She finally broke the silence.
‘Those photos represent two of the most important turning points in our relationship.’ Richard waited for her reply cloaked with an unreadable expression. ‘The beginning of our marriage, our long-term commitment to each other and…’ Jo knew what she wanted to say but the words stuck in her throat.
‘And?’
‘And the end of our marriage.’ There, she’d said it. Their life together had fallen apart when they had lost their child. Sam had turned out to be the sustenance of their love and it was only when he’d gone that the full impact had struck. Neither of them had had the strength to do battle with their own demons, let alone share their grief. Joanna had cocooned herself in despair and Richard…She knew he’d tried his best but it hadn’t been enough. In being the strong one, he’d buried part of himself. He’d buried his own guilt and pain and devastation. Joanna could see that now and was grateful for how hard he’d tried to help, but it hadn’t made sense to her at the time.
She’d wanted him to cry therapeutic tears with her, to share the load so they could carry it forward, together. Not ignore their problems and maintain an outwardly happy face in the name of toughing it out.
Richard’s thumb traced a pattern on the palm of her hand with warm, gentle pressure.
‘I tried so hard—’
‘I know. But maybe you tried too hard. You never broke down. You were always the tower of strength. But what I needed was to see that you were as vulnerable as me. In the end you seemed to almost stop being human.’
‘It was the only way I knew to cope.’ The dark pupils of his deep blue eyes dilated and Joanna thought she detected a slight tremor in his hand. It was the reassurance she needed. He was on the brink of sharing his feelings.
‘But you still do it, Richard. I don’t think you’ve…’ But she couldn’t say it. She didn’t know how to tell her husband she thought he hadn’t yet worked through the grieving process necessary to move on. She suspected it was the reason he’d stayed away so long; it had probably been an escape for him, to a life full of strangers and distractions and a full-on workload.
Richard opened his mouth to speak but closed it again.
‘Do you want me to forget we had a son?’ he finally said, his voice a husky whisper.
‘No, of course I don’t. There’s not a day goes past that I don’t think about Sam. He was an important part of our lives. Still is. But I realise it serves no purpose to let the memories overwhelm me. It’s taken me a long time to realise that.’ She took a deep breath in an effort to give herself the courage to continue. ‘And my work in Oncology has helped.’
Richard reached across for the bottle of spring water he’d brought in on the tray. He opened it and half filled both glasses. He took one for himself and offered the other to Joanna but she refused. The dryness she felt in her throat wouldn’t be relieved by water.
‘Yes, I know.’ Richard swallowed a mouthful of his drink. ‘Anyone can see how much you care for the kids on Matilda.’
‘It makes it easier when I know how difficult it would be to fall pregnant.’
Richard’s gaze lowered and he rubbed the back of his neck as if to massage away a ball of tension. Then he looked up.
‘So what do you want me to do, Joanna? I can’t change who I am. I can’t change the past.’
She looked at him for a long moment and realised the only answer she could give was the truth.
‘I still love you, Richard. I want us to try again. But it won’t work if we can’t share the bad times as well as the good. I know the memory of Sam will always be there and I want…’ She took a sip of water while Richard waited for her to continue. ‘I want you to let yourself cry for Sam.’
He stood up and walked over to the window that faced the street. He leaned on the sill with his arms spread wide. At least he was thinking about what she’d said. He hadn’t dismissed her words as being sentimental nonsense. The barrier hadn’t gone up yet.
Finally he turned.
‘I can’t turn on tears for you, Jo.’
‘I don’t expect you to. I just want to know you are able to…How can I say it…? You’re able to give yourself permission.’
He walked back to where she was sitting, leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead.
‘I’m not sure I can do what you want, but I’m prepared to try.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
NIGHT shifts weren’t usually a problem for Joanna but now she was nearing the end of her month-long stint the days were dragging. She was counting the shifts until she finished, looking forward to starting work in daylight hours and going to bed after sunset. She knew nursing involved around-the-clock care but the busy, hands-on day shifts suited her better than the usually quiet and uneventful nights.
And, of course, she would see more of Richard when her roster changed.
His attitude seemed more relaxed as they took the first tentative steps to get to know each other again. He’d said little about their heart-to-heart talk but she was perceptive enough to notice his attitude towards her had changed. The spark was still there but they’d both agreed to take things slowly.
The tongues of the hospital grapevine had already started to wag, though, which wasn’t surprising because it was difficult to disguise the fact that their relationship went further than a straightforward professional association between nurse and consultant. She hadn’t yet decided whether the gossip was a good or bad thing, but at least no one knew about their past. Joanna had enough to deal with without having to cope with the possibility of endless questions, probably associated with well-meant but unwelcome sympathy.
The combination of Joanna working night shifts and Richard’s busy schedule meant they’d had little opportunity for one-to-one contact. He’d walked her home from choir rehearsals a couple of times but she’d been shy of asking him in. The closest they’d come to a date had been his invitation for her to come swimming with him after work. They’d also shared a meal with the ‘film crew’ the previous Saturday after helping Lorraine and Steve with the final shoot of the Matilda Ward segment for the concert. But that didn’t count because they’d been part of a large, noisy and excited group and had barely spoken to each other.
The concert.
It was only two weeks away and preparations were going well. The performance was scheduled for Easter Saturday and Richard had promised to take Joanna out on a proper date on the following evening.
To celebrate, he’d said mysteriously.
To celebrate what?
Of course, the predicted success of the concert was cause for celebration but the look in his eye when he’d invited her suggested he had more than the hospital fundraiser on his mind.
He’d told her he’d already booked a table for two at a fancy, waterside restaurant but he wouldn’t tell her where. She was looking forward to it and had bought a new dress in honour of the occasion.
She smiled as she walked back to the nurses’ station after doing her 6:00 a.m. rounds. It was her last night shift for at least another three months and she was dog tired. The previous day she’d found it difficult to sleep and as a result had felt overtired and cranky before she’d even started her shift. This stint had taken its toll more than usual and in the last hour she’d resorted to watching the clock. She yawned and followed it up with a deep, sighing breath.
‘What’s up, Jo?’ Barbara asked. The ward was quiet and they had time to share a cup of tea. She must have noticed the number of times Joanna had yawned that night. ‘You look like the subject of a sleep deprivation experiment.’
Joanna managed a smile.
‘Funny you should say it. That’s just how I feel.’
‘So what’s going on with Matilda Ward’s very own Miss Cheerfulness? What’s caused you to lose some of your shine?’
Joanna tried to suppress another yawn but without success. She sipped her tea, hoping it would revive her. Although she appreciated the older woman’s concern, she
liked to keep her private life to herself.
‘I’m fine. Just a bit tired. I’ve been lucky up until now, being able to sleep during the day. Quiet street, neighbours who work—’
Barbara was looking at her with a quizzical, motherly expression, but seemed happy with the answer. The supervisor went back to her work, checking that the medication doses and times had been filled in correctly. She checked and double-checked. The hospital was currently cracking down on record-keeping, particularly regarding medications, after a near fatal mistake in the emergency department.
‘Anything else I can do?’ Joanna said, suppressing another yawn.
The concerned look Barbara gave her said more than words.
‘If you weren’t at the end of your stint on nights, I’d recommend you take a couple of days’ leave. Are you sure you’re not coming down with something?’
‘Really, Barbara…’ She attempted to laugh off the fact that she felt dead on her feet. ‘Maybe I’m just starting to feel my age.’
‘All right, but how about you go home early? It’s only an hour and I can sign you off as being unwell. You’re not much use to us in your state and the ward’s really quiet. Tracey and I can hold the fort.’
‘No, I’ll be fine.’ She could count the number of sick days she’d had over her entire nursing career on the fingers of one hand. She wasn’t about to take time off because she’d had trouble sleeping. And it wasn’t as if she didn’t know the reason. ‘And I assure you I won’t let a couple of extra yawns interfere with my work,’ she added.
Barbara was studying her intently.
‘You look pale.’
‘I’m okay, really I am.’
‘Not feeling a bit queasy, are you?’
‘No. Is there a bug going around that I don’t know about?’
Barbara smiled, got up to replace the charts in the trolley and patted her on the shoulder.
‘There’s always a bug going around in this place. It’s a hospital isn’t it?’
‘You’re not wrong, Barb.’ Another yawn threatened. Joanna picked up a magazine and began flipping through it. Barbara went over to the cooler and poured herself half a cup of water to swallow the blood-pressure tablet she always took at six o’clock. She stood silently for a minute or so, as if deep in thought.
‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’ she finally asked.
Fat chance, in fact no chance at all.
It must have been her weariness, the culmination of a series of unusual events over the last week, and she knew she should be laughing at Barb’s well-intentioned inquiry.
Joanna looked over at Barbara.
‘No, I’m not pregnant.’ She had to work hard at stopping her voice from shaking.
‘How can you be sure?’
‘Anatomically impossible, I’m afraid,’ Joanna, the clinical, rational nurse managed to say in a rock-steady voice. ‘My tubes are blocked. I had a ruptured appendix when I was sixteen…’
‘Oh, Jo, I honestly didn’t know.’
‘Of course you didn’t. I don’t go broadcasting…’ Then Joanna burst into tears and couldn’t stop sobbing. Barbara wrapped her arms around her.
‘You poor love. I insist you go home and I’ll arrange a taxi. You can’t stay here like this.’
Joanna didn’t have the energy to protest.
* * *
A good, solid, uninterrupted nine hours’ sleep made all the difference to how Joanna felt. It was as if she’d been born again and the events of the morning hadn’t happened, or at least had diminished to a hazy, distant blur.
Her only problem was that she had slept so well during the day she was unlikely to sleep that night. She knew she should have set her alarm to help her inbuilt rhythm restore itself but with all that had happened, she’d forgotten—and it wasn’t the end of the world.
She gathered clean underwear, the new peach-coloured towelling robe she’d treated herself to the previous week and headed to the bathroom. The cake of hand-made apple and almond soap she hadn’t been able to resist at the market smelled delicious and almost edible. She felt she had not a care in the world.
It was a warm evening so, after her shower, she dressed in casual knee-length shorts and a T-shirt and actually ran a comb through her centimetre-long hair. It made little difference, though. Her hair refused to be persuaded to do anything but stick up at a right angle to her scalp.
After fortifying herself with a good strong cup of tea, she decided to go for a walk. She felt she needed an extra-strong dose of fresh air after a month of working nights and sleeping for three quarters of the day. She hoped an hour or so of exercise would help her sleep at least a few hours that night, although it usually took a couple of days for her normal diurnal rhythm to get back to normal. She also decided to pick up some take-away on the way back. Putting a twenty-dollar note in her pocket, she grabbed her broad-brimmed hat and strode out of her little house. She followed the quaint, brick-paved laneway that fronted the property to the main road and then headed for the park a couple of blocks away.
Joanna started off walking at a fairly brisk pace but began to tire by the time she reached the park so she slowed down. The sun was sinking lower and a gentle breeze cooled the early evening air. She enjoyed strolling along the path that circled a haphazard string of pools and small lakes. She smiled at a middle-aged man who was being dragged along by a boisterous young German shepherd, and stopped to chat briefly to a couple proudly pushing tiny twins in a contraption that looked like it was ready to take off for outer space.
‘They’re beautiful,’ Joanna said as she leaned forward to take a closer look at the sleeping babies, both dressed in white. ‘Are they boys, girls or one of each?’
‘Girls, only a month old,’ was all the beaming father managed to say before his wife interrupted.
‘And they’re not identical,’ the young mum said.
‘They look very similar.’ In fact, it was difficult for Jo to tell them apart. Her heart swelled for the couple. ‘What are their names?’
‘Emily and Victoria, after their grandmothers.’
A tiny splinter of jealousy niggled in Joanna’s mind but she dismissed the thought quickly. She’d long ago accepted that motherhood wasn’t going to be part of her life again.
‘I’ll let you get on with your stroll.’
The woman linked her arm in her husband’s. They set off in the opposite direction and, from that instant, Joanna’s mood subtly changed. She couldn’t help thinking of Richard and his declaration of love. Had he fully thought things through? If they did manage to resurrect their marriage, would there always be something missing? Richard was physically able to father a child but had told her it didn’t matter to him if their future didn’t include children. But Joanna couldn’t help wondering if she’d feel guilty for depriving him of something she knew was important to him.
And she couldn’t cope with IVF. Not now. The journey would be too painful for her and she knew the failure rate was relatively high.
And what if she did become pregnant? She wasn’t sure she’d be able to go through a pregnancy that might end in a miscarriage or stillbirth or, even worse, result in a living, breathing perfect child that was taken from them…
She couldn’t do it.
By the time she’d walked two circuits of the park she was tiring again. Her heart thudded in her chest, queasiness niggled in her stomach and she’d lost her appetite. She was now feeling tense halfway through a walk that was supposed to relax and energise her. Suddenly she felt light-headed and looked around for a seat. There was a park bench at the water’s edge, a few metres away. When she reached it her legs felt like jelly as she sank onto the seat.
What was wrong? Was she having some kind of anxiety attack?
She’d never had one before.
She took a few slow, deep breaths but it didn’t make much difference.
The only time in her life she’d felt anything like this had been when she’d been pregnant with Sam.
Pregnant with Sam…
Pregnant.
Could she be?
No, of course she couldn’t. She’d had tests and she was infertile. She and Richard had never used contraception because there’d been no point.
But…
She’d managed to fall pregnant at age nineteen, against all the odds.
Her heart was now pounding and her head ached but she needed to start thinking rationally or her outlandish suppositions would consume her.
When was her last period? She never kept a record because there’d been no need but she knew her cycle was regular. And it had been a while, certainly before she’d started working nights. She racked her brain and then recalled her last period had been around the time Richard had started at Lady Lawler.
She did the calculations.
Oh, my God.
She and Richard had made love about two weeks later and she hadn’t had a period since. Which had been well over a month ago.
‘So if I’m pregnant, I’d be six or seven weeks,’ she whispered, not quite believing what her mind and body were telling her.
But how unlikely was that?
The odds were stacked so heavily against her…A nervous laugh surfaced from somewhere deep in her throat.
More slow breaths.
She fingered the twenty-dollar note in her pocket. There was a late-opening pharmacy on her way home. If she was to get any sleep that night she had to know.
* * *
The pharmacist, the only person in attendance in the small shop, was a dark-skinned man, who looked several years younger than her. There were a number of people waiting to be served and an elderly couple, who were trying out walking sticks, took up most of the central aisle space. Joanna heard the young man explain to the woman at the head of the queue that his assistant had had a family emergency and had to leave. He was waiting for her replacement. He looked harassed and Joanna began to have second thoughts.
But she had to know.
As soon as was practically possible.
Once she’d confirmed that the test was negative she’d be able to relax and the troublesome symptoms of her uncertainty would go away.
How To Save a Marriage in a Million Page 13