A Race for Love

by Jillian Dagg

  She forgot her headache for a few moments in the excitement of being in a new place. She watched the larger North American cars cruising down the street, and the taxicabs that she'd previously seen only in movies.

  She walked back to Richard's doctor. The woman at the reception desk smiled at her. "I'm waiting for Richard Wicklow," Tanya said.

  "He's in with the doctor now. Why don't you take a seat?"

  Tanya sat down on one of the vinyl chairs and, picking up a magazine, flicked through it unseeingly. She couldn't get it out of her mind that she'd made such a mess of her wedding night. Richard had wanted to make it a normal marriage and she hadn't been able to respond. She looked at the receptionist out of the corner of her eye. She was a little older than herself, blond and self-assured. Tanya's eyes flew to the gold band on her left hand.

  "How long have you been married?" she burst out suddenly. She had to know.

  The woman looked startled. "Just a year. Why?"

  "I just wondered."

  "How long have you been married'?" the woman now asked Tanya.

  "A day," Tanya told her shyly.

  "To Richard?"

  Tanya nodded.

  "Lucky you," the receptionist smiled, "he's cute."

  At that moment the door to the doctor's office opened and Richard came out with a tall dark haired man in a white lab coat. "Come and meet Doctor McLaughlin."

  "How do you do," Doctor McLaughlin smiled. He glanced at Richard, "I suppose I should offer congratulations."

  "Thank you," said Tanya. Richard moved around beside her and held her arm.

  The doctor seemed to be assessing her. Was he wondering if she could cope with the situation?

  "He's been very ill," the doctor was speaking to Tanya now, "but he's much better. I'm glad he has someone with him, since he insists on going up north to bury himself. At least, in an emergency, there will be someone to look after him!"

  Tanya nodded, wondering what kind of emergency could arise. Richard seemed to be able to cope with his injuries unless there was something he hadn't told her.

  "Come on, Tony, you'll scare her," Richard told the doctor.

  "You'll scare her more if something should happen and she is not forewarned." He turned to Tanya. "Richard is not really supposed to drive. I have a feeling you won't be able to stop him from doing so, but I'm glad he's not alone," he patted Tanya's shoulder, "and especially glad he has someone as pretty as you."

  "Richard smiled, "Well, we'd better go," he said, "I'll be down in two weeks."

  "You'd better be," Doctor McLaughlin told him goodnaturedly. "Be happy." He went back into his office.

  "I've put you down for a week from next Thursday," the receptionist told Richard.

  "Fine." Richard's hand slid down Tanya's arm and he took hold of her fingers, "Let's go."

  Richard took her for lunch. She didn't eat much of it and Richard commented as they left the restaurant.

  "I hope you feel up to the long trip home," he said.

  She looked up at him and noticed the lines of strain around his eyes. Was it his disability? Or was it due to nothing happening the night before? Did he regret marrying her?

  "I feel fine," she said.

  "You don't look fine." He opened the car door for her. "You look tired."

  "Possibly it's jet lag," she told him.

  "Possibly." He started the car. They drove through the city traffic.

  "I suppose you're glad to be home?" she said.

  "Why? Are you homesick already?"

  "I'm not homesick," she told him, "I've got nothing in England to be homesick for."

  "Then what is it?"

  "I didn't sleep."

  "I suppose that was my fault."

  "Why should it be your fault?" She looked at him.

  "I think I aroused your suppressed desires last night."

  "They're not suppressed."

  "Okay. But they seem to be. Either that, or it's your English reserve."

  "Probably it is my English reserve and the fact I really don't know you very well."

  "That's rapidly changing. Now just relax."

  The scenery flicked past as they drove. Farms and undulating fields; tinges of green spotting the dead, brown remains of winter.

  Some time later she asked, "Is it much farther?"

  "Another forty miles or so. I told you it's quite isolated.

  We'll be each other's company."

  She nodded, and looked out of the window into the bright sunshine.

  "Will it soon be spring'?" she asked, remembering England and the daffodils.

  "This is spring, then it'll be summer and you won't be able to breathe."

  "Does it get that hot?"

  "Yes," he said, "but we're lucky to have a lake on our doorstep."

  He'd said "we" as though he already thought of them as a couple. She was somehow glad of that.

  "Your doctor was nice," she said putting a hand on her neck to ease the tension.

  "He's pulled me through. Don't listen to his tales about me not being able to drive, he's just being over-cautious."

  "He is a doctor though, Richard."

  "I've got to live. Six months ago I was paralyzed in a hospital bed and thought I was dying. Today I feel comparatively healthy."

  "I understand."

  "I hope so." He sighed. "Tanya, you don't have to talk to me. I'm perfectly happy driving in silence and you look washed out. Why don't you try to sleep for a while?"

  "Maybe I will." She dutifully closed her eyes, but she could shut out neither the roar of the engine nor her awareness of Richard's presence.

  Richard's house stood up on a plateau of rock. It was built of cedar in a simple, modern style. Tanya somehow had known that it would be totally different from the ancient home that he'd lived in as a child in England. He parked the car on a flat piece of land at the bottom of a staircase hewn out of the rock, and sat back in his seat.

  "Well what do you think?"

  "It looks gorgeous," Tanya said, really enthusiastic, "I can't wait to get inside."

  "Then help me up the steps." Richard got out of the car and moved toward the bottom step. Tanya put his arm around her shoulders and he leaned on her as they made their way slowly up the steep steps. At the top, Richard let go of her. Breathing heavily, he wiped perspiration from his face with the back of his hand.

  "I just think I'm getting there and then it starts to backfire on me," he said, his lips tightening. He felt in his pockets for a set of keys and inserted one of them in the lock. She held on to him as they entered the house.

  A fireplace built of gray stone stretched toward the ceiling.

  The furniture was low, upholstered in black leather and corduroy. Light colored rugs covered the floors while the drapes across the picture window were cream to match a pile of cushions tossed casually in front of the fireplace.

  Tanya let out a gasp of pleasure. "It's beautiful."

  "It's your home," he said, looking pleased.

  "Thank you." She wound the leather strap of her bag around her fingers.

  "Do you want to see the rest?"

  She nodded and he took her to the kitchen. It was also finished in cedar, the appliances larger than anything she'd ever seen in England. There was a cedar breakfast nook by a window overlooking a shimmering blue lake.

  "There are three bedrooms," he said, "each one has its own bathroom. One's up the top of those stairs," he pointed to a staircase that looked more like a huge stepladder. "I used to use it, but I won't attempt to now. We'll use the two downstairs. You can choose which one you want." He took her through into the bedrooms, both large, with fitted cedar closets and the same natural wood furniture as in the living room. There were more rugs on the wooden floor and patchwork quilts over low Swedish-style beds.

  Thinking about their earlier conversation. "Aren't we sharing a room?"

  "Maybe later when I'm recovered. I have bad nights."

  "Okay." Whether it was the truth,
probably was, or an excuse, she didn't really mind having a reprieve. "Can I have the room overlooking the lake?"

  "Of course," he smiled, and took her into another smaller room. Here was a desk with a typewriter and a shelf for books. The window looked out onto a forest of green pines.

  "This is the room I use as a workroom. I write for car magazines."

  "It's perfect."

  "Then you like the house?" He sounded almost anxious.

  "I love it," she told him.

  "Do you think you'll be happy here?" There was still that uncertain note in his voice. Or had she imagined it?" Was she only projecting her own anxiety?

  "Happy?" she said. Happiness was an elusive word that she'd never really associated with herself.

  "Contented?" he corrected himself.

  "I think so."

  He came to stand beside her and lifted a shining strand of auburn hair. "Would you mind very much if I kissed you?"

  She lifted her face to meet his lips. It was a long and gentle kiss. She felt slightly dreamy when he moved away.

  "Let's see what we can do about getting the luggage in here and getting supper," he suggested matter-of-factly. She felt strangely deflated. After that kiss had she expected more?

  Between them, they managed to get the luggage up into the house. Richard drove to the store to get supplies while Tanya unpacked some of her things. He came back with two bags full of groceries. She ran down the steps to greet him and help carry them upstairs. He leaned heavily on her. He was a big man and it took all her strength to support him.

  It was dark outside by the time they had eaten. Richard built a log fire in the fireplace and settled down in front of it.

  Tanya curled up beside him.

  "It's lovely here," she told him.

  "Wait till the winter and the wind's howling outside and the snow piles high up at the door."

  "I'll go out and build snowmen," she smiled, "I can't wait."

  "If I'm not better then, you'll be doing all the shoveling," he warned her. "I'd wait till it happens before you become enthusiastic about it."

  "Richard," she asked, "what did Doctor McLaughlin mean when he said that something could happen to you?"

  Richard stared into the bright flames of the fire. "I wouldn't let it worry you."

  "I think I should know though, don't you?" She tried to make out his expression, but his face was in the shadow.

  He continued staring at the fire. "I told you I get bad headaches. Well, sometimes they're so severe that I pass out; that's all. That's why he didn't want me to come up here alone."

  He looked at her, "I'm over the worst. I'm not going to die on you."

  "I never even thought of you dying."

  He picked up a book, "Well I have." He opened the book and started to read it. Tanya could see the conversation was closed.

  At about ten o'clock Tanya was trying hard to keep her eyes open. She lay curled in the corner of one of the sofas.

  The heat from the fire had suffused her cheeks with heat and she felt pleasantly warm.

  At first, Richard's comments about dying had bothered her, but since he'd obviously come to grips with the situation, she must too. She yawned sleepily.

  "Why don't you go to bed?" Richard told her, looking up from his book.

  "Maybe I should."

  "I think so." He went back to his reading. She roused herself and made it to the door of the bedroom.

  "Good-night, Tanya. Get some sleep tonight eh?" His gray eyes met hers casually.

  So he had decided not to make love to her tonight. Was it a relief or a disappointment? She didn't know herself. Better not to examine it right now.

  "Good-night, Richard," she said, as she slipped into her room, "and thanks for everything—"

  "You're welcome." She had closed the door so sharply that the tone of his voice was muffled. Irony? Concern? Did it matter?

  Chapter Six

  The next morning Tanya got up early. Dressed in jeans and a warm sweater, she ran down the rocky steps toward the lake. The water lapped gently against the dock. She saw a glazed whiteness of ice out near the center of the lake and shivered. A cool breeze rustled the pine trees and slid through her hair. She took a deep breath of the clear, crystal air and hugged her arm around herself. She felt good. She'd slept well and there was a bubbling insistence inside her this morning to explore her new surroundings. She was sorry that Richard couldn't run down to the lake edge with her.

  He was up when she returned to the house. Dressed in jeans and a navy sweater, he was cooking bacon and eggs.

  "Morning," she said, admiring the glint of his hair in the bright, morning sun.

  "Good morning. Did you have a good sleep?"

  "Wonderful, thanks. It must be the air. It's gorgeous here."

  "I'm glad you like it. It's my paradise."

  "Oh I can see why. Don't you want me to do the cooking?"

  He grinned. "No, you just sit down and be waited on for a few days, then I'll hand the kitchen over to you."

  "Thanks," she said and perched on one of the stools by the breakfast nook. How many women had he said that to? Had they shared his bed. she wondered....

  "Do you ever get lonely living alone?" she asked, before she could stop herself.

  "No." He turned the bacon over, "Do you think you'll get lonely up here?"

  "I've always been alone," she said.

  "I suppose you have," he agreed.

  "Besides we have each other."

  He put the bacon on a plate and broke eggs into the frying pan, "I suppose we do." He raised his eyebrow at her as he put the plate of bacon on the counter. "There are knives and forks in that drawer beside you."

  She got out the cutlery and he handed her a plate with an egg on it. He told her to add as much bacon as she wanted, while he made the toast.

  "It's good to be home," he said after he'd eaten and she was finishing off a slice of toast and marmalade. He leaned on his elbows. "If you find me rather exasperating at times, it's because I'm used to being a bachelor."

  "Didn't you ever bring any women here?" she asked boldly.

  His expression hardened slightly. "Of course," he said, and reached for her hand across the breakfast counter. "Look.

  There was a girl, but it's over now. She didn't care for a sick boyfriend. A hospital bed was not what she had in mind."

  "You mean she left you when you were ill?"

  He nodded. "Don't look so shocked. People can't always take human frailty."

  "But that's terrible."

  "You think she should have stayed around and looked after me?"

  "Of course. If she loved you..."

  He shrugged. "Love comes in different strengths."

  "Did you love her?"

  "I suppose I must have," he said, "when she first left, I thought I'd go crazy."

  Tanya touched his arm and he covered her hand with his own. "Gonna take your old man down to the lake this morning?" he asked.

  Richard leaned on Tanya as they walked down the rocky incline. When they reached the bottom, Tanya's heart was pumping so fast she thought she was going to be the one to pass out.

  They sat together on a flat rock by the water's edge.

  Tanya put her head down slightly to regain her breath. When she looked up, Richard gave her a wry glance.

  She smiled shakily. "You're heavy."

  "Sorry," he shook his head. "They wanted to get me on crutches but I refused. Maybe I should have taken them."

  "They wouldn't do you much good out here." Tanya glanced around at the rocky landscape.

  "True."

  "Do you know how much longer it'll take?" She indicated his leg which was stretched out in front of him.

  "If I get a lot of rest and exercise regularly, it shouldn't be too long." He gazed out across the lake. "There's more chance for the rest out here. I had an apartment in New York before the accident. It was more convenient, but nowhere like this.

  I'm away a lot, but
between racing seasons this is a place to escape to. At least it was." His light tone covered the seriousness. He stood up awkwardly as though the idea of his disability needed motion to distill it. "Race you to the top," he said to Tanya.