Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama) by Carole Williams (uplifting novels TXT) 📕

Charles was taken aback by his son’s aggressive tone.  Richard had never spoken to him in such a dismissive way before and he couldn’t understand why.

“I’ll make it brief then,” Charles said with astonishment.  “As I said, I just wanted to know you were back safely … but you sound particularly angry with me, my boy, and I’d like to know why.  I know you and Ruth must have had some kind of falling out for both of you to leave separately and so early and the whole weekend was a bloody nightmare one way or another but to storm out of Canleigh without even saying goodbye was somewhat surprising.  Have I done something to upset you?”

“Oh, for goodness sake, of course you have!”  Richard almost shouted, sounding desperately tired and stressed.  “After the way you fawned after my girlfriend this weekend.  You are years older than her … it was disgusting … and she was my guest, not yours.  You had no right.”

Charles’ heart plummeted.  So Richard did experience feelings for Ruth.  What if she felt the same?  Had he badly misread the situation and the signs?  And he didn’t want to hurt his son.  It would be appalling.  He would have to back off and go back to Yorkshire as quickly as possible.

“Richard, I am so sorry.  I was just trying to be polite and courteous to Ruth.  She is a lovely young woman and ….”  He hated lying but wanted above all to reassure his son that whatever happened their relationship came first.  It had to.

Richard sighed deeply, his tone lightening a tiny fraction.  “It’s all right, Father.  You don’t have to spare my feelings.  I saw, with my own eyes, how you were attracted to each other.  You both deny it but it’s true and you know it.  Yes, I fell for her in a big way but I stupidly ruined any chance of a relationship between us last night.  I behaved despicably and she’ll probably never speak to me again.  So, I wish you luck but please don’t expect me to feel happy about it … or spend much time with you if your relationship develops.  It would be too embarrassing and awkward … for all of us.”

“Richard … I ….”

“No, Father.  Leave it.  Ruth made her feelings quite plain last night as far as I am concerned and I am totally out of the running.  So the field is clear for you but I think we all need to keep our distance for a while and let things calm down … until you see sense and realise you are far too old for her.”

“I think you’re probably right, Richard … that we need a cooling down period.  We’ll speak again in a few weeks,” Charles said quietly, not wanting to antagonise his son further.  If what Richard said was true about Ruth severing any potential romance between the two of them, and Charles had no reason to doubt him, there was nothing to stand in his way.  Although Richard was right about the age gap.  Ruth might not be interested in having any kind of serious relationship with a fifty-year-old man and if she did, it was obviously going to be a problem for Richard.  Why was life so complicated?  Charles didn’t want to hurt Richard in any way.  He was his son and he loved him deeply.  Perhaps it would be wise to go back to Yorkshire now.  Not see Ruth.  Not let this go any further.  But he knew he couldn’t.  He had to find out for sure how she felt about him.  They would have dinner tonight and if the spark wasn’t there, he would return to Yorkshire tomorrow and forget all about her and then there wouldn’t be a problem with Richard.  However, if his feelings were reciprocated, that would be wonderful and exciting but could cause a nasty rift with his son.  Charles sighed and for a second time considered cancelling dinner and leaving Oxford immediately but couldn’t bring himself to do it.  He wanted to see Ruth so badly and he was going to and hang the consequences.

In an effort to raise his chastened spirits, Charles left the Randolph.  He stood on the steps outside and surveyed the entrance to the Ashmolean Museum opposite.  He had always meant to pay it a visit but time had never permitted.  Now he had all afternoon.  He idled away a couple of hours by examining the paintings and artefacts, intrigued mostly by the Egyptian mummies.  He had always wanted to travel to Egypt but the one time he suggested it to Margaret, she was emphatically against the idea, protesting it was too hot, dusty and boring and for some reason, he had not thought to go again.  Interest revived, his mind ran riot, seeing visions of Ruth and himself cruising down the Nile, riding on camels, taking photographs of the pyramids.  He just knew she would love it, would revel in the exploration and the knowledge that would come their way.  Leaving the Ashmoleum he smiled to himself.  He really was being carried away.

A sharp hunger pang made him think about food.  He had missed lunch but there were still a few hours to go before dinner so something light would be most acceptable.  He made his way to the Mitre, a twelfth-century hostelry, a popular venue for tourists and city dwellers alike, situated in the High street.  He settled into a seat by the window, ordered a ham sandwich and coffee, and watched the crowds outside from his vantage point.  Bicycle after bicycle whizzed past, office workers rushed to and fro, diving in and out of the banks and shops, many eating sandwiches or pasties as they scurried along, trying to fit in shopping with their lunch breaks.  Tourists stood in groups, listening to