by Mandy Baggot
His soft, unflappable tone did nothing to calm the mother who was down on her knees, cradling her son as he gasped small rapid breaths.
A mother’s love was seeping out all over the terracotta tiles and filling the muggy air with a tangible density. A love she’d never known. A love Lacey hadn’t had, either.
The sobbing was both joyful and tinged with nervousness, guilt, concern. It was hitting her, pummelling her insides for a response. You’re on your own. You’ve got nothing and no one and no one knows what happened except Ross Keegan.
Ellen started to shake. Her arms prickled with goose bumps as the water on her skin began to dry. Her hair was dripping down onto her already saturated clothes, her teeth chattering and every part of her feeling like it might seize up.
* * *
Yan’s insides were churning, his body pumped with adrenalin. The boy had been so cold, so white, so full of death that even as he had pushed to restart his heart, he’d thought it was too late. But hope, belief that life couldn’t be that harsh, that cruel, to an innocent child, had driven him on. He had to bring Zachary back. The boy was counting on him. He’d had to step up.
And he had. They both had.
He looked at Ellen and balked. She was shaking uncontrollably, from her bare feet up through her drenched dress to her wet hair, falling in dripping strands in front of her face. It was a warm night but there was a breeze strong enough to bring down the temperature. Her skin was pale too, her lips bluish and trembling. He moved to her.
‘Ellen.’
She didn’t respond, just stood, her body vibrating into the puddle of water she was creating on the tiled floor.
Yan put a hand to her arm. It was cold to the touch. She seemed to have to drag her eyes towards him and away from the scene in front of them. The doctor had arrived and was assessing Zachary.
‘You need to be warm,’ he told her.
* * *
His voice was firm but the mellow tone sent a sliver of heat across her skin. She opened her mouth to speak but her lips were stuck solid, like cubes of ice, stiff and unresponsive.
‘Come,’ he ordered.
She could do nothing. Her hips felt immobile as he looped his arm around hers and urged her into a walk. How did she make it happen? Could she actually walk?
Ellen faltered forward, feeling absolutely none of the flexibility from the limbo the previous night. She sensed that if she didn’t lean her entire body weight against Yan then she’d be on her knees in seconds.
‘It is OK,’ he said reassuringly. ‘It is not far.’
One foot in front of the other was too far at the moment. She’d never felt so incapable. It was as if her entire body was closing down and she couldn’t do anything to stop it. Every part of her was numb. Her legs moved as if they were wooden lumps with no give or bend. She had no idea where she was going, just making her limbs create motion was taking every resource.
Yan was holding her with his upper body, half propping, half carrying her along the path towards the block of rooms to the immediate left of the main restaurant. She was still shaking when he manoeuvred her down a short run of steps towards a line of doors on the bottom floor.
Holding onto her upper arm with one hand, he reached into the pocket of his jeans. Pulling out a key he fitted it into the lock and turned, opening the door.
19
Ellen’s breath was collecting in her throat now and everything was dark. Yan led her into the room and inserted the key fob into the slot on the wall to activate the lights. As she wavered he caught her.
‘It is OK,’ he whispered.
She shook her head as tears filled her eyes.
He didn’t know what to do. He knew what he should do and that was to get her out of the soaking wet clothes before the temperature started to do some real damage. But could he? It would mean undressing her. She was barely standing without the wall of his room for support. The only sound, apart from the air conditioning unit, was her teeth juddering together.
He reached for the remote control on the countertop next to the sink and switched the cold air off and the heating on.
‘You should …’ He’d started talking but he didn’t know whether he could finish the sentence. He took a breath. ‘Take off clothes.’
‘I’m … so … cold,’ she stuttered.
‘I know. I will get more clothes,’ he stated, moving quickly.
Yan opened the wardrobe and pulled out the warmest thing he’d brought with him to Greece, a plain black roll-neck jumper. It would be good enough but what did he have for the rest of her?
‘Yan …’
Her voice sounded so desperate that he slammed the wardrobe doors closed and hurried back to her side.
‘It is OK,’ he insisted. ‘It is a hard thing to see but, the boy is OK? Yes?’
He grabbed a clean towel the maid had left that morning and then paused, unsure what to do with it.
‘I can’t get this …’ she started.
Her hands were at the buttons of her dress. Her fingers looked swollen and wrinkled and she couldn’t seem to unfasten the buttons. Tears were seeping out of her eyes now as the emotion overflowed. He knew what she was feeling because he felt it too. What they’d done. What might have happened if they hadn’t arrived in time.
‘I just can’t …’ she sobbed.
‘It is OK.’
She nodded, her teeth still knocking together, her motions unstable. The first button remained fastened and she dropped her hands to her sides as tears slipped down her cheeks.
Yan reached up to the button, putting his fingers around the hard plastic circle and quickly slipping it inside the material and out. He raised his eyes to her, hoping that if this wasn’t what she wanted him to do she would say something. He paused, his fingers poised by the second button.
She moved her head in another nod and he acted quickly then, unfastening all the other buttons until the dress was completely undone. Without hesitation he swept the light cotton off her shoulders and carefully placed the dress on the table to his right.
Just a bra and panties. This beautiful woman was in his room in nothing but her sodden underwear. He bit his tongue, unable to take his eyes from her. It was inappropriate to be reacting to her like this to it but he couldn’t deny he felt something. There was an attraction there, a pull he had no control over.
As if feeling his scrutiny, she wrapped an arm across her breasts and he moved then, whipping the clean towel around her back and closing it in front of her.
‘I will put on shower,’ he stated.
* * *
The rivulets of hot water hit her skin and she let out a cry of anguish before she could stop herself. It stung. It burned. It was only when the warmth began to seep through her frozen skin that it started to feel better. She closed her eyes, standing under the steaming shower, letting the heat defrost her mind as well as her body. Nothing felt quite as it should be. How could a night out under the stars in humid Corfu have turned into an evening of almost tragedy? She snapped her eyes open as the numbness began to ease. And what was she doing in Yan’s room? In his shower? She had her own room. Why hadn’t she just gone back there? And Lacey ... she said she’d meet her.
Shaking her head, Ellen lifted up one of her hands and looked at her sausage-shaped fingers as they began to adjust to a more normal temperature. She didn’t have the energy to worry about her sister right now.
She hunched herself over, letting the water cascade down her back. The most important thing was that they had saved a little boy’s life. There was time to think about everything else later.
* * *
Yan could hear the shower still running. He was on his second drink. The chaos had stopped, everything had stilled and he could finally get his thoughts in order. A boy had almost died tonight.
His mind immediately strayed to a place he kept shut off. Not a boy, but a young man, someone in the prime of his life. Someone he had loved so much. He took another swig of his drink
and pushed the memory away.
He refocused, filling his lungs with air. A tragedy had been averted tonight because of him. Because of Ellen. Life of any kind was better than no life at all, that much he knew.
The water in the bathroom stopped and he took a swig of his neat Metaxa. She would be coming out, joining him here. His heart was thumping in anticipation and he knew it shouldn’t be. He had no right to feel anything for her. He’d made promises to himself, promises he’d meant to keep.
Why then had he taken her here, back to his room? Was it just because his was the closest place for her to change and get warm? Or had he acted on that shot of attraction he felt for her? Whichever it was, something about her had got under his surface.
He heard the door of the bathroom open and he slugged down another mouthful of drink.
* * *
Pulling the black roll-neck jumper down over her thighs Ellen stepped barefoot out into the room. Yan was facing the doors at the end of the room, a glass in his hand. He’d changed, she noticed, his damp clothes replaced by another pair of jeans and a white t-shirt.
‘I hung the towel up in the bathroom. I didn’t know if ...’ she started.
He turned around. ‘The maid will change.’
‘That’s what I thought.’ She nodded.
He raised the glass he was holding. ‘Drink?’
‘Yes.’ She had no idea what it was but it looked alcoholic and warming. She just wanted to be warm and tepidly numb instead of freezing and frighteningly solid.
She watched him move over to the kitchen area to prepare the drinks and she didn’t know what to do. Should she sit? There were two wooden chairs at either end of a table, plus the double bed. It was nothing like the suite she shared with Lacey. Everything was fighting for space here.
‘You can get in bed,’ Yan called.
The statement drew a breath out of her and, as soon as the words hit the air, he swung around, his eyes wide.
‘I just mean ... for cold ... to cover legs with the blanket,’ he hurried out.
She nodded. She moved across the room to the bed, his bed and pulled the covers off slightly. She sat down on the edge of the mattress, bunching the counterpane around her until she was covered and tucked up like it was a sleeping bag.
He brought her a half-full tumbler of brown liquid and she took it.
‘Thank you.’
He nodded and stood still in front of her for a second, watching her take a sip of the brandy.
‘It’s good,’ she responded. The first reassuring drops of warmth began to make their way down into her stomach and up to her cheeks.
‘I have two of these already,’ Yan announced. He gave a small smile.
Ellen smiled back but it felt awkward. He was standing in the middle of the room just a little way from her as if he didn’t know what to do. Should she move along the bed to let him sit down? Or was that too close? She looked at him, feeling a charge of attraction. It had crept up on her.
‘I get a chair,’ he stated, moving to the table. Decision made.
Yan brought the chair down the room and placed it opposite her. He sat, cradling his glass in his palms.
Ellen broke the silence. ‘Where did you learn to resuscitate someone like that?’
He shook his head. ‘We have training before we come.’ He drank some more of the brandy. ‘We do not expect to use.’
‘No, I suppose not.’
He matched her gaze. With those eyes. The eyes that caused her stomach to whirl around like a tornado. She self-consciously pulled at the jumper with her free hand, his jumper, the only thing she had on.
‘You make the difference,’ he said. ‘You think very fast. Where boy is, how to get there.’
‘Children are fascinated with water. It’s a flaw in them at that age; they’re all about the fun and not realising the dangers.’
‘You are clever.’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve just spent a lifetime with Lacey who never thinks about anything she does. I was lucky, that’s all.’ She looked back at him. ‘We were lucky.’
Yan nodded, breaking the eye contact and taking another drink.
‘I thought he was dead,’ Ellen blurted out, a wave of emotion hitting her, making her hunch forward, catching a sob in her throat.
* * *
The fear and sorrow in her voice dug its way inside him.
‘You must not think this.’ He sat forward a little. ‘In few days Zachary will be back in kids’ club making green pictures.’
Ellen’s sob turned into a half-laugh then and she raised her head. ‘Is that what he does?’
Yan nodded. ‘I ask him why this is. He tell me he like colour green.’
‘Children,’ Ellen said, sighing. ‘Everything is so simple to them.’
‘This is truth,’ Yan replied. ‘In my country children do not know of what goes on. The things that make bad change.’
‘In the city? With the boss that made you leave?’ she asked.
Her beautiful eyes were wide now, looking at him, waiting to hear what he was going to say next. She wanted to listen. She wanted to know about his life. Despite the fact that it was a dangerous area of conversation, a murmur of excitement was rising in his gut.
‘Parts of Sofia are very beautiful. There is much history and famous building.’ He let out a sigh. ‘But there is also much ... gangs, bad people ... corruption in leaders,’ he explained.
She was still looking at him, waiting for him to carry on. He remembered, not too long ago, no one listening, no one caring what he had to say, no one bothering to try to understand. Could it be different this time?
‘There is no jobs for some people. No money except for with mafia. It is with danger,’ he continued.
‘I ... I had no idea.’ She gulped down her brandy.
He straightened out his body, sat higher in the chair. He shrugged. ‘Everyone have to make change some time.’
‘Yes, they do,’ she agreed.
‘So I come here. I get experience in animation, with children, then maybe one day in future I have place like in my village.’
* * *
He had a plan. A simple business plan to work for himself doing something he was passionate about. It was resonating violently with her because it was what she had been aiming for since her first job as an accounting junior. Their target market was very different but their desire to succeed seemed to be so similar.
‘Is hard for men with children,’ Yan continued. ‘Because of how things are in the world. Bad things that happen.’ He shook his head. ‘Children here told not to hold hand, not to make friend. I know this is for safety but it is sad.’
She felt a lump in her throat, arriving in response to more of Yan’s impassioned words. This man wasn’t just good-looking, he was deep and sincere. How she had misjudged him on that very first meeting. A shiver ran through her bones and suddenly the glass she was holding dropped to the floor.
Ellen leapt up off the bed and the cover fell from her legs.
‘I’m so sorry!’ She put her hands to her head. ‘I’ll get something to clean it up.’
‘No!’ Yan slapped a hand on her arm to stop her moving even an inch. ‘You have nothing on feet. It is glass.’
* * *
His hand on her arm had meant to be a warning not to leave her position, but it was now sending shockwaves of longing through his veins. He couldn’t let her go. His fingers were coiled around her forearm, firm but overpowered by the contact with her skin. This shouldn’t be happening. He was meant to be shut off, his emotions cauterised. You are worth nothing. A voice he still heard. He shouldn’t be standing here with his hands on a guest. Yet still he couldn’t move.
‘Yan.’
Ellen was looking at him. Thick eyelashes, still a little wet from the shower, over chestnut brown eyes, beautiful, pure, innocent ...
He lowered his head, moving his hand slowly, tracing the skin on the underside of her arm with his index finger. Two glasses of
brandy and a near death and he was losing hold of his restraint. But her skin felt so good beneath his fingers, so soft, so right. He stopped at her wrist, looking back up, wanting to see from her eyes if this was what she wanted too.
* * *
Ellen had closed her eyes. As soon as Yan touched her she’d felt it, an electrical pulse, a hot glow, growing quickly and moving, heating her from the inside. Yan caught her hand in his, entwining their fingers, gently connecting them together with every tiny movement.
Was this because of what had happened with Zachary? The gravity of what they’d shared, the moment, her being half-frozen and him being well-meaning? Or was it something else? Something more?
Yan was holding her hand in his like it was a precious Greek artefact newly-discovered and liable to break if touched too heavily. She could barely breathe. What should she do? Did she want to do something? It wasn’t sensible to engage in hand-holding with someone on holiday, was it? She’d been telling Lacey as much since they arrived. But Lacey was engaged and she wasn’t. She was as single as any person could be.
Ellen looked up at him, trying to convey every emotion that was travelling through her. Attempting to let him know through pupil dilation alone that she felt something too.
As if reading her mind he spoke in a whisper. ‘Is OK?’
She didn’t trust herself to reply and not sound like a prim English thirty-something. She wasn’t just a career woman. There was so much more to her than that. She had feelings. Feelings she’d locked away for months and Yan was attacking the barricades with his touch, his attentiveness, his caring nature – those eyes and that body.
She unlinked their hands. For a second, she could see it in his eyes. He was worried she was going to back away, put an end to their connection. Ellen smiled at him and reached up. Finding his jaw she touched a hand to his cheek, taking pleasure in the feel of him as he leant his face into her palm.