane's been sending your praises to her.

But I haven't been to church in yonks.

This was ridiculous.

Her mother was just trying to get her at it.

He was waxing lyrical about your help at Sunday school.

That was ages ago,

Mum.

Things have changed since then.

You've not changed,

Becky.

You're still the same girl you always were.

Rebecca scraped the snow away from her feet.

She resented the tears that threatened to expose her.

Don't say that.

I will say it,

Mrs.

Tregoren persisted.

Just take a look at it,

Will you?

For me?

Her voice caught and Rebecca put down her shovel.

But I'm not ready.

Yes,

You are.

My face.

Only you can see it.

No,

Mum,

I can't.

I'm not ready.

Rebecca,

You can.

It's what Daddy would have wanted.

This was a low blow,

But Mrs.

Tregoren was getting desperate.

And as they sat together watching the snow fall,

Rebecca realised there was no getting away from it.

She was going to have to move forwards,

Whether she liked it or not.

Jake sat back and drank in the sweet,

Heady scent.

He wouldn't stay in the flat for long,

Just a second,

Then he'd leave.

It wasn't right,

He knew.

But he was desperate.

Or was that the whisky talking?

He was still drinking from the night before.

Weekends are always tough.

He looked around.

This was all Rebecca owned in the world.

Just coloured scarves,

Pretty dresses and numerous books.

Not even the bricks and mortar.

He was still far from worthy of her.

He'd made so many mistakes.

And for what?

He checked his phone.

No more calls.

Good.

The last one had been enough.

Before he entered her flat,

His father's secretary had told him in no uncertain terms he was to be present at Cartwright Manor later,

Without fail.

Why didn't father call himself?

He just needed to hear his voice.

To know it would be okay,

To know he wasn't completely alone in the world.

Later that day,

He'd see him and sign the house over.

That would put an end to it.

And if that didn't prove where his loyalties lie,

He didn't know what would.

Not that he would compromise his morals again.

He owed himself and his upbringing that.

He must stay true to the man he was brought up to be.

Mr and Mrs Fairmore had been good people.

He could see that now.

Even if they had made a poor decision by not telling him who his father was.

They taught him to follow his heart and be humble.

And that is what he should be,

Even if it meant being alone.

Even if it meant only having a job to his name.

And he would give everything to that,

Regardless.

He had only ever wanted the best for Cartwright Industries.

He tugged at the scarf draped across an old ladderback chair.

It was woven from the smoothest silk and shimmered in the light.

He ran it through his fingers,

Softly,

Gently.

And with a telling clump,

A small black book fell to his feet.

Like a child with a guilty secret,

He snatched a glance at the door.

All was quiet.

Good.

The book was well used.

Smaller than a regular notebook,

With a soft leather cover that sat comfortably in his large palm.

Jake stroked the spine as if to connect with its owner.

Just one peek wouldn't hurt.

He turned the pages,

Guiltily at first,

Absorbed with each new revelation.

He'd always known Rebecca could draw.

But not like this.

This was beautiful.

A book of revelations.

There were birds and mountains,

The friendly faces of those who frequented McGinty's bar,

And the town square,

Ahmed sitting at the piano,

And the girl who used to work with Rebecca,

Donned in a funny coloured hat.

He looked closer still.

At the top of each illustration a date had been ascribed.

He thought carefully.

When was it?

A while ago now.

He flicked back and forth wildly.

And there it was.

The very day he'd helped her up from the floor in the foyer of Scott Lake Towers.

She'd spent a long time on this one.

These were her most intimate thoughts.

A celebration of her deepest fantasies.

This drawing she revered.

Not least of all,

Because the intertwined hands she had depicted so lovingly wore matching rings.

Jake snatched his glass from the table and stood up.

He'd been pathetic,

But it would end now.

He must do something before it was too late.

It was unusually bright in the morning room at Cartwright Manor.

Such a large space was difficult to heat,

But today the shutters had been thrown back and the curtains nipped,

So the winter rays rushed in.

It was warm,

Conducive to rest and healing.

Jake gazed at the large log scrackling merrily away in the hearth.

A faint aroma of cinnamon rolls hung in the air,

Mixed with the best filter coffee.

Father.

He spoke softly,

But his voice wavered not an inch.

He was resolute.

There was no mistaking that.

Ah,

There you are.

John Cartwright sat up straight on his high-winged back chair.

He had his back to Jake,

But even so,

Jake could tell this was the voice of a much younger man.

What's happened?

He said to himself.

That doesn't sound like him at all.

Father?

He walked over quickly,

To see his father dressed in bright blue walls with a fresh haircut and manicure.

Come and sit with me.

His father's expression could only be described as relief.

Had he finally seen the light?

Could it really be true?

Jake hardly dared to dream.

I've missed you,

Son.

Jake clenched his fists.

Maybe this was the result of Olivia's meddling.

Just a new tactic to get him to give in.

Sit down,

Lad.

You look all spent.

Jake sat,

But he was no longer beaten.

He had a plan and was eager to get on with it.

Much has happened since you left,

Jake.

I hope you've been okay.

Jake was speechless.

He was relieved to be back in his father's presence,

But he wouldn't be counting his chickens.

He'd learned from experience nothing was ever that easy.

John Cartwright looked at him through loving eyes.

It had been a shock,

Coming to terms with how things really were.

But no sooner had it happened than he felt strangely relieved.

He'd always known Jake was a good lad.

And if he was honest with himself,

He'd long suspected Olivia had a different side to the one she presented to him.

She must have had for Jake to reject her like that.

But even so,

He'd been far from prepared for what transpired with her the night before.

She'd screamed at the top of her voice like her mother used to do when she didn't get her own way.

He wasn't prepared for it and found himself gasping for breath and holding his chest.

This pressure had been building up in him for some time.

All he'd done was ask her what had happened for Jake to reject her.

Then she'd exploded into a drunken outburst.

He's a fool and so are you.

The reason my mother married you was for your money.

The girl had obviously been holding that bitterness in for a long time.

Why do you think I've stuck around all this time?

Olivia had spat.

You've never really loved me and since your son turned up,

I'm like a spare part.

He'd found that hard to swallow.

Of all the things he was,

He wasn't heartless.

He'd always given Olivia everything she needed,

Including his love.

Okay,

Maybe not the same adoration he'd had for his son,

But he'd done his best to do the right thing and stay true to her mother's dying wishes.

It wasn't until his faithful secretary intervened that she stopped.

He'd been quick to put the record straight.

And when Olivia finally left,

John Cartwright had been surprised to hear the truth about the money she'd squandered,

The court case she'd brought about,

And the hit-and-run charges she was now facing.

It should have been a shock,

But it was in fact a lightning-bulb moment.

And for the first time in years,

He'd felt as if he was free from that unsettling feeling which left him unable to sleep.

He was free from the worries he'd had about his son and the nagging doubts he'd always had about Olivia.

So much so,

He'd slept better that last night than he had done in years.

I should never have let you leave,

Son,

But here we are.

I know the truth now.

At last I know the truth.

Why didn't you tell me before?

Jake could not believe what he was hearing.

What did his father know exactly?

Was it the real truth,

Or some twisted version Olivia had fed him?

I couldn't,

Father.

I didn't want to hurt you.

His father said nothing to this.

There was nothing he could say.

His son had been willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of his feelings.

How wrong he had been to put Olivia's feelings first.

He turned to face him.

I've thought about what you said.

You must follow your heart,

Son.

Go and get her,

That girl you couldn't take your eyes off.

I saw her that day in the foyer.

I've heard great things about her on the grapevine.

You only get one life,

And I don't want you making the same mistakes I made.

Jake felt sick.

This couldn't be happening.

He wanted to cry,

To say thank you,

To say his father meant more to him than anyone,

Apart from Rebecca.

But the words just wouldn't come.

He looked into his hands as if the answer was somehow sitting there.

How could he show what this meant to him without making a fool of himself?

Sensing his emotion,

His father reached up to the mantelpiece before placing a reassuring hand on his hunched shoulder.

This is yours,

Son.

It was an old box one Jake had never seen before.

Its significance was immense,

As are all things handed from father to son.

He opened it gingerly,

Wishing to savour this moment for as long as he could.

This was pivotal.

Just the two of them underneath the cartwright's shield.

Father and son.

Outside,

The snow fell softly as the sun beat through the frosty panes.

At his feet,

The terriers were peaceful at last,

Safe in the knowledge Jake was back.

There was no interfering Olivia.

No fussing nurse.

Just them.

Him and his father.

His father and him.

Jake slipped the gold signet ring on his ring finger.

It was engraved with the initials J.

C.

And then the tears fell.

He couldn't stop them.

Not that his father saw.

His hand was resting on the mantelpiece as he looked into the flames.

Thank you for coming into my life,

Son.

He said.

I'm finally seeing clearly for the first time in years.

You and me can do some real good with cartwright industry,

As you know.

This is the start of a new phase.

A new beginning.

I've let things slip.

But no more.

Not now,

I have you.

And that afternoon,

He told Jake all that had happened with Olivia as they recovered together.

Safe in the arms of Cartwright Manor after the turbulent days that passed before.