Sunrise for Two

by Merlot Montana

  “Thank you, I’m really glad about that.” She said, treating him to a lovely smile, and he watched some of the tension drain out of her delicate form.

  “You can trust me.” He said softly, and added carefully, “I’m looking for someone to share my life with Harry.”

  “As am I.” she told him, “I just can’t believe that anyone would choose me.” She took a mouthful of wine and added determinedly “It’s very inconvenient going out with someone who can’t walk, if you want to meet me in a restaurant you’ll have to check it out first, because even if places say they don’t have stairs, they almost always do. The cinema is a logistical nightmare and even the supermarket can be difficult if they’re unpacking boxes.”

  “I like takeaways,” he said, his eyes holding hers, “I prefer box sets and I’ll go to the supermarket whenever you need me to.”

  “Thank you.” She said softly, and added quietly, “When he ran me over the wheels caught the base of my spine, just where the bundle of nerves are separating, I kept some movement to my hips, enough to be able to move my thighs slightly. Mother could never quite grasp that, she always thought that if I tried harder then I would be able to walk again. She tried to make me use the stairs when I first came home, but I fell and broke my arm and after that daddy installed an elevator at the back of the house.”

  He touched her face, feeling his anger towards her mother deepen. “I’m so sorry.” He said unsteadily, watching the dark shadows of pain in her eyes.

  “It’s okay,” she said softly, “in some ways I’m grateful to her. She taught me how to be strong and that’s a good thing.” Then she paused and rubbed the back of her neck before she drew in another breath, “It's like the feeling through fabric,” she told him, taking his hand and holding it tightly, “you know, distant and muffled. If I put my hand between my legs when I’m wearing jeans, then I can’t really feel anything. My clit is bit more sensitive and I seem to have a lot more sensation,” she paused and felt her face colouring “deeper in my vagina.”

  He kissed her then, feeling protectiveness and tenderness and a huge sense of possessiveness. He wanted to tell her that she would never need to have the conversation again, that he hadn't slept with her yet and he already couldn't bear the thought of another man touching her. But he didn’t want to frighten her, didn’t want his intensity to make her regret the sweet trust that he saw in her eyes. “Thank you.” he said softly, and added again, “You can trust me.” He kissed her then, more demanding now, more insistent. She kissed him back, still unsure, still questioning why this tall, dark, handsome surgeon, approaching the peak of his career, would want to seduce the disabled woman from the computing department.

  Chris forced himself to think, he wanted her to feel safe, and he wanted her to feel equal. He pulled his faded rugby colours over his head and she looked at the delicious definition and the kissable planes of his chest. “Can I take off your shirt?” he asked unsteadily, and felt a surge of adrenaline when she nodded, and bit her lip.

  “You can take off my shirt.” He grinned at her then. This was like unwrapping the present he had always wanted, peeling open the most delicious confection. Slowly slowly he unfastened her buttons and feasted his hungry eyes on her skin. Her colouring was a dark Mediterranean homage to her mysterious past, and he looked at the soft curve of her waist and the kissable tips of her hip bones. Tenderly he helped her out of her shirt, he wanted to run his mouth over every inch of the area above her waist. He knew that would bring her the most pleasure, and the thought of hearing her moan made him tingle. He ran his mouth over her navel and then unfastened the soft fabric over her intoxicating curves. She was even more beautiful than he remembered and he lost himself in the way she tasted and the way she arched her back.

  When his pager sounded he groaned out loud and looked at her apologetically. “Can I use your phone? I’m not a great fan of mobiles.”

  “Yes of course.” She gestured to the small table by the front door.

  “There’s been a major incident,” he said unhappily, “lots of injured police and protesters. All of the surgical teams have been called back in.”

  “Poor you.” She said sympathetically, knowing it was wrong that she was finding his summons incredibly sexy, but thinking it all the same. She pulled her shirt back on and smiled at him, “Thank you for a lovely evening.”

  He sat looking at her, his own arms still distractingly bare. He wanted to open her shirt again, he wanted to fix the memory of her lovely breasts in his mind and listen to the sounds that she had made. “Don’t you want me to stay?” he asked, his concern obvious.

  “I thought you had to return to the hospital.”

  “I do.”

  “Chris I’m confused.” She said gently.

  “What I mean is, aren’t you sorry that I have to leave you?”

  “Well of course I am.”

  He put his hand on her arm and said unsteadily, “If I go now, will you think of me like him?”

  She struggled for a moment to follow his train of thought, then she asked tentatively, “You mean like John?”

  He nodded, “You trusted John and then he left you and hurt you. Now you’ve trusted me and I’m leaving you.”

  She took a deep breath then said rather self-consciously, “The difference is, that I’m rather hoping you’re going to come back tomorrow.”

  “Of course I am.” He said emphatically, and she felt the intensity of his blue eyes in the base of her stomach.

  “Then it’s not like John at all.”

  He smiled then, and kissed her mouth. “See you tomorrow beautiful.” She nodded, still trying to catch her breath and he jogged out into the street and back to his waiting car.

  Julia was back on the sofa before she finished buttoning her shirt. “Don’t tell me you froze him out again.” She said accusingly, if he spends any more time jogging then he’s going to go up in flames.

  “No there’s bad stuff happening in the city centre, they’ve called back all the essential medical staff.”

  Julia pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked her reception. “They haven’t called me.” She said rather forlornly. Harry looked at her, she wondered what exactly Julia would bring to the chaos of the busy accident and emergency.

  “I’m sure they’ll want you to work late tomorrow.” She said finally, and wondered how long she should wait before she threw her best friend out and savoured every moment of Chris’ visit.

  Chapter eight

  She was still thinking about him when she woke up, she felt as though every nerve ending was on fire, and when Julia came to collect her, she asked her if she wanted to go swimming the next morning. “You might be doing more interesting things with your Saturday morning.”

  “I doubt it, he’ll probably be exhausted.”

  “He looks to me like a man with stamina.” Julia told her, and she decided to change the subject before she embarrassed herself.

  By lunchtime her euphoria was fading, she thought about paging him, but realised how much it would hurt if he didn’t welcome her advances. So she focussed on the blood results, taking comfort in the ebb and flow of the equations and the data. Mr Patel rang the buzzer in the late afternoon, and asked to speak to Harry. Mike let him in, acquiescing instantly to his calm authority, and the elegant surgeon stopped by her desk and smiled at Belinda when she erupted out of her office, determined to take part in any conversation about the training DVD. “Do you mind if we talk in private?” he asked, and Belinda led the way into her stuffy cubicle and shut the door.

  He had hoped to talk to Harry alone, but he realised how jealously Belinda guarded her little piece of power, and he knew he needed her alliance. He took a deep breath and committed himself to his unusual course of action. “Chris has been working without stopping since he came in last night, he did this in the last emergency, but he’s older now, and even he has his limits. I can get the juniors to keep things ticking over for a while and I need him back in on
e piece tomorrow morning.” Harry nodded at him, unsure what to say. “If I send him home will you look after him?”

  Harry looked at Belinda and the older woman smiled at her, “Of course you can leave early, I owe you so much overtime, you could probably take a whole month off. All the same,” she added after a pause, “I’m really grateful to you for agreeing to come back in tomorrow.”

  Harry smiled at them both and tried to ignore the apprehension building in her stomach, she wasn’t sure that she would cope very well as a distraction and a consolation for a distressed hero. “Then he’s a very lucky man.” Mr Patel said with feeling, and rose to his feet. Belinda stood up too and he smiled at her, “Please don’t worry, I know how busy you are, and I can find my own way out.”

  Belinda sat back down and watching his departing figure, “Is it true that he’s single?” she asked finally. Harry looked at her for a moment, trying to focus on what she had heard.

  “I think so.” She said unconvincingly, and put her hand on the wheels of her chair.

  “Are you okay?” Belinda asked awkwardly, “You don’t look very excited about taking him home to bed.”

  Harry took a deep breath and looked at her. “I’m just not sure how exciting it would be, for him I mean.” Belinda looked at her, she tried desperately to remember what she had learned on the Equality and Diversity Course, but nothing in the slides about disability seemed relevant. Then Harry treated to her to one of her lovely smiles and said robustly, “Thanks anyway, I’m sure I’ll figure it out.” Belinda smiled back, and watched her take her place at her workstation. She couldn’t help thinking that she had failed her, and she watched Mike pour her a cup of coffee and wondered how she could make amends.

  Chris arrived before she had a chance to try. Belinda watched Rafiq smile apologetically at his colleague, and the look of misery in Mike’s eyes. “Do you want a lift home?” Chris asked Harry.

  “Thank you.” She said unsteadily, and followed him out into the corridor. She transferred into the car under his protective gaze and hoped that her nerves weren’t too apparent. He drove out of the car park in silence, and she admired the harsh planes of his handsome profile and wondered what brave surgeons liked to talk about when they were clearly very upset.

  “One of the policemen lost his arm.” He said finally, “I worked for hours, I thought I had the blood flow working again, then things broke down.” He took a deep breath and braked suddenly at a red light. “He’s twenty eight, and now he’s stuck behind a desk.” There was silence and then he said awkwardly, “I’m sorry, was that insensitive? I wasn’t thinking about your chair.”

  “Chris I want you to talk to me. I hate it when I feel that people are modifying their stories because of my legs, to be honest that makes me feel more disabled than anything else. What happened to him is awful.”

  “Thank you.” He smiled at her for the first time, and she felt some of her apprehension fading. “Do you mind if we take a quick detour?”

  “Of course not.” He cut down a side road and she noticed with a tiny flash of disloyal amusement that he sliced in and out of the traffic in a way that Julia had never mastered. They stopped in a decaying car park and he pulled in next to the remains of a warehouse.

  “Harry can I carry you somewhere? I’ll look after you.”

  “Okay then,” she said her dark eyes holding his. He lifted her out of the car, and even through his tiredness and grief, he felt a tingle at her delicate warmth. He ducked into the dark space between the walls and the alleys and took the staircase hidden in the shadows. The air grew damp and the graffiti faded away. He stopped by a hole in the wall and smiled at her.

  “If you reach in then you’ll find a torch.” She followed his instructions and he reflected for a moment on her spirit. He wasn’t sure how many women would do the same if faced with such a dark uninviting crack. She switched on the heavy metal device and his feet followed the light into the room beyond the room where the walls and the ceiling were lined with bricks. Carefully he helped her find her balance on the heavy metal bench and he stood in the shadows, his face a sensual blend of lines and stubble.

  “My dad showed me this place, he used to get a bit of extra work as a taxi driver, and this was where they used to let off steam.”

  “It’s completely quiet down there, it’s like the city doesn’t exist.”

  “It’s my sanctuary, and when I turned eighteen and I had to leave the children’s home, I lived here until I could afford to rent somewhere. Even when I had a bed I’d still come here sometimes, it feels like the only link to him I have.” She nodded, wishing that he wasn’t standing so far away, the quiet lonely man she couldn’t stop thinking about. “Can I make you my favourite meal?” he asked suddenly, “It’s very simple, we can pick up the stuff on the way home.”

  “Thank you that would be lovely.” He carried her back into the noise and the jostle and drove to her house with an absent minded ease that might have reassured her about his intentions were he not so quiet. He climbed out and led the way into the little supermarket, ducking his head slightly to avoid a low hanging sign advertising the fact that they were in a co-operative that cared about the local community. Harry picked up some more milk and he took it from her as they neared the counter and she wondered if that made them a couple. Then the spectre of the bedroom loomed up in her mind, and she fought the urge to offer him money for her purchase.

  She unlocked the door and he smiled at her. “Do you mind if I find my way around your kitchen?” he asked, and she nodded at him and switched on the radio.

  “Do you need any help?” she asked him, admiring the contours of his back as he disappeared into the kitchen.

  “No thanks, just find us something funny to watch.” He brought her a glass of wine and sat down for a moment beside her. “Thank you,” he said softly, “I know I’m not much fun when I’m like this.”

  “You’re lovely,” she said sincerely, deeply touched by the insight into his grief for the young man he had treated. He kissed her then, deep and long, in the way that made her want to forget dinner and take him to bed. Then he moved back to the kitchen, and to her surprise the smells started to make her feel hungry.

  She chose a box set and transferred onto the sofa, he sat down beside her and handed her a plate of food. His eyes held none of the desire that she had seen the night before, and she felt her old anxieties return. She made them both hot chocolate and watched him struggling to stay awake. “Tell me what you need.” She said finally, and gesturing to her delicate hips, she added tentatively, “I would give you anything that you wanted.”

  “Thank you,” he said softly. “I do want all of those things, but not right now, not like this.” He paused and looked at her for a moment. “What I would like to do is to sleep the night in your bed. With you in it too if that’s okay.”

  “Of course.” She wheeled through to the bedroom to hide her disappointment, and found a pair of Julia’s pyjamas left from the last time her washing machine had stopped working. He changed in the bathroom, and by the time she was ready for bed he was already asleep, the lines of tiredness slowly fading from his face.

  She lay down beside him and realised that she was now wide awake. It wasn’t fair, she had locked her sexuality away, and now this big handsome man had stirred her up and left her hungry. She closed her eyes and tried to think of her holiday in the lake district. She realised she hadn’t discussed it with Chris, then listened to his breathing and decided that he probably wouldn’t care. Bizarrely she found herself thinking about Mr Patel, she wondered if he would be disappointed to learn of their strangely anticlimactic evening, then thought rather bitterly that he would have been much more receptive to her offer.

  She woke up to the smell of coffee, and sleepily wondered if her sister had stayed the night. “Hey beautiful,” said a deep voice beside her, and she fastened the top button of her pyjamas and pulled herself into a sitting position. “I can’t decide,” he said with a lazy g
rin, “whether you look better asleep or awake.”

  “Nobody looks at their best until they wake up.” She told him awkwardly, remembering the way he had fallen asleep. Right after she had thrown herself at him.

  She slid into her wheelchair and disappeared into the bathroom. She spent a long time in the shower, half hoping that he would leave, then she would never have to face him again. He was making breakfast when she emerged, concocting a delicious omelette and heating up the milk for her coffee. “Thanks again for last night.” He said softly, “I know I’m not easy company when I’m like that.”

  “Anytime,” she told him, her voice sounding distinctly ungracious.

  “Do you mind if I use your shower?” he asked, “I thought I could give you a lift into work.”

  “Thank you but there’s no need.” She said, still not meeting his eyes, “Belinda is collecting me in about ten minutes time.”

  “Okay then,” he said uncomfortably, he finished his breakfast in silence and changed back into his rumpled clothes.

  Mercifully Belinda arrived early, and she stopped pushing her breakfast round her plate and said brightly, “Don’t rush, the door will lock when you close it.” He nodded unhappily and poured himself out some more coffee. He had wanted to explain how much he needed her first time with him to be romantic, how he would look after her and make her forget the painful way she had been violated. He remembered waking up to the sight of her soft curves and wondered how on earth he had fallen asleep. He was still wondering that same thing when he reached the hospital, and it took three cups of coffee and the buzz of the operating theatre to shake her slightly out of the forefront of his mind.

  Mike was sitting in silence when Harry reached the IT suite, he didn’t offer her coffee and he didn’t buy her lunch. She sat quietly wrestling with the blood results and feeling strangely angry with Mr Patel. This was his fault, she decided, by trying to play the part of some elegant cupid, he had messed up the whole pattern of their courtship. She sustained herself with that thought until early afternoon when the horrible memories of John slid into her head and made her feel like crying. “I still haven’t been paged by accident and emergency.” Julia told her, arriving unannounced in the IT suite. Harry looked at her, and she stopped talking and picked up her friend’s bag. “Shall we get wine?” she asked.