He shook his head. ‘Sometimes I wish I didn’t know you as well as I do, because then I wouldn’t have to put up with this. Trouble is, I do know you and I know you won’t give up. At all. Digging and digging.’
‘It’s what makes me such a good nurse, and why you love me.’
‘Love?’ He stopped short and stared at her. For too long. For so long she wondered what the heck was going on in his head. She closed her heart to his shocked question...love? She didn’t want to know his answer. Or maybe it had always been there and she’d been afraid to look. But in the end he just shook his head. ‘My parents divorced when I was ten, and neither of them have shown any interest in me since well before then. The feeling’s mutual.’
‘Why?’
‘You really do want to do this, don’t you?’ He ran his fingers through his hair, opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again. ‘Because Lauren died. And rightly or wrongly we all blame me.’
‘Why? What on earth happened? What could you have done that was so bad?’ Over the years Georgie had pondered this. She knew his sister had died, knew his parents were separated. But piecing the bits together had been like trying to do a jigsaw with no picture as reference.
They walked in silence to the very end of the row and onwards towards the ocean, found a crop of rocks in the little bay and sat on them. A breeze had whipped up, but the sun still cast a warm glow over them. Even so, Georgie shivered at the look haunting Liam’s face. The dark shadows were back. His shoulders hunched a little. He’d already let go of her hand and even though they were sitting side by side it seemed almost as if he’d retreated within himself.
His voice was low when he finally spoke. ‘She was a premmie, born at thirty weeks, and had a struggle, but she finally got discharged home. She was doing well. She was amazing. Really amazing. The light of our lives.’
Georgie sensed something terrible was coming. She laid a hand on his shoulder and waited, holding her breath. The sound of waves crashing onto the shore was the only thing that broke another prolonged silence. That, and her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
‘I caught a winter bug. Nothing serious, just a stupid cough, fever and a snotty nose that laid me low for a few days, one of those that most kids get. Mum banned me from being near her. Very sensible, in hindsight. I just thought she was being mean.’
He looked like he wanted to continue but couldn’t find words. When he composed himself enough to speak his voice was cracked and barely more than a whisper, ‘But Lauren was so fascinating, such a little puzzle of noises and sounds with an achingly beautiful smile, that, as an eight-year-old big brother with a strong sense of responsibility and a lot of curiosity, I didn’t want to keep away. So one morning when she was crying I sneaked into her room and picked her up, soothed her back to sleep. I held her for ages, I don’t know how long, but long enough for her to go to sleep and for me to care enough not to wake her, so I held her some more.
‘A few days later she came down with the same bad bug, but she couldn’t fight it off. She tried, though. Tried damned hard. But she just wasn’t strong enough.’
He hauled in air and stood, hands in pockets, looking out to sea. So alone and lost that it almost broke Georgie in two. She imagined what it must have been like for a young boy to go through something like that, and her heart twisted in pain. He’d been doing what he’d thought was the right thing. Not knowing how wrong it could be. But the baby could have caught a bug anywhere—in a shop, at the doctor’s surgery, in a playgroup. It had been bad luck she’d caught it from her brother. Bad luck that had kept him in some kind of emotional prison for the rest of his life.
At least, Georgie thought, she hadn’t had something and then lost it. She just hadn’t had anything at all, and in some ways that seemed almost preferable to suffering the way Liam had. Again she couldn’t think of anything helpful to say, and couldn’t have managed many words even if she’d known some formulaic platitudes that might have helped. Her throat was raw and filled with an almost tangible sorrow for him. ‘I’m so sorry, Liam.’
‘To cut to the chase, my parents were never the same after that. Eventually the grief was too much for their marriage. I got lost in the slipstream of guilt and blame. We’ve all rarely spoken since, doing only the perfunctory family necessities, if that. I suppose you could say it’s pretty damned loveless.’
No. He was loveless. Losing his sister and then being neglected by grieving parents must have been almost unbearable, especially countered by a flimsy excuse that it had all somehow been his fault. He’d been a child too, for goodness’ sake. How could you lay blame on someone who only wanted to give a baby more love?
Georgie knew Liam well enough to know there was little point in trying to convince him that he was anything other than culpable. If he didn’t believe it himself, and if his parents, the people who mattered, had never tried to reassure him, then what would her words mean to him?
But she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, hoping that somehow the physical sensation of her touch might convey her empathy for him in a way that words never could. ‘And that’s why you fight so hard year after year to save all those babies in those disaster-stricken countries.’
‘They just need a chance. I can’t right any wrongs and I can’t wave a magic wand but I can give them real help.’
‘And that’s also why you don’t want a family of your own.’
‘Yeah, I didn’t do so well with mine. Lauren dying was hard going, but you get through it. Somehow. Eventually. But what I needed most was help, support, love. And I got nothing. Families can hurt you so badly. I wouldn’t want to do that to any child of mine. Worse, judging by my experiences, I’d probably do more harm than good.’ He shook his head, shook himself free of her grip, and walked back towards the vines.
‘No. You’re going to be a great dad.’
He pulled up to a halt. ‘Really? You think? After what I just told you? I don’t want to go through anything like that again. I don’t think I’d survive it. I don’t want to...’ He started to walk again. Head down. Shoulders hunched.
She kept a few feet behind him, giving him the space he clearly craved. ‘To what?’
‘To lose something like that again.’
‘You wouldn’t.’
He railed round at her. ‘How can you be sure? How can you stand there and make promises no one can keep?’
It was all so clear now. His idea of family was broken. His image of love was filled with so many negative connotations he couldn’t dare risk himself again with that emotion. That was why she’d found him so distraught that first day she’d met him—caring for a sick baby had diminished him, reminded him of what he’d lost. But he’d taken that loss and turned it into his vocation. Not many could do that. Not many would face their fears every day.
Although he never let it get personal. He never let anything get to him. Ever. That was what the death of his sister had taught him, to keep everything and everyone at a safe distance. So he wouldn’t feel responsible, so he wouldn’t have to face the prospect of more pain if things got sticky. Hell, she’d been watching him do it for years, and had never felt how much it mattered. But now, God, now it mattered.
And still she was left only with questions. If that was how he felt, why had he torn up the contract? Was this all just some duty kick he was getting?
What would become of them all?
Sometimes she wished she had a crystal ball and could look into her future and see how it all worked out. But this time she was afraid. Afraid that what she’d see wasn’t what she wanted.
She left him to meander through the vineyard, stopping to look at the tight fists of bright red buds at the end of each row, gathering strength to grow into flourishing roses, and to watch tiny white butterflies skitter past. And as they walked she noticed his shoulders begin to relax again. The sunshine and quietness chased the shadows away and eventually he came back to her, took her hand in his and walked towards a cluster o
f old stone buildings.
But before they left the vines Georgie paused and looked at the tiny fruit gripping tightly onto ancient gnarled wood. ‘Do you think Chris would mind if we tried one of the grapes?’
He laughed. ‘I think he probably would, but they’re not remotely ripe anyway. They’ll make our stomachs hurt.’
‘But they’re award winning, it said so on a big certificate on the wall back at the restaurant. Should we try? I’ve never had anything award winning straight off the vine before. How about you? You should try one.’
‘No.’ He pulled her hand away from the plant and hauled her against him. His eyes were hungry, his breathing quickened as he looked into her face, at her eyes, at her mouth. He was a complex man filled with conflicting emotions—but that didn’t make her want him less. He was real and, yes, he was complicated. He was layered and that was what made him all the more intriguing.
He cupped her face and stared into it, his expression a mix of heat and fun and affection. Then he pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her hard. It was a kiss filled with need, with deep and genuine desire. This was new, this...trust, this depth, sharing his worse times and dark past. It was intense and it was raw but Georgie felt a shift of understanding to a new level. A new need. His grip on her back was strong as he held her and for a few moments she thought he would never let her go. And, holding him tight against her, she wished that very same thing with every ounce of her soul.
* * *
‘Can I drive the car? Please?’ Georgie grabbed the keys from Liam’s hand and he let her take them. Let her run to his pride and joy and take the driver’s seat, which he would never ever normally do. But, well hell, just telling her about his old life had set something free from his chest. He felt strangely lighter, freed up a little.
But then, as he climbed in beside her, his gaze flicked to her belly and there was that hitch again, the one that reminded him that happiness was always fleeting. That love could hurt just as much as it could give joy. He’d thought he’d be able to distance himself emotionally from her, and from the baby, but in reality the feelings just kept hurtling at his rib cage, ripping his breaths away, one after the other. Hard and fast until he didn’t think he’d ever be able to breathe properly again. He didn’t know whether to run away from her or keep a tight grip. But staying close opened them all up to him wreaking havoc again.
‘Where are you going to drive to? Palm Beach is nice. There are some good shops in Oneroa. Or we could go for a walk along Rocky Bay.’
She ran her fingers over the leather steering wheel. ‘No. I remember from my school history classes that there are tunnels somewhere left over from the Second World War. Do you know anything about them?’
‘Stony Batter tunnels? Sure. My grandfather helped build them actually. He was born here, camped in the fields just up past Man O’War Bay through the last years of the war.’ Sheesh, he’d opened his mouth and now he couldn’t stop his past pouring out. ‘He used to take me up there when I was a kid.’
She flicked the ignition and drove back towards the main road. ‘Do you want to take a look?’
Did he? That would mean a drive past The Pines and a whole lot more memories. The weeks they’d spent here as a real family. Complete. God, why had he decided to come here to relive everything again? Why? Because, for some reason, Georgie made him feel as if anything was possible. Even overcoming a dark and murky past. Who knew, maybe he could squeeze his eyes shut as they drove past The Pines and he wouldn’t feel the dread already stealing up his spine. ‘Okay. If you insist.’
‘I do.’
But that was a mistake. Memories joined the swirl of pain in his chest as they closed the kilometres between the vineyard and his old holiday home. Part of him wanted to grab the steering wheel and head straight back to the ferry terminal. But it was too late.
The Pines stood tall and dark and ominous as they drove past, the short driveway leading to the front door, still painted dark blue, ancient pohutakawa trees flanking the lawn, laundry flapping on the line, all gave his gut a strange kick. Memories of happier times filtered into his head—his father swinging him round and round, his mother laughing at their antics and calling them for dinner. The long leisurely Christmas lunches filled with fun and excitement—midnight mass, waiting for Santa, opening presents on Christmas Day morning.
They had been happy, once upon a time. But once that dream had been shattered, it had never been possible to reach that state again.
He let his gaze wander, turning his head slightly as the large rambling house went out of view. Glancing at him, Georgie jerked the car to a halt. ‘That was it, wasn’t it? The house?’
There was no point lying. ‘Yes. It looks as if someone is renovating it.’
‘Do you want to go and take a look?’ Her eyes were kind as they settled on him and he knew she was trying to do the right thing by making him confront his demons. But he didn’t need to do that here, he confronted them most days as it was. ‘I’ll come with you, you won’t be on your own.’
‘Let’s keep driving.’
‘Actually, no.’ She drew up at the side of the road and before he could stop her she’d done a U-turn and they were back at the house.
‘Georgie, I know what you’re trying to do. It’s okay. I’m fine. Things are fine.’
‘Sure. If you say that enough times you might just believe it. I, however, take a little more convincing. Come on.’ She stepped out, leaned against the car and wrapped her arms around her chest as she stared at the house. ‘I can imagine you playing there in the garden. Causing mayhem. It’s a real family home. Three generations all together. Nice.’
‘It was once.’ He wrenched himself out of the car and looked over at the house, fighting the tightness in his throat. ‘The last time I was here was for my grandad’s funeral.’
She turned to him, hair blowing wildly in the sudden breeze. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘He lived here all his life, he loved the place, said he didn’t need to go anywhere else.’
‘It’s nice that you have family history. It must be reassuring to hear about the past, thinking that your grandad walked along these same paths as you. It gives a connection, doesn’t it?’ Slipping her hand into his, she left it at that. But her words kept coming back to him as they walked across the road past the house and looked out over the bay towards the tiny islands dotted around the horizon.
Liam remembered his grandad telling him about the antics he and his mates had got up to here on the island—fishing, drinking, farming. How he’d courted Liam’s grandmother for two years but had always known he’d marry her. How they’d devoted years of their lives to the community here. Liam had always known his ties to this place but it had been too easy to take them for granted. Then he’d tried to put as much space between him and them as he could.
He looked at Georgie now in profile, those gorgeous lush curls whipping in the wind; she would never know if they came from her mother’s side or her father’s. Those soft brown eyes—a hint of Maori blood? Italian? Again, she’d never know. That staunch tilt of the jaw—well, that was pure Georgie, from years of forging her independence and stamping her place in this world. How she’d turned her life into such a success from her rocky beginnings, he would always wonder at. She had no memories of any kind of family time, good or bad, no special Christmases, no history to talk of, no stories to tell her baby.
Nugget.
Fear washed through him. Fear and hope mingling into a mish-mash of chaos in his gut. He was going to be a father.
He was going to have to create memories for his child too. A history. And a future.
See, this was why he’d been against families for so long. Because the unbearable weight of responsibility meant you had to stop hiding yourself and be someone good. Deep down good. Unselfishly open and honest. You had to let go of the past and be that person, the one everyone relied on. The one everyone looked up to. The one who knew there was danger and risk in opening his hear
t, but did it anyway.
Trouble was, he just didn’t know if he could be that man.
CHAPTER TEN
One month ago...
TIME WAS MOVING FAST. Too fast.
The next few weeks were a blur of sensual lovemaking and laughter. It seemed, to Georgie at least, that sex could be a good mix with friendship after all. Liam was still funny and helpful, he still hammered nails and painted walls. He made her laugh and sigh with delight. They chatted and joked about pretty much everything, as ever—and it seemed almost as if something inside him had been set free.
Except...there was that nagging worry that things were rattling towards an abrupt end. And there was still a part of himself that he held back, that she couldn’t break through.
Georgie’s head was in a state of flux. She didn’t know what he wanted, and she wasn’t sure what she wanted out of this either. There’d been no discussion of expectations and she was too scared to ask him about...what next. All she knew was that having him in her bed and by her side made her feel the very best she’d ever felt. Although she’d never again mentioned his past, she also didn’t want to discuss a future.
Because for the immediate future—which in her terms amounted to the next eighteen years—she wanted what she had never had: a stable, loving environment for her child. She wanted her baby to feel loved and nurtured, as if it were the centre of the universe and not, like her, alone and unwanted. She wanted her child to not have to fight every day to be noticed. She wanted her child to feel completely and utterly confident and...loved. Just loved.
A Baby on Her Christmas List Page 13