by Fiona Lowe
Thanks, Lach—’ But he’d hung up before she could finish. She slipped her phone into her pocket and rubbed her chest, unused to it feeling this way. The fuller sensation hadn’t vanished when her heart had finally resumed its normal rhythm. It was an odd feeling and left her unsettled.
Seeing Tom will help. He might still be in the lecture theatre.
That’s stalking.
No, it’s not! I have to walk past it to go home.
Opening the door and looking in isn’t part of your way home. What happened to getting a grip?
She conceded that point to her conscience. Her time with Tom had been wonderful, but it probably wasn’t going to happen again and this jumpy-heart stuff was just fatigue.
As she gathered her jacket, bag and MP3 player out of her locker, acid burned her gut and she realised she hadn’t eaten anything more than almonds and chocolate in hours. The thought of a breakfast of bacon, eggs, tomato, sausages and golden buttered toast had her salivating. She checked her watch. Twelve twenty p.m. There was only one place she knew that served breakfast until midafternoon and that was Café Luna, which was a long drive from The Harbour but only a short ferry ride away.
You need to sleep and then study.
Her stomach groaned so loudly that the nurse at a locker further down the room turned around and laughed.
‘You better get something to eat fast or you’ll need peppermint water for wind pain.’
Hayley joined in the laughter. ‘I think you might be right.’ She couldn’t sleep or study on an empty stomach and if she listened to some lectures on her MP3 player during the journey there and back, that would justify the travel time. Decision made, she slammed her locker shut, shoved white earbuds into her ears and started walking.
Tom had asked Jared to drop him off at a café he’d once visited frequently but hadn’t visited since the accident. He’d told Jared that he’d catch a taxi home because he didn’t want him to miss out on any classes. Jared, to his credit, hadn’t questioned him about why he wanted to come to this out-of-the-way place, given it was a bit of a drive, which was fortunate because Tom wasn’t certain he had an answer that made much sense. All he knew was that he’d woken up that morning and had instantly thought about the little beach café. Lately, when he’d been teaching the medical students, he’d experienced odd moments of total focus—the sort of intensity he’d known when he’d been operating. It surprised him because he wasn’t at all certain he wanted to teach long-term, but then again he had few other options within medicine and when he thought about working outside medicine, nothing sprang to mind.
Focus in today’s lecture, however, had been seriously lacking because the idea of the café had kept interrupting him. By the time he’d answered the final question, it was like the memory of the café had taken hold of him and was demanding to be visited.
Before the accident, he’d often ridden his bike here on a Sunday morning and then he’d sit and read the papers and watch the world go by while gorging himself on the best breakfast in Sydney. Those happy memories had filled him with a zip of anticipation so by the time he’d taken his seat at his favourite outdoor table, he was almost excited. It wasn’t an emotion he experienced much any more because the one thing that had excited him beyond anything in his life had been surgery and now that was denied him.
Thirty minutes after taking his seat, it wasn’t going well. The coffee was still as aromatic and full of the caffeine kick he remembered, and the eggs on the crisply toasted English muffins were deliciously runny and the hollandaise sauce decadently creamy, but he couldn’t read the paper and the sounds and smells of the busy café dominated, preventing him from getting any sense of the beach despite it only being three steps away.
The cacophony disoriented him and he hated that. He cursed himself for getting into this position. He should have asked Jared to stay. No. What he should have done was not given in to a stupid memory and come to the café. He knew better than giving in to memories because he couldn’t relive anything any more. Nothing was ever the same now he’d lost his sight and right now was a perfect example of why he never acted on impulse. When he did, it left him stranded in unfamiliar environments and dependent on others.
‘Ah, sir?’ The waitress sounded uncertain.
Tom looked towards her, not because he could see her but because he knew sighted people needed him to look at them or else they thought he wasn’t listening. In fact, he’d heard her footsteps well before she’d spoken, although he hadn’t been certain they belonged to the waitress due to so much passing foot traffic. ‘Yes?’
‘Can I get you anything else? We’ve got some lovely cakes today.’
‘I’ll have another coffee. Are you busy today?’
‘You arrived at the peak of the rush, but it’ll be quiet again soon. I’ll be right back with your espresso.’
He leaned back in the chair and breathed in, trying again to smell the sea, and this time, instead of the dominating smell of onions, bacon, coriander and chocolate, he caught a whiff of salt. He heard the excited shout of a child, but any responding voices were drowned out by an almighty crash of crockery. He sighed. Ironically, he’d never noticed any noise in the café when his entire perspective of the world had been absorbed through the visual.
His coffee arrived at the same time he heard the rumble of a ferry’s engine and the cheery toot of the horn. Soon after, just as the waitress had predicted, the café quietened, which allowed the sounds of the beach to finally drift in and the salt on the air make his nostrils tingle. A second later he caught the sudden scent of summer flowers and his gut tightened.
A woman in the café or walking past on the beach was wearing the same perfume as Hayley.
Damn it. He’d managed not to think about her very often today, but it didn’t take much to bring her front and centre in his mind. He’d been battling errant thoughts of Hayley for five long days, which made no sense to him at all. In the past, although he’d enjoyed his encounters with women, he’d never thought about them afterwards and he’d never had his thoughts interrupted by memories of them.
He heard a woman’s voice from somewhere off to his left. ‘Oh! You’ve dropped your teddy. Here you are.’
Tom’s head swung toward the voice, which sounded identical to Hayley’s.
You’re totally losing it. Let’s look at the facts. 1. Other women have been known to wear that perfume. 2. You’re nowhere near the hospital or where she lives so that rules out Hayley. He reached out his fingers, feeling for the edge of the saucer in preparation for picking up the small coffee cup.
Noise buzzed behind him—murmured thanks, the squeak of wheels, possibly from a stroller, and then soft footsteps. Jerky almost. The exact same stop-start gait he’d heard the night he’d met Hayley on the way to the car park.
Stop it.
He ran his hand through his hair, pulling at the short strands as if that slight pain would shake the ridiculous thoughts from his head.
A cloud of coconut and floral scent floated over him and he gripped the edge of the table. He had no clue who was standing near him, and yet everything in him screamed it was Hayley. A bitter surge of vitriol at his useless eyes duelled with the surge of heat that rolled through him, taunting him with the memory of what he’d been doing the last time he’d breathed in that combination of fragrances.
‘Tom? What on earth are you doing here?’
Hayley. She sounded stunned, indignant and happy all at the same time. He understood the emotions exactly. He somehow got this throat to work. ‘Having breakfast for lunch.’
She laughed. ‘That’s why I’m here. I finished work and all I could think about was the big breakfast. May I join you?’
Say no now to avoid problems later. ‘Sure.’
‘Great.’
He started to move so he could stand up for her, but she said, ‘There’s a stroller wedged in behind you. Have you eaten?’
He welcomed her matter-of-fact tone of voice and how she
’d just slipped in the information quietly without making a fuss and then continued with her conversation. ‘I had the eggs Benedict.’
‘Ohh, fancy. I’m going for straight grease today with an extra side of hash browns. It’s crazy but sometimes I dream about these breakfasts and when I do I think it’s my body telling me that I need some salt and fat.’
He remembered her delectable curves and how he’d appreciated them, unlike the feel of a woman who fought with food. He grinned. ‘Sounds reasonable to me.’
She quickly gave her order to the waitress and sighed.
‘Problem?’
‘No, not at all.’ She sounded relaxed and happy. ‘It was a catching-my-breath sigh.’
He knew what she meant. ‘I used to do that here.’
‘Used to? Simple deduction tells me you’re still doing it.’
He shook his head. ‘Today’s the first time I’ve been here in over two years.’ He expected his words to be greeted with an embarrassed silence due to the indirect reference to his accident. Instead, he heard the creak of her chair as she moved in it.
‘I love coming to this café and here’s a perfect example why. There’s an elderly couple walking hand in hand along the pier. They’re deep in conversation and wearing hiking boots so I guess they’re going to walk to the next cove along the cliff-top path. To your left, on the beach, there’s a little boy about three and he’s trying to wrestle a bright red ball from his toddler sister.’
He heard a high-pitched squeal. ‘I gather the sister doesn’t want to give up the ball.’
Hayley laughed and the rich, smoky sound carried both the warmth and softness of velvet. ‘No, she’s holding on tight and he’s just sat on her. Their mother, who’s on her mobile phone, hasn’t paused her conversation for a second. She’s just picked him up by the back of his T-shirt and he’s flailing his arms and legs about.’ She dropped her voice. ‘Just behind you is a boy who looks about eighteen. He’s got heavily tattooed arms, piercings on his face, but he’s cuddling a puppy as if it’s the most precious thing in the world.’
Tom instantly remembered the dog he’d adopted as a child and how devastated he’d been when it had died. His father had taken off when he’d been a baby and had never made contact again. Although his mother had loved him, she’d loved the contents of a bottle more. The dog, however, had loved him unconditionally and he could understand why the tough-looking young man was showing the puppy affection. The animal was probably the only thing in his life that gave him positive vibes. ‘What sort of dog is it?’
The screeching scrape of the chair legs against concrete sounded and then he heard Hayley saying, ‘Excuse me. Could we have a look at your puppy, please?’
He tensed. ‘Hell, Hayley I didn’t mean you to—’
But Hayley ignored him and starting talking to someone he assumed was the tattooed young man.
‘Oh, he’s just gorgeous,’ she cooed. ‘He’s going to be a huge dog if he grows into those feet. This is my friend, Tom. He’s blind but he wanted to know what sort of dog it is.’
‘Do you wanna hold him, mate?’
Tom suddenly felt the wriggling, warm softness of a puppy being shoved into his lap and he quickly brought his hands up to support and contain the dog. Its heart pounded hard and fast against his hand, and a wet tongue licked his thumb. He smiled as he traced the outline of its big, silky ears.
The waitress’s brisk steps hurried to their table and with a clanking slam a plate hit the tabletop. ‘Here’s your big breakfast and no dogs are allowed in the café.’
‘Technically, we’re outside and this young man is on the beach so he’s not in the café,’ Hayley replied mildly. ‘And Tom’s blind so by law you have to allow his dog.’
Tom stifled a laugh at the ludicrous argument and heard the waitress’s sharp intake of breath.
‘That’s not a seeing-eye dog.’
‘Not yet.’ Hayley had that tone in her voice that dared the waitress to prove her wrong. ‘A great deal of training happens before a dog is old enough to wear the harness and it all starts when they’re this young. It’s important that they’re out and about amongst people.’
Somehow Tom managed to keep a straight face and nod as well, adding gravitas to what was an outright lie. ‘We have to see if we get along.’
The puppy laid its head against his forearm as he stroked the length of its back.
‘Just keep it contained, okay?’ The waitress walked away, her shoes slapping the ground crossly.
‘Can I have me dog back now?’ the young man asked.
‘Sure.’ Tom held the puppy out toward the voice. ‘Thanks. I enjoyed the cuddle.’
‘No worries. See ya.’
‘Bye,’ Hayley said with a smile in her voice.
Tom leaned forward, propelled toward her by a lightness of being he hadn’t experienced in years—if ever. ‘So tell me. What sort of a mutt were you trying to pass off as a potential seeing-eye dog?’
Her laugh matched his. ‘What sort of dog did you feel?’
He thought about the picture he’d painted in his mind. ‘Drop ears, wide head, long snout, strong legs, big paws, short coat and a healthy wet nose.’
‘Exactly.’ He heard the scratch of cutlery on china and a soft sigh of delight as she tasted her food. ‘You wanted to know what sort of dog it was and now you’ve seen it.’
A spark of frustration flared. ‘I have no clue of its colour.’
‘A gorgeous golden blond.’
Her perfume eddied around him and he realised she’d leaned forward. He fought against the distraction and thought about the dog and its short coat and immediately ruled out a golden retriever. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me. That dog was actually a golden Labrador?’
‘I know you want to cast me as a con artist and, granted, I was pushing the envelope, but technically that dog could have been a trainee guide dog. Besides, you looked happy and we weren’t upsetting any customers. I would have said the same thing if it had been a Jack Russell.’
He fought the traitorous cosy feeling of being cared for by using the stark reality of abandonment as the weapon. Experience had taught him not to let himself be tricked by caring because it always let him down. A long sigh shuddered out of him. ‘Hayley.’
She responded with an exaggerated sigh. ‘Tom.’
It made him want to smile, but it was time to be frank. Time to lay his cards on the table and kill any illusions she might have about the two of them. ‘About the other day. You do know it wasn’t the start of anything between us. I’ve never done relationships and I don’t intend to start now. It was what it was. Great sex.’ He heard her put her cutlery down and he braced himself for her reply. He’d had this conversation before.
‘I’m glad we agree. It was great sex. Nothing more and nothing less so now you can stop worrying that I’ve booked the church and put a deposit on a dress.’
He wished he could see her face—see if her expression matched her voice, which sounded very normal and without the strain of a lie. But he wasn’t totally convinced. Before he’d lost his sight he’d never met a woman who hadn’t held a hint of hope in her eyes that a relationship would grow from a casual fling.
Her hand settled over his, her fingers stroking the back of his hand. ‘I can see you don’t believe me, but you should. I like you, Tom, but I’ve got exams looming and my whole life at the moment is work and study. I hardly have any time to sleep, my parents have taken to visiting me in the cafeteria at The Harbour because I can never manage to get home to see them, so if I can’t even manage that, I know I don’t have the time or the energy to give to a relationship. But …’
The ‘but’ worried him. However, her touch had his pulse racing and it took every bit of willpower he had not to link his fingers with hers. ‘But what?’
She doodled lazy circles around each knuckle. ‘You remember what it was like just before you qualified?’
Through the growing fog of desire that was building
inside him, he located a memory. ‘Sheer hell.’
‘Exactly. Stress city, and it’s well documented that sex releases tension and I have a very stressful time coming up.’
Was he hearing right? He didn’t dare to believe it so he asked, ‘Are you saying you want to have sex without the relationship part?’
Her other hand linked fingers with his. ‘Ever heard of friends with benefits?’
He had. ‘I didn’t think it really existed.’
She laughed. ‘Oh, it does. It works well for busy people. Unlike a relationship, we’re not at each other’s beck and call, but when it suits us both we get together. A sort of win-win situation.’
She’s right about the final year of surgery. There’s no time for anything other than work.
There’ll be a catch. Women don’t suggest this sort of thing. Guys do.
But the memory of being buried deep in Hayley was so strong and the thought of being there again was so tempting that it stampeded over the faint echoes of his concerns.
‘When do we start?’
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘I SHOULD go.’ Hayley sat forward, having spent the last twenty minutes leaning back on Tom’s chest as he sat propped up against a tree.
Two weeks had passed since she’d run into Tom at Café Luna. Seeing him sitting alone in the café had brought up a mix of contrary emotions, starting with shocked surprise, moving into relief and then finishing up with something that made her feel unexpectedly bereft at the thought of not seeing him again. That had propelled her to suggest being ‘friends with benefits’. It was the perfect solution. Obvious even.
She knew what she was getting into and it wasn’t like she’d never done it before. It suited her and if the past fortnight was anything to go by, it was the best decision she’d made in a long time. Not that they’d seen a lot of each other, but when they could coordinate their schedules, the sex had been as wondrous as their first time. Still, as amazing as the sex always was, it was times like the hour they’d just spent having a picnic in the park close to her cottage that she was really starting to treasure. They could talk for hours about all sorts of things and equally she could sit in companionable silence with him and not feel the need to talk. She hadn’t experienced anything close to that sort of ease with someone since Amy.