A Wife Worth Waiting For

by Maggie Kingsley

  ‘I’m not keeping anything from you,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve agreed to work in Cumbria, and when I get back from the rally in Lisbon—’

  ‘The rally in Lisbon?’ he interrupted, then dawning comprehension appeared in his eyes and with it also came complete disbelief. ‘Dear, lord, you’re going to Lisbon to take part in the Lisbon to Dakar Rally, aren’t you? Alex, are you insane? People die in that race. You’ll be riding your bike virtually non-stop for sixteen days over 5,000 miles of some of the roughest terrain in the world.’

  ‘Which is why I’m so looking forward to it,’ she said. ‘It’s the ultimate challenge, Hugh, the opportunity of a lifetime.’

  ‘It’s complete insanity,’ he protested. ‘I know you want to live life to the full, but it seems to me you’re sometimes living life as though you don’t care whether you live or die.’

  ‘Hugh—’

  ‘As though you’re trying to squeeze a whole lifetime into as short a time as possible because…’ He came to a halt, and his eyes shot suddenly to hers. ‘Oh, my God,’ he whispered, ‘that’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you never stay anywhere long, why the Nolans upset you so much, why you set yourself these crazy challenges—’

  ‘My challenges aren’t crazy.’

  ‘Because there’s something wrong with you, isn’t there? Alex, I can find out what’s wrong,’ he continued when she said nothing. ‘I can phone the agency, and ask them to give me your medical history, and they’ll have to give it to me, you know they will.’

  ‘That’s an invasion of my privacy,’ she said in outrage, and he nodded.

  ‘Without question it is, which is why I’d far rather you told me yourself. Alex…’ He came forward a step. ‘Tell me what’s wrong. Please.’

  He wouldn’t give it up, she knew he wouldn’t, and maybe it was time—way past time—for her to tell him so he’d understand, and she walked over to the sofa and sat down.

  ‘I…I didn’t know there was anything wrong, not right away,’ she murmured. ‘I’d just finished my GP training, and that winter I seemed to go down with cold after cold. I’d lost weight, too, but of course I was thrilled about that.’ She managed a smile. ‘What woman wouldn’t be?’

  ‘And?’ Hugh pressed, and she took a deep breath.

  ‘It was Jonathan who found the lump under my arm. I didn’t want to go to the doctor—it seemed such a waste of time for a tiny painless swelling—but Jonathan insisted. As soon as the doctor examined me, he started asking me all these questions, like was I sweating a lot at night, had my skin become more itchy, were my periods heavier than normal?’

  Hugh’s face whitened. ‘Alex, are you saying what I think you’re saying?’

  ‘Oh, come on, Hugh, you’re a doctor,’ she protested, ‘you know what it was. So did I, even though I was just newly qualified.’

  ‘Hodgkin’s lymphoma,’ he said slowly. ‘Cancer of the lymphatic system.’ He sat down beside her on the sofa. ‘Hell, Alex, you must have been terrified.’

  ‘My mum was. She’d only just started to get over my dad’s death, and then I had to hit her with the fact that I had Hodgkin’s.’

  ‘You had chemo, and radiation therapy?’

  She reached up and ran her fingers through her short red hair. ‘You asked me why I got my hair cut. When I started the chemo, it all fell out. My mum…she bought me all these weird and wonderful hats and scarves so I wouldn’t feel so bad about being bald, but…’ Her lip trembled. ‘Crazy, isn’t it, that even when there’s a very strong possibility you’ll die, the one thing that makes you cry is when your hair all falls out.’

  ‘But it grew back,’ he said gently, and she nodded.

  ‘It grew back, but I’ve kept it short since then in case…’ She tried to smile and failed. ‘I figure, if…if the cancer comes back, then maybe it won’t seem quite so awful this time when it all falls out again.’

  He reached for her hand, and trapped it between his two large ones.

  ‘Alex, between 75 and 95 out of every 100 people who are diagnosed with early stage 1 or 2 Hodgkin’s lymphoma stay in remission.’

  ‘Mine was a stage 3B.’

  She watched him regroup quickly.

  ‘OK,’ he said, ‘even for a stage 3 or a stage 4 Hodgkin’s—’

  ‘Between 50 and 70 out of every 100 people can be cured, or at the very least the disease can be kept at bay for years,’ she finished for him. ‘I know. I’m a doctor, remember, which is why I also know that even if the Hodgkin’s doesn’t come back, I have an increased risk of developing leukaemia.’

  ‘An increased risk, yes, but that doesn’t make it a definite.’

  She gave a shaky laugh. ‘You’re good at this, aren’t you? Making the patient feel positive about their prognosis.’

  He stared down at her hand between his, then up at her, his face gentle, tender.

  ‘Alex, you’re not simply a patient to me,’ he said. ‘You mean more—so much more. Your fiancé…he must have been shattered.’

  ‘Jonathan…’ She closed her eyes, reliving the memory. ‘He couldn’t bear watching me being sick all the time, knowing that even after all the treatment I might still die, so he…he broke off our engagement.’

  ‘He left you because you were ill?’ Hugh said with outrage. ‘What kind of low-life scumbag walks out on a woman at a time like that?’

  ‘He wasn’t—isn’t—a low-life scumbag, Hugh,’ she said. ‘He’s…he’s just an ordinary man who was scared witless of what I was going through, and it’s not unreasonable to expect the person you love to be around for a while and…and to be able to give you children.’ Her fingers jerked convulsively in his. ‘I can’t, you see. The chemo left me infertile, and Jonathan…he comes from a large family.’

  ‘Well, screw him and his big family,’ Hugh exclaimed. ‘Alex, you don’t ask somebody to marry you because you want children. You ask them to marry you because you love them, want to spend the rest of your life with them. Having children doesn’t come into it.’

  ‘It does for some women,’ she said bleakly, ‘and quite a few men.’

  ‘Then they’re idiots,’ he retorted, and she managed a wobbly smile.

  ‘Or human.’

  He turned her hand over in his. ‘How long have you been in remission?’

  ‘Four years.’

  ‘You do know if you get to five years then the chances of it never coming back are good?’ he said, and she nodded.

  ‘But they’re not one hundred per cent certain, Hugh. I might live to be a little old lady of ninety-seven. I might die next year.’ She slipped her hand out of his, even though she didn’t want to, even though her hand felt cold without his wrapped round it. ‘So, you see, I can’t accept a permanent post anywhere. It wouldn’t be fair.’

  ‘You think Malcolm or I would withdraw our offer because of what you’ve told me?’ he protested. ‘Alex, I made you an offer of a partnership, and the offer still stands.’

  ‘I…I appreciate that,’ she said, ‘but the answer’s still no.’

  She tried to stand up but he put his hands on her shoulders and made her sit down again.

  ‘And what if I repeat what I said before?’ he said. ‘That I want you to stay. Not just for the practice, but for me?’

  There was tenderness in his eyes, but not just tenderness. She could see desire there, too. A hot and devastating and completely naked desire that made her heart kick up into her throat, and her pulses begin to race, and she wanted so much to reach out and touch his face, but she mustn’t, because she couldn’t give him a future, she couldn’t give him children, and he was a man who deserved both.

  Blindly she shook her head. ‘Hugh, don’t, please don’t.’

  ‘Don’t what?’ he demanded. ‘Don’t say I’m attracted to you, don’t say that I want you? I can’t not say it, Alex, because I do want you, you know I do.’

  ‘Perhaps you think you want me right now,’ she said, her voice trembling, ‘but what you’re actually fe
eling is pity.’

  ‘Don’t you dare suggest that,’ he thundered. ‘Yes, I feel pity for you if you mean I wish to God you’d never had to go through the treatment for Hodgkin’s alone, but pity sure as hell isn’t the emotion I feel when I look at you. Since that night, when you danced, all I’ve wanted is to hold you, to touch you, and I want…’ He reached out and cradled her face in his hands. ‘I want very much—if you’ll let me—to make love to you.’

  ‘Hugh…I…I…’

  She couldn’t say any more. Without warning, tears began to trickle down her cheeks. Tears that splashed onto his hands, and he gazed at her with dismay.

  ‘Oh, Alex, leannan, don’t,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry—so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I wouldn’t upset you for the world.’

  ‘It isn’t you,’ she said, her voice choked. ‘I don’t know why I’m crying. I honestly don’t know why I’m crying.’

  ‘Maybe it’s something you should have done a long time ago,’ he said, drawing her to him gently, but her tears didn’t stop, they kept on falling, soaking into his shirt.

  ‘I’m sorry—so sorry,’ she hiccuped. ‘Breaking down like this, soaking your shirt.’

  ‘And like either of those things are an issue, right now,’ he murmured, placing a kiss on the top of her head, and sliding his hands up her back to bring her closer.

  I should stop this, she thought, as she clung to him, never wanting to let him go. I should simply blow my nose, and thank him for his kindness, and stop this, but it felt so good to be held, so comforting to be held, and she didn’t want him to go, not yet.

  ‘This is why you were so upset at the Nolan’s, isn’t it?’ he said into her hair. ‘Because Irene’s situation reminded you so much of your own, except Frank Nolan didn’t walk away from Irene. He stayed.’

  She nodded into his chest, and he tightened his grip on her.

  ‘I’m not going to walk away, Alex. I’m here for the long term, if you’ll let me be.’

  She wanted to believe him, she so wanted to believe him, but her doubts spoke louder.

  ‘Alex.’

  Slowly she lifted her head to meet his gaze.

  ‘I would like very much to kiss you,’ he said softly, his eyes dark, hot. ‘May I kiss you?’

  No, her brain whispered. No, every particle of common sense that she possessed warned, but her body wasn’t listening to her mind or to her common sense. Her body wanted him to kiss her, even though she knew that this could only end in disaster, her body was longing for him to kiss her, and she gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod, and he cupped her face again and then his lips met hers.

  Met hers in a kiss that warm and tender, and tantalisingly brief. So brief that it was she who leant towards him, wanting more, and he kissed her again, deeper, harder, and when his tongue slipped inside her mouth, she felt the heat go everywhere.

  ‘I have wanted to do this for so long,’ he said, his lips leaving hers to trace the contours of her face, his voice ragged. ‘My water sprite, my beautiful water sprite.’

  Don’t talk, she thought, don’t give me time to think, because if I think I’ll know I shouldn’t be doing this, that I’m going to be hurt all over again, so don’t talk, and her lips found his to silence him, and she pressed herself against him, wanting more so much more, even though it was she knew it was a mistake.

  ‘Alex, oh, Alex,’ he said huskily as he slid his hands up underneath her baggy sweatshirt to cup her breasts through the fine cotton of her bra. ‘Stop me soon, or soon I’m not going to be able to stop.’

  She didn’t want him to stop. Her breasts ached for the touch of his hands and mouth, she could feel a hot slippery rush between her legs and, before she could think about what she was doing, she pulled her sweatshirt over her head and let it fall to the floor but when she reached for the clasp of her bra, he stayed her hands.

  ‘Alex, are you sure about this?’ he said, his eyes dark, liquid. ‘Say now, if you’re not sure, because…’

  She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t because she knew if she spoke the spell would be broken, and she didn’t want the spell to be broken. She simply wanted him, and she reached for him again and kissed him hard to shut out the clamouring voices in her head that told her that what she was doing could only end in heartbreak.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THERE was a damp patch on the wall just underneath her bedroom window-sill. It was funny how she’d never noticed it before, Alex thought, as she stared at it but then normally she just fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow and didn’t wake until she staggered out of bed the next morning. Normally, she hadn’t been lying awake since dawn, with a man’s arm round her waist, wondering what the man was going to say when he woke up, and what she was going to say in reply.

  Carefully, she turned in Hugh’s arm, and a wistful sigh broke from her. He looked so vulnerable lying beside her, his eyelashes dark smudges on his cheeks, his lips slightly curved as though he was smiling at something, and tentatively she stretched out her hand to him only to freeze as Hugh’s eyes slowly opened.

  For a second he looked confused, then the corners of his mouth lifted.

  ‘So it wasn’t a dream?’ he said softly.

  ‘No, it wasn’t a dream,’ she managed to reply.

  He reached out and touched her cheek, and it took all of her self-control not to put her hand over his simply so she could touch him back.

  ‘I didn’t want to wake up in case it was a dream,’ he murmured. ‘I didn’t want to open my eyes to discover I was alone, in my own bed, and had simply had the most amazingly vivid, X-rated dream.’

  ‘X-rated, huh?’ she said before she could stop herself, and the smile on his lips widened.

  ‘Maybe I’ve just led a very sheltered life,’ he said, his fingers leaving her cheek and sliding down her naked shoulder, making her shiver, ‘but that was pretty much my take on last night. Was it yours?’

  ‘It was wonderful,’ she admitted. ‘You know it was.’

  He searched her face for a second, then shook his head.

  ‘But?’ he prompted.

  ‘But nothing,’ she hedged, wanting to postpone the inevitable. The moment when he’d kiss her, say he’d had a great time, then walk away. ‘There is no “but”.’

  ‘Yes, there is. I heard it in your voice,’ Hugh said. ‘What’s wrong, Alex?’

  ‘Nothing—absolutely nothing,’ she protested, feeling her cheeks burn with the lie. ‘Last night was fabulous, terrific, and I’d be more than willing to do it again while I’m here in Kilbreckan. If you want to, that is,’ she added hurriedly. ‘I mean, I understand completely that us making…’ She stumbled over the words. ‘Us making love involves no commitment from you, no strings, because you still love Jenny, and…’

  Her voice trailed away as she saw Hugh’s face slowly change from bewilderment to anger.

  ‘No commitment,’ he repeated furiously. ‘No strings. You think I would have made love to you last night if I hadn’t been prepared to make some sort of commitment to you?’

  ‘Hugh—’

  ‘Alex, last night wasn’t simply about sex, at least not for me,’ he exclaimed, talking over her. ‘The sex might have been amazing, but that’s not why I’m here, right now, beside you. Yes, I loved Jenny, I always will, but that doesn’t mean there’s no room in my heart for someone else.’

  ‘For someone else, yes,’ she said sadly, ‘but not for me. Hugh, you don’t have to pretend,’ she continued as he tried to interrupt. ‘I know we don’t have a future. I have Hodgkin’s, and last night didn’t change that, so I’m content with just the now.’

  ‘Content with just the now,’ he echoed, then swore colourfully. ‘Well, I sure as hell am not. You say you have Hodgkin’s, and last night didn’t change that. Well, I have black hair, and grey eyes, and last night didn’t change that either.’

  ‘It’s not the same, you know it’s not,’ she said impatiently.

  Hugh stared silently at her
for a moment, then pushed himself up in the bed until his back was leaning against the head-board, and pulled her up beside him.

  ‘OK, I’m clearly missing something here,’ he said as he tucked the sheet neatly around her, ‘so can you tell me—in words of one syllable—why you having Hodgkin’s should automatically mean we can’t have a future together?’

  ‘Because…’ She swallowed hard. ‘Because, having gone through the pain of losing Jenny, you can’t honestly want to go through that again.’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ he replied, ‘but neither do I want to go through the rest of my life never seeing you again, never holding you again, or making love with you again, so as you come with a diagnosis of Hodgkin’s I’ll have to face your cancer with you if—if—it comes back.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Alex, do you think Frank Nolan will ever walk away from his wife?’

  She bit her lip.

  ‘She didn’t have MS when they met,’ she muttered. ‘He didn’t know what lay ahead, you do.’

  ‘Which means I’m going into this with my eyes wide open—no deceit, no unexpected surprises.’

  She couldn’t prevent her lips from curving into an uneven smile. ‘You know, if you hadn’t become a doctor, you would have made a very good lawyer.’

  ‘Because I’m telling you the truth?’ He reached for one of her hands and laced his fingers with hers. ‘Alex, there are no certainties in life. Hale, hearty, and completely healthy people are run over, fall off stepladders, and electrocuted by faulty wiring every day. In fact, it’s more than likely I’ll die before you do.’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ she protested, feeling her heart clutch at even the thought. ‘Not even as a joke.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it as a joke,’ he replied. ‘I’m being serious. I could walk out that door this morning, and be killed in a car crash. None of us know how long we will live, Alex, and no matter how long—or short—your life is I want to be in it with you. The big question is, do you want to be a part of my life?’

  She pleated the sheet he had tucked around her for a moment, and when she spoke her voice was unsteady.