by Fiona Miers
“Perfect!”
She hung up, smiling. Finally, a man who would understand the long hours she kept and her passion for her work.
Her night, unfortunately, didn’t work out the way she’d planned.
At six o’clock she received a phone call that her mother had been hospitalized and she dropped everything to run to her side.
Her work granted her a few days off and she rang Nathan to apologize as she was packing up.
“I am so sorry to cancel on you, but I have to go. Mum’s in the hospital and I’ll need to stay with her for a few days.”
“Ah, all right. Where does she live?”
“About four hours’ drive north, a small town near Swan Hill. I really have to run, but call me if you can. I’ll have my mobile phone with me.”
“No. I’ll let you concentrate. Call me when you get back.”
“All right, and again, I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be. These things happen.”
They hung up and Emily could not shake the strongest feeling that something was wrong. She hoped it wasn’t her mum.
She drove straight to Swan Hill Hospital, exhausted but safe as she pulled into the car park close to 10 p.m.
They had a small emergency ward and she entered through that door.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes. I’ve driven up from Melbourne to see my mother. She was brought into the Emergency Room this afternoon.”
“Visiting hours aren’t open until ten o’clock in the morning now.”
She stared at the woman for a moment and took a deep breath. “I have driven four hours to check on how my mother is doing. I can go back to her house tonight, but I need to know if she is okay. Will you please check with someone so that I can have an update on her status?”
The snotty receptionist stood up and stuck out her huge breasts.
“And do you have sufficient evidence that you are indeed related to the patient?”
Emily placed the paperwork she always carried in her car on the bench.
“My birth certificate, copies of my driver’s license and Medicare card. A copy of my mother's enduring medical power of attorney.”
The receptionist snorted, took the file and disappeared for a few minutes.
Emily jumped up and down on the spot for a moment, encouraging the blood to pump through her body. She was so mentally wired still, but her body was exhausted. She hated sitting in a car for so long. One of the main reasons she didn’t visit her mum as often as she should.
A male doctor returned with the nurse.
“Emily Sanders?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“You mother was admitted today with some chest pain and uncomfortable breathing. We’ve done some blood tests, a chest x-ray and monitored her heart, but everything seems to be fine.”
“What was it then?”
“Does she suffer from anxiety at all? It’s possible she had some sort of attack and couldn’t stop it before it spiraled out of control.”
“Yes, she definitely does. Well, when can I take her home?”
“We’ll keep her overnight just to be certain, but you should be able to take her home tomorrow.”
Relief swam through Emily, the worries that had plagued her the whole drive up now being put to rest.
“Thank you.”
She collected her paperwork and headed back to her mum's house, another half an hour driving. She set herself up in the small guest bedroom and passed an uncomfortable night’s sleep.
She messaged Nate to say goodnight, but he didn’t respond.
****
The next day she took her mother home, cleaned her house, did some shopping for her and talked until she couldn’t talk anymore. After they’d had dinner together, Emily got in her car and drove the four hours back home.
She was so relieved that her mother was all right, she could actually feel the tension in her muscles starting to slip away, giving her no anchor to hold onto.
When she arrived home around midnight, her exhaustion was such a complete thing that she crawled into bed and didn’t surface for a full thirteen hours.
When she awoke, her head still ached and her belly burned with hunger. It was Saturday, but she couldn’t possibly go into Eleanor’s House today. She sent a quick message off to Cindy and promised to pop in tomorrow, once she’d rested. For herself, she needed to find out what was going on with Nate.
He hadn’t responded to any of the three messages she’d sent him, and although she was dying to call him, she wasn’t sure of the reception she would get.
Had running off to deal with her mother caused a flashback for him? Did he even have any family anymore?
Their relationship was still so new, and yet she could feel the potential for something great. If only he’d loosen the reins on whatever he was holding onto.
She blinked several times, accustoming them to the daylight streaming in through her curtains.
Breakfast and then Nate.
She made herself a smoothie and ate some fruit, the light meal exactly what she needed after two days of takeaway in a car.
When the clock struck ten she picked up her phone and rung Nate, her breath shuddering in her throat as she waited for him to pick up.
“Hey, Emily. How was your trip?”
His voice sounded stilted and a bit too professional considering the nights they’d shared, but she’d go along with it for the minute.
“Not too bad. Mum’s heaps better, so I drove home late last night.”
“You’re back in Melbourne already?”
“Yep. I was hoping I could see you today and call in that raincheck from the other night. Do you want to come over and do dinner and a movie?”
The silence stretched for a moment. “I have dinner plans, unfortunately. Work related.”
“Oh.” The fact that he qualified dinner as work made her feel a little better, but she was still unsure on the sense of distance.
“You could come over later? I’ll be home about ten.”
“That would be great, Nate.”
“See you then.”
Emily hung up the phone with a sense of dread in her belly and a prickle of fear along her spine. Had he replaced whatever they’d started in the thirty-six hours she’d been unavailable?
She shook herself. She bloody hoped not.
It seemed silly to be so scared of losing what they’d just started to build. They hadn’t been together long or shared enough. They hadn’t even had the conversation of whether they were together or not. But Nathan Johnson was special, too special to step away from now.
Chapter Eleven.
She arrived at his apartment not long after ten, her belly full of pizza and her body feeling quite rested after another sleep.
She stepped up to the door and knocked. It opened within only a few seconds.
“Hey, Emmy.” His voice sounded exhausted as he greeted her with a soft smile, wearing only jeans and a white singlet.
Her mouth went dry and she swallowed.
He was heart-wrenchingly beautiful when he looked this vulnerable. So normal, without his armor of sophistication.
She stepped in and closed the door, following him into the kitchen where the wine was already out. One glass and a fresh bottle of red, his glass of water nearby.
“Bad meeting?”
He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “Ah, yeah. It wasn’t exactly a work meeting. I know I said it was, but it was actually dinner with my uncle. Sorry.”
She’d known a Saturday night dinner wouldn’t be work, but didn’t make a big deal out of the lie—obviously, he hadn’t had a good night.
“Do you want a glass? You look like you could use a drink.”
He shook his head hard. “No, thanks. But you go right ahead.”
She smiled at him but didn’t touch the alcohol. “Thanks. I’m fine.”
Emily had a little look around the room as the conversation halted. All of his furniture
and appliances were new and obviously expensive. The lack of personal touches was startling. His apartment was so very different than her own home.
Her eyes fixed on something strange in his pristine kitchen. She drifted over to it and lifted up the small cardboard box, her lips curving into a smile.
“You have to tell me. Why the obsession with the safety pins?”
Nathan shrugged, walking over and taking the box gently from her hands and sliding it back into its place as though it were a prized ornament that shouldn’t be moved. Which was very strange. It had to be the cheapest thing in the whole apartment. “My mum used to give them to me.”
Emily’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t like the sound of that, but she needed to know the answer or her subconscious would torture her for days on what the reasons might be “Why? When?”
Again, that small shrug. “Anytime, really. But especially when she knew my father had gone out drinking.”
The words “and would come back and beat the shit out of her” hung in the air. Emily cleared her throat and took a step closer to him.
“Bit of a dangerous thing to give to a child.”
She tried for a light tone but her voice came out a little high and squeaky.
“Yes and no. I was eight and I learned to open them and pin them to my shorts or my top in rows. Great for fine motor control.”
As though he wanted to demonstrate, he took two pins out of the box, one in each hand and opened them simultaneously.
“Wow, impressive.”
He grinned and put them back.
Emily closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again with a determination to work out what the answer actually was. She dove straight into the next part of the conversation, fully aware that she was pushing his boundaries and may pay for it.
“So… you carry them around because they make you feel safe?”
He frowned a little as he continued staring at the carpet. “It’s better than most habits. Smoking, drinking.”
She needed to take a deep breath but was scared of what that would do to the still, warm atmosphere in the room. He hadn’t addressed the “safe” comment, but he didn’t deny it either.
And why else would he keep one with him all the time?
“Since we’re digging deep here, is there a story behind the fact you don’t drink?”
Nate looked at her and opened his mouth, Emily assumed it was to refute the fact that he never drank alcohol. She raised one eyebrow and he shut his mouth again. “You know I have an eye for details, Nate.”
He let out a huffy laugh. “Bloody solicitor…yeah, well. My father was an alcoholic. Enough said.”
She knew there was more to the story than that and it was time to see what was behind door number two.
“Was that why he used to beat your mother, because he was always drunk?”
Nate’s eyes zeroed in on hers. “Yeah, why?”
She shrugged and kept moving around the room, not always looking at him, but running her fingers along the edges of the furniture.
“I’m wondering why you restrict your world so much. You told me you never date women like me because you’d didn’t think we’re for real, that we’re too much work, but what you mean is we need a lot of love, right?”
She kept her tone bright and looked back to see his quick nod as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wooden desk.
“And loving someone is a problem for you, Nate?”
“I don’t think so, but I’ve never really loved anyone before. Not in the romantic way you’re talking about.”
She didn’t believe that. He didn’t have the aura of someone who didn’t care, who couldn’t love. He had the feel of a person who’d loved, and lost. Lost big.
“You’re kidding me? Never? Not even at high school or University? When you’re young and fall so easily?”
He glanced away and she knew she’d hit a nerve. She didn’t really want to know about the other women or woman who Nate had loved. But she knew it was essential to understanding him.
“Nate, you can tell me. Please, it's okay.”
He took a deep breath, leaned back against one of the stone benchtops and crossed his arms over his chest. “I did have a proper girlfriend once, and she liked to push all my buttons. No idea why. She could be so sweet, so kind, but then she’d get drunk and flirt with guys to make me jealous. The normal stupid things bitches do.”
Emily swallowed hard as Nate’s tone changed to one of callousness, but then, it was probably the best defense mechanism he had.
“Yeah, some women are pretty horrible. What happened to her?”
“We broke up.”
“How come?”
“Because I almost hit her.”
His tone, so cold and angry, hit her harder than his actual words.
“What?”
“What do you mean, what? I got drunk and she was being a horrible bitch. So I lifted my hand to hit her. We broke up then and there and I didn’t really see her again.”
Emily’s head was spinning and all the strands of information weren’t making total sense. Repeating things was the best way for her to understand what was going on. What was the core issue? He’d loved someone who made him feel like his father?
Oh shit, that would have been terrible. No wonder he’d practically sworn off women since.
“So, the one woman who you connected with, loved as much as one can love at age twenty-one, or whatever age you were, brought out a side of you that you didn’t like, so you decided not to ever let anyone that close again?”
Nathan glared at her, not speaking, his nostrils flaring.
She probed a little deeper. “Does that sound right? Or am I misinterpreting what you’re saying.”
“You don’t get it.”
She kept her voice calm. She had to stay calm. “Then please explain it to me.”
“She made me feel like my father, the man I hate most in this world. Why would I be with someone who brought that out in me?”
She’d been right. And what a terrible thing to face as a young man who’d lost his mother.
Yes, it all made sense, but his intimacy issues had to stem from somewhere. She’d always assumed it was because of his parents’ abusive marriage.
“You wouldn’t. No one would want to be with her. But you know you’re not your father, don’t you?”
“Of course, I do. I’m not my father, and it wasn’t all her fault, either. I should never have been anywhere near that.”
His voice had changed even more now. The syllables coming out like a growled mess.
She nodded and swallowed hard. She didn’t know enough about the girlfriend to comment, but his defense of her meant that despite his words, he lay most of the blame on his own shoulders.
She didn’t have much counselling experience and was now rethinking her wisdom on taking on this topic single-handedly.
“Of course, you’re not. You’re an incredible man, Nate. I admire you more than anyone in the world.”
He rolled his eyes a little so she stepped closer to touch him. They’d gone past words now. She wanted to show him how much she trusted him, cared for him. “Don’t you believe me?”
“I’m not that impressive, Emmy. I make decent money and I built Eleanor’s House. No biggie compared to so many other self-made billionaires and philanthropists in this world.”
She wound her arms around his waist and pressed her thighs against his. He didn’t move into her contact, but he didn’t push her away either. Encouraged, she pressed on.
“True, but I’m allowed to be a bit biased here. You didn’t just build an incredible life from nothing. You survived a parent’s death, an abusive environment, and thrived. There aren’t too many self-made billionaires with your past, are there?”
A reluctant smile tugged up his lips.
“I suppose not, but still.”
“Yeah, but still. I adore you and I know you are a good man, all the
way down to your core.”
She put both hands over his heart and pressed down to illustrate her point.
He grimaced and pulled away so that she had to step back and he could walk across the room.
“I might not be, Emmy. I might be capable of all the horrible things my father did. I’ll never know unless I marry someone and let control go, drink maybe. I don’t think I want to know.”
“I don’t think you are capable of being like your father. I know everyone is technically capable of anything in the wrong situation, the wrong environment. You got given lumps of coal for your life Nate, and you turned them into diamonds. I don’t believe you would ever hurt me.”
He shook his head at her, his eyes shining suspiciously. “I don’t know why you trust me so much when I don’t even trust myself.”
“Maybe because I’ve seen all the good things you’ve done, and you focus on the bad? Maybe because I’m intuitive and trust my feelings. As I’ve said to you, only time is going to prove to you that I won’t turn into a bitch, and I believe time is the only thing that will prove to you that you can love someone and still be the good person you work so hard on being.”
Nathan ran a hand through his hair and let his head hang forward.
Emily’s heart squeezed in her chest, robbing her of breath. She wanted to call out and bring back in the questions that were obviously tormenting him, but they needed to get to the bottom of this.
“My mother’s death left a gaping hole in my heart, Emmy. I’m not sure you’re right about me. I might not ever be what you need.”
That was a change of conversation, but she’d go with it.
“One problem at a time. Has helping people filled the huge hole?”
“What do you mean?”
Emily swallowed hard and licked her dry lips. “It’s a simple enough question, Nate. Do you feel fulfilled? Happy? Content? After all, you have single-handedly built Eleanor’s House and maintained its staff and lodgings. You have given safety and support to more than ten thousand women and their children.”
Nate’s eyes widened. “That many already?”
“Didn’t you listen at the anniversary?”
He shrugged, waving off her point with a flick of his hand.