by Fiona Lowe
Reminiscing was like the turn of the tide. On the surface the water looked wonderful and all the good memories enticed her to wade in and throw herself into the experience. But she knew the same jagged rocks that had caused her to flounder once before still lay in wait, ready to plunge deep into her heart. She had no intention of putting her hand up for that all over again.
Trying to shake off unwanted feelings that begged her to only remember the good times, she dropped her gaze and immediately noticed his shirt was ripped and bloodstained. Cuts and grazes criss-crossed his upper arms. ‘Did Mum or Lexie look at these? You’ve probably got glass embedded in your arm.’
‘Just like you’ve probably got glass in your thigh?’
Surprised, she glanced down and realised blood had congealed around the rip in her running pants. She was suddenly aware of a burning sensation. ‘How crazy. I didn’t feel a thing until now.’
He grimaced. ‘Fight and flight response. Adrenaline hides a multitude of ills until it doesn’t. Does this hurt?’ His fingers ran gently across her lower left arm, lingering on a bump.
She flinched. ‘Ouch.’
‘Exactly.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Sorry. But I think I inadvertently fractured your ulna when we hit the ground.’
‘Don’t apologise.’ The reality of what had happened was slowly starting to penetrate the protective adrenaline. ‘You saw the car heading for us, didn’t you?’
‘Yeah.’ He brushed his hair away from his eyes. ‘I grabbed you out of instinct. I probably gave you a hell of a fright.’
‘It doesn’t matter. You saved my life. Our lives. Thank you.’ She moved to squeeze his hand and gasped as sharp pain circled her. Her entire body stiffened and she didn’t want to take another breath, knowing it was going to hurt like hell.
‘Lauren?’ His gaze filled with concern. ‘What is it?’
‘I think as well as needing an X-ray for my arm I need one for my ribs.’
‘Right, you two,’ Sue said walking over as if sensing something was up. ‘You’ve both put me off long enough but no more excuses. Lexie and I will look after the clinic and the police are taking the two of you to Surfside to be checked out.’
‘That’s not necessary,’ Charlie said firmly. ‘I’m fine. I can drive Lauren to hospital.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Sue folded her arms across her chest. ‘According to Theo, who saw it all happen, we’re lucky both of you are alive. Let’s not push our luck by letting you get behind the wheel of a car just as shock hits and it has you running off the road.’
A look of incredulity crossed Charlie’s face that someone would question his plans. ‘Ms...um...?’
‘Fuller,’ Sue said with a smile. ‘Sue Fuller. I’m the district nurse and Lauren’s mother.’
‘I’m Charlie Ainsworth. I’m a trauma surgeon with Australia Aid and I deal with life-and-death situations all the time.’
‘I’m sure you do,’ Sue said sympathetically, ‘but today you’re part of the accident too.’ She dropped a blanket over the two of them. ‘Sorry but this is our last one. You’ll have to share. Shane, you can take them now.’
‘Sorry,’ Lauren muttered, not sure if her light-headedness was from the ever-increasing pain or the fact she was sharing a blanket with Charlie.
His right side flanked her left and his heat poured into her. It skimmed along her veins in a heady mix of lust and yet at the same time it was familiar and almost comforting. Red-hot pain and logical resistance duelled with visceral longing. Her vision blurred at the edges. The room started to spin. She tried to stay upright but her legs lost strength and as her knees gave way, she sagged onto him. His arm circled her and she flinched. ‘Ribs.’
‘Hell. Sorry.’ He dropped his arm lower across her hip but still held her.
Despite his gaunt frame, he felt solid and secure. Without being aware of exactly how it happened, her cheek was resting on his chest and the steady and rhythmic beat of his heart sounded reassuringly in her ear. As his hand gently stroked her hair she heard him say quietly, ‘It’s okay, Lauren.’
She closed her eyes.
* * *
While Charlie waited for the electric kettle to boil, he looked around Lauren’s kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers, until he found the mugs and teabags. He had no idea how she took her tea—twelve years ago she hadn’t even drunk tea—so he chose a lemon and ginger teabag, figuring that way he didn’t have to worry about milk.
They’d only just returned from the hospital. It turned out Lauren’s father had been one of the paramedics—yet another thing he’d learned about her today—and Ian had driven them home in the rig. The burly man with salt-and-pepper curls had insisted on taking Lauren to her childhood home but she’d objected. ‘Both you and Mum are at work until four so I may as well stay at my place.’
Ian had muttered something under his breath but had driven her to her sandstone cottage. While Lauren had walked down the short path to the front door, Ian had taken Charlie aside. ‘My daughter’s stubborn. But you know as well as I do she’s groggy after the Endone so she can’t be on her own.’
‘I’ll stay with her,’ Charlie had offered immediately, as much for himself as for Lauren.
Something weird and unsettling had happened to him at the hospital when Lauren had been wheeled off to X-Ray. The entire time she’d been gone, he’d been twitchy and jumpy. Flashes of the damn car coming straight at her—at them—had played in a continuous loop in his head, but the moment the porter had wheeled her back to him, the images had stopped. He’d known his thought process of If I can see her she’s safe had been totally irrational, but if it kept the flashbacks at bay, he’d play along.
‘Thank you.’ Ian had pumped Charlie’s hand generously. ‘And thank you so much for your quick thinking and saving her life. You see a lot in this job and...’ The experienced man’s voice had cracked. ‘Well, I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Anyway, it’s probably a good idea for both of you to be together so you can talk about what happened. Debrief. You know, help with the flashbacks, that sort of thing.’
The kettle pinged and Charlie concentrated on making two mugs of tea. He carried them into the living room where Lauren lay on a couch, propped up on a European pillow and with her eyes closed. He took advantage of the opportunity to study her carefully.
All those years ago it had been her wide smile and enormous eyes that had made him look twice at her, but it had been her laughter that had utterly captivated him. Even before Harry’s accident, no one in his family had laughed quite so enthusiastically or seen the humour in obscure things quite like she did. After that tragic day laughter had been silenced, which was why Lauren had breezed into his life like a breath of fresh air. Now he not only longed to hear her laugh, he craved to have her bestow that easy smile on him again. But before either of those things could happen, he had to find a way in, under or around the hectares of reserve she’d thrown up. Apart from the moment she’d slumped against him in the café and her warmth and softness had dived deep inside him, reviving wonderful memories, she’d held herself aloof in a way she’d not done once during their summer together.
‘Tea?’
She opened her eyes and turned their slightly glazed and out-of-focus attention onto him. Surprise lit their depths to a seductive caramel hue. It was clear she’d forgotten he was there. He hoped she’d forgotten she was mad at him.
‘Thank you.’ Her mouth curved up into a sloppy and happy smile.
‘My pleasure.’ Even though he knew her smile was the result of the narcotic painkiller she’d taken, a lightness washed through him. This was the Lauren he remembered. This was the Lauren he wanted to see more of.
‘You look crazy tall standing there,’ she said with a giggle, and lifted her legs. ‘Sit down.’
He could have sat in a chair but the idea of si
tting on the couch with her was far too tempting. As his behind hit the couch cushion, her sock-clad feet slammed across his thighs in the exact way they’d done so many times during that long-ago summer. Back then, he’d loved touching her and he’d taken every chance he’d been offered, along with creating opportunities when chance had let him down. Now, presented with this unexpected happenstance, he wasn’t going to let it pass. It was as natural as breathing to slide his hand down her leg and rest it on her ankle, savouring the feel of her smooth skin silky against his palm. She didn’t object.
Silently, they sipped their tea. After a few minutes she raised her arm, staring at the ultralight cast with child-like wonder and slightly constricted pupils. ‘When I was a teenager, I would have killed for a nightstick fracture. I always envied kids with signed casts.’
‘I’ll sign it.’ He set his tea on the side table and pulled a pen out of his pocket.
‘Will you?’ Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks danced with joyful expectation. ‘What a guy!’ Then she laughed; a throaty, husky sound that spun around him like a cocoon, bringing with it memories of hot and sultry summer nights.
Lauren scooted in closer. The action not only brought her arm across his chest for easy access to sign, it also brought her head closer to his. He breathed in deeply, anticipating the scent of apples, but instead he inhaled a complex scent of the tang of the sea, the zip of citrus and a hint of antiseptic. He braced himself for disappointment but it didn’t come. The sweet adolescent scent had belonged to the younger Lauren and its innocent notes no longer suited the striking woman next to him.
Like him, she’d changed—life did that to a person. If he was honest, Harry’s accident had already changed him before he’d met Lauren all those years ago. He knew he’d used their summer together to take a time-out from the all the pain and heartache of the previous nine months. For a few precious weeks he’d pretended that the accident hadn’t happened and his family’s lives hadn’t been brutally upended. He hadn’t expected to fall in love. It had scared the hell out of him.
He was halfway through decoding the change in her scent—what it may or may not signify—when her heat poured into him in like fire water, streaking through his veins and exploding into every cell. The sweet curve of her behind pressed up against the side of his right thigh and the backs of her own thighs now rested on top of his. His heart pounded hard and fast, carrying her heat and scent around him until it pooled in his lap with an odd mix of yearning and urgency.
Stifling a groan, he closed his eyes and silently named the cranial nerves, trying to reverse the effects of his arousal. It didn’t help that Lauren was wriggling against him as if she was trying to find a comfortable position.
You’re killing me. ‘Stop moving.’
She instantly stilled and he realised he’d barked out the command in the same gruff and terse voice he used in the operating theatre when a patient was bleeding out. He cleared his throat. ‘Sorry. It’s just I’m accused of illegible handwriting at the best of times,’ he tried to quip as he struggled to pull himself together. With a trembling hand, he scrawled a message. ‘There you go.’
She pulled her arm back and read out loud, ‘“You’ll be surfing again soon. Charlie.”’ With a sharp intake of breath she moved abruptly back up the couch away from him. When she raised her head, her chestnut brows were drawn down and she was looking straight at him through fully focused eyes. ‘I haven’t surfed in years.’
Stunned surprise broke over him. In the intervening years, whenever he’d thought of her he’d pictured her on her surfboard, eyes shining and racing him to the shore. ‘Why not? You loved it.’
Her nostrils flared and she sucked in her lips as if she was in pain. ‘Are your ribs hurting?’ he asked. ‘Do you need more medication?’
She slowly swung her legs off his, the action stiff and guarded. ‘No. Right now I need to be clear-headed.’
‘Right now you’re better off being pain-free.’
This time her laugh rang out loud and harsh. All the recent softness playing on her face and weaving into her body vanished, replaced by the familiar defensive guard. ‘Tell me, Charles. Why did you break your promise to me?’
Bewildered, he stared at her, seeking clues from her tight expression and her return to the use of his full name. He got nothing. He racked his brain, trying to work out what the hell she was talking about but he came up blank. ‘My promise?’
* * *
Lauren’s heart twisted. He has no idea what I’m talking about. The pain in her ribs and the throbbing in her arm surged back, morphing from a dull ache to sharp, stabbing pain. As the intensity ratcheted up, her logic and reasoning returned. With it came despair. Oh, God, what had she just done? Under the influence of Endone, she’d lost her filter and all her reserve. She’d flirted. She’d snuggled up with Charlie on the couch exactly as she’d done when she’d been eighteen. Only she wasn’t a teenager any more—she was a grown woman who knew how much he’d hurt her.
Why had she asked him about the promise? Especially when he’d just saved her life. Not to mention the most important fact, which was that she did not want to revisit a time that had caused her heartache—a time she’d worked so hard to let go. Hah! Okay, a time she’d thought she’d let go. Obviously, remnants lingered and the speed with which they’d roared back into life when she’d come face to face with Charlie had taken her by surprise. She wished she could hide.
His eyes bored into her. ‘What promise?’
He doesn’t even remember. Old despair sank its teeth into her. More than anything she wanted to stand up and walk away from him, but she didn’t think her legs would hold her. If they gave way again, he’d swoop in and catch her. She didn’t trust herself not to give in and let him cradle her close. When his arms had held her in the café, the unexpected sense of being home had been so strong she hadn’t wanted to leave. The survivor in her knew that emotions like that were dangerous not only to her peace of mind but to her heart—an organ she’d already shored up and repaired more than once.
The only way to protect herself was to restore the distance she’d so carefully placed between them when they’d met at Bide-a-While—the distance drugs had just jettisoned. ‘Ignore me,’ she said briskly. ‘I’m not making any sense. I need to sleep.’
His gaze was too perceptive, roving over her face, seeking clues. ‘I think it’s more likely you’re making absolute sense for once. You’ve been prickly ever since we met at Gran’s. This promise is connected to that, isn’t it?’
She’d forgotten how observant he was and how quick his brain. Perhaps, if she closed her eyes, he might take the hint and leave. Her lids lowered and she shut him out, trying to let sleep claim her.
‘Lauren?’
Damn it. He wasn’t going away. In fact, she’d bet her bottom dollar he would sit there until she told him. She didn’t know which was the worse humiliation; that she’d flirted and snuggled into him or that she’d raised the hurt she’d long associated with him. The answer was simple: it was the latter and now she couldn’t back away from it. A long, bone-weary sigh rumbled out of her. ‘You told me you were coming back.’
‘Coming back?’ Bewilderment skittered across his face. ‘Where? When?’
The fact he had no clue what she was talking about hurt more than her bruised ribs. ‘Do you remember our last night together?’
He was quiet for a moment. ‘I have a strong suspicion I don’t remember it as well as you do. But before I’m accused of something, I want to say with absolute honesty that our summer together was one of the happiest of my life.’
She flinched as his words poured salt on a wound she knew should have healed a very long time ago. She hated that it hadn’t. Hated herself more. ‘Your happiest?’ she scoffed. ‘That’s probably because nothing about that summer was real. We immersed ourselves in each other and hid from the world.’
This time he flinched, as if she’d shot an arrow at him and made a direct hit. ‘Was that so bad? We had a lot of fun.’
‘We did.’ She couldn’t argue that. ‘Then it ended.’
He nodded slowly. ‘Just as we both always knew it would. We were young. We’d agreed...’
The arrow returned, piercing her this time, and she couldn’t hide the hurt. ‘Then why did you move the goalposts at the last minute and tell me that you were only going to London for a year?’ Her voice rose despite her desperate attempts to sound detached. ‘I stupidly waited for you to come back.’
A thousand emotions rose and fell in his eyes until all that was left was guilt and pity. ‘The intern position I had in London was only for one year,’ he said quietly, tugging at his ear. ‘Did I actually say to you, “I’ll be back?”’
She opened her mouth to say a decisive yes but something on his face and in his voice—not regret but perhaps concern—made her hesitate. She rolled her mind back to a time when she’d sat on the enormous picnic rug at the mouth of the cave. She smelt the hot, sweet fat and the tang of salt from their paper-wrapped fish and chips. She heard the raucous squawks of predatory seagulls brawling for prime position, ever hopeful of scoring food. She tasted the syrupy sweetness of passionfruit soda laced with vodka—her favourite beverage that summer—one she’d not tasted since. It had been their last of many picnics together on the beach.
Two weeks previously, they’d spent a day and a night in Melbourne. They’d had dinner in Lygon Street and he’d told her how, when she was studying at uni, this Italian district would be her local shopping strip. He’d shown her all his favourite haunts in and around the uni, making her bubbly with excitement and keen for the next six weeks to pass quickly so she could start her degree. Then he’d taken her shopping and bought her the red stethoscope.