Saving Nathaniel

by Jillian Brookes-Ward

  'Don't ask.' He rubbed his brow with his fingertips and closed his eyes briefly. For a moment, he looked as if he might be sick again.

  'I've seen some sights in my time, Nat, but you really do take the cake.' He looked at her with bleary, bloodshot eyes.

  'So, do you want to tell me what brought this on?'

  He sipped at the hot drink and swallowed the tablets. 'Nothing.'

  'Don't treat me like an idiot, Nat, something did, something serious. So tell me.'

  He didn't say anything, but stared into his coffee cup, still a little disorientated.

  'You don't even remember calling me, do you?' she said.

  He shook his head carefully, afraid if he moved it too quickly, it might part company with his neck and float off like a balloon. 'Not really,' he said. 'It was you who told me to fuck off and leave you alone wasn't it?'

  'I'm afraid so, and you're lucky it was me who answered. Rebecca may not have been that restrained.'

  'You shouldn't swear. It's not ladylike.'

  'And you shouldn't make nuisance phone calls even if you are leathered. I nearly called the police. Why did you call me, Nat?'

  'I don't know.'

  She reached out for his hand. 'Why won't you tell me what's wrong? Didn't I promise I would always help if I could?'

  Moments passed before he took in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. 'It's the anniversary of Joanna's death today,' he said. 'And my son; his birthday…and his death day. He would have been five…ready to start school…'

  Megan felt tightness in her chest and covered her mouth with her hand. 'Oh, Nat, I had no idea. I'm so sorry.'

  She looked on in dismay as large wet orbs formed in his eyes and spilled out, splashing onto the tabletop. He clamped a hand over his eyes as if to hide himself and his shoulders slumped and heaved. His hold on her hand tightened so much she heard her knuckles crack.

  His agony ripped at her and she went to him. As soon as she put her hand to his shoulder, he fell onto her, folding his arms around her and nestling his head against her breast. 'I miss her so much,' he murmured, his voice thick and choked. 'I just want her back. I want to hold her again. I want to kiss her. I want...her.'

  'I know you do. I know.' She cradled his head with one hand and ran the other up and down his back in gentle, comforting strokes. His body shuddered under her hands. She kissed his hair and rested her cheek against his head - offering comfort was the only thing she could do for him.

  When he had nothing left and the tears stopped, he sat up and wiped his puffy, red eyes with his hands. She rested her hand lightly against his cheek and smiled tenderly at him. He laid his own hand over it. 'Will you stay with me, Meg?' he sniffed. 'I don't want to be on my own.'

  'Of course I will. You don't need to ask.'

  When he seemed more composed and steadier on his feet, she suggested he might go and wash his face and change his clothes to help him sober up and feel better.

  He was gone for a good while, eventually returning to the kitchen having put on a clean, grey shirt, and jeans. He was still barefoot and hadn't shaved, but she could smell toothpaste and mouthwash. He had made an effort, and soap and deodorant certainly smelled better than stale sweat and booze. His eyes though were still red and slightly swollen.

  Whilst he had been away, she had cleaned away the vomit from the wastebasket. She had also tried to ring Rebecca to let her know where she was, and that she might be late home, but there had been no answer.

  She made sandwiches and tea for them both, and they returned to the study where they continued their discourse.

  Encouraged by Megan, Nat talked more about his life with Joanna and the plans they had had for their son, and he managed it without breaking down again. He even revealed the names they had been thinking of for their son...it had come to a toss up between Simon and Christopher.'

  'Christopher is nice,' she said.

  'I thought so, too. I would have called him Kit.'

  She took a bite of her sandwich and chewed on it thoughtfully. 'Every year since it happened, you've had to go through this day. Why is it different this time?'

  'I get too plastered to notice,' he said. 'I wake up the next day, and it's over.'

  'You can't go on doing that. How are you ever going to cope with it if you don't face it?'

  'It worked okay so far.'

  'But it's not a solution.'

  'I know. But it's the best I can come up with right now.'

  'And what happened this time?'

  'The bottle ran out…and someone woke me up.' He rubbed his face where she had slapped him.

  'I'm sorry about that. You frightened me, I thought you were dead.'

  'It might be best I were,' he said, idly.

  Megan almost choked on her tea. 'Don't you say that, ever!'

  'Why not, no one would miss me?'

  'Don't ever say it, Nat. Don't even think about it. Don't you dare!'

  'Maybe that would be the 'solution'.'

  At that she sprang to her feet. 'Where are you going?' he said, looking up at her.

  'I won't stay here and listen to you talk like that, Nat. I just will not.'

  He grabbed at her wrist. 'No, Meg, please don't go. I'm sorry; it was a thoughtless thing to say. I didn't mean anything by it. Sit down.'

  She sat and wiped her hands on her napkin. 'For what it's worth, I'd miss you.'

  'No you wouldn't.

  'I would. I'd miss you a lot.'

  'You don't fool me, Just Megan. I know what you're trying to do. You think you can say exactly what I want to hear and it will make everything all right. I know. You've done it before.'

  'You can't blame me for trying.'

  'So it wasn't true. You wouldn't miss me at all.'

  'Of course I would.'

  'Then tell me why. Go on, convince me…give me one really good reason.'

  Put on the spot, she flushed. What could she say - I love you and if you weren't here there would be this massive hole in my life that nothing and no-one could ever fill?

  'I don't know!' she said. 'Probably because you're an endless source of irritation, like fleas on a dog…and I'd miss having to scratch.'

  'Fleas?' he asked, quizzically.

  '…or a blister, like the ones you get on the back of your heel that make every step agony… when it you stop walking, the pain goes away and you miss it.'

  He looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. 'Okaaaayy,' he said, humouring her. 'Well, that's…that's good to know…I think.'

  'It's the best I can do at short notice. Shut up, and eat.'

  'Yes, ma'am.'

  He flicked the channels on the TV as he ate his supper. He found the news and then the replays of the day's football matches. They watched together in companionable silence, punctuated by his outbursts of, 'Open your eyes ref!' and, 'That was never offside!'

  Megan's eyes were on him more than they were on the TV and the anxiety which had plagued her all evening, faded away as the alcohol's effects wore off. She marvelled at his capacity to sober up almost as easily as he could get leglessly inebriated, although he would probably suffer for it later when the aspirins wore off.

  She covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a yawn brought about by a combination of tiredness and boredom. The clock on the mantle chimed. She counted…twelve. Midnight.

  She put a hand on Nat's arm. 'It's Sunday, Nat.'

  He looked at the clock for confirmation. 'Aye, so it is.'

  'And you're safe and sound and almost sober.'

  'With a little help from you.'

  'I didn't do anything.'

  'Just being here helped.'

  'You would have been fine.'

  'Maybe…maybe not.'

  'Don't start getting maudlin again. You were doing so well.'

  'I'm sorry.' He rubbed small circles at his temples with his fingertips. 'I think the hangover's kicking in.'

  'Then go to bed and sleep it off.' She stood up and began to pace around the r
oom, her eyes to the floor.

  'What are you doing?' he asked.

  'Looking for my shoes.'

  'Why?'

  'I'm going home so you can go to bed.'

  He sprang to his feet. 'Now?'

  'Yes…I have to. No-one knows where I am, you're tired and you don't need me any more.' She found a shoe, and held it up with a triumphant, 'A-ha'.

  'You can't go now,' he said. 'It's too late. It's not safe to be out on your own at this time of night.'

  'I can take care of myself and it's not far.' On her hands and knees, she searched fruitlessly under the desk.

  'I'm sure you can, but I don't want to risk it. You should stay here.'

  'I can't do that, Nat.' She searched behind the cushion in the chair.

  'Yes you can. Use the guest room again.'

  'I can't.'

  'Why not?'

  'Because it wouldn't be …appropriate.'

  'You can be home in the morning before anyone gets up. They'll be none the wiser.'

  Megan thought there was a suggestion of desperation creeping into his voice and wondered if he might be afraid to be left alone.

  'Where the hell is my other shoe?' she demanded, exasperated.

  He put his hands firmly on her shoulders. 'Stay here. Find it in the morning.'

  Without her shoes, she couldn't go anywhere. She couldn't drive in her bare feet. She sighed her submission. 'Okay.'

  Nat's relief was tangible. 'Sensible decision.'

  'Will you be alright if I go up now?' she asked. 'I've been up since six this morning, had a pretty traumatic afternoon and now, quite frankly, I'm running on empty.'

  'I understand completely. I'm ready to turn in myself.'

  'Yes. You should. Try to get some sleep because no doubt you'll have a head on you in the morning.'

  'I'll be okay. Go to bed.'

  She gave him a peck on his cheek and a brief hug. 'Goodnight, Nat. Sleep well.'

  ''Night, Meg.'

  On her way upstairs, she stopped by the kitchen and retrieved her bag with the gun cabinet keys still safely in it.

  In the study, Nat fished her lost shoe out from under his chair.

  She had nothing with her except the usual contents of her handbag - hand cream, tissues, and a small bottle of moisturiser. She knew there would be a bathrobe hanging in the closet, she had seen it the last time she used the room. Somebody had 'inadvertently' packed it when they had last visited The Three Corners hotel.

  She undressed, washed herself in the en suite basin and slipped warm and naked into the robe.

  Reaching into her bag to find her comb, her fingers closed around the little metal key box. She took it out and held it in her hand.

  Nat appeared to have been all right when she had left him, but there was still the nagging doubt at the back of her mind that things could change. If he came looking for the keys then she would know she had been right to take them. If he wanted them back tonight, he would have to kill her first, because she would not give them up without a fight.

  She thought back to the incident with Phil McNeil and how, if he had been allowed to, Nat would have beaten the man senseless, or worse. He had been stone cold sober then. If he were desperate enough, would he do the same to her?

  She opened the window a crack to let in cool night air, and lay down on the bed to wait for sleep which, despite her exhaustion, she was sure would not come.

  Chapter 21

  She had just fallen into a comfortable doze when there came a light, hesitant tapping on her door. She opened it a crack and peered through.

  'Nat…?'

  He knows I have his keys…he's come for them.

  'I'm sorry…I'm disturbing you,' he said, 'I just thought you might need this.' He held out a toothbrush. 'It's new.'

  Inwardly breathing a sigh of relief, she opened the door wider, not wanting to give the impression of having anything to hide. 'And essential, thank you.' She took the toothbrush from him and put it in her pocket.

  Nat indicated the illicit robe. 'I see you found something to wear.'

  'Yes. It's lovely.' She shrugged it closer to emphasise its comfort.

  'Well, so long as you are comfortable.'

  'Perfectly, thank you.'

  They stood and looked at each other in silence for a moment. Megan now felt very much awake, with a heart hammering so hard behind her ribcage, she was sure he could hear it.

  He gave her a wistful smile. 'Goodnight then, Meg, and thanks, for staying with me. I really appreciate it.'

  He was about to turn away and leave her, when she took hold of the sleeve of his shirt. 'You don't have to go,' she said, tugging at it, forcing him to move closer to her. 'You really don't.'

  Very gently, she cradled his careworn face with warm, soft hands, and kissed him.

  He was astonished. It was the last thing he was expecting her to do, and she took away not only his breath, but his ability to move.

  Her hands were gentle against his face, and her lips soft and moist. The kiss was deep and fulfilling and he closed his eyes, yielding to it. When he opened them again he was inside her bedroom. She had led him in there without his even realising it.

  She kissed him again, and one by one, began undoing the buttons of his shirt.

  He swallowed nervously. 'What…what are you d…doing?'

  She continued to open the buttons. 'If I don't do this…' She opened his shirt fully and exposed his bare torso. '…then I can't do this…'

  She laid her lips onto the skin of his chest. It tickled and made him gasp. She moved slightly and did it again.

  At the first touch of her against him, his shock dissipated and he regained full use of his limbs. He put his hands to her head, burying his fingers in the softness of her hair. He touched it with his nose and inhaled the clean, fresh smell of her shampoo. The scent made him realise - he had never touched Megan properly. They had hugged, platonically; they had held hands for comfort and friendship, but he had never really touched her. He had never before run his fingers through her hair. He had never stroked her skin, and apart from the one occasion of which he was truly ashamed, he had never kissed her. Not like this…not like now.

  Tilting her head, he clasped her face firmly, pardoned himself for his past sin and kissed her hard on her mouth. She did not reject him this time; instead, she responded immediately, returning the kiss with equal force.

  As he kissed down her neck and throat, he could feel her hands roving over his chest, around to his back and then down to the waist of his jeans, where she began to disengage the button and carefully unzip the fly. Both her hands rested on his hips inside the waistband of his pants.

  He released her from the embrace and she pulled his shirt free. She ran her hands down his clothed arms, pausing when she reached the fastened cuff. Raising his hand to her lips, she kissed the palm, undid the button and parted the stiff fabric. He relished the new and sensual thrill of having the inside of his wrists kissed as she removed his shirt.

  She presented herself to him like a gift, wrapped in soft, white toweling tied loosely at the waist. He pulled at the belt of her gown, un-teased it and let it fall open, revealing her naked body beneath. He slipped the material from her shoulders until it dropped to the ground to puddle at her feet.

  In the subtle lamplight, her eyes were dark and deep, her pupils completely dilated and her skin looked pale and flawless. Under his hands, it felt silky and warm. He nuzzled deep into the crook of her neck with his bristled cheek, inhaling the scent of her soap and rose-scented moisturiser.

  He brushed over her lips with his fingertips, feeling the breath of her sigh. She took hold of his hand, closed her eyes and kissed the tip of each of his fingers in turn. He pulled her against him and kissed her hard again, conscious now of his growing erection pressing against her.

  Gently, but firmly, he guided her to the waiting bed. He threw back the duvet and lifted her onto the soft cotton sheet, the muscles in his arms straining against he
r weight.

  He lay down beside her and kissed her with an intensity that threatened to drown her. While he was doing so, she was aware of him removing his pants.

  He ran his hands, tongue and lips over every inch of her skin, making a mental map of her – her shape, her taste, her smell. He moulded her breasts with his hands and sucked at her nipples making them stand hard and proud. When his exploring fingers touched a nerve in her back, electric-type shocks ran up and down her spine causing her to involuntarily arch and gasp out a small cry. Every move, every sound she made aroused him further.

  With the lightness of a feather, his lips brushed the pale skin of her stomach, and beneath them, he felt her muscles tighten. She began to tremble. He ran first his finger, and then his tongue, along the silver scar reaching almost from one hip to the other, and where his scratchy, unshaven skin rubbed against them, her thighs and stomach tingled and burned.

  Her soft breathing became fast shuddering gasps as his hand caressed its way over her belly, over her thighs and between her legs. When he found his way to her clitoris, it was ready and waiting for him, swollen in its own mini erection. She opened her legs wider and, accepting the invitation, he massaged her gently with his fingers. She tilted her hips and he slid his fingers inside her, massaging her clitoris with his thumb. She groaned and gyrated herself slowly. Her mounting arousal fuelled his even further.

  'Oh, Meg…I want you,' he murmured, sucking at her earlobe.

  'I'm here,' she whispered. 'I'm here for you…I'm only for you.'

  They rolled over and she was on him. She kissed him, exploring his mouth with her tongue. Her lips touched their way down his neck to his throat, feeling his pulse. He too was breathing harder now, and each breath released a small groan of pleasure.

  Her hands and lips played on him, up and down, stroking and caressing a body that, for a man of his age, was more than acceptable. He carried very little spare fat and she could feel his muscles under still taut skin. The hair on his chest tickled her face and she could hear his heart beating through his chest wall, its speed indicating his mounting excitement.

  She kissed down his ribs and onto his stomach and found a sensitive spot that caused him to shiver. He gasped loudly and his skin immediately prickled with goose-flesh.