“Wonderful! And James and Beth went off together, married at last. Thanks for your help making things so special for them today.” Tired and pale, Portia leaned back against her pillows, but she gave a contented sigh.
“It was my pleasure.” Anita touched the older woman’s hand. “Now the wedding is over, you just focus on taking care of yourself.”
“I will.”
Slinging her bag on her shoulder, Anita stood. “Daisy left her toy in the chapel. I need to find it and get back so Matthew can leave.”
No missing the speculative spark brightening Portia’s eyes. “He’s a fine man.”
Anita assumed a carefree smile. “He is,” she said. “He’s also dedicated to getting back to his clinic in Africa, and will only marry a woman who can help in his work.” She struck a pose and gave a tinkling laugh. “I don’t really think that’s me.”
Portia chuckled. “You never know.”
“I think I do.” She headed for the door. “Gotta go find this toy and head off a toddler tantrum.”
The problem was, she couldn’t find Bagpuss in either the chapel or the courtyard garden. Only the flowers remained from today’s celebration. Everything else had vanished as if it had never been there. Including Bagpuss.
He couldn’t be gone, just like that. Maybe there was a Lost and Found?
Out in the corridor, she found a cleaner to ask.
“I don’t do the chapel. The person who does has already left for the day. But anything left there would have been bagged up and gone out with the rubbish. Hospital policy—no lost property, unless it’s something valuable.”
“Where are the bags now? It’s a toddler’s toy. She’ll be distraught if it’s lost.” Desperation echoed in her voice. Bagpuss was valuable, just not in money terms. She’d be distraught too, not just Daisy.
The woman’s eyes creased, and her mouth turned down as she shook her head. “We each take the rubbish from our section to the compactor room before we go home. I’m sorry. It’s too late to get the toy back.”
So that was it. Bagpuss, gone.
As long as she could remember, Bagpuss had been her security blanket. Only when she’d grown up had she discovered he’d come from her birth mother, left with her when she was abandoned. Her sole link with the woman who gave her life.
Giving Bagpuss to Daisy had been one thing. Knowing he’d been thrown out in the trash was something else again.
The loss rocked her like a blow to the heart.
She trudged back to the observation ward. All looked well there. Daisy slept in her cot, while Matthew typed on his phone.
He looked up with a welcoming smile, which changed to a frown. “No Bagpuss?”
“I couldn’t find him. A cleaner told me he’s gone out in the rubbish.” Suddenly, hot tears burned her eyes. She raised her hands to cover her face, but couldn’t hide the sobs that racked her. “I know I should have grown out of stuffed toys, but he’s the one thing my birth mother gave me. I can’t bear to think of him being thrown away.”
A wave of pain swept out words she’d never told another person, hadn’t even whispered to God. “Because that’s what she did to me.” Her voice broke as the words crunched her heart.
Warm strong arms came around her and held her gently, just like he’d held Daisy. For a moment, she let herself relax into the comfort, leaning against his chest until her face rested on his shirt and she felt his heart beating against her wet cheek. He felt and smelled like home. Safe, familiar, reassuring.
Then she stiffened. The last thing she wanted was to be pitied, treated with the same dispassionate kindness he’d give to any of his patients.
She wanted Matthew’s love.
Chapter 16
Anita pushed back against him, and Matthew had to let her go.
Her tears disturbed him in a way he’d never felt before. When he’d seen her shoulders shaking, the urge to comfort her overwhelmed him. Putting his arms around her felt right. When she’d leaned her head against his chest, it seemed she belonged there.
Now she stood in front of him, arms crossed over her chest, face a carefully expressionless mask. No indication whether his hug helped or made things worse.
“I’m sorry.” With no idea what else he could do, his resulting sense of powerlessness didn’t sit comfortably. He felt vulnerable. Exposed, in a way the risk of a sniper’s bullet in Mapateresi had never made him feel.
“It’s okay. Nothing chocolate and a new pair of shoes won’t fix.” She raised her chin, pinning on a smile so fake it hurt to see. Especially when her lips quivered. “Oh, talking of chocolate, I didn’t need to use the change you left with me.”
“Keep it, in case you do.” He held up his hands, refusing the coins she proffered.
Shrugging, she moved to sit in the other chair, across Daisy’s cot from him.
Obtuse as he was about emotions, sudden insight surprised him. Her chocolate-and-shoes line hid her real feelings. A way of pushing down her hurt and locking it away.
How many times had she swallowed pain that might be better expressed, cleanly released like incising and draining a boil? Her trembling words about being thrown out the same way as Bagpuss had vibrated with the anguish of abandonment.
Help her, God. And help me, too.
Distant as something viewed through a telescope, he recalled the little boy he’d been, crying for his own mother. Grandfather soon disciplined the childish tears out of him. He realised with a jolt, he’d used work as his way of avoiding feelings.
He didn’t want that for his own children.
Anita rested a gentle hand on Daisy’s head and gazed down at her, eyes filled with tenderness. Again, he saw what a good mother she’d be.
Sureness flooded him. He hadn’t imagined the whisper he’d felt in the chapel. Since he now was staying in England, far from being unsuitable, Anita could be the bride he hadn’t realised he was looking for. Impulsive decision, yes, but after his meeting with David and the lawyers, he needed to hold onto any wisp of certainty he had.
Unsure how one began a proposal of this kind, he paced at the foot of the bed for a few moments. Nothing in his grandfather’s training in correct behaviour, or in his medical experience, prepared him for this.
Anita’s gaze followed him as he stalked from side to side of the curtained space. Frowning, she surveyed Daisy’s monitors.
He hurried to reassure her. “No need for concern. Her readings are all normal.”
Her head tilted to one side like a puzzled little bird. “So what’s bothering you? Some fallout from your meeting?”
Now or never. He swallowed hard.
Stopping his restless stride, he clasped his hands behind his back, staring up at the ceiling. “You could say so. Anita, would you consider marrying me?”
Her sharp indrawn breath whooshed through the room, but he deliberately didn’t look at her. If he did, he might never say what he needed to say.
Voice emotionless, as if giving a lecture on the lifecycle of the malaria parasite, he forced out the rest of his speech. “I need to marry for an heir at some stage. Now I’m past thirty, my godfather has reminded me it’s time I looked for a wife. At first, I considered you unsuitable and dismissed you as a possibility. You have no medical or nursing experience to help me in my work. Your background is very different to mine. You’re excessively concerned with things that have no place in my world, like shoes and teapots and tiaras. But as we’ve seen more of each other, I’ve come to change my mind about you. You’re a loyal friend. You’re brave. You’re kind. You have faith. And most importantly, your care for Daisy suggests you’ll make a wonderful mother for my children.”
After a silence that stretched uncomfortably long, Anita loosed a nervous giggle.
Outrage stiffened his spine. The possibility she’d treat his offer as a joke hadn’t occurred to him.
He dragged his gaze from the cracked ceiling tile and stole a look at her. Eyes wide, cheeks pink, her fingers covered her
mouth. She shook her head.
“You can’t be serious! Asking me to marry you because I’ll make a good mother to your children? I know in the restaurant that night, you said getting an heir was your only reason to marry, but surely you don’t mean it. And surely you don’t mean me.” She peered around. “Where’s the hidden camera? This is some sort of bet you’ve made with James, right?”
“Certainly not.” Wounded pride added starch to his voice. She’d laughed at him. “I’m offering you the chance to be my wife, the mistress of Coalbrooke House, and work beside me in the Mission. You could take over the fundraising talks.”
“You’re serious.” Her eyes widened even more. “Oh my.” The words came out in a squeak.
He grasped the back of the chair he stood behind and squared his shoulders. “I see no reason we shouldn’t be able to establish a successful marriage. One based not on emotion, but on rational choice and carefully considered suitability to share work and family responsibilities. Despite our differences, I believe we could be compatible.”
Eyes closed, she bit her lip and clasped her hands together under her chin for another long moment. Then she glanced up. An expression he couldn’t identify flickered across her face. Regret? Sorrow?
“I’m flattered, truly I am, that you would consider me. But your first assessment of me as unsuitable was correct. I have no skills to assist in your work in Africa. Besides, I have Daisy to think of.”
“The Trust can’t be broken. That’s clear after my meeting today. I won’t be returning to Africa.” His clipped tones weren’t likely to conciliate. He needed to come to a final decision about his future, and it appeared she intended to refuse him.
Her expression softened, and her chest heaved in a sigh. “Oh, Matthew, I am sorry. I know how much getting back to your clinic meant to you.” She smiled. “Now your proposal makes sense. If you’re stuck here in England, of course you’ll move on to phase two of your life plan. Finding a wife and producing heirs.”
“It’s a logical choice for a man to marry when he is in a position to do so, has a duty to have children, and finds a woman he considers an appropriate wife.”
Her pursed lips and creased brow told him his sensible arguments weren’t helping. His hands tensed on the chair back.
Anita shook her head. “I’m not the right woman for you, any more than you’re the right man for me. Talk of logic won’t sway me. I can’t imagine a worse reason to marry. I want to marry for love. I won’t settle for less than a man who loves me, who I can love wholeheartedly back.”
She gazed up at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to say something.
His jaw tightened. He didn’t know what she needed from him. He’d offered her all he could, and it wasn’t enough. She wanted to marry a man she could love.
Clearly, he wasn’t that man.
He straightened his back. “I’m sorry to have raised the subject. I think it will save us both any awkwardness if I leave now. Do you have someone to help you get home when they discharge Daisy?”
Regardless of the way her rejection dented his pride, he wouldn’t leave her to manage alone.
“I’ll be fine. Mum and Dad are on their way. Thank you for your help with Daisy.”
Best to simply go and not prolong things. He moved to the opening in the curtains, and then paused.
“Since James and Beth are married, there’s no real reason for us to meet again, is there?” Ridiculous for him to hope she’d say she still wanted them to see each other, when she’d as good as told him she didn’t care for him.
“No. There isn’t.” She lifted her chin, emotion he didn’t comprehend shadowing her eyes. “Have a good life, Matthew. You deserve it.”
His fingers clenched on the curtain. The urge to kiss her and tell her he loved her swelled in him like a flood.
He pushed it down. She’d rejected him once, pointless to make her do it twice. And he had no idea if the feelings she stirred in him were love. He had no experience of love to compare to.
Instead, he nodded. “You too. I hope it all works out with Daisy and your sister.”
Then he walked away from her, feeling something tear inside him with every step. He’d made a complete mess of what might have been the most important conversation of his life.
~*~
Anita stared at the curtains, fluttering a little behind Matthew as he left her, feeling empty and numb. Just like Bagpuss, he was gone from her life. As he said, no reason for them to see each other again.
Except that she loved him.
Maybe she’d just made the biggest mistake ever, turning down his proposal.
Probably, she had.
Too late now. She couldn’t run after him and call him back, tell him he’d caught her by surprise, it all happened too fast, she’d got it wrong.
Tell him she loved him.
Humiliation at the very thought washed over her, bringing stinging heat to her cheeks. He’d be kind, of course, but he’d look down that aristocratic Coalbrooke nose of his and remind her he wanted a marriage based on logic, not love.
Every day in such a marriage would be a torment. Loving and yearning for someone who would share his life with her, but not his heart, meant misery. Over and over again.
She could be logical, too. Logic told her she wasn’t a suitable wife for him. Logic told her it was far too soon for him to think about marrying her, or anyone.
Only a month ago, he’d been willing to do anything to get back to Africa. Maybe she could take the risk of marrying him, of her heart breaking fresh each day. But she couldn’t risk him feeling he’d made a mistake. Resenting her, wishing he hadn’t tied himself down with the wrong wife, feeling he should have fought harder to return to the clinic. His calling was too important.
Marriage was too important.
He hadn’t mentioned love, and she deserved a husband who loved her.
Didn’t she?
Right now, she wasn’t sure. Right now, she felt bereft and alone, like the baby girl she’d been, abandoned in a cardboard box beside inner-city rubbish bins. Painful knowledge she normally kept well stuffed down surfaced, racking her with grief and a fresh round of sobs.
No Matthew to hold her and comfort her this time.
There wasn’t enough chocolate or shoes in the world to fix this loneliness.
Help me, Lord. Help me to feel Your love, at least.
Her heart cried out to God. Right now, more than any time in her life, she needed to feel His loving arms around her.
A gentle whisper inside her asked if she allowed anyone to love her, even God.
Wasn’t that the truth about her serial dating? She could laugh about her dating disasters and the guys on the Internet site, but if she met anyone nice, if they tried to get closer, she’d run. Always rejected them before they could reject her.
Matthew had only felt safe because they were so obviously unsuited for each other.
As if Daisy felt her inner turmoil, she whimpered, woke up, and reached out her arms to be held.
“’Nita.” Her name came out as a wail.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here.”
“Hungie.”
“Of course you’ll be hungry, sweetie. You’ve eaten nothing since a mouthful of wedding cake. That was ages ago.”
Despite her painful emotions, her own tummy rumbled at the thought of food. Unusually, she didn’t have any chocolate in her bag, for either her or Daisy. Those dispensing machines Matthew mentioned began to sound good, but she couldn’t leave Daisy alone.
Instead, she pushed the nurse call button. “Maybe a nice nurse will bring you some sandwiches.”
“Up! Me up!”
She lifted Daisy from the cot and hugged her tightly. Daisy’s arms crept around her neck. Fierce love for the child swept through her, intense and real. She’d do anything to save Daisy from hurt.
Though if Jen recovered, she might lose Daisy, too. And she’d have to let her go, because despite Jen’s illnes
s, despite her misguided belief she was bad for Daisy, Jen loved her as well. Her sister wanted what was best for Daisy, just as much as she did.
Her job was to love and support them both, not covet Daisy for herself, as if a child could be owned like a pair of shoes.
“I love you, Daisy, no matter what happens. Nothing will ever change my love for you.”
Daisy probably wouldn’t hear her soft whisper, but it seemed important to say it out loud. Even if Daisy grew up and stopped loving her, or if Jen got better and took Daisy away, she’d still love her.
Just as fiercely.
Just as intensely.
No matter what.
Something inside her shifted. Her love for Daisy was the same kind of love Jesus had for her. And yet, big as her love for Daisy felt, His love was bigger.
Infinitely bigger.
He’d died for her, so nothing would get in the way of His love.
She could keep running from God. Keep choosing to feel unloved. Keep choosing to block His love and everyone else’s, because her birth mother’s choice twenty-seven years ago made her fear abandonment.
But no matter how far she ran or how many blocks she put in His way, His love for her would never cease.
Yes, she was small and weak. Sometimes she did things and thought things that weren’t lovable. That made no difference. God stayed mighty and tender and loving. He held her the way she held Daisy, whether she let herself feel it or not.
That Bible verse she’d read or heard in church so many times—“nothing can separate us from God’s love.” Suddenly, she felt it. She really felt His love! As strongly and protectively as she held Daisy, she felt herself being held, in loving arms that would never let her go. Tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks.
God loved her. He really loved her.
A nurse pushed the curtains apart, her expression changing to alarm. She hurried over.
“What’s wrong? Is she okay?”
Anita smiled up at her, wobbly and watery.
“Sorry to worry you. She’s fine, asking for something to eat. I’m okay too. It’s just been a bit of a day.”
Teapots & Tiaras: A sweet and clean Christian romance in London and Cambridge (Love In Store Book 5) Page 14