by Wayne Jordan
“I guess this is the perfect time to say goodbye. I have to get back to work and I’m sure Troy does too. You need to get some rest.”
Troy glanced at his watch. “That’s true. It’s soon time for my rounds. I have a few patients to check on.”
“It’s great that you followed your dream,” Rachel observed. “That is what you always wanted.”
“Most of us did get to do what we wanted. Thought Shayne wanted to be an engineer, but at least he’s happy running the most successful sugar plantation on the island.”
“Yeah, I’m happy, but no more talking, Rachel. We’re going to leave you and let you have some rest.” He bent to kiss her on her forehead. Troy did the same.
“Of course, since I work here, I’ll try to check in on you later, but you’ll be here for a few more days.”
She nodded. “Thanks for dropping by. I’m feeling a lot better now, but I think I need to get a little rest. I get tired easily.”
“Yes, you get some rest. Remember you lost a lot of blood.”
Shayne waved and followed Troy out the door.
Rachel closed her eyes and rested her head against the pillow. She’d overdone it. She was feeling really tired.
Her feelings warred with each other. She had been happy to see Shayne and Troy and hadn’t expected them to be so warm and friendly. Their coming back into her life only further complicated her current situation with George. The sense of impending doom was overwhelming. Gregory’s discovery was inevitable.
For now she would play things by ear. She only hoped George didn’t hate her when he found out.
* * *
When George reached the hospital later that day and walked into Rachel’s room, he was surprised to see her sitting in the chair watching television.
She turned in his direction when he entered, her eyes guarded, as if she wanted to keep him out. Disappointment washed over him, his excitement at seeing her dissipating. He suspected she’d thought long and hard about his proposal.
“I can leave if you’d prefer me not to be here,” he blurted out. He was not one to pretend that his visit was the highlight of her day.
She appeared shocked at his suggestion. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I didn’t realize that my response to your entry was so noticeable.”
“I can read people easily. It’s a skill we both have, don’t we?” he said calmly. He didn’t want this anger between them. “And since we’re not beating about the bush, toying with each other, you can tell me what you decided.”
She paused briefly.
“Although I appreciate that we were friends years ago and we’re back in each other’s lives, I’m not sure there is a need for us to become all chummy again. I would really prefer if we remain just colleagues. Too much hurt is there in the past and I’m not in the mood for us getting all psychological and sharing our motivations for what we did back then.”
He tried to speak and she lifted a finger.
“Let me finish what I have to say,” she emphasized. “I know it has been all great to say ‘let’s be friends,’ but both of us have moved on. You have your friends and I have mine. You’ve made a life of your own and so have I. We can’t erase thirteen years of hurt so easily.”
When he realized she was done, he said, “Then there is nothing for me to say. I respect your wishes. Since I know you’re going to be okay, my work here is done. Of course, because we work in the same area, it’s inevitable that we’ll meet, but I will keep our contact to a minimum.” He turned to leave. “Have a good day, Rachel.”
And with that he was gone.
She was expecting relief, but Rachel felt as if she were reliving the past. The day she’d overheard him talking about his career and the obstacle she’d become flashed vividly in her mind.
George was definitely not father material. She would keep her son away from him as long as she could. She did not want him to hurt Gregory. She sighed. Keeping her relationship with George “strictly professional” was definitely for the best.
Her pain and sorrow was so profound it caused her body to shake and she began to cry.
She cried for the pain she’d just caused George. He’d reached out to her for forgiveness and she’d rejected him. She was scared. She’d seen and heard of too many situations like this one. Movies were fanciful, but she’d seen too many cases of men, like George, fighting for custody or partial custody of their offspring, and she had no doubt that George would fight her. Gregory would be sixteen in four years. He could make his own choices then.
Maybe she’d made a mistake. She should have remained in Anguilla, but her mother’s plea for her to return had been too heart-wrenching. Her mother wanted her here, wanted them here. She wanted to see and spend time with her grandson and Rachel could not have denied her that wish.
She turned the television back on and tried to focus on the wacky comedy that was on.
But the only image she saw was that of George walking away and the pain she’d seen in his eyes.
That only made her own pain even worse.
What had she done?
* * *
George slammed the beer on the table. He didn’t drink often but somehow he needed to wash away the day’s disappointment. He was angry, more than angry.
He’d expected understanding from Rachel. The Rachel he’d known years ago had been more forgiving. This Rachel was different. She was colder, harder.
On the drive home, he’d thought about every word she’d said and with each minute his anger had grown.
In the quiet and comfort of his home, he knew he needed to calm himself. There was something more going on. He’d seen that flash of fear in her eyes. He would not rest until he discovered what was going on.
He’d give her time, but he had no intention of giving up. He had been given a second chance and until he knew for certain that things could not work between them he would fight for her.
His feelings for her had not changed. Even when he’d been in his early twenties and had broken their engagement, he’d known he loved her. He’d just wanted to give them time to grow up and embrace their dreams. He’d been too young, too unsure of what he really wanted in life.
The only person he had to blame was himself, but he had plans of rectifying that situation.
He closed the windows downstairs and made sure the security system was on. A bath, a few chapters of the book he was reading and then sleep.
Sleep?
Who was he trying to fool? He was probably being a bit optimistic. If he slept at all, he suspected his nights would be filled with dreams of Rachel just as they had been since he saw her that first day in the courthouse.
Tomorrow was another day.
Chapter 7
Rachel rose slowly from the sofa where she’d spent the past few hours fast asleep. She was bored. Her mother was cooking and Gregory was at school. Fortunately, it was two o’clock and he’d soon be home.
She walked over to the window, glancing outside and wondered if she should go and sit on the patio. She decided against it. There was no sense in going into the kitchen. Her mother wouldn’t let her help. “You need to rest, honey,” she kept saying.
But the inactivity was driving her crazy. She wasn’t accustomed to sitting around doing nothing. Even when she’d first married Edward and was not working, she’d been occupied with taking care of Gregory. As soon as he’d entered kindergarten, she’d gone to work.
After spending five days in the hospital, she had been discharged. Today, Friday, a week after she’d been attacked, she was ready to go back to work. Knowing that Carl Brown was behind bars gave her comfort. All indications suggested her attacker would plead guilty and she wouldn’t have to deal with him.
Resting at home al
lowed her too much time to think about George and the past; every hour, every minute, every second of the day, his image bombarded, vivid, bold…and oh so appealing.
Her memories of him were not all bad. In fact, her memories of him were filled with mind-blowing lovemaking. George had been the perfect lover and, though it had taken her a long time to trust him, when she had given herself to him, she’d surrendered body and soul.
The soft, probing kiss he’d given her in the hospital had stoked flames she’d thought were long buried.
The first time they had made love she’d been excited and scared, but George had been gentle with her, encouraging her every step of the way, until she ached for him each day and he’d obliged willingly.
Now, the memories of their lovemaking created a longing deep inside her. Her last contact with a male body had been more than four years ago, before Edward had taken ill. Since then she had pushed her desire to the background, focusing on raising her son. Passion always resulted in pain and hurt, emotions she preferred to avoid.
Now, things were different. George had changed that.
She moved from the window, determined to ignore the memories. The sound of a key turning drew her from the memories. Gregory was home.
For a few hours, she would devote her time to him. Along with her mother, Gregory was the only other person who mattered. No one else did.
And as the thought registered, she knew that she was lying to herself.
* * *
George dropped the bat on the bench and slipped out of his cricket whites. He walked naked across the changing room to the line of showers, his towel draped around his neck, not caring that the dressing room was filled with the members of his team.
People would probably think he was an exhibitionist, but he didn’t really care. He’d always wondered why some men had a hang-up about nakedness or the size of their God-given tool. Weren’t they all men?
He took the towel from around his neck and placed it on one of the available hooks. Cold water cooled his hot and exhausted body. He had enjoyed the Saturday-afternoon game and making his first fifty runs for the season was an added bonus. He had felt good batting on this particular pitch.
Today, for the first time in a long time, he’d felt the rhythm of the game. For him, the game of cricket was poetry in motion. His favorite cricketer, Brian Lara, exemplified this. When his hero held a bat in his hand, the combination of power and gracefulness made watching the talented player an awesome experience.
The game had helped to lift his dreadful mood. For the past week, he’d been unusually snappy and brash. Of course, everyone had noticed, and on Monday, when he returned to work, he owed several of his colleagues an apology.
What had come over him?
He suspected Troy and Shayne would have lots of questions. They could tell he was unhappy about something and he would have to give them answers. They rarely hid anything from each other. With Kyle joining them this evening, he suspected that he’d have to brace himself for brotherly ribbing.
Sighing, he turned off the faucet. He dried his skin before he headed back to the changing room. Troy was already dressed and ready.
He dressed quickly, all the while listening to the idle banter between his teammates. He had never played cricket professionally, but he enjoyed playing with this team of cricket enthusiasts in a local, amateur competition. About five months ago he had finally convinced Troy to join them when he was off on Saturdays.
Fifteen minutes later, they were on the way to Bert’s, their favorite sports bar and restaurant. George could already taste the sinfully delicious barbeque ribs he’d become addicted to. Since he had not eaten much during the day, the emptiness in his stomach had only become more aggravating while he’d been playing cricket.
“So you’re okay, bro?” Troy asked. He could hear the concern in Troy’s voice.
“Although I’d like to answer that question now, I’d rather respond when we get to Bert’s. Shayne is bringing Kyle, so I know I’m going to have to explain to both of them too. So…why don’t we just wait for me to get all weepy?”
“You, weepy?” Troy snorted. “That’ll be a first.” He paused. “You did cry in my arms many years ago,” he said, humor in his voice.
“Don’t remind me. I was a boy then. I won’t be crying this time.”
“Never say never, my boy. Real men don’t have a problem with crying. I’ve cried a few times. Can’t promise I won’t again. You never know what or who is going to re-enter your life.”
“Touché, but I definitely don’t have anything to cry about,” he replied, his tone laced with disgust. “Right now, all I can think about is how hungry I am. I plan to eat all the ribs I can and drink myself into oblivion since you’re driving.”
“Um…George? You don’t drink.”
“The way I’m feeling, maybe I’ll start tonight.”
“Georgie Porgie’s in love,” Troy teased with a boyish grin.
“You laugh now, Dr. Whitehall. A few years ago you were the one dealing with your feelings. Now you and the wifey are expecting your first child. That’s not going to happen to me. Remember, I love playing the field.”
“You keep saying that, bro. It’s just a matter of time.” His laughter filled the car’s interior.
“I hear you, but it’s really time we change the conversation. How was your day at work?”
Troy laughed again. “Can’t handle things when the pressure’s on? How are you going to deal with Shayne and Kyle? You know they’re going to ask.”
“I’ll deal with them when the time comes. I’m a lawyer, remember?”
“I remember. Let’s hope your courtroom techniques work when we’re interrogating.”
George did not respond. He turned his gaze out the windows. The highway stretched before them, cars snaking their way home. Exiting the highway at the Sagicor roundabout, the car traveled down Rendezvous Hill and then along the south coast until Troy finally pulled into the bar’s parking lot.
As if on cue, George’s stomach rumbled.
Damn, he was hungry.
“Shayne’s car is already here,” Troy observed. “I hope we haven’t kept them waiting too long.”
“I doubt that. Not that it matters anyway. Shayne’s a stickler for time. Sometimes he needs to loosen up.”
“True,” Troy responded, pulling the car into a spot next to Shayne’s Toyota Camry.
With the car parked and locked, they walked into the lively establishment. George loved the warm, noisy atmosphere. Even the sound of multiple sports channels offered comfort with its familiarity.
Immediately, they picked up Shayne and Kyle sitting at their regular, poolside table.
Reaching their friends, George sat. There was a rumbling from the area of George’s stomach.
Shayne laughed. “I see you’re still not eating when you should. You workaholics need to take time to eat. It can’t take a whole hour to eat.”
“Look who’s talking. You were no better. Now that you’re domesticated and have a good wife, you’re now an expert on eating habits,” George replied, amusement in his voice. He turned to Kyle, who’d remained quiet during the exchange.
“So Kyle, how are the wifey and little ones doing?”
Kyle smiled, his face lighting up at the mention of his loved ones. “Great. Mya took her first step yesterday, so of course, Tamara told me I have to bring the photos for all of you to see.”
He fumbled in his pocket and pulled an envelope out with an ease and flair that belied his blindness.
George grabbed for them first, receiving a thump in his side from Shayne, the proud uncle of the two little girls.
At times, as he looked at Kyle, he couldn’t help but wonder how Kyle dealt with his blindness with such ease.
In his late thirties, Kyle was still very handsome. George remembered the playboy, “playa” and spoiled cricketer who’d taken life so cavalierly. And then came the accident that had taken his sight and forced him to live like a recluse, until he’d met Tamara and she’d challenged him to be the man he’d finally become.
“George, stop daydreaming and take the photos,” Troy said, giving him a thump on the other side.
“The two of you trying to kill me?” he replied good-naturedly, taking the photos from Shayne’s outstretched hand.
“He’s probably thinking about Rachel,” Troy said.
George’s breathing stopped. Here it comes. They couldn’t even wait until after they ate.
He ignored the jab, scanning the photos and unable to hide his amusement and delight at Mya’s first wobbly steps, her smile enchanting with her four teeth.
An emptiness he hadn’t experienced before caused a tightness in his throat and he couldn’t speak the words he wanted to.
“So what is this about a lawyer friend of George’s?” Kyle asked again.
“Remember we chatted about George’s ex-fiancée, Rachel, at Troy’s wedding?” Shayne responded. “She was the prosecutor who was stabbed recently outside the courthouse.”
“I didn’t realize that was her. Wasn’t she Rachel Davis?” Kyle asked. “And I’m now hearing this?”
“She was Davis, but she got married. And I did tell Tamara to let you know about the incident,” he said.
“You know Tamara’s brain. She remembers the names of all the animals in the clinic, but if she has to remember a simple message, she’s lost.”
They laughed.
“So there is hope that we’ll see another one of us married sometime soon,” Shayne said.
“I don’t know about that,” Troy said. “He claims that he’s not in love with her anymore.”
“Sure,” Kyle interjected. “He’s had the hots for Rachel from the time he met her pretty little ass when we were in sixth form. I didn’t hang with you all back then, but I noticed. She was one hot woman. I can remember clearly what she looked like. She always refused to go out with me. I couldn’t believe she turned me down. Of course, that was before I became a changed man.”