“It's complicated,” said Jonathan.
“It always is, isn't it? Now get up those stairs, there's plenty of hot water.”
“Thanks,” said Andrea, feeling as if she'd just stepped into an alternate universe and this was Jonathan's real family. Not the one where she'd had dinner with them and his mother had complained at him all night.
Jonathan led her upstairs, first to a bedroom and then showed her the bathroom. There was only one double bed in the room. She looked at it and then at Jonathan. They hadn't shared the same bed since she had escaped from Haroldson. Did Jonathan feel as uncomfortable as her?
After they'd both freshened up, they went downstairs to join the rest of the Malone clan and have dinner with them. The Irish stew was delicious. It was followed by home-made rhubarb crumble and custard, and the portions were enough to feed a small army.
The dinner over and dishes washed, Jonathan joined the children on the floor, playing a game of snakes & ladders with them. Andrea looked at him, a sad smile playing on her lips. She had never seen him this happy, this carefree. It seemed as though he belonged there, with children crowded round him, laughing at his jokes and gazing adoringly at him. She remembered how good he'd been with Amelia as well, and felt the familiar ache tug at her chest. An ache that would never be healed.
She would never get over losing her little sister.
It was soon time for the children to go to bed, but they refused to be parted from their 'uncle' Jonathan. After all, he'd only just got here and they were determined to spend every minute with him if they could.
“Will you read me a bedtime story, Uncle Jonathan?” asked Catriona.
“Me too!” piped up Tommy.
There was no request from Kate, she just sat hugging her little rag doll and staring at the fire.
“Would you like a story too?” Asked Andrea, holding out her hand. To her surprise, Kate reached out and held it firmly.
“Well, that's a first!” exclaimed Angela. “She's normally so shy with strangers.”
“She's not strange,” said Kate quietly. “She's Auntie Andrea.”
And Andrea had to admit; she liked the sound of that.
Once the children were safely tucked up and asleep, Jonathan and Andrea decided it was time for them to head for bed too. It had been a long journey and they both could do with the rest.
“Don't worry, Andrea. I'll take the floor,” he said when they were alone in the room.
“Nonsense, Jonathan! We're both two adults. We can still share the same bed. You look exhausted. You need a good night's rest, and you won't get it on the floor!”
“Yes, doctor,” he said, before heading for the bathroom. When he returned, Andrea was already in bed wearing a pair of red pyjamas and had the covers tucked up almost to her chin. She felt the bed dip as Jonathan got in, but he stayed as far away from her as possible, without actually leaving the bed. There was not an inch of their bodies touching. It was as though she was alone.
Was this what their life had become? What it was going to be? Strange beds in strange houses? Alone in strange beds? Always looking over their shoulder, trying to avoid Haroldson?
Always running but never escaping.
Jonathan fell asleep first, his breathing becoming slow and even. She wished it were as easy for her to fall asleep. It seemed hours before she finally drifted off into a fitful sleep. Something woke her before it was light, but she wasn't sure what. She lay still, listening.
Jonathan's breathing was rapid and erratic, and he began to thrash about on the bed.
“Andrea!” He screamed. A nightmare. She had her arms around him in an instant, rocking him back and forth like a child.
“Ssh, it's okay. I'm here,” she soothed, kissing his hair. His head was clasped against the valley of her breasts, then his head moved and he began to search out her left breast and began to nuzzle it through the fabric of her pyjama top. Andrea froze, what should she do? He seemed to be asleep, not aware of what he was doing, but her body was. Very, very aware. She felt an ache in the juncture of her thighs and a rush of moisture there.
She tried not to moan, but it was no use, Jonathan's mouth was causing the most delicious sensations in her, but it wasn't right. She couldn't let him continue, knowing he was asleep and might not know what he was doing.
“Jonathan,” she whispered gently.
“Huh?” He asked groggily, looking up at her. He jumped away from her as fast as he could, realization in his eyes.
“I'm sorry, Andrea. I knew we shouldn't be in the same bed.” He got off the bed and headed for the door.
“Wait,” said Andrea, louder than she intended.
“Why? So you can tell me what a pervert I am? That I can't keep my hands to myself even when I'm a sleep? I know all that already, Andrea. You don't need to tell me!”
“Jonathan, will you just listen to me for once?” Said Andrea, getting up and following him to the door. She got as close to him as she could without actually touching him. Jonathan waited, a curious look in his eyes when she didn't say anything straight away.
Instead she took his hand and placed it firmly on her breast, using her hand to guide his hand to squeeze it. He had no choice but to obey. He groaned and tried to pull his hand away, but Andrea was stronger than she looked and his hand remained a prisoner.
“Andrea! Ahh...you don't know what that's doing to me!”
“Yes I do, Jonathan,” she said and her other hand reached out and stroked his hardness through his boxers. Finding strength from somewhere, he released his hand and then grabbed both her wrists, holding them high above her head, while his mouth crushed hers in a passionate kiss.
“Is this what you want?” He asked breathlessly, pulling her towards the bed. Andrea could only nod in reply. She felt weak, a heady mix of desire and fear. She had seen the anger in Jonathan's eyes and knew he could hurt her if he wanted to. But once they were on the bed, he was gentle and his lips travelled across her body into all her secret places and she thought she might die from the pleasure of it. It was Jonathan and she was his wife and he was making love to her as though she was the only woman in the world and nothing else existed except them and this room and this bed and she was soaring, soaring, soaring.
Jonathan was there too. They came together in a chorus of moans and Jonathan lay on top of her, spent and exhausted.
“God, Andrea! I love you so much!” And she felt his tears against her chest, mingling with the sweat of their lovemaking.
“Jonathan, I love you too. I always have and I always will.”
“Even after everything? After I've lied to you?” He looked up at her. Andrea reached out her hand, wiping his tears away.
“I know you must have had your reasons. I realize that now. You were only trying to protect me. No matter what you've done, or will do, I know that you love me. And I will love you. Forever.”
“But I don't deserve you, Andrea! Look at what's happened to you because of me? Why do you love me Andrea?”
“Because you're the one. I can't love anyone else.”
*
The next few weeks passed by in a blur, with both of them helping out at the farm. Jonathan spent all day in the fields with Pat, while Angela taught Andrea how to make cheese and butter in the dairy.
She was surprised how much she enjoyed the physical work. On Mondays it was market day and Angela would take in their milk, cheese and butter to be sold. At night they would make love, like the newly-weds they were, and it was like each time was the first time and better than the last.
Andrea wanted the distraction, of going to the market with Angela but Jonathan didn't want them to go where anyone could see them other than the Malone family. So that's how she ended up on her own baby-sitting Kate. The little girl was fascinated by Andrea's red hair. She was staring at Andrea and holding her rag doll against her chest like a baby, rocking it and cooing to it.
“Would you like to hold Amelia?” Asked Kate.
Andrea f
elt her chest constrict. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't.
“Amelia?” She whispered.
“My doll,” said Kate and thrust it out in front of her like an offering. No, Andrea didn't want to hold a doll. She wanted to hold a flesh and blood child. Her own child. A child who wouldn't die on her. Her child. And Jonathan's. She cried then, trying to hide it from Kate. The chemotherapy had made her barren and she despaired.
She was crying for herself, but most of all for Jonathan. She'd seen the way he was around kids. She could never give him a family, and she knew it was what he wanted. A happy family to take away the memories of his unhappy one. She wanted to give him that. She ached to give him that. And it had been robbed from her. Ripped from her body by modern medicine.
“Auntie Andrea!” Kate's cry reached through her tears. Andrea glanced up from the table and felt her insides turn to rubber. There was a shadow by Kate's shoulder, almost reaching out to the little girl.
“NO!” Screamed Andrea and shot up from the chair. “Run Kate! Run!” But Kate stood there, motionless. Not even her eyes were moving. The shadow coalesced into something solid.
Something evil. Haroldson.
His hand reached out to touch the little girl, who was like a statue.
“NO!!” Shrieked Andrea again, and Haroldson turned to her.
“Well, well, if it isn't Andrea. I didn't expect to find you here, though I should have guessed, really. It's a wise child who knows its father, but an even wiser one knows its mother.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Andrea, terribly afraid that she already knew the answer.
“Come now, don't tell me you haven't noticed a certain resemblance? The red hair, the blue eyes? Did you think we only created one? I didn't think you were that naive, Andrea.” He smiled evilly at her.
“You mean Kate? Kate is my daughter?” She wanted to faint; she wanted to hide, to wake up from this horrible dream. “How? Why?”
“We need her, if all our plans are to come to fruition. And you can't stop me from taking her.”
“NO! I'll do anything, just leave her alone!”
“It's too late for that, but maybe there is something...” And suddenly Andrea wasn't seeing the farmhouse any more; she was seeing the field where Pat and Jonathan were ploughing. Pat was driving the tractor pulling the plough, and Jonathan was following behind him planting potatoes. Suddenly there was a screech as the tractor began to move backwards.
Andrea watched in fascinated horror, she knew what was about to happen and even tried to scream a warning to Jonathan. But it was no use. No sound escaped from her locked throat and she had to watch as Jonathan stumbled and fell, his feet slipping in the mud. There was an agonizing scream from Jonathan as the plough severed his arm at the elbow, a crimson arc of blood shooting into the sky. Andrea sank to her knees on the farmhouse floor, bile rising in her throat. She was aware of Haroldson's presence like a mouse is aware of a cat and the danger it poses.
“What's it to be, Andrea? Jonathan's life for Kate's?”
“I can't make that choice!” She yelled, tears flowing freely.
“No? What about the child in your womb? His life for Kate's?” She stared at him and then Andrea did something she had never done before. She fainted.
*
When she came to, she was lying on the sofa, Jonathan hovering anxiously over her.
“Jonathan!” She sat up too quickly, feeling dizzy again.
“It's okay, Andrea. Ssh.” He held her in his arms while she just cried and cried. She didn't think she'd ever stop. Poor Kate! There would be nothing but experiments for her and she dreaded to think what would happen to her when she became childbearing age.
“We've got to find Kate! Haroldson took her!”
“Kate's fine. She's outside playing.”
“But Haroldson? He was here? Or did I dream it?” The memory was just a blur now.
“Yes, he was here.”
“Why didn't he take Kate? I fainted, I couldn't help her!”
“Kate helped herself. Haroldson's dead, Andrea. I shot him.”
“But how did you know he was here?”
“You and Kate must share a link. I heard both of your minds when I was out in the field, it was jumbled, but there was something about 'help' and 'danger'. I knew it must be something to do with Haroldson, so I rushed back. I saw you on the floor and Haroldson was just about to pick up Kate. He looked straight at me, and I swear it was like looking into the eyes of pure evil. He can't hurt anyone again.”
“What about the police?” Asked Andrea. She didn't think the shooting of an unarmed man would just be hushed up.
“The Gardai have been and gone. As far as they're concerned, the case is closed. Haroldson had a string of aliases, he was wanted here in Ireland, in Europe and America for countless kidnappings, all young girls. I've saved them a trial, and stopped him from taking Kate. I'm a local hero, Andrea! What does it feel like to be married to a hero?”
She smiled weakly at him. “It feels wonderful, Jonathan. It feels wonderful. So, can we go home now?”
“Yes, we can go home,” he kissed her forehead and left her to rest.
“Jonathan. He said I'm pregnant. But I thought I couldn't have children after the chemotherapy. The doctors told me so.”
“That was probably true if you were human, Andrea. But you're not. You healed yourself. So I'm going to be a dad?”
“Yes, you are,” Andrea reached out her hand and grabbed his, placing it on her abdomen.
“Rest now,” said Jonathan and her eyelids fluttered closed. As he walked away, she thought she heard him whistle.
THE END
About the Author
Annette Gisby grew up in a small town in Northern Ireland, moving to London when she was seventeen. Being a very small town there were no bookshops and a small library. When she'd devoured every book she could get her hands on in the library, she started writing her own stories so she would always have something to read later.
When not writing she enjoys reading, cinema, theatre, walks along deserted beaches or wandering around ruined castles (great places for inspiration!) New Zealand is her favourite place and she hopes to travel back there one day. She's a fan of Japanese Manga and Anime and one day hopes to learn Japanese.
She currently lives in Hampshire with her husband, a collection of porcelain dolls and stuffed penguins and enough books to fill a small library. It's diminishing gradually since the discovery of ebooks but still has a long way to go.
[email protected]
Other Books by Annette Gisby
Novels
Drowning Rapunzel
The Chosen
Silent Screams
Short Stories
The Prince's Guard
Of Pets and Pleasures
The Witch Hunter
Non-fiction
New Zealand with a Hobbit Botherer
Drakon Page 7