Chapter 11
When Juliet came back from the garden area, where she’d been Skyping Pete and the children, Hero was lying in the bed, staring at all the flower bouquets now filling her room.
‘Everything OK?’ Hero asked as she came in.
‘Yes. Biscuit stole a sausage sandwich Nick had made for his lunch yesterday, which the children found hilarious.’
The smirk on Hero’s face indicated that her sister agreed.
‘Jules, would you mind passing me the cards from the bouquets, please?’
Juliet scooped up the pile and handed them over. Hero took them, reading them silently. She smiled briefly a couple of times then stopped.
‘Nick sent flowers?’ she asked, looking up from the small card with a mixture of surprise and pleasure.
‘Mm-hmm. He rang to ask me what your favourites were.’
Hero stared for a moment then nodded faintly, her throat too constricted to reply in words. Juliet put Nick’s flowers on the table where Hero could see them properly. She touched the blooms and couldn’t help but think of the man who had sent them as she returned her attention to the card in her hand.
Dear Hero, I’m pretty rubbish at saying the right thing as you know, and I’m sorry we parted like we did. I should never have said that stuff. I really am sorry. Hope you like the flowers and we’re all looking forward to your next visit. I’m not going to say I know what you’re going through – I don’t. I can’t even begin to know that. But I do know you’re an incredible woman and that you can get through it. We’re all here for you, and always will be. Love Nick (and Biscuit). xxx
Juliet watched as her sister read. Nick and Hero always managed to rub each other up the wrong way during her visits but she got the feeling that both still looked forward to the confrontations. Hero was accustomed to people, especially men, succumbing to her every whim, whether she asked them to or not. Nick didn’t succumb to anyone’s whim. He wasn’t built that way, and Hero wasn’t used to that. It meant she had to make an effort, and Nick could tell when she was genuinely interested in something and, at those times, his attention was boundless. If he sensed the opposite, he wouldn’t waste either of their time.
But for the most part, Hero was interested. She loved watching Nick and Joe training the new horses, joining the ride out to check fences, and laughing at the dogs as they bounded across the backs of the sheep. And Nick loved showing Hero different aspects of the station, loved that she was interested unlike some of the women he’d spent time with. They didn’t care about how the property was a success so long as it was.
They all noticed that Hero’s mask of indifference occasionally slipped when she and Nick talked about the station, but it was never discarded for long once the conversation changed to other subjects. Juliet had seen the frustration in her brother-in-law’s eyes at the continual shutting out, and she understood it. Nick wasn’t the only one Hero shut out. Despite accusing Nick of scaring Hero off at Christmas, she didn’t blame him, although she had been unable to stop Nick blaming himself, even more so since the accident. Juliet had been worried when Hero happened to let slip that Anya had been planning to move back to Sweden. Knowing that Hero would once again be living alone, knowing how unhappy she had been before, had concerned Juliet no end.
Two neat piles of cards now sat on the adjustable table next to Hero’s bed. One comprised those from her sister, Pete and the children, the one from Nick and another from Juliet’s in-laws as well as a funny, not to mention rude, one from Rupert involving a comment about hospital gowns. She leaned over and dropped the rest in the bin.
‘Jules,’ she said, looking up, ‘would you be able to do something for me?’
Half an hour later, two black cabs sat outside the hospital, each packed with bouquets. Juliet instructed one to take its contents to the hospice Hero had often passed when she’d taken her early morning walks. Juliet had had to explain the area she meant, as Hero hadn’t been able to remember the name. The driver nodded.
‘I know the one,’ he replied, glancing at his fare. ‘These will certainly bring a few smiles.’
Juliet thanked and paid him then turned to the other driver, asking him to deliver his flowers to the Royal Hospital at Chelsea. Hopefully the flowers would bring smiles to the faces of the scarlet-coated pensioners too.
While Juliet took care of the donations, Hero sat alone in her room, bereft of flowers now, except for the few bouquets she had chosen to keep, knowing that those had been sent from the heart. She picked up Nick’s card again, looking down at the words, written by a stranger in a London florist, and ran her finger over the text before folding her hand around it. It was still there when Juliet returned from downstairs as Hero drifted back into the drug induced sleep that helped dull her pain.
It was another week before Hero finally managed to convince her sister she was fine. She would still be in the hospital a while yet, but she was healing, even if it was frustratingly slow, and Rupert was visiting every day even though she’d told him not to. Pete and the children needed Juliet far more than she did now.
‘Don’t you ever cry?’ Juliet asked when she pulled back from her third attempt at a goodbye embrace.
‘Sign of weakness, Scott!’ Hero half smiled as she impersonated their old headmistress.
Back at school after her mother’s shocking disclosure, this cold, sharp-featured woman had found Hero sitting alone and crying. There was no attempt at understanding or comfort. Instead, she had unceremoniously dragged the child back to her office and given six swipes of the cane across her palms. The charge had been self-indulgence. Hero had never cried since. But Juliet wasn’t smiling at her sister’s mickey take.
‘Why were you crying that day? You’ve never told me.’
Hero rested back against the pillows her sister had now plumped three times in the last five minutes. Jules was right. She’d never told anyone – except Nick Webster.
‘Does it really matter now?’
‘It does to me.’
Ordinarily, Hero would have evaded the question, or batted it away with a change of subject but, now, for some reason she didn’t want to. Or perhaps it was just that she no longer had the energy to.
‘Did you know I was a mistake?’ she asked as Juliet perched on the very side of the bed, careful not to knock her sister’s injuries accidentally.
‘A mistake?’
‘Yes.’
‘No. I mean, our parents weren’t exactly the warm and fuzzy kind, but I don’t think they ever considered you a mistake.’
Hero smiled and the sadness it contained broke her sister’s heart.
‘Do you remember that day you came home and I was clearing up broken china?’
‘Yes. With your hands! And you had a big shard of it stuck in your palm.’
‘I did. But my big sister took care of it.’
Juliet placed her palm gently against Hero’s undamaged cheek, who moved, accepting the touch as she closed her eyes.
‘What about it?’
Hero took a deep breath and relayed the circumstances that had led to the splinter, and to the cane. As she finished, Juliet’s tears were flowing once more.
‘Why did you never tell me?’
‘There was nothing you could do, and I knew it would upset you, just as it has now.’
Juliet shook her head. ‘Please. Never do that again. Never try to protect me. I want to know, even if I can’t help. Please!’
Hero nodded her agreement, passing her sister another tissue from the box sat on her table.
‘I can’t believe you’ve been carrying that alone all these years.’
‘Not quite all of them.’
Juliet paused in wiping her eyes. ‘You told someone else?’
Hero gave a brief, but awkward smile. ‘The last person I thought I would really.’
Her sister frowned.
‘Nick.’
‘Our Nick?’
Hero nodded. ‘I know. It surprised me just as muc
h.’
‘When?’
‘The evening of your wedding. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed, and after a dance we went outside for a bit, just to get some air. I don’t really know how or why, but I ended up telling him this secret I’d managed to keep hidden for so long. I’m assuming, by your reaction, he’s never said anything.’
‘No,’ Juliet replied. ‘But then I wouldn’t expect him to. As far as Nick is concerned, and as crazy as you seem to make each other, there’s no way he’d break a confidence like that.’ She stroked her sister’s dark hair. ‘I’m glad you told someone. I only wish it had been sooner.’
‘There was nothing you could have done.’
‘No. But still …’
‘I know. And I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, my darling, there’s nothing you need to be sorry about. I can’t believe that woman’ – in her fury, Juliet couldn’t even bring herself to refer to her as Mother – ‘could be so utterly, utterly callous. She didn’t deserve such a beautiful daughter like you.’
Hero held tight in her sister’s embrace. ‘She didn’t deserve either of us.’
‘You know, it is OK for you to show your emotions to cry. No one will judge you now.’
‘I know. I think … I don’t know. I guess I just got out of the habit.’
‘It might help.’
Hero returned her sister’s sad smile. ‘I keep telling myself that. But they still won’t come. I only wish they would.’
Juliet held her tight, the gesture saying more than any words could, before finally leaving. Rupert had arranged a private car to take her there and upgraded her ticket, as requested by Hero, to first class. After everything she had done for her, throughout her life, not just since the accident, Hero felt she had a lot of making up to do. She knew she’d never be able to repay her entirely, but she would do what she could, whenever she could.
Hero gave a small wave, watching her sister disappear through the door back to her own life, her own family. Back to Pete and the children – and Nick. His image in her mind brought Juliet’s earlier comment about relationships, and more specifically love, flooding back to her.
That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.
The words echoed around in her head as Hero closed her eyes and remembered the effect that Nick had on her every time he touched her, however innocent that touch, every time he even just looked at her. How she had wanted to try – almost had – all those years ago. But, lying in her bed that night, still able to feel the touch of his hand, the solid feel of his body as she’d lain against him, both looking up at the stars, the doubts had crept in. She’d been a mistake to someone before. What if Nick, in the clear light of the morning, no longer shared that same want? Seeing rejection in his eyes as she had seen in her mother’s had driven her back, made her run every time he got too close. But now, as she lay in the quiet room, alone once more, another thought broke free. Was it just a fear of rejection that had scared her, or was it something else altogether? Had it really been the possibility that Nick actually did feel the same as she did that frightened her?
Hero pushed down with her arms, positioning herself straighter. Even that small effort was exhausting. Pausing for a moment to gather her breath and strength for the next step, she looked down at her leg, still a mass of dressing and pins, the other undamaged but wasting, the muscle tone already gone. Reaching across to the side table, her hand closed around the item and she brought it back, laid it in front of her momentarily. It had been sitting there for a week now, taunting her with what it would reveal. Juliet had tried to encourage her to do it before she left, but Hero knew this was a step she needed to take alone. Carefully, she turned the mirror and brought it slowly up to her face.
Hero stared at the reflection. She felt strange, almost detached from the image she saw there, as if it wasn’t her. But it was. The realisation seeped in. This. This was what she now looked like. Would look like. This was why Jonathan had fled. And why they’d kept the mirrors away from her initially.
She wanted to put the mirror down, but she couldn’t. It was as though someone else held it there, forcing her to see her true self. For once. Small cuts were dotted around her face, healing now with dark red crusts. Glass cuts, she suspected. Vaguely she remembered Dr Penland explaining things to her, but she hadn’t been ready to see anything then. She ran a hand over a patch on her head. The precisely cut, always shining hair now hung limply past her shoulders, and in places all that was left was a fuzzy dark patch, the skin underneath stitched. Slowly Hero focused back on her face. Her eyes were sunken, rimmed with dark shadows and fading bruises and her skin, once creamy, now looked pale and drawn. And then there was the scar. A long, angry line stretched across her forehead down her temple where it was joined by another from her cheekbone. She touched it gently. The skin around it was still swollen, even now, although there were no actual stitches visible. The plastic surgeon who’d assisted with her surgery had removed the outer stitches a few days after the accident when Hero had still been barely conscious. Juliet had told her that he’d explained that he’d stitched deeply first, and those would dissolve in time. Removing the external ones early meant that she should have a neater result in time, without the cross lines that were common in many scars.
Hero replaced the mirror. The worst was over now. At least now she knew. The life she’d known until now was over. Juliet hadn’t said it in so many words, probably because she hadn’t known how, but the career she’d built for the last fifteen years was over. In one split second, her life had changed irrevocably and her best friend’s had ended. If only they had left five minutes earlier. Or five minutes later. What if … Hero closed her eyes. There was no point in going down that road. There was no what if. There was only now.
She thought back to what Juliet had said shortly before she left, about having Hero out to stay with them for a while, once she was well enough to travel. There was plenty of room and they’d love to have her, especially the children. Pete had commissioned a swimming pool for Juliet’s birthday last year, and her sister had emphasised how beneficial swimming would be in rehabilitation for Hero’s leg, an opinion backed up by her doctor.
Hero turned and looked at the mirror, now lying face down on the side table once more. She made her decision. As much as she wanted, and likely needed, to be with Juliet, she wouldn’t go. Not now she knew. She was only just holding on as it was. The thought of seeing the same look on Nick’s face that she had witnessed on Jonathan’s would break her entirely.
***
The summer months passed but Hero barely noticed them. The doctors had given her a worst-case scenario in regards to her leg but she was determined to prove them wrong; she would walk without a cane.
The physiotherapist assigned to her was pleasantly surprised by Hero, vowing to always think twice now about believing what she read. Instead of the prima donna she had been expecting, she found a rather shy, likeable woman with a determination that belied her fragile looks. That same determination sometimes pushed Hero to try too hard and the physio had to convince her patient on a regular basis that she literally had to walk before she could run. Her weary body demanded rest. Disregarding that would only undo all the good work they had already accomplished.
Hero watched the raindrops race each other down the windowpanes. Focusing past them, she gazed down at the Kensington street. Pavements shone with the downpour and people raced past, their faces shielded by umbrellas of varying hues. Rupert was in California on business and Hero was now half regretting rejecting his offer to accompany him. At least the weather would have been an improvement. But she still didn’t feel up to seeing people. Not yet. She had no idea what to say to people who didn’t know her and asked what she did for a living. Or to the people who knew her background and who, in turn, still had no idea what to say. Her career had defined her. Now that it was gone, there was no definition, no structure to her life. Every day she found herself staying in bed longer and longer. What was the point
of getting up? She had nowhere to be, nothing she had to do. She couldn’t remember exactly when she had stopped bothering to get dressed, but as with a lot of things now, all she could think was, what’s the point?
She’d rowed with Rupert a few weeks ago about that particular subject, his frustration with her evident as he’d told her flat out that she might feel better if she at least took a little pride in her appearance. Hero called it a row, although in truth she hadn’t made much contribution to the actual conversation excepting a non-committal shoulder shrug. She hated seeing him upset, especially knowing how incredible he’d been after the accident, taking care of not only her, but also making sure Juliet ate and slept as much as she should. But just getting dressed wasn’t going to make any of this go away. People kept telling her things would become easier with time, but it wasn’t getting easier. It was painful and raw.
Hero wrapped her hands around the mug of steaming hot chocolate and took a sip, its heat warming her from the inside. Turning away from the window, she caught sight of the photographs on a side table. There were several of Juliet, Pete, and the kids; one of her and Nick that Juliet had snuck when he was showing her a Brumby they were about to break in. Hero’s eyes rested on the next photo. It showed her and Anya standing on a bridge on the Seine, the wind whipping their hair, their perfect faces laughing and happy.
Hero smiled as she remembered the trip. It had been a last-minute decision, one of Anya’s specialities. She had burst in one afternoon after a terrible go-see and announced that they were going to Paris for Hero’s birthday. Hero had given up fighting her on these spur of the moment announcements – it was easier just to go along with it. She remembered how they had each thrown a few clothes in a bag, called a cab to take them to the station and bought two tickets on the Eurostar, first class, of course.
Second Chance At the Ranch Page 16