Reluctant Bride

by Sam Crescent

  He had no idea how long it was going to take to sign off on his reports. The air-flow compression and the manufacturing recommendations still had to be written up. And he couldn’t delegate the job. They were his designs. His endorsements. And his responsibility.

  “I’ll need more than a minute. This will take me most of the evening. You go ahead and I’ll see you back at Dune View.”

  “But how will you get home?” she asked.

  That morning, they’d ridden into work together. Since he’d returned the BMW to the rental company, they had traveled to work in her car. But tonight, if he was lucky and managed to complete his reports, he could always phone for a taxi … if they were still operating. Since the threat of lockdown, nothing was certain.

  “When I’m done, I’ll phone for a cab, or I might crash on one of the sofas in reception. I’m sure security won’t mind waking me in the morning.”

  “Is that a dig at me? Are you still annoyed because I didn’t wake you? I know we didn’t get to work until ten, but―”

  “Of course, I’m not annoyed with you.” He reached out and caressed her cheek. “Amal … go home. Go to bed and get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Here, you have these,” she said, the keys to the car in her hand. “I can catch a ride with Cathy.”

  He hesitated. He didn’t want to leave her without transport. “Are you sure? I’ve no idea when I’ll be home.”

  “You have the car.” And then, with a brief kiss on his lips, she was gone.

  ****

  When Lucas returned to Dune View, everything appeared to be in darkness. The windows were shuttered and only the overhead night-light showed the way. Following the path toward the back of the house, he entered through the kitchen door and threw his briefcase onto a nearby chair. Lucas still couldn’t get used to the fact the house door was never locked. Amal claimed that in the countryside, no one ever secured their doors. But it was something he couldn’t grow accustomed to. Perhaps it was because he was from Paris and the way of life there was different. Everything in the city was double-locked and bolted.

  A soft glimmer of light sneaked beneath the door from the lounge into the kitchen. Thinking Amal had inadvertently left a lamp on, he made his way into the lounge, and then he saw her.

  Stretched on the sofa, curled beneath a warm throw rug, was Amal. She must have fallen asleep while waiting for him to return.

  The fire in the open hearth had died down, and having tossed a log onto the smoldering embers, Lucas poured himself a stiff whiskey and took a seat in the padded armchair across from her. With unabashed boldness, he’d invaded her privacy and watched as she slept. She looked at peace, as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

  It was a good half-hour before Amal stirred. She stretched, and having tucked a few stray locks of hair behind her ears and adjusted the cushion she’d used as a pillow, she remained where she lay. Her head rested on her hands, and she gave a slow, sleepy smile.

  “How old are your children?” she asked.

  The first things that play upon her mind when waking are my children, he thought. The answer must be important.

  “The twins are aged seven,” he told her. “Charlotte and Francine.”

  “Why are they so young, and you’re so…” Amal shifted on the sofa and changed the subject. “Do you miss them?”

  Lucas lifted his whiskey glass and took a hefty gulp.

  “We tried for a few years to have kids, but without success. Alena couldn’t … we couldn’t have children.” He took a deep steadying breath. “Charlotte and Francine are adopted. And yes, of course, I miss them.”

  “And the twins, Charlotte and Francine, couldn’t they come to the UK with you?”

  “They have school to go to in France. If I’d brought them with me, it would have been too disruptive. When the British government realized there was going to be a shortage of ventilators during the pandemic, my company was asked to help. I’m a troubleshooter, and I go where I’m needed. I’m supposed to be here a few weeks, but with the pending lockdown and airport closures, it looks like it’s going to be longer. I doubt I’ll be able to see my children anytime soon.”

  “Who’s looking after them?”

  “My mother. Not the best solution to my problems, but we make it work. Anyway, enough for now. Question time’s over, and it’s bed for you.”

  “For us,” Amal said.

  And together, they climbed the stairs and crawled into bed … to sleep.

  Chapter Six

  Two weeks later, Amal showed signs of a fever. Nothing much, just a bit of a spike in temperature. But Lucas was another matter. At night, when they lay in bed, his dry cough was persistent and it was clear somewhere, somehow, the two of them had contracted the virus. They were displaying classic symptoms of infection.

  National guidelines were in place, and anyone suspected of having caught the deadly virus had to remain at home. The risk factor of infecting others was too great. With a heavy heart, Amal dialed Charles’s mobile number, knowing he would be at the lab.

  “Charles,” she said. “I know it’s not a good time to be away from work, but could you spread the word? Lucas and I won’t be in for a while.”

  “Something wrong?” Charles asked, concerned.

  There was noise in the background, and Amal could tell the lab was busy.

  “Lucas and I are self-isolating. We’ve each booked a test and will let you know the results as soon as we do. Sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings.”

  Charles was sympathetic to their situation and promised to do what he could to keep on top of the workload until they returned.

  But that night, Lucas took a turn for the worse and an ambulance had to be called. His breathing was so labored that Amal feared for his life.

  “Amal, come here. Come close.” Lucas could barely speak. “Give me your hand.”

  She did as asked, and sitting on the bed, she reached out and held his hand in hers. Worry was etched on his face. He was exhausted, and it showed.

  Downstairs, the paramedics were on their radios, making the final arrangements for his transfer to the hospital. The blue lights on the ambulance below were turning, and the bright glare of their beams bounced off the bedroom ceiling. An eerie sense of doom hung in the air, and both Amal and Lucas were anxious for what the future held.

  “Lucas, don’t fret. You’re strong. You’ll make it.”

  “But I might not.” He struggled for breath. “Lottie and Fran…”

  “What about them?”

  “You have to promise me that you’ll look after them. If I were to…”

  “Hush. The girls will be all right. They have your mother and—”

  “In ten years, my mother won’t be able to handle the girls, or the boys that will soon be swarming the house asking for dates. I won’t be there to fight them off.”

  “Don’t be stupid. Why on earth would you not be there?”

  “Amal, get real. You know as much as I do about the number of people who survive the virus. The chances of me coming out of the hospital alive are slim.”

  Amal’s stomach turned. The thought of losing Lucas was unbearable. Right from the start, she’d never wanted to get emotionally involved with him, but she had. She couldn’t help it. Her feelings for Lucas were beyond her control. Against her better judgment, she had come to care for him deeply, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  “Yes, they might be slim, but it’s not impossible. Lucas, you have to fight. You can’t give up on life.”

  Lucas took a labored breath. “I need you to do something for me.”

  His hand fluttered as he reached out to caress her cheek. She could see he was weak. His energy had gone, and it was costing him all his strength just to talk.

  “Yes, sure. Whatever you need. How can I help?”

  “I want you to marry me.”

  She wasn’t certain she’d heard him correctly. “Marry you?”

  “I
trust you,” he said. “I believe you would do what’s right for Lottie and Fran. If I married you, you could look after them. You would have the legal right to do so.”

  “But I can’t. You’re asking the impossible. You need permission, and it would take weeks to arrange, and…” She was desperately searching for reasons why his plan couldn’t be put into action.

  Lucas smiled. “That’s where you’re wrong. Like the good scientist and designer I am, I’ve done my research. All you have to do is give notification of marriage and apply for a license. In exceptional circumstances, a wedding can be performed … at my hospital bedside.”

  “You mean if the doctors thought you were dying and there was no hope of recovery. I can’t do it. I can’t marry you under those circumstances. Lucas, you are going to live. And you’re going to come out of the hospital, and you are going to see Lottie and Fran, and―”

  “Please, Amal.”

  She knew she was beaten. She knew she would do what he asked. And she knew he didn’t love her.

  Lucas hadn’t said anything about love. He’d only asked her to marry him.

  ****

  The wedding ceremony had been simple.

  Masked and gowned, so as not to pass any infection to the already weakened Lucas, Amal had stood at his hospital bedside and had promised to love, honor, and obey.

  It tore at her heart to think there was no hope, but she wasn’t giving up. If Lucas wasn’t prepared to fight for his life, then she was.

  When the Registrar and witnesses to their marriage had left the room, she’d been allowed to remain for a few minutes amongst the monitors, drips, and tubes with Lucas. He was sick, very sick, and the CPAP mask that provided continuous positive air pressure to his lungs made a hissing noise as oxygen flowed.

  “Lucas,” she whispered.

  He was tired and needed to conserve his energy, but when he heard her voice and stirred, she sat on his bed and held his hand. He was sedated, but still conscious and aware of what was happening around him.

  “Hi, Madame Martinez.” His French accent flipped her stomach.

  She saw the familiar glint in his eyes. It was that same recognizable spark he had when he was about to pounce and make love. “And how’s my husband?”

  “I’ve missed you,” he said.

  “I hope you realize you’re depriving me of a honeymoon.”

  Beneath his oxygen mask, his lips curved into a smile. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

  “Well, I think I’d like a down payment.”

  Careful not to set off any alarms, Amal pulled his mask down and kissed him. It wasn’t what she was used to, but she knew the passion would come later when she managed to get him home.

  Her visit to his bedside was supposed to be kept short, and she wanted to make good use of their time together. The nurses would soon return, and she had something important Lucas needed to know.

  “Lucas, you have to listen. I’ve something to share with you.” Her hands were moist. She was nervous. “You won’t like it, but … here goes.”

  Amal searched in her bag and found her mobile. She switched it on and showed Lucas the screen.

  A mass of jumbled voices called out. “Hey, Papa. Bonjour. Comment ça va?”

  Lottie, Fran, and his mother, Yvonne, were trying to make themselves heard. French filled the air, and behind the faces was the garden at Dune View.

  Lucas looked puzzled. “Dune View?”

  “Yes,” Amal said. “I asked them to come to the UK. They’re at Dune View waiting for you to get better and return home.”

  Amal had been lucky. Cathy’s husband had a pilot’s license and a small aircraft. And with a bit of persuasion and the right government visas, Amal had arranged for Lottie, Fran, and Yvonne to come to the UK.

  Lucas talked with his family, and after a while, when Amal realized he was becoming fatigued, she tactfully ended the conversation.

  “I’m sorry. We have to end the call,” she said. “The nurses want your papa to rest and build up his strength. I’ll bring you up-to-date when I get home. We’ll have tea and I’ll tell you all about the wedding.”

  With the mobile switched off, Lucas asked, “Why are they here? Are they planning my funeral?”

  “I invited your mother and the girls to stay with us at Dune View. The girls are in the spare bedroom, and your mother, bless her, is camping on the couch-bed in the study. Not the ideal solution, but we can sort that out when you get home. In France, just like in the UK, schools are closed, so your mother thought you wouldn’t object if Lottie and Fran came to stay. Don’t be cross with them.” Amal ran her fingers through his silver-streaked hair, pushing his fringe away from his eyes. “When I mentioned you were ill, they desperately wanted to see you.”

  “You all think I’m dying.” His shoulders slumped.

  “No … we don’t. And you can’t. I won’t let you die, Lucas. Do you hear me? They want you out of the hospital. We all do.”

  Lucas smiled and adjusted his mask. “Then I can’t disappoint the women in my life, can I?”

  Epilogue

  It had taken Lucas two months to get out of the hospital and a further two months to find the energy to be able to concentrate on work. Most of his paperwork was done online, and with surprising ease, he was able to log on to the laboratory’s secure web page and use his laptop to work from home. But gaining access to a workshop and the test components was another matter. Lucas was signed off from work, and the doctors wouldn’t allow him to return to the lab until he had fully recovered.

  Most mornings, Amal went to the lab to organize permits and approvals for the equipment the company had worked on, and in the afternoons, having returned to Dune View, she simply sat and enjoyed the sunsets with Lucas.

  “Did you get much done today?” she asked.

  Amal and Lucas were in the garden, and somewhere in the house, the children were working on their studies. Lucas had organized online home-schooling for them, and with the occasional nudge from Amal to remind him of his responsibilities, he and Yvonne supervised their lessons.

  Lucas picked up his glass of chilled beer and took a sip. “I worked on Charles’s Air Compression paper,” he said. “The one he’s hoping to submit to the journal for publication. There were a few things that needed correcting, but—”

  “No … not that sort of work. I mean, did you get much done with Lottie and Fran?”

  Lucas took another sip of beer and put his glass down on the garden table. “Chemistry. But you know that’s not my subject. Now if it had been physics or biology…”

  Amal laughed. “You know nothing about biology. Why, the other evening when Fran asked you about eating and burning fat, and—”

  “Metabolism.”

  “She didn’t say metabolism. She wanted to know why I’d told you to eat your dinner like a good boy, and—”

  “Mama,” Lucas called out, ignoring Amal. “Mama, can you keep an eye on the girls for us? Amal and I are going for a stroll. We shan’t be long.”

  Yvonne was in the kitchen, and the tall sliding windows that ran along the kitchen wall were open. Wiping her hands on a towel, Yvonne came into the garden to see what Lucas wanted.

  “Is there something wrong?” Yvonne asked.

  “No, nothing’s wrong, Mama. We’re just taking advantage of the warm night and going for a walk. Amal insists I get some exercise so I will have an appetite for my dinner.”

  “Well, dinner’s nearly done. Don’t be too long or it will spoil.”

  Lucas grinned and shook his head in despair. “Mama, a salad doesn’t spoil.”

  Amal was pulled from the swing bench, and together, she and Lucas left the garden and house behind. Crossing the road, they took the path down to the beach and walked along the sandy shore.

  The beach was deserted. No one was about, and that was one of the reasons Amal had bought Dune View. Its isolation and remoteness all added to its beauty.

  Amal bent down and slipped he
r open-toed sandals from her feet. She wasn’t dressed for a walk on the beach. The fringed shawl draped around her shoulders protected her from the cool, fresh breeze blowing in from the sea, but her long cotton skirt was a hindrance. Its folds were caught and blown against her legs, outlining her figure and making it hard for her to walk.

  Lucas pulled her close and circled an arm around her shoulders.

  She loved the feel of him. The heaviness of his arm as it rested on her body. The brush of his chest as it rubbed against hers as they walked. And then she realized … she loved him.

  Their marriage might be one of convenience, a sham, born out of necessity, but her feelings for him weren’t.

  They had been walking for about half an hour, and reaching an outcrop of rocks, they turned around and headed for home.

  “I can never thank you enough for what you’ve done for me and the girls,” Lucas said.

  Oh, God. Is this the end? she thought. Is Lucas about to ask for a divorce and set me free?

  Dune View was in the distance and the lights shining from the kitchen and bedroom windows could be seen. The house looked warm and welcoming, and like a home.

  Amal knew when Lucas had recovered that he might rethink the decision he’d made on that fateful night. But she hadn’t expected to have that conversation tonight.

  When the paramedics arrived to take him to the hospital, he’d told her to make arrangements for a wedding, and she had. And now she feared he was about to tell her that he regretted his decision.

  “Why did you want to marry me, Lucas? Why couldn’t you simply have made a will to provide for your daughters?”

  They left the water’s edge, and hand-in-hand, they strolled toward the undulating sandbanks and Dune View.

  “A will won’t give Lottie and Fran the love they need. My money can buy an education and the material things they might require, but it can never provide a loving family. They need to belong to someone. And I thought if I didn’t make it, you would have lots of love to give.”

  “Me? Love? Never!”

  Am I protesting too much? Will he see through my fake denial?