by Anne Mather
'Mrs Russell—' began the sister impatiently, but Ben had reached out a hand, and after a few seconds Tom took it.
'I'm afraid so,' he said, giving his son a rueful grimace. 'We'll talk about it tomorrow. And don't—don't blame your mother. It wasn't her fault.'
An hour later, Jaime and Tom were seated, side by side, on a rather lumpy sofa in the visitors' lounge. In spite of her forbidding appearance, Sister Latimer had agreed that both Jaime and her son could stay the night at the hospital, just in case there were any unforeseen difficulties. Not that she expected there would be, she maintained, after showing them the side-ward with its two narrow beds, where they were expected to sleep. But she seemed to understand their reluctance to leave, and had even provided the tray of tea and sandwiches that stood on the table beside them.
Mrs Russell, Senior, had departed some time ago, complaining bitterly that she should be the one to stay at her son's bedside. But happily Sister Latimer's word was final, and, after allowing Mrs Russell a brief word with her son, she had advised her to come back in the morning.
So now only Jaime and Tom remained in the waiting-room, each of them, in their own way, suffering the after-effects of what had happened. Jaime felt both scared and elated, but the fact that Tom hadn't spoken an unsolicited word to her since he arrived at the hospital was rapidly draining her resources.
'Would you like some more tea?' she asked. Although they hadn't touched the sandwiches, they had both welcomed a hot drink, and now Jaime indicated the teapot with an inviting hand. But Tom only shook his head, and once again they lapsed into the uneasy silence that had reigned before she spoke.
Jaime sighed and, resting her elbows on her knees, she cupped her chin in her hands. As hospital waiting-rooms went, it was not unattractive, she thought, trying to distract herself. Cream walls, cream paintwork, and chocolate-brown carpet and drapes. Even the sofas were colour-co-ordinated, even if their springing left something to be desired.
'Why didn't you tell me?'
The question she had been waiting for, ever since she'd blurted out the truth about Tom's parentage, came as little more than a whisper, and Jaime's heart turned over.
'I couldn't,' she said, looking at her son with helpless eyes. 'I wanted to, but I couldn't.'
'Why not?'
'It's a long story.'
'We've got plenty of time.'
'Yes.' Jaime had to concede that they had. All night, in fact. And Tom deserved the whole story. 'Well—where shall I begin?'
'How about—at the beginning?' suggested Tom tensely. 'Were you expecting me when you married Philip?'
'No!' Jaime was horrified. 'Why would you think that?'
'Well, you did tell me my dad—my dad was a married man, didn't you? And—and Uncle—I mean Ben—was married, wasn't he?'
'Oh, I see.' Jaime expelled her breath weakly. 'But no. It was nothing like that. I didn't even know Ben when I married Philip. The first time I met him was at the wedding.'
Tom nodded. 'Go on.'
Jaime sighed. It wasn't going to be easy. Tom was still such a child in some ways, and what she had to tell him wasn't pretty. But it was necessary, she acknowledged, and with grim determination she outlined the stark details of her life with Philip Russell.
Tom broke in once, to clarify exactly how Philip had threatened her parents, but after that he remained silent. It was obvious that he was disgusted by the way she had been treated, and Jaime blamed herself for having to violate his innocence.
'But how did Uncle—I mean, how did—my father—persuade Philip to stay away from you?' he asked, some time later, and Jaime hunched her shoulders.
'He—took me to see a doctor, and they took—pictures,' she explained unwillingly. 'And Philip knew Ben wouldn't hesitate to use them. If he had to.'
Tom shook his head. 'And that was when you and—and—'
'Ben got together?' suggested Jaime wryly. 'No. Not for another year. Oh, I'm not denying he didn't come to see me. He did. He sort of acted as a go-between, between me and Philip. And—we became friends. More than friends. Eventually.'
Tom chewed on his lip. 'Did he—did he love you?'
'I thought he did.'
'But he was married, right?'
Jaime nodded. 'Right.'
'Then he was to blame—'
'Not exactly.' Jaime clasped her hands together. 'I—I was the one who—wanted to change our relationship. I thought Ben would leave his wife if he loved me. But—he couldn't.' She grimaced. 'Only I didn't know that then.'
'What do you mean?'
'Well—' Jaime's nails dug into her palms '—after—after we had become—lovers—I didn't see Ben for weeks. I suppose he was avoiding me, but I didn't know why. Then he came and told me that—that he wasn't going to see me again. That our relationship was over. That he had no intention of leaving Maura. His wife.'
Tom's eyes darkened. 'So he did abandon us!'
'Not us, Tom. Me! He didn't know about you. Not until—not until that night he came to our house. The night I was at the Haines's party.'
'But why didn't you tell him? Why didn't you make him leave his wife?'
Jaime shook her head. 'I couldn't do that. I was sure he didn't love me, you see. I thought he had just wanted an affair. How could I tell him I was pregnant? I had some pride left, in spite of everything.'
'Oh, Mum!'
'Let me finish.' Jaime covered the hand he had placed on her arm, and offered him a rueful smile. 'Where was I? Oh, yes. I was pregnant, and not yet divorced from Philip. I had to go away. I was afraid, even then, that Philip might find out, and claim the child was his. So I went to your grandfather's sister in Newcastle, and you were born there.'
'So—there was no other man?'
'No.'
'Just—just—Ben?'
'Your father. Yes.'
Tom frowned. 'And he went off to Africa, with his wife?'
'His sick wife, yes.'
'His sick wife?' Tom frowned. 'You never said she was sick!'
'Because I didn't know. Not until tonight, when—when your other grandmother was so scathing about her.'
'Of course.' Tom remembered. 'She said she had leukaemia.'
'That's right.'
'But didn't—didn't my father tell you?'
'Why would he?' Jaime shrugged. 'He thought I knew. He assumed Philip had told me.'
'So—that was why he stayed—with his wife?' ventured Tom unsteadily, and Jaime nodded. 'And he never knew about me?'
'No.'
'But when he came back—'
'Yes, when he came back, he told me Maura was dead,' agreed Jaime heavily. 'But, as far as I was concerned, the situation hadn't changed. I still didn't trust him, and when he found out about you…'
Tom perked up. 'He wanted to get to know me.'
'Yes.' Jaime squeezed his hand. 'He's very proud of you.'
Tom's face flushed, and his eyes grew unnaturally bright. 'I—I'm proud of him, too.'
Jaime smiled. 'I'm sure you are.'
'But—' Tom faltered '—what about you? How—how do you feel?'
'About Ben?' And at his nod, 'I love him. I suppose I always have. I just—blotted it out for a while.'
Tom hesitated. 'Do you think—do you think you might—forgive him now?'
Jaime's eyes were bright, too. 'I think there's every possibility,' she admitted huskily, and pulled him into her arms.
Three months later, Jaime awakened in the king-size bed that Ben had installed in the master bedroom at the Priory, and lay for a few moments, trying to get her bearings. Two days before, she had awakened in Hawaii, in the bedroom of the beach-house on Maui that Ben had rented for their honeymoon. But now, two nights and about seven thousand miles later, they were home again, and she turned eagerly to her husband, needing to assure herself that it was real, and not just some fantastic dream.
But she didn't really need that reassurance. The languid state of her body, the lingering sense of lethargy she felt from Ben'
s lovemaking of the night before was proof enough, if proof were needed. For four idyllic weeks she had been Mrs Benjamin Russell, and pretty soon she would have to tell him that he was going to be a father again.
As if sensing his wife was awake, Ben stirred now, and his body curled around hers, his hand on the slight curve of her stomach, propelling her back against him. 'G'morning,' he murmured, rubbing the stubble of his overnight beard against her shoulder. 'Did you sleep well?'
'Eventually,' said Jaime, with a chuckle, arching her rounded bottom closer to his muscled maleness. 'Mm, what time is it? It looks awfully light outside.'
'Don't do that, if you want to talk about the time,' complained Ben, as his body reacted to her nearness. 'Oh, hell, what does it matter? Let's spend the day in bed. We can always say we need to get over the jet lag.'
'Not to Tom,' Jaime reminded him softly. 'How do you think he looked last night? Do you think he's missed us at all?'
Ben chuckled now. 'Well, he does seem to have taken over in our absence,' he agreed drily. 'And he and Curtis get along like a house on fire. But, of course, they always did.'
Jaime wriggled on to her back, and looked at him. 'What about your mother? She seems to have mellowed somewhat, doesn't she?'
'Mm.' Ben bent his head to nuzzle the taut curve of her nipple with his lips, and then, when Jaime protested, he added resignedly, 'Well, he is her only grandchild, isn't he? And she and Dad aren't getting any younger.'
'No.' Jaime was debating whether to tell him her news then, or wait until she had had it confirmed by a doctor, when Ben went on,
'I guess we've all made mistakes. Me more than most. So who am I to make judgements, when my own decisions have been so suspect?'
'You mean, mine were,' declared Jaime, lifting her hand to stroke his cheek. 'I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. But we do crazy things when we've been hurt.'
'Don't I know it?' Ben moistened her lips with his tongue. 'Like not telling you why I came to see you in the first place. You might not have believed me, but I should have taken that chance.'
Jaime's brows drew together. 'About Philip, you mean?'
'No.' Ben's thumb brushed her parted lips. 'About me. About why I bought this place. It wasn't by accident, you know. I wanted to be near you.'
Jaime stared at him. 'But—but I thought—'
'I know what you thought.' Ben grimaced. 'When you saw me, you came at me like a mad woman. If I hadn't had my suspicions before then, I'd surely have had them later. It was obvious you were running scared, and it didn't take me long to work out why. God, you have no idea how I felt when I realised you'd kept Tom's identity a secret for almost fifteen years!'
Jaime bent her head. 'So you decided to keep Philip's death a secret, too?'
'I had my reasons,' Ben admitted honestly. 'At least it gave me a chance to go on seeing you. Both of you.'
'But why did you wait so long?' Jaime exclaimed. 'You said Maura had been dead for—for several years.'
'She had.' Ben nodded. 'But don't forget I thought you were living with someone else. I knew you had had a child. My mother wrote and told me. No doubt she was hoping it would cast some aspersions on your reputation, and I was too sick at the thought to attempt to prove otherwise. Then, when I got back to England and found out you and Tom were living alone…'
'Oh, Ben!' Jaime slid her arm around his neck and buried her face against his bare chest. 'I'm sorry.'
'Don't be.' Ben lifted her chin and kissed her. 'It's probably just as well you didn't tell me about the baby. I was trying to do the honourable thing. I knew I couldn't abandon Maura, not when she knew she—well, you know. But, if I'd suspected that you were expecting my child—' he broke off with a wry exclamation '—I don't know whether I'd have had the strength to let you go.'
Jaime sniffed. 'Oh, love…'
'I just wish I could have been there for you,' Ben murmured, sliding his fingers into her hair. 'It can't have been easy, and there's so much about Tom I've missed.'
'Like watching him grow up?' suggested Jaime huskily, and when Ben nodded the decision was taken for her. 'So—perhaps you won't mind too much if we have another.'
'Another what? Another child?' Ben cupped her nape. 'Sweetheart, I may be too old to father another child. After all, Maura and I never—well, you know what I'm trying to say.'
Jaime drew back and touched his lips with her fingers. 'I'm trying not to be jealous of Maura. I mean, I've got so much. But did you—did you—love her?'
'Yes.' Ben didn't attempt to lie to her. 'But not as I love you. I didn't even know you could love someone like this until I met you, and then it was too late. Or so I thought, anyway.'
Jaime accepted this. She knew, better than anyone, how much Ben loved her, and she could afford to be generous now. 'So you wouldn't mind if we had another baby,' she whispered softly, drawing his hand down to the gentle swell below her navel. 'Like—soon?'
Ben's expression was incredulous. 'You mean—?'
'Hmm.' Jaime's smile was tremulous. 'In about six months, I think.'
'But, that means—'
'I know. That morning in the library, when I was so afraid someone might come in and see us.' She pulled a face. 'The day you had your operation.'
'God!' Ben pushed himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. 'That's incredible!'
'But—you don't mind?'
'Mind?' Ben's kiss was swift and devastating. 'I'm—oh, God!—I'm delighted. But what about you? I mean, it's fifteen years since you had Tom. Are you sure you want to start again?'
'Quite sure.' Jaime slipped her arms around his neck, and pulled him down to her. 'Besides, I've never believed in only children.'
Ben's hand halted in its sensual slide down her body. 'Tom,' he said. 'How do you think he'll take it?'
'I think he's old enough to understand the facts of life,' murmured Jaime, guiding Ben's hand to the swell of her breast. 'Ask Angie.'
'Yes.' Ben's response was husky. 'I'm not at all sure we should have let him stay on at that school. He is only fifteen, after all.'
'But quite a mature fifteen,' declared Jaime firmly. 'And he's going to make a marvellous baby-sitter, don't you think?'
'Well—big brother anyway,' agreed Ben, becoming distracted. 'As long as he doesn't think about making us grandparents for some time yet…'