‘Nothing.’
‘You know almost everything there is to know about me,’ she went on, suddenly angry. ‘Yet you keep yourself hidden. There’s a child in there somewhere, isn’t there? A tragedy?’
‘It’s none of your business.’
‘Yet my life is your business.’
‘That’s different. Your brother-’
‘Is your patient. Yes. But I’m not your patient. It doesn’t stop you poking your nose in. Not that I’m not grateful,’ she said hurriedly, as he looked up from his steak. ‘You know I am. I’ve really appreciated the work you’ve given me over the last couple of weeks-and the freedom. But it’s feeling really lopsided. I’m feeling like I’m wandering in a void and part of that is your fault.’
His mouth twisted into a wry smile. ‘Gee, thanks.’
‘You know what I mean,’ she said softly, and met his gaze directly over the table. She’d been trying not to think this for two weeks but it had been there, like it or not, and suddenly it had to be brought out into the open. ‘You feel it, too, don’t you? This thing…’
‘You mean I want to jump you,’ he said, and the ears on the other side of the bar almost stretched to where they were sitting. ‘Is that the thing you mean?’
‘I might not have put it quite like that.’ She hesitated and then she smiled, tension easing. ‘Do you? Want to jump me?’
‘Yes,’ he said promptly. ‘You want to jump me, too?’
‘Fergus…’
‘They taught me at medical school to say it like it is,’ he said, suddenly cheerful, attacking his steak again with zeal. ‘Never prevaricate. If you need to tell bad news then spit it out ’cos otherwise the patient will guess anyway and won’t thank you for quibbling.’
‘So is this bad news,’ she said, after a moment’s stunned pause. ‘That you want to jump me.’
‘Depends on lots of things,’ he told her.
‘Like?’
‘Like I’m not in the market for a permanent relationship.’
‘You think I am?’
‘I know you’re not,’ he said, his voice softening so that for the first time she was sure the audience on the other side of the bar couldn’t hear. ‘Relationships have been beaten out of you the hard way.’
‘So how about you?’ She placed her knife and fork together over at least half her steak, and at the door Dorothy sighed her disappointment.
Fergus devoured the last mouthful of his steak, hesitated and looked thoughtfully at Ginny’s unfinished plate. ‘Go right ahead,’ she told him, and Dorothy brightened again.
Fergus switched plates in one smooth slide and kept right on eating.
‘That doesn’t let you off answering the question,’ she said. ‘If I were to agree to being…jumped…’
‘Gee, that’s romantic.’
‘I’m not sure how else we can put it,’ she said. ‘A relationship with no involvement.’
‘Let’s not call it anything.’
‘Fine, but I need to know the background,’ she retorted. ‘You’ve been married?’
‘Yes, but-’
‘Who to?’
‘Katrina.’
‘Where is she now?’
‘She’s a professor of pathology at a very large hospital in-’
‘Katrina Newry,’ she interrupted, awed. ‘I’ve heard of her.’
‘The world’s heard of Katrina.’
‘So what went wrong?’
‘It’s-’
‘Only my business if you want to jump me,’ she agreed equitably. ‘Which you’ve just agreed you want to do. But I don’t go to bed with strangers.’
There was a hushed ripple from the other side of the bar and Ginny thought, Gee the acoustics in here are good. Or terrible, depending on what angle you wanted to look at them from.
‘Can this wait until I finish my steak?’ Fergus asked, and she knew he’d realised the same thing.
‘Fine. Only it’s my steak. I’ll have coffee while I wait.’
‘You don’t want pudding?’
‘After a steak that hangs over every side of the plate? You have to be kidding.’
‘I never kid.’
‘I don’t want pudding,’ she retorted. ‘I want history.’
‘You-’
‘Just shut up and eat,’ she told him kindly. ‘And then shut up and talk.’
‘Pardon?’
‘You know what I mean.’
So he finished his steak, they both had coffee and then they walked outside. Fergus had driven them there in his truck-cum-ambulance-it was parked in the car park-but the night was lovely and, of course, the pub had been built to face the lake. There was a track leading down to a spit of land where you could watch the moonlight glimmering on the lake below. Lovers’ walk, the locals called it, and Ginny knew every person in the pub would be watching as they turned away from the car park and headed down the track.
It seemed Fergus knew it, too. ‘You realise your reputation is shot,’ Fergus said morosely. ‘Even if we turn and head up to the car park now, they’ll assume we were just very, very fast.’
‘I’m not fussed about my reputation in this town,’ she retorted. ‘It’s the least of my worries.’
‘Because after Richard dies you’ll never come here again.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Life was pretty bleak here?’
‘What do you think?’
He nodded, then caught her hand as they made their way along the track. It was a simple gesture-boy-girl contact-but it felt good. Dangerously good, Ginny thought. Because she didn’t want a relationship and this was teetering remarkably close to feeling…
Close.
Dumb. She didn’t do close. Neither did he, apparently.
She needed to find out his reasons. Maybe they could reinforce hers.
‘You turn away from Madison like you’re in pain,’ she said softly into the stillness of the night, and she felt the sudden tension in the link between their fingers. ‘Why?’
‘I don’t-’
‘I’m right. There was a child, wasn’t there?’
‘I-’
‘Tell me about her.’ They’d reached the spit now. There was a seat-a vast gum tree that had fallen sixty years before. The locals had sheared off the rough bark so it lay now as a huge bench seat almost twenty feet long.
They were the only lov- The only people here tonight. Below lay the lake, and around them lay the entire valley, swathed in moonlight. Up above, there were still people in the pub but the acoustics of the valley meant that sound rose, didn’t fall. They were swathed in silence and in moonlight.
There was nothing to stop secrets being told here. Except reluctance.
Fergus pulled his hand away but it was Ginny who held on as they sat, sensing that if she was gaining strength from this contact then so would he.
‘A daughter?’ she asked softly, guessing, and he nodded.
‘Molly.’
‘Is she with her mother?’
‘She’s dead.’ It was said with flat vehemence, almost shocking in the beauty of the night.
‘Oh, Fergus…’
‘You’re sorry? Everyone’s sorry.’ He pulled his hand from hers, and raked long fingers through his hair in a gesture of weariness. ‘That was uncalled for,’ he told her. ‘I apologise. Of course you’re sorry and it’s not that I mind, but…’
‘I do know,’ she whispered. ‘When Toby died, and then Chris, and then my mum… I thought if anyone else said sorry… When did she die?’
‘Three months ago.’
‘So recently?’ She flinched. ‘Why? How?’
‘Molly had Down’s syndrome. She had a congenital heart defect. We knew from birth that she had a limited time.’
She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t.
‘You didn’t need to be loaded with that,’ he said at last, and she flinched.
‘I walk around in my own little ball of misery and don’t see others. I should see. I�
�m sorry I didn’t sense this before.’
‘You cope with what you need to cope with,’ he said gently. ‘It’s called triage. You only have so much capacity and that has to be channelled where it’s most needed. There’s no point being sad for me.’ He smiled then and rose, looking down at her with almost a challenge. ‘And it’s not all sad,’ he said. ‘Molly had a great life, even if it was short.’
‘And…your wife?’
His face stilled. Hardened. ‘Remember I told you it is possible to be detached? Katrina took one look at her baby and detached. She didn’t want to be a part of Molly’s life. She walked away. Cut ties. More fool her. If she knew what she missed out on…’
‘But it’s still awful,’ Ginny said hesitantly. ‘When you look at Madison…’
‘Then I see Molly,’ he agreed. ‘Or I see what Molly might have been, if there’d been just one more chromosome.’
‘And you’re in Cradle Lake because?’
‘The hospital where I worked… Molly attended day care there. We lived in a hospital apartment, and when I worked at weekends Molly was there with me. The nursing staff-everyone-loved her almost as much as I did. When Molly died, it was like the whole hospital went into mourning. In the end I needed to get away from everyone else’s grief as well as my own.’
‘So you’ve been flung straight into my tragedy.’
‘I’m not in anyone’s tragedy,’ he said roughly. ‘I’m on the outside, looking in. Which is how I’m facing the world from here on. Which is how I suggest you face it.’
‘But Madison…’
‘Ginny, there are wonderful potential parents out there who are aching to have a little girl like Madison. You know as well as I do how hard it is to find a child to adopt. You also know that you, as her guardian when Richard dies, will have a say in choosing those parents and you’ll have rights to access as she grows up. When Richard dies, you can step away. You know you can. You can live your own life.’
‘I don’t think-’
‘You can,’ he said, softly but strongly. He reached forward suddenly and seized her hands, tugging her to her feet. Standing so she was right before him and he was looking down at her in the moonlight. ‘You’re a woman of strength, Ginny Viental, and you can use your strength to keep yourself independent.’
‘Right. So standing here now, with you holding my hands, looking at me like this, that’d be independent.’
‘I can be independent and still want to kiss you.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Sure,’ he said, and if there was a trace of defiance in his tone, both of them ignored it.
Because…maybe both of them knew it was impossible. Or at the least risky.
But there was suddenly no way that kiss wasn’t going to happen.
He was so big, Ginny thought. So male. So…gentle? Gentle was the wrong word, but it was all she had. He stood looking down at her, smiling quizzically in the moonlight, and it was as if for the first time in her life someone knew her. Someone could see what was underneath the carefully cultivated layers.
But she didn’t feel exposed, because what lay under those layers, the fears and the void of loss, were the same for both of them. This man shared something she’d thought was hers alone.
Trust. The word entered her subconscious and stayed there.
She could trust him because he knew her. And that trust…
Its sweetness was almost a siren song. She gazed up into his face and he looked back and his eyes were gently asking if he could take the next step…
The next step in trust?
To kiss.
She smiled back at him, albeit a shaky smile, a smile full of uncertainty but a smile for all that.
He kissed her.
And her world changed, just like that.
Ginny had dated before. Of course she had. She was almost thirty and she was no innocent. She’d carefully held herself at arm’s length when it came to letting her heart get involved but she enjoyed a great social life.
But she’d never felt…
What?
She didn’t know. It was some indefinable factor, but it slammed into her with such force that it shook her to the core. The moment Fergus’s mouth met hers, it was different in a way she could never have imagined. Could never have dreamt of.
Her heart stopped beating.
What a dumb thought. Of course it didn’t stop. She was a sensible person. She was a doctor. This was the stuff of romance novels. A kiss changing things…
She made to pull back and he released her, his eyes searching her face in the moonlight.
‘You don’t want this?’
‘I… Yes, I do,’ she whispered. ‘Or I think I do. But I don’t do relationships.’ Her voice was almost fearful.
‘Of course you don’t. Wise girl. Neither do I. But kissing…’
‘You know as well as I do that this isn’t going to stop at kissing.’
He stilled. There was a moment’s pause-a regroup. This was the time for them both to pull away. But his hands were holding hers and the feel of his mouth was still on her lips. The taste of him. How could she pull away?
‘You’re a really desirable woman,’ he said, and there was a trace of uncertainty in his voice now. ‘I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you.’
‘But you don’t do relationships.’
‘No.’ Still there was that uncertainty and it scared her.
‘You promise,’ she said, and her voice was urgent.
The smile came back into his voice then-and into his eyes. They crinkled at the edges, the laughter lurking behind. A big, gentle man who took on the troubles of the world…
‘You’re saying we can make love as long as I agree to take off like a cad at first light.’
‘There’s a lot to be said for cads,’ she whispered, and managed to smile back.
‘No strings,’ he murmured.
‘N-no strings.’
‘You’re sure?’
She looked at his face in the moonlight and she felt fear. A sensible woman would retreat right now, she thought. But…
But she’d suddenly had it with being a sensible woman. Life was suddenly far too bleak. The future was suddenly far too scary. Heaven knew what would happen tomorrow-she certainly didn’t.
They’d both seen too much grey, she thought, and if she was suddenly defiant rather than sensible, who could blame her? The night was still and warm. This man was right before her. Back at home lay…
No. Don’t think of that. She could see from Fergus’s eyes that he was feeling exactly what she was. He needed this night and so did she.
And she’d take it. No matter how stupid. No matter how dumb.
‘I don’t suppose,’ she whispered, ‘that you have a condom at hand?’
There was a moment’s hush. The laughter faded and then sprang back again.
‘Can you doubt it? I’m a doctor. Up in my truck I have a doctor’s bag with almost a fully equipped pharmacy inside it. Ginny, are you sure?’
‘That means we have to go via your truck, right?’
‘Um…yeah.’ His hands pulled her into him, holding her close. ‘There’s probably all sorts of creepy-crawlies here anyway. Snakes and stuff.’
‘Probably,’ she agreed equitably. ‘And snakes-and stuff-are decidedly unsexy. I know a better place.’
‘There you are then,’ He grinned. ‘I have a condom, you have a place-what more do we want?’
‘Each other,’ she whispered. ‘For tonight. But just for tonight, Fergus.’
‘Just for tonight,’ he agreed. ‘No strings. But, Ginny…’
‘Mmm?’
‘For tonight I’m going to love you.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
GINNY had no intention of returning to the house. Neither did she want to go Fergus’s apartment, attached via a connecting door to the hospital, with all the connotations that held.
But down on the lake was the Viental boatshed. In her awful teenage years, Ginny had use
d it as a refuge. She’d gone there when life had simply overwhelmed her. It didn’t seem like home. It didn’t seem like any other place. It was simply the boatshed-her retreat from the world.
She directed Fergus. They drove in silence, with Fergus every now and then glancing across at her, as if reassuring himself that she was still there. Still real.
She sat with her hands clasped loosely on her knees and tried not to think the same of him. This was a moment out of time, she thought. One grasped moment of unreality, a gift not to be extended. A magic disappearing gift, here for tonight but gone in the morning. The contact with someone who shared…her heart?
Let’s not be fanciful, she told herself, but her lips curved in a tiny smile that wasn’t quite mockery. She looked sideways and found Fergus was smiling as well. An echo?
Just for tonight, she told herself. Just for tonight.
The world was holding its breath.
The boatshed was nestled in a patch of natural bushland just off the road. Fergus pulled the car onto the verge. He grabbed his jacket from over the seat and Ginny grinned.
‘You need a jacket?’
‘My phone’s in the pocket,’ he said apologetically, and her smile died.
‘Medical imperatives, huh?’
‘I did agree to take this job.’
‘Are we expecting medical imperatives?’
‘They’d have to be pretty damned imperative. You unlock the boatshed. I’ll get my bag out of the back.’
‘Because it contains medical imperatives?’
‘Absolutely.’
Was this wrong? Ginny hauled open the boatshed door, feeling like she should be feeling qualms. Or conscience. Or worry. Or something. She felt none of those things. She just felt…right.
By the time Fergus followed she had the doors open on the other side of the shed. This was a dry shed, with the boat having to be winched up a tracked ramp to be under cover. The boat the family had used had long been sold, but the shed itself was weatherproof and completely dry.
Ginny had always loved it. It had become a bolthole, when things had been too awful at home, and she’d squirrelled things away here. Blankets. Pillows. An old mattress, with a couple of broken springs. Her comforts were ancient but not so old they couldn’t be very useful now.
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