One Secret Too Many

by Vanessa Grant

  He pushed her words aside with a gesture. ‘You’re shivering,’ he said, as if she were his patient. ‘You’d better come into the house.’

  ‘Just nerves. The sun’s still out.’

  His eyes were on her bent head, following the smooth glossy line of her shoulder-length brown hair, trying to see what she was thinking. Then he stared over the rail at the water below, as if he could see another world in the reflections. ‘Alex, it isn’t—I never intended to be anybody’s father.’

  ‘Why? Sam, you’re the father of this child inside me. I—I think I have to understand what you feel about it.’

  He pushed unsteady hands through his hair, throwing it into confusion. These were things he never talked about, memories he did not explore and feelings he did not want. He turned to face her, to tell her harshly that she had no right to pry into him or his past. She was sitting very still on the chair, her hand spread over her skirt as if to touch the child inside her. He felt a shuddering wave of emotion surging up over him, equal parts of terror and need.

  There were no rings at all on her fingers. Her only jewellery was the gold charm that had hung around her throat from the first time he had seen her. From it her throat rose, soft and smooth and vulnerable. Her face— her lips were slightly parted. He could see the faint pink shadow of her tongue. There was no trace of a smile. The only colour on her face was the faint scattering of freckles across her nose and the dark brown softness that was her hair lying against her cheek and her throat. He felt his hand moving, irresistibly drawn to touch the glossy softness of her hair, her ,skin. He stopped the motion, his hand clenching.

  Finally, inevitably, he looked into her eyes. Framed with long dark lashes, they stared at him. Wide brown eyes, deeper than his could bear to look into. Penetrating too far, seeing too much, yet somehow casting a spell upon him that made it seem as if there was no danger to opening, speaking. ‘Alex, I can’t exactly explain what I feel.’ He heard the huskiness in his voice, and cleared his throat awkwardly.

  Her hand caught at his and the brown fingers clenched around hers. She said carefully, her eyes never leaving his, ‘Try, Sam. Please.’

  He stared at their joined hands. He thought there was no other woman like this in the world, that if he explained she would understand. It would not be easy for him, reaching out, letting another person close, but she would help him. and somehow they would make it all work for the sake of the child. There would be no terror for this child, none of the violence and noise and abuse that had characterised his own youth.

  He said slowly, ‘I can remember my mother, vaguely. I was with her until I was old enough to go to school, running wild, I suppose. Then somebody decided to investigate why I was on the streets while the other kids were in school. They took me away then, and that’s the last time I ever saw her.’

  Alex moved her thumb across the hard rigidity of his hand, a soothing touch that he probably did not even notice. How old would he have been? Six? Seven? ‘She’s just a pretty memory, and not a clear one. Looking back, trying to guess by what I remember, I suppose she was probably making her living as a prostitute. Maybe there were drugs involved. I don’t suppose any authority would have considered her a fit mother.’

  ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘Foster homes. I was a difficult little monster, so there were a lot of homes.’ He grinned wryly, his hand brushing the hair back from her forehead. ‘There’s no need to look worried, Alex. I know you can’t imagine such an existence with the upbringing you had, but that sort of thing either makes you strong, or it finishes you. I survived it, so I guess it made me strong. I left the last place when I was fourteen.’

  Fourteen. Just a child. ‘Left, and. . . what?’

  He loosened her hand. ‘Looked after myself, one way or another. Not always honestly.’

  ‘And you’ve been alone ever since,’ she finished softly.

  ‘I’d had enough of family life. I wanted to make my own rules, my own life, and it wasn’t going to include any family. Just me.’

  ‘Sam, it’s not always like that.’ She stood up and moved to him, her hand resting on his forearm. ‘There are lots of exceptions, loving families.’

  ‘I know that.’ He looked down at her, his eyes seeming to notice the pretty blouse for the first time, fingers brushing the fabric absently. ‘I’ve made friends, seen enough loving families to know how it can be, but I— Well, the more I learned, the more it seemed a good idea for me to stay alone.’ His fingers stroked her arm, bringing dizzy pleasure to her.

  There was a lot missing. ‘Somehow you got from that—from the fourteen-year-old street fighter to—Sam, you don’t become a doctor by dropping out of school at fourteen.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘I racketed around. Then, when I was nineteen, I got caught with a stolen car.’ He shrugged that away. ‘I didn’t much like being in gaol, so I made sure I didn’t go back. I managed to find work. Travelling, working—there was lots of work then for a man if he was willing to do anything that took a strong back and gave a pay cheque in return. Picking fruit, working on road crews, fishing.’

  ‘And logging.’

  ‘Yes. That was where the change came. Jake, lord knows why, pulled me out of the bush, went with me when they flew me to Vancouver, made a nuisance of himself at the hospital, insisting I have the best care, the best surgeon.’ Sam grinned, remembering how unpopular Jake had made himself at the hospital. ‘I don’t know why he bothered.’

  ‘He cared about you,’ said Alex gently.

  ‘I guess.’ He obviously wasn’t comfortable with that. He shrugged and said, ‘I had a long time in there. It was almost a year before I was out and fit to do anything physical again. Quade operated on me, many times. There was quite a bit of pain, but mostly there was time to think, and to watch what was happening around me. I decided that there were better things to do than bumming around. Quade spent a lot of time with me, talking medicine. And Jake kept coming by.’ Sam grinned.

  ‘Jake’s the kind of guy who can’t accept no for an answer. One day I said that I wished I’d finished school, that I would have liked to go to medical school. Within a week Jake had all the information for me, assessment tests set up, information on correspondence and tutors to get my high school diploma. I spent the rest of my hospital stay as a student, trying to catch up on things I hadn’t done years before.

  ‘Then I applied for admission to UBC as a mature student.’ He smiled at her, a wide amusement. ‘I was twenty-eight at the time, so I guess that made me mature enough. The money was a bit of a problem, but it worked out. After the first year, I managed to qualify for the odd scholarship here and there. And there was a settlement for the accident in the bush. Quade got me part-time work as an orderly in the hospital. I made it without starving. Jake had me over for dinner at his place once a week. I don’t know if he realised that was about the only balanced eating I got, but I was thankful for it.’

  ‘They both cared a lot about you,’ said Alex, not knowing either man, but glad that Sam had not been completely alone all those years. ‘I can’t think why, but it’s true. I probably couldn’t have done it without them both behind me.’

  ‘I know why.’ She was smiling, a gentle mockery. ‘Because you’re a very special man, Sam Dempsey. They cared about you because you were worth it, and because you needed it.’

  He swallowed, took a deep breath, and said harshly. ‘Alex, a man learns how to be a father long before he’s a man. He learns by the way he’s treated. Kids who come out of unstable environments are likely to repeat history with their own children. I had no notion of having children, and—I— Then, when I realised that you were carrying my child, I—’

  He jerked away from her abruptly and paced across the balcony. His voice had caught, stumbled on his own words, and Alex wasn’t sure, but she thought there might have been tears in his eyes. Sam wanted this child. He was afraid of it, but it was a person to him, the child he had never intended to have.


  ‘Sam, you’re talking about statistics. You’re not a statistic.’

  ‘Yes, I know. Look, Alex, I know I haven’t exactly thought of you in all this.’ His voice was ragged, his face averted from her. ‘I’ve been sitting at the clinic ever since it closed this evening, trying to think, to be objective, or—well, at least rational. l—damn it, Alex! I really am trying, but all I can see is that it’s a baby. It’s my baby, Alex! I—what did you say?’

  He swung back to face her, his face rigid yet very vulnerable. She wanted to go to him, to touch him and kiss him and tell him that it would be all right, but she knew she must preserve her own composure, must think very clearly.

  ‘Sam, not yours. Ours—no, don’t say anything, please! Let me say what I—I’ve been thinking about this. All day. I’ve probably had a better chance to think it out clearly, because, thanks to Maggie, I’ve been all alone most of the day, and no one has been giving me advice— well, except perhaps Maggie, but her advice made sense.’

  ‘What—’

  ‘She said that it was my baby, or my abortion.’ His jaw clenched at her words. ‘Sam, I’m not going to have an abortion. You don’t have to worry about that. But I feel that we have to be really honest with each other. I don’t know if I would have made it down to that clinic in Vancouver if you hadn’t found out about it. I—I was scared. I’m still scared, but now I’ve got to the point where I feel—’

  ‘What are you feeling?’ He seemed freed of the forces that had frozen him. He stepped close and touched her face with his hand, gently raising her chin so that he could look into her eyes. Whatever he saw there seemed to affect him strongly. She stared up at him, seeing his pupils widen, the muscles in his throat work as he swallowed. The words seemed drawn from him without his will. ‘Alex, it will be all right. I’ll—I’ll make you a good husband. I’ll make sure of that. I—I can see why you might have cause for concern, but—’

  ‘I’m not going to marry you, Sam.’ She said it quickly, before she could be tempted by the touch of his fingers on her face, the erotic temptation of his husky male body standing so close to her. Then, as her words echoed around them, she wanted to call them back.

  The night she had met him, they had been two souls united, the world only a fantasy around them. It could be like that again. That look was in his eyes, and if she reached out to him as she had before, the rest of the world would fade away. And she would have trapped a man who was filled with gentleness and caring, but terrified of loving. She could feel it whenever he was close to her. He wanted her, had not forgotten their shared ecstasy. Even his eyes answered the deeper messages in hers, but, at the same time, inside him there was anger and resentment at the way she pulled him.

  Especially now that she carried his child. There was only one honourable thing that he could do about that knowledge. Marry her. And she was convinced that, despite all that he had lived through, Sam Dempsey was a very honourable man.

  He was standing stiffly, his face a mask now as he said rigidly, ‘What are you going to do?’

  She stood erect and motionless. ‘I’m not sure, Sam.’

  He said, in a rush, ‘Alex, I—’

  ‘No, Sam.’ She touched his lips to silence him. His flesh felt warm and dry. ‘Don’t say anything. There’s no hurry to make our decisions. I need time. We both need time. I promise you that I won’t do anything that affects this child without telling you, Sam. I won’t— there won’t be any abortion.’ She closed her eyes against his, said raggedly, ‘Would you do something for me, please, Sam? Leave me alone now? I have to—I need time.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘I don’t know. A week. A month. I—I just need some time on my own.’

  He stared at her wordlessly, then turned away to watch the entrance of a large fishing boat through the breakwater. He pushed his hands deep into his pockets before he said carefully, ‘No, I can’t do that.’ She saw his chest expand in a deep breath, heard his voice with the tension in it. ‘I can’t just walk away and wonder what’s happening to you.’

  ‘To the baby, you mean.’

  ‘Both.’ His voice was hard. ‘You and the baby. You’ll just have to put up with me. I’m not going to go away, Alex.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  IT WAS as if the town were wrapping its tendrils around Sam. Day by day, he felt himself becoming more deeply entangled into its life.

  He was slowly becoming aware of a duality in his role towards his patients. On the one hand he was giving; on the other, hiding emotionally in the safe role of doctor. Although he could be hurt by the pain or death of a patient, his inner self was safe, secure. No person was ever allowed close enough to threaten. It was this distance, this remoteness, that was threatened when he began to feel pressures to move away from hospital life.

  Had Alex done something to him in that wonderful night in Vancouver? Had he been altered, somehow drawn into changes, which were restructuring his life, taking it out of his control? Even in the mad days when he ran the streets and took his living where he could find it, he had felt that he was the one in control. It had always been necessary to him, from the moment he walked out of the last foster home, that he have pilotage of his own life, his own destiny. One painful experience with courts and justice had been enough to put him off the streets. He must direct his own life, not judges and gaolers beyond his reach.

  When he made choices, they were conscious and deliberate. Even becoming a doctor had been a move to gain mastery, of both his own life and the pains of others. He was good at it. When he moved into that world, he felt assurance and something even more. Jake might have called it dedication, a sense of worth, but Sam avoided putting words to it. He simply lived it, refusing to question why.

  So here he was, the man who would not put down roots, being insidiously tricked and seduced into accepting the tendrils of commitments. Alex—no, he was not ready yet to come to terms with the whole issue of Alex. He had tried to resolve it quickly, to the inevitable conclusion. It was unfair that Alex should be the one to suffer. He was a man—a doctor, for heaven’s sake—yet he had impregnated a virgin. Hell, it was no excuse that he’d taken the usual precautions! He was years older than she, yet he had allowed the mystery in her eyes, the soft trusting touch of her fingers to go to his head. He had been insane to take her, yet he knew that in that same situation, today, he would repeat his insanity. Too many of his dreams were living memories of walking with Alex, talking with Alex, making love.

  She might be twenty-five, but she was a child who must be protected. Despite her parents, who seemed to hover so stiflingly close to her, he knew that she lived essentially alone, much as he did. The difference was that her solitary world was one of fantasies where she created stories. Once he realised that she could not stand alone and have the child, he knew that marriage would be the only solution. Not a marriage of passions, but a cool rational arrangement so that he could care for her without having to come too near.

  Cool. Rational. In control. Talking with her on the balcony of the MacAvoys’ house, he had felt exposed and vulnerable, yet somehow unable to gather defences around him. He wanted to see himself as the strong one, looking after her in her need, without becoming involved himself, but he’ was aware that his vision of himself was false. His instinct had been to take control once he realised that he could not walk away from her predicament, yet Alex would not give him control. So he left her with the MacAvoys. frustrated and uncertain of his own course.

  He was just getting into his car in the car park when his pager beeped and a voice echoed through the Corvette, asking him to call the Manor. He telephoned, then went up to spend some time with the Alzheimer’s patient. Later, he found himself on maternity. His two mothers were sleeping soundly. He went into the nursery and spent a long time standing there, looking down at the newborns. General practice was different from hospital life. Too many people. Individuals coming close, pulling in the walls around him. In the hospital he had hidden in surgery, his patient
s unconscious or in emergency where they came and went too quickly to break the barriers between Sam and the world. No time, no opportunity to form relationships.

  Soon, in mere weeks, a stethoscope placed against the smooth white flesh of Alex’s abdomen would allow him to hear the foetal heartbeat. In less than eight months there would be a child. He would be a father.

  The nurse was in the next room, changing one of the babies. He was alone with the others; they were mostly sleeping. one husky newborn grinding his fist against his gums. Watching them, Sam felt a sudden clarity of vision.

  He was emotionally not much more mature than these newborns. Afraid to touch. to feel. Fearful of ties and obligations that would twist control away from him. He had held himself aloof, lived in solitary isolation to protect himself. He could choose now. If he was quick and ruthless, he could regain his detachment. Otherwise it would go on, he would become more and more entangled, his life and his happiness dependent on others.

  The fears had woken as he moved away from the isolation of institutional life. Logging camps. University dormitories. Hospitals. They were all a way to avoid relationships, personal responsibilities. As he moved away from them, he became more exposed. It was time to grow, he decided as he stared down at a young man who was about to start wailing. Time to change.

  Upstairs, Neil MacKenzie was ready to be discharged. Tomorrow morning he would walk out of the hospital, and almost directly into the courtroom where he would be charged. Sam had talked to the probation officer and knew that Neil would probably be held in custody until the autumn assizes. The boy had no one to vouch for him, no one rash enough to guarantee behaviour while he waited to be tried. Sam doubted if imprisonment would help the boy, although it might be slightly better than turning him back out on to the streets.