* * *
After his parents had left, Aisling turned towards to a payphone in the lobby. “I think I’ll give Jean a ring,” she said. “Everyone will be anxious to know how Thomas is.”
“Sure,” Jameson smiled, “it’ll be good to give them the news. I’ll go ask the staff in reception where would be good to eat in town.”
She watched him as he walked across to the desk – so confident, so easy about organising things for them. A little knot came into her chest as she lifted the receiver. Everything about him was now so achingly familiar. His hair that she loved to run her fingers through, his tall, but solid frame – his strong back. Just every little thing about him.
“Oh, honey!” Jean exclaimed on hearing her voice. “How are things?”
“Improving – thanks be to God,” Aisling said. “He’s very badly injured, and he’s had a serious operation – but he’s going to pull through!”
“Oh, honey!” Jean said again. There was a pause, and Aisling could hear a conversation going on in the background. Then, Jean said. “Listen . . . your mom wants a word.”
Aisling’s heart sank. She’d hoped to get away with just passing a message on. She wasn’t up to arguing with her mother tonight.
“Thank God!” Maggie came on. “The poor lad – the poor, poor lad. As if he hasn’t enough problems in life –”
“I was just giving a quick ring to let you know how things are,” Aisling said quickly. Then she added, “We’ve got to go back up to the ward now.” It was a lie, but she had to get away from her mother.
“Where are you staying?” Maggie said quickly.
“In rooms in the hospital,” Aisling replied. “But tomorrow we’re going out to . . .” she hesitated, picking the right words. “Tomorrow we’re going out to Thomas’s grandparents’ place. Seemingly, they have a big house just half-an-hour’s drive.”
“Grand,” Maggie said, not sounding grand at all. “And Jean says can you give us the name of the ward in the hospital, and we’ll send get-well cards down to the poor lad.”
Aisling dictated the address to her, then said, “I’ll ring again when there’s any more news.”
“Aisling?” her mother said in a low voice. “We haven’t much time left now . . . just over the week.”
“I know that, Mammy,” she said, desperate to get off the phone.
“Well . . . don’t forget it.” She halted. “We have everybody depending on us back home.”
Then, seeing Jameson striding across to her, Aisling said quickly. “I’ll ring again soon,” and hung up before Maggie could say any more.
“A guy on reception told me there’s a nice Chinese restaurant a few blocks away,” Jameson said. “A good meal might do us good, and we can let the hospital know where we are. What do you think?”
Aisling looked slightly awkward. “I’ve never had Chinese food,” she told him. “The food back home is very plain in the restaurants. Do you think I’ll like it?”
Jameson came over and put his arms around her neck. “You’ll love it,” he said with a smile.”
The walk out to the restaurant in the warm night air, plus the good news about Thomas perked them both up, and Aisling felt more relaxed than she had in days as she went over the exotic-sounding menu.
“Something easy for the first time,” Jameson suggested, looking down the list of main meals, “with familiar ingredients. How about sweet and sour chicken with some egg-fried rice?”
Aisling thought for a moment. “Okay,” she said, grinning, “let’s go for it.” She didn’t tell him that the only rice she had ever eaten was rice pudding with a spoonful of jam in the middle to sweeten it.
Aisling loved the meal, and they finished off with some fruit she had never heard of and icecream. Later, as they chatted over coffee, Jameson suddenly reached across the table and took Aisling’s hand. “Are you OK about everything?” he asked, his face anxious.
“It was lovely,” Aisling reassured him. “I liked everything I tried –”
“Not the food,” he said, giving a little smile. “I meant my parents . . . and Verity. All that shit about us going to Disneyland . . . it’s so typical of her.” He paused, shaking his head. “It’s been difficult for you – being thrown in at the deep end like that.”
“Your parents are lovely,” Aisling said. “They’re really warm, genuine people.” Then she paused. “And I wouldn’t like to comment on Verity. The circumstances in which we’ve met can’t be easy for anyone . . .”
“You’re very kind,” Jameson told her, “because Verity is not a very likeable woman.” He shook his head. “God knows what I saw in her all those years ago. Although . . . she was different before Thomas was born . . .” He broke off now. “Let’s not waste any time talking about things like that.” He looked into her eyes, checking. “As long as you’re OK . . .”
“I’m grand,” Aisling whispered. “Neither of us need to explain the choices we made in our earlier lives.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” he said, grinning now. “And I’m real glad you enjoyed the Chinese food.”
Back in the hospital room, Aisling showered and padded around the room with one towel wrapped around her and another wrapped around her damp hair. She started sorting out clothes for the following day.
“Leave that until the morning,” Jameson said, coming up behind her. He wrapped his arms tightly around her. “In all this awful business,” he whispered, “we seem to have lost time for ourselves.” He put a finger gently under her chin. “I’m real sorry about the way things have turned out . . . I would have loved your last days here to have been different.”
“So would I,” Aisling sighed.
They looked at each other for a few moments, and then his head bent down towards her and he kissed her properly for what seemed a long time. His hand moved up to unravel her hair from the towel, and tousle it around her shoulders. Then they moved across the floor to one of the iron beds, where Jameson gently removed the other towel and gathered her up into his arms.
* * *
They woke early in the morning, still wrapped around each other in the cramped single bed. They whispered quietly for a few moments, then Jameson got up and quickly dressed, then went off to check how Thomas had fared during the night.
He came back as Aisling was brushing her hair out in front of the mirror. The broad grin on his face told her all was well.
“Another good night!” he announced, pulling off his shirt, “and we can go up in an hour or so to see him.”
He disappeared into the shower while Aisling finished her hair and sorted out her clothes from the night before. She was just hooking her white lacey bra when the bathroom door opened, and Jameson came out with a towel around his waist, and his hair damp and tousled.
“I don’t think you have time to put that on,” he said, in a low voice.
“Why?” Aisling said. “What’s the rush?”
Then before she had a chance to say anything more, he eased her arms out of the bra, and bent down and pressed his mouth hard on hers. Then his lips moved downwards to cover the bud of one breast first, then slowly move across to the other. Aisling caught her breath, and closed her eyes, savouring the lovely warm feeling that was now coursing through her body.
His lips came back up to hers again – this time harder and more urgent – and she could feel his hardness through the thick, white hospital towel. She took his hand and led him over to the bed. And this time – she unwrapped his towel.
The sight of his smooth, powerful body lifted something inside her, and as he kissed and caressed her, Aisling felt a sweet sensation invade every part of her body, and she knew that no other man would make her feel the way he did now.
The hour disappeared in a haze of warmth and pleasure – and all too soon they were up and moving to dress and rush back up to Thomas’s bedside.
* * *
Aisling’s mood lightened further when they entered the room to see the teenager propped up
in a sitting position. The bruises he had received in the accident were now at their colourful worst – dark blue and yellowy-red. But despite them, his eyes shone brightly and his whole manner was definitely returning back to normal
“Do you think,” Aisling asked Thomas, “that you could manage to hold a book or a comic? And maybe, with a bit of help, do a jigsaw?”
Thomas’s eyes lit up. He stretched out his arms, miming the actions of reading, then held a thumb out to signal OK. Next, he reached forward as though putting pieces of a puzzle together. He winced slightly, not entirely comfortable.
“Okay, buddy,” Jameson said, stroking his hair. “The books are good – but you will definitely need help with the jigsaw.”
Shortly afterwards, Jameson’s parents’ arrived – the relief all too obvious at Thomas’s improved condition. The atmosphere in the room was much more relaxed and easy, everyone chatting and taking their turn reading to Thomas from a Superman comic that him grandparents had brought.
Towards lunch-time, Aisling looked across at Jameson when she heard the unmistakable sound of Verity’s heels tapping along the corridor. Jameson rolled his eyes, but said nothing as his ex-wife swept into the room.
Verity’s gaze circled around the room, a fashionably pearly-pink lipstick on her curved, smiling lips. “Hi, everyone,” she said in a slightly breathless voice. She widened the smile for Thomas. “And how’s my boy today?” she gushed, pushing past Aisling to reach the top of the bed.
Jameson reached to the bottom of the bed and gently touched Thomas’s foot. “While you have such a crowd here, Aisling and I are going to head off into town to get those things for you – okay?”
Thomas held up a thumb and grinned, enjoying all the attention.
“That was perfect timing,” Jameson said, squeezing Aisling’s hand as they stepped into the lift. “I couldn’t bear another session of Verity this morning.” He chuckled. “She’s probably prattling on about Disneyland again as I speak.”
“It must be difficult for her,” Aisling said diplomatically.
“Well,” Jameson smiled, “it sure is difficult having to listen to her.”
* * *
They headed for a children’s toyshop. “I’d love to let the kids at school loose in here,” Aisling laughed. She wound up a brightly coloured butterfly mobile that played a tune, then she stroked the teddy bears sitting in toddler-size chairs, holding picture books in their laps. “It’s like a wonderland for kids. I wish I’d brought my camera with me, to show them all back home.”
She looked up, smiling, at Jameson, and was surprised to see a distracted, serious look on his face.
“Okay?” she asked, slipping her hand into his.
“Sure . . .” he said, but Aisling felt he didn’t look too sure at all.
They wandered around the shop, picking up bits and pieces for Thomas.
“I can’t believe that we’re actually buying books for a boy who I was convinced was going to die a couple of days ago,” Jameson said, holding up a Batman book.
Aisling touched his hand. “It’s amazing the difference that two days can make to someone’s life . . .”
Jameson put the book back down on a shelf. “Yes, they can,” he said, taking her hand. “Meeting you has made an amazing difference to my life.”
“Jameson . . .” she said quietly.
He touched his finger to her lips. “Don’t say anything right now, Aisling . . . please just listen. “I don’t want you to leave me and go back to Ireland. I don’t want you to leave me and Thomas.” His voice dropped to little above a whisper. “I want you to stay here . . . and when Thomas is better, we can all go back to Lake Savannah together.”
“There is nothing,” she said, “that I would like more . . . but I can’t.”
“Don’t say that,” he told her, a desperate edge to his voice. “Don’t say that.”
“Jameson,” Aisling said, “you’re not being fair. I need time. I need to go back home to sort things out. I need time to see how things are . . .” She stroked his arm. “I just need time.”
“I nearly lost Thomas,” he said, turning away from her, “and now I’m afraid I’m losing you, too . . .”
“It’s not the same, Jameson.” She didn’t know what to say to make him feel better. “And when we sort things out . . . when we’ve had time to think – there’s every chance that I will come back.”
“Every chance . . .” he repeated in a flat tone. He shook his head. “You don’t really believe that, Aisling, do you?”
“Yes, Jameson,” she said firmly, “I really do believe it.”
His eyes darkened. “Well, I think you’re gonna just walk away from this and forget it all happened. Forget all the times we’ve spent together . . . all the times we’ve spent with Thomas.” His voice lowered, and there was a tone in it Aisling didn’t recognise. Or at least hadn’t heard since she’d got to know him properly. “I reckon you’re just gonna go back to little old Ireland,” he said, “and think that what we had was some kind of holiday fling. Something you can look back on and think was a dangerous and exciting episode in your boring life – something that might have been. Something you can think about during the long winter nights, when you’re in a cold bed wondering where your bastard of a husband is!”
Aisling moved back, flinching at his words. “I can’t believe you’re saying all this!”
“And I can’t believe you won’t stay!” he said, oblivious to what was going on in the shop around him.
“I’ve told you,” she argued, her own voice rising now, “that I’ve got to go back home to things to sort out! My family, my job –”
“Your goddamn family and job are all you think about!” he said. “What about yourself? What about Aisling Gayle? Why does everyone and everything else have to come first?”
“That’s not true,” she said. “I wouldn’t be here with you if it was true!”
“Waken up, Aisling! This is real life – my life and yours. It’s not the kind of stuff you read about in your romance books. You’re letting other people and an outmoded Church lead your life for you.”
She looked at him, and there was a long, painful silence between them, during which Aisling’s eyes filled up with tears.
“Aw, hell . . .” Jameson said, his anger deflating. “I didn’t mean it to happen like this . . .” He put both his arms around her neck, suddenly back to his old caring self.
Just then, a shop assistant came towards them pushing a trolley full of books and nursery toys. She cast a wary glance in their direction, then started unloading the trolley onto a display table just a few feet away.
Aisling quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Come on,” she said in a croaky voice, taking his hand, “we’ll pay for these . . . and then we can talk about things over lunch.” But as they walked to the pay-desk, Aisling knew in her sinking heart that all the talking in the world was not going to change anything right now. Only time could do that.
* * *
Later, as they sat at the back of a small, Italian restaurant, Jameson tried to reason with her again. “What if I phoned your parents and your husband, and told them the situation? It’s not fair that you should carry all this. I could lay it on the table for them, and in a while – when they’ve all got used to the idea – you could go back to Ireland for a holiday and sort things out face-to-face properly.”
Aisling looked down at the Roman-style lettering on the tablecloth, and said nothing. What was there to say?
“Aisling?” he said, waiting.
She looked up at him. “I know we come from very different backgrounds, Jameson – and it must be hard for you to understand how things work back in Ireland. But from the things I’ve told you about my family, surely you must know that I couldn’t handle stuff like that?” Aisling’s voice sounded tired, on the verge of exasperation. “Even Verity pointed out the differences between us, and predicted this sort of thing happening.”
Jameson’
s eyes blazed. “Verity is hardly an expert on other people’s relationships. Christ! She didn’t even look after her only child!” He shook his head. “The only good thing that happened between us was Thomas, and she couldn’t even see that. Thank God we didn’t have any more children.”
“Would it have made any difference if you’d had?”
“Hell – no,” he said, his brow furrowing. “At one time I thought it could have changed things . . . but I’m everlastingly grateful that we didn’t. Thomas and I get along just fine on our own, and after this terrible accident, I know that he’s going to need every bit of my attention for some time to come.”
“You give him that already,” Aisling said, touching his hand.
“Having only one child allows me to do that – but I’d hoped at some point he would become more independent.” He shrugged. “I guess he will become independent to a limited extent. But – I have to face the fact that he’s reached his potential in most areas, and not expect more from him than he is capable of giving.”
Aisling reached over the table and took his hand. “And I’m so sorry for saying this, Jameson – but you must not expect more than I am capable of giving, either.”
Chapter 33
“So we’ll see you both back at the house later?” Jameson’s mother smiled and wagged a finger at Aisling. “And don’t you dare forget – we don’t want any more of those Irish formalities. No more Mr and Mrs Carroll. From now on it’s Sam and Frances – OK?”
“OK,” Aisling said, giving an embarrassed smile. “We’ll follow you up in a bit . . . Frances.”
Everyone laughed, Thomas laughing the loudest of all.
“Careful with those damned ribs!” Jameson warned. “We don’t want you in this place any longer than you have to be.”
Thomas grinned and held his hands palm up. “But I like it – here! I like the nurses.”
“I think it’s swell that you like it here,” his father told him, trying not to laugh, “but don’t get too used to it. We want you fit and well, and running around back at Lake Savannah.”
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