He studied her for a moment—a slim, small figure huddled in a bathrobe in a kitchen chair, her plait hanging over one shoulder. Her attention remained fixed on her toast, and the magazine she was leafing through. So this was how it was to be. No mention of the revelations of the previous evening, no further discussion of Theo, no further discussion at all!
And in spite of having a thousand questions, Mak decided to play along with it. After all, what could he say? I’m sorry my nephew raped you? Hardly!
‘What time do we need to leave?’ he asked, as he brought his coffee and toast to the table and sat down opposite her.
Now she looked up, dark eyes half-hooded, dark shadows beneath the eyes causing a physical pain in Mak’s chest.
‘And don’t tell me you’ll drive yourself,’ he added, before she could protest. ‘You’re exhausted, and driving in that state would not only put you and the baby at risk but could endanger other lives. At least with me driving you might be able to sleep.’
She nodded and returned her attention to the magazine.
‘Time?’ he prompted.
‘Eight-thirty.’
She stood up, put her coffee cup and toast plate into the dishwasher and left the kitchen, the voluminous bathrobe Mak hadn’t seen before wrapped tightly around her slight body.
Sadness enveloped him. He’d felt something for this woman that had sneaked past his defences and filled empty spaces in his soul and now, before he’d had time to explore where those feelings might go, he’d lost her.
Although maybe not, he decided a little later. It was eight twenty-five and he was beside his car, opening the door to let in some fresh air before they took off. Neena came tripping down the steps, right on time, and smiled at him. Not a full-blown, isn’t-life-wonderful, Neena kind of smile but it wasn’t a polite mask of a smile either.
Hope sneaked into his heart, then he remembered the revelations of the previous evening, and despair slammed into hope and left it reeling.
Hope had been foolish anyway, he told himself, holding the car door for his passenger and trying not to see the way the lacy stuff at the top of her dress revealed her full breasts.
They drove out of town in silence, Mak wondering how and when he could raise the issue of the rape, something he suspected she needed to talk about.
‘This is bliss—not only being driven but being driven in such luxury!’
The softness of her voice—the genuine delight in it—was the last thing Mak expected. He glanced towards the woman he’d been expecting to stay silent for the two-hour drive and saw a genuine smile.
A wholehearted Neena smile that made his stupid heart skip a beat!
And that made him angry.
Well, not angry, but uncomfortable.
‘Is that it? You tell me last night that my nephew raped you and this morning all you’re concerned about is being driven in a good car. And for your information, it’s not that good a car!’
She turned to him, and he saw the shock on her face.
‘Did you not expect me to talk about it?’ he continued, his gruffness evidence of his emotion. ‘Is that how you handle all your problems? By ignoring them? If what happened to you had happened to a patient, what would you have done? What would you have suggested?’
Now she frowned.
‘You mean reporting it to the police, getting counselling, that kind of thing?’
‘Of course I mean that kind of thing. What did you do? How did you get through it? Who did you turn to? Who helped you?’
He knew he was sounding angrier and angrier but he couldn’t help it—the thought of her emotional pain and trauma was like a red-hot poker in his gut.
‘Well?’ he demanded, when the silence had gone on too long.
‘I thought it all through myself,’ she said, her chin tilted to match the defensiveness in her words and the defiance of her pretty dress. ‘I considered all the options, though not the reporting business. That was never one of them, although it did make me understand why other women might opt not to report such things. I had agreed to do it, Mak. I had told Theo yes. I know that sounds stupid and pathetic but I’d decided I didn’t want to die a virgin—that I wanted to experience sex at least once in my life. I knew Theo for what he was—I knew there was no future in it—and that was probably why I decided he’d do for the—’
She stopped and Mak took his eyes off the road for long enough to glance her way. Her skin was pale and her hands were twisting tightly in her lap, and although he wasn’t a psychologist he suspected this confession, though hard, might be good for her—cathartic.
‘Experiment,’ she finally said, adding, ‘Because that’s all it was, an experiment.’
‘You still said no,’ Mak growled.
She nodded, and turned to look out the window, but not before he saw the tears streaming down her face. He pulled over, got out of the car and walked around to her side, lifting her out and sitting back down with her on his knee, holding her, murmuring to her, mostly in Greek because they were the only words he could use in this situation—words of love she wouldn’t understand.
Gradually he felt her tense body relax against him, and she took his hand and held it against the bump.
‘You haven’t asked,’ she whispered, while he marvelled at the feel of the baby kicking against his palm.
‘About why you kept it?’
‘Yes!’
He held her more tightly.
‘That part I think I understand. You had Maisie and Ned for family, both of them getting old, and though the whole town treasures you, you had no one of your own.’
‘Selfish, wasn’t it?’ she muttered with a defiant little sniff that nearly broke his heart.
‘No way!’ He held her more tightly, then kissed her on the neck. ‘You are the least selfish person I have ever met, and you have so much to offer to a child, not least of which is wholehearted, abundant love.’
Her body, which had tensed, relaxed against him once more and Mak felt if they could sit like this for ever he would be happy, but the practical soul he knew lived inside Neena moved them on.
‘We have to go—I’ll be late for my appointment.’
He kissed her cheek, then stood up and turned to deposit her back in her seat, walking around the car and getting back behind the wheel.
Was she feeling better?
He hoped so, because he wasn’t. He was more confused than ever. The only certainty seemed to be that the last person Neena would ever see as a possible lover was the uncle of the man who’d raped her—charming, immature, bloody Theo!
‘No wonder he left you the shares—talk about conscience money!’
Rage at his nephew’s behaviour had forced the words from his lips, but as soon as they were out he regretted them, for Neena was frowning at him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered, ‘but I get so angry just thinking of it. He was a grown man—he knew the meaning of the word no. And how dared he think that willing the baby some shares would make things up to you in some way! He wasn’t expecting to die, which makes it one more empty gesture.’
‘We should talk about the shares,’ Neena said quietly. ‘After all, it’s why you’re here.’
‘Not any more, it isn’t,’ Mak growled. ‘Nothing! Nothing our family could give you would even begin to make restitution. The shares are the baby’s and what you do with them as trustee until he comes of age is entirely up to you.’
‘But I need to understand things in order to know what to do,’ Neena persisted. Mak flicked a glance at her and saw a little frown on her face. ‘I need to talk about it, Mak, and now seems a good time.’
‘Did you open the solicitor’s letters?’
She shook her head, which was what he wanted to do.
He sighed instead.
‘Short version—my cousins, who are also shareholders, want to merge the business with a bigger concern. Having the experimental power station coming on line in the not-so-distant future has vastly increase
d the value of the company and vultures are circling.’
A huge wedge-tailed eagle lifted off the ground as he spoke, some unidentified piece of roadkill dangling from its talons.
‘Apt timing,’ Neena said, nodding at the bird, then peering upward through the side window to watch its flight. ‘But are these companies vultures? Might they not be good for the business?’
A sense of shame washed over Mak as he realised just how far he’d detached himself from the family concern. Early on, he’d always read the annual reports and he’d made sure he kept abreast of new developments—mainly so he could discuss things intelligently with his father—but in recent years medicine had begun to dominate his life more and more, and Hellenic Enterprises had slipped into the background of his life.
And now he had to admit it.
‘I truthfully cannot say.’
‘Yet you’d like me to give you the baby’s proxy?’
He shook his head, dismayed by the impassable rift that had developed between them.
‘I have never said that, but if you did you can believe I would look at all the information available about the proposed merger. I would not fail your child by using the proxy irresponsibly.’
‘But you’d be drawn to vote with your sister?’
Mak sighed.
‘My father built the company from nothing. My sister has worked under him since she was at school, learning from the bottom up. Yes, my sister would like the family to retain ownership and, yes, there is sentiment involved because my mother has taken my father’s death very hard, and for her to see us lose the company he lived for would make things worse.’
He paused, glanced towards his passenger, but she was staring straight ahead and her profile told him nothing of her thoughts.
Well, here goes!
‘But for all of that, should you offer me the proxies, I hope I would still make a judgement based on sound business principles rather than emotion.’
Now she turned to face him, the little frown he hated seeing furrowing her brow.
‘I’m not at all sure that’s the answer I wanted to hear,’ she said, shaking her head as if perplexed by it. ‘My focus for this baby has been about family—it’s because of family that I didn’t kick you out that first night, because, no matter what, you are the baby’s family and as I don’t have an extended family then it seems to me your family can give him that. But will you destroy your own family—and it would cut you off from them—by voting for sound business principles if that’s how it turned out?’
Mak threw his hands up in the air, though only momentarily, re-grasping the steering-wheel almost immediately.
‘What do you want of me? What do you want me to say? Is there any way I can win in this ridiculous situation? Read through the information yourself, I’m sure there’ll be something in there about the merger. Vote the baby’s proxies yourself—leave me out of it!’
I wish I could, Neena whispered, but only in her head. She had been so determined to be happy, to put the previous night behind her, to enjoy this time out in Mak’s company, to revel in being driven in his lovely car, and now it had all been spoilt.
It was her own fault—revealing all that anguish stuff last night. Had the sadness of Maisie’s death brought it all bubbling to the surface again? Had that one extra loss proved too much for her?
No way! She was stronger than that! And it was probably just tiredness that had tears leaking from her eyes. Again!
She turned towards the window so Mak wouldn’t see them and, not wanting to rummage in her handbag for a tissue, lifted her hand to wipe them off her cheeks. Did she sniff that Mak grabbed her hand, felt its dampness, swore, braked and pulled the car onto the shoulder of the road?
Without a word he got out, stalked around the bonnet, opened her door, unsnapped her seat belt and all but hauled her out for the second time.
‘Women!’ he muttered, shaking his head and producing a perfectly laundered white handkerchief with which he proceeded to mop her tears. ‘Honestly, you get a man so tied up in knots he doesn’t know which way to turn.’
He peered down at her as if searching for an elusive droplet of water, then, apparently satisfied, he shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket and leaned forward to kiss her lips. A gentle kiss—a don’t-cry kiss—that’s all it was, although it made the tears start again.
‘Stop that right now,’ he ordered, taking her into his arms and holding her hard against his chest. ‘I know you need to cry, to grieve for Maisie—and to grieve for a lot of things—but I’m equally sure you don’t want to arrive for your obstetric appointment with swollen red eyes. What’s more, I can’t concentrate on driving with you weeping silently beside me. Tonight we’ll go up to the hill near the lake and you can cry all you want there, okay?’
He looked so fiercely earnest Neena had to agree, breathing deeply and banishing the tears.
‘Good,’ he said, and kissed her again, then, as her lips responded, the kiss deepened until the hot, dry, desert landscape disappeared from around them and it seemed to Neena they were afloat on a cloud of joy and softness, fluffy and white, a cloud made just for two. The past with all its sadness was forgotten, and physical sensations so sublimely new and interesting they made her shiver stole through Neena’s body. She pressed closer to Mak, her mind lost in the sensations he was generating, sadness burned away in a kiss.
‘Sunstroke,’ she muttered as she broke away from him, and collapsed on weakened bones back into the car seat.
‘Sunstroke?’ he echoed, reaching in to wrap the seat belt around her.
‘Only thing that could explain the weird flights of fancy in my head,’ she mumbled, and though Mak looked puzzled he seemed to accept the explanation.
He took his seat, belted up and started the car back along the road to Baranock.
‘We’ll sort it all out,’ he said, somehow making the words sound like a promise, and although Neena wasn’t at all certain what ‘all’ they could sort out, she decided to believe him and relaxed again, seeking and finding the pleasure just being in the car—with Mak—had given her earlier.
‘Still adamant you don’t want to know the sex?’ her obstetrician asked, when she’d completed her examination and run through all the questions she asked every visit, ticking off the positives and not finding anything negative in Neena’s pregnancy.
‘Still adamant,’ Neena told her. ‘I want the surprise.’
‘She doesn’t even hint at what it is?’ Mak asked when Neena passed the conversation on to him a little later. They were sitting in a small café in the main street of Baranock, Mak drinking coffee while Neena sipped a strawberry milkshake.
‘No, she’s very good, although I know she’d love to tell me, but I can’t help feeling if I know the sex then I might start getting preconceived ideas about him or her.’
‘Yet you talk about it as a him,’ Mak probed.
Neena grinned at him, unable to believe they were so relaxed together after the tension that had formed earlier in the car.
Not to mention last night…
‘I think him sounds better than it, don’t you?’
His answering smile tugged at her heart, but she knew it was like the sunstroke image of the two of them alone on their cloud. Nothing could come of this attraction for so many reasons, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t just relax and enjoy his company today. One day soon, perhaps even tomorrow, she’d read through all the unopened letters from the solicitors and think about whatever they contained, but for now she was just going to enjoy Mak’s company and the drive back to Wymaralong—a little capsule of time alone with him.
Neena had been dozing so the oath woke her, and she looked up to see the trailer on the cattle train ahead of them swaying dangerously.
‘He’s going far too fast,’ she whispered to Mak, her eyes mesmerised by the sway of the trailer, fortunately empty of cattle. ‘We need to get past him.’
‘We’d never make it. He’s taking up all t
he road. We’ll drop right back.’
He braked sharply as he spoke, but it was too little, too late, for the momentum of the swaying trailer had tipped the rig, and with metal screeching and dirt flying everywhere the rig rolled, the trailer coming adrift, skidding back along the road, slamming into the car within a beat of Mak’s evasive swerve.
Blackness everywhere, blackness and noise. Noise she couldn’t understand—people yelling, men’s voices—idiot—too fast, she’s pregnant…
Who was pregnant?
She was pregnant. She tried to feel the bump, to find Baby Singh, but the blackness was solid and she couldn’t find her hands.
‘Neena, can you hear me? I’ve got your hand—your left hand. I’m squeezing your fingers. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me. Neena, talk to me.’
Someone saying her name—asking her to squeeze her hand. Where was her hand? Left hand, he’d said. How could she tell right from left in the dark like this?
How could she find her hand when she couldn’t even find her baby?
She wanted to cry but she’d promised Mak she wouldn’t cry until later. Who was Mak? Why couldn’t she cry till later?
She squeezed both her hands—or she thought she did. She must have done something for the voice was telling her how clever she was, urging her to talk.
‘Where’s my baby?’
‘Neena, the baby is all right, I’m sure of it. We can’t get at you, but I’ve felt all around and he’s still there where he should be. I’ve felt a kick, so he’s okay, now concentrate on you. Are you hurting anywhere?’
Was she?
She didn’t seem to be but in the dark it was hard to tell.
‘Dark!’ she managed, then she was floating on a cloud, all fluffy and white, floating on a cloud with Mak and he was kissing her and it was the most beautiful, delicious, delectable sensation she’d ever experienced.
‘We have to get her out! She could be haemorrhaging to death under there for all we know. She’s pregnant, we need to get to her.’
A Magical Christmas Page 30