by Janette Paul
Arianne filled her in on the poking and prodding. The haemorrhage had stopped without giving any indication of why it started. ‘So long as there’s no change, I’ll be going home tomorrow. I’m not allowed to move off the bed or the sofa for the rest of the pregnancy but at least I’ll be home.’ She smiled wearily, pushing herself upright against the pillows. ‘I never would’ve believed lying down could be so uncomfortable.’
‘Do you think a shoulder massage is considered bed rest?’ Dee said.
‘Absolutely.’
Dee helped Arianne rearrange herself so she could sit behind her and knead her shoulders.
‘So, how’s Ethan?’ Arianne asked.
She felt the heat of a blush and was glad Arianne couldn’t see her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘When Leon rang earlier, he said you’d missed Lindall.’
‘I’m surprised he expressed it so subtly.’
‘He didn’t,’ Arianne said and they laughed.
Dee filled her in on the latest Ethan Roxburgh episode, but kept the abundant X-rated details to herself.
‘It’s been a big thirty-six hours for you,’ Arianne said. ‘You’ve slept with a guy and been to hospital. Twice. Are you really okay?’
Dee was relieved she didn’t need to explain it to Arianne. ‘I’m not sure. I feel kind of keyed up and anxious and a little overwhelmed by it all. It’s just that the thing with Ethan happened so fast.’
‘Fast? You’ve been lusting after him for weeks.’
‘Maybe, but that was just fantasy sex. I never thought it would happen. And now he’s asked me back to his place for dinner tonight and I’m pretty sure there’ll be more fantasy sex on the menu.’ Dee sighed like it was bad news.
‘But that’s good.’
‘Is it? I don’t know. I mean, sure, I’m excited, but I’m also terrified. A stomach-clenched, hard-to-breathe kind of terrified. Surely that’s not good.’
‘You’re just nervous. You don’t let many people in and it must be scary. But Ethan sounds really sweet. If you’re going to let anyone in, it may as well be someone like him.’
As Dee used her thumb to work out a knot in Arianne’s shoulder, she thought about the way Ethan watched her from the door of the study this morning, the way his eyes soaked her up. ‘That’s the scary bit. I don’t want to get attached. I have to keep reminding myself it’s not a future, it’s just great sex.’ Really great sex. ‘And everyone deserves some of that some time. Right?’
‘Most of us deserve more than that. Most of us deserve a future.’
‘Some of us don’t want futures.’
‘But, Dee …’
‘No. And I don’t need to think about that stuff right now. The hospital is making me nervous enough. I don’t want a panic attack before I see Ethan. He definitely doesn’t need to see that.’ She gave Arianne’s shoulders an all-finished pat. ‘So how’s the food in here?’
Dee stayed an hour. By then, her stomach was gripped like a vice around the smell and the sound of nurse sneakers in the hall. She kissed Arianne goodbye, turned into the corridor and froze.
A woman in a bed was being wheeled down the hallway by an orderly. Dee’s heart stopped. It must have stopped because she was having an out of body experience. She was watching herself in a corridor, pale with pain, knuckles white around the bed railing, thin and cold even under a blanket. Her eyes connected with the woman’s as she passed. Pale blue, blonde lashes. Nothing like Dee’s green ones but it was still like looking in a mirror. She recognised the fear and loneliness. Felt her memories break loose.
Then her head was spinning and she couldn’t get air into her lungs. She gasped, braced herself against a wall, closed her eyes. Breathe, Dee. Just breathe.
It worked. Her head cleared, her legs moved, and she got the hell out of the damn hospital.
Outside Ethan’s apartment an hour later, Dee sat in her car and took more deep, slow breaths, still wrestling her memories back into their mental lock-boxes. All the way over, they kept cracking open, letting ugly snippets escape to bounce about in her head. Like the look on Anthony’s face moments before he left her. And it was giving her cold feet.
The thought of Ethan was making her nervous now. The kind of nervous she got on a plane that was about to take off, not sure if she’d arrive safely or crash in a fireball.
She walked along the path, seeing her mother with the pamphlets for state-of-the-art wheelchairs, and herself ripping them into tiny bits and drowning them in the horrible hospital soup.
She buzzed Ethan’s apartment. His voice was hollow and static-y through the intercom. ‘Hey, Dee. What took so long?’
She’d rung earlier when she was leaving then drove the long, long way over while she tried to strong-arm her thoughts. ‘Got stuck in traffic.’
‘I should have sent the chopper for you. The hospital’s got a landing pad.’
‘You’ve got a helicopter?’
‘No. Come on up and I’ll kid you some more.’
She stepped into the lift, pressed the button, recalling the day a nurse hit the alarm by her bed and medical staff pounded into her room to treat her for a heart attack. Turned out it was only broken.
The doors opened and Ethan was there, t-shirt, baggy pants, eyes dark enough to disappear in. She stepped into his arms and clung to him like she’d needed to cling to someone all those years ago. Then she pushed away, remembering she taught herself not to do that.
‘Hi,’ she said, trying for breezy, hoping to gloss over her sudden desperation.
His brow creased. Somewhere between bewilderment and concern. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Yeah, sure. So where’s your landing pad? I don’t think a helicopter would fit on the deck.’ She moved through the apartment, putting distance between them.
‘Actually, the guy three doors over has a landing pad down by the water.’ He opened the screen, led her to the railing and pointed to the square of concrete through the trees. ‘The Prime Minister dropped in there the other day for lunch.’
‘You’re kidding, right?’
‘Not this time. We had Hunter Valley beef and red wine. Very civilised.’
She laughed. It felt good. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, kissed her mouth. His lips felt good too. Soft, confident, inviting. She eased closer. His hand found hers on the railing. It was large, warm, strong. She remembered the feel of the splint on her broken pinkie, the ring finger taped to it, the one they’d cut her engagement ring from. Like an omen.
She stepped away again. ‘I, um, would you mind if I had a drink?’
Another frown. ‘Sure. Water or champagne?’
‘I’m thinking both.’
In the kitchen, she gulped down water and ordered her memory to bugger off. It didn’t listen. As Ethan peeled foil from a champagne bottle, she thought about drinking coffee through a straw when she couldn’t sit up. He poured two glasses, passed her one. She toasted him from arm’s length and leaned against the marble bench as she swallowed hard.
He sipped. ‘Is there something wrong?’
Yes. No. Everything was perfect. It just wasn’t safe. ‘Low blood sugar. I get a little antsy when I haven’t eaten for a while. Haven’t showered yet, either.’
‘Oka-ay. Let’s eat then.’ He took a cheese platter from the fridge and led her back to the deck. ‘Two, four, six, eight.’
She ate hungrily. The harbour glowed under a final burst of light from the setting sun. If only her head would shut down for the night too.
‘How’s Arianne?’ Ethan asked.
His words sent her crashing back to the hospital. Memories leapt out of their boxes and bounced around like ping-pong balls. ‘She’s good.’ Her heart was suddenly loud, thudding hard against her ribs. ‘She’s, um …’ she gasped, couldn’t breathe, ‘… going home …’ – whoa, so dizzy – ‘… tomorrow.’ She squeezed her eyes shut.
‘Dee?’ Ethan’s voice sounded far away.
She put a hand to her face. It was
hot and damp. ‘The hospital … it was so … and I …’ Don’t let it happen, she told herself. You do not want a panic attack.
She struggled to her feet, sucking in a breath. ‘Excuse me a minute.’ Then she bolted from the room.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Stumbling in the hall, Dee found the gym. The mat was still there from her workout. She threw herself down, crossed her legs, closed her eyes and breathed. Just breathed. Slowly in. Slowly out. Until she could fill her lungs and feel her heart slow. That was better. Nearly there. She clasped her hands together on the mat, placed her head between them, and slowly, slowly raised her feet off the ground. A headstand took enormous mental and physical strength, required total focus and courage not to fall and break your neck. As Dee lifted her body into a straight line, she felt the belt of muscle around her belly pull taut and the wave of concentration push out everything else in her head.
She held the pose until her arms started shaking then began the slow descent, bending at the hips like a lever until her toes reached the timber. Then she folded into a ball, Pose of the Child, letting her body and mind settle, her muscles relax.
‘Dee?’
Ethan’s voice made her jump. He was in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, shoulder on the jamb.
‘How long have you been there?’ she asked.
‘Long enough to be impressed.’
She shot him an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry. I would’ve preferred you didn’t see that. It hasn’t happened in ages.’
‘Are you all right?’
She nodded. ‘The hospital got to me. I just needed to … breathe.’
He watched her for a drawn out moment, his eyes deep, dark pools. She thought of the way she’d run from the deck, how he must have found her balancing on her head and hoped he wasn’t thinking how he could get rid of the lunatic without a scene.
He crossed the room, helped her to her feet and folded her into his arms. ‘Breathing is good,’ he whispered. His mouth, when it found hers, was gentle. The fuel-injected passion of the night before gave way to a tenderness that made her melt against him and forget the panic attack that had almost won. Her heart pounded but in a good way. Her arms were around his neck as he picked her up, carried her next door, laid her on his bed.
As she disentangled herself, a waft of dried perspiration reminded her of the four classes she’d taught. ‘I should shower first.’
He trapped her beneath him. ‘No. You smell good. You smell real.’ He kissed her neck, her throat, pushed away the strap of her top, kissed the width of her shoulder. ‘You taste real.’ He drew her top over her head and ran a hand over her belly and the soft outer flesh of her breast. He traced the contour of her jaw, laced his fingers into her hair. ‘You’re more real than anyone I’ve ever met.’
Much later, Dee stepped out of the en suite shower and contemplated the weird energised/exhausted feeling. And the way her memories had crawled back to their boxes. In the bedroom, she considered the clothes scattered on the floor, picked up her top, smelled it and dropped it again. In the manic state she arrived in, she forgot to bring the clothes she stowed in her car earlier. Ethan’s t-shirt hung lopsidedly off the bed post. She smiled at the memory of tossing it with abandon and unhooked it.
She found him in the kitchen, checking the contents of a wall oven. ‘Nice shirt. I’ve got one just like it.’
She tugged at the hem high on her thigh. ‘I know it’s a cliché but I’ve left my other clothes in the car.’
He lowered his eyes to her bare legs. ‘I’m a sucker for a good set of clichés.’ He shut the oven door. ‘Since we couldn’t have breakfast on the deck, I thought we’d have dinner out there instead.’
She heard her own voice from two nights ago. All I’d need is a lovely man who’d cook dinner for me at the end of a long day. This was perfect date material and part of her wanted to skip through the kitchen. But the part that filed and stored her memories was feeling bruised and wary. You don’t want a perfect date, it told her. A perfect date might make you want more.
Ethan stacked plates and cutlery on a tray. ‘My housekeeper is a bit of a health nut so she went all out when I told her I wanted vegetarian. I’m guessing you like Indian.’
‘So you didn’t cook this?’
‘Sorry to disappoint. The only thing I can do in the kitchen is turn the oven on.’
Well, it wasn’t perfect if he didn’t cook it himself. ‘There’s no shame in that.’
Outside, a huge moon hung over Sydney Harbour, leaving a long stripe of light across the water. The March evening was mild and tinged with salt. They spread bowls across the table, sat either side of the corner, knees touching. Dee lifted a thick strand of hair and tossed it over her shoulder. He made a sound in his throat.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘That thing you do with your hair.’
‘What about it?’
‘It’s very … sexy.’
Her hair? A slow smile worked its way onto her mouth. ‘You mean like this?’ She tossed hair over the other shoulder.
‘Exactly like that. Almost as good as when you pull it out and shake it loose.’ He kept his eyes on her face as he edged a knee between hers. ‘So what happened at the hospital?’
His question was so unexpected, she spoke without thinking. ‘I was so lonely and hurt and broken in there and there’s no medicine for that. You just have to live it.’ She glanced at his face, realising her mistake. ‘Oh, you meant today? Right, well, Arianne’s doing great and going home in the morning.’ She tossed her hair again, hoping to distract him from her first answer.
‘What happened at the hospital the other time?’
She looked away. Did she really want to talk about it? So soon after wrangling the memories?
His hand moved to her bare thigh, sliding slowly upwards, finding the scar where the surgeon repaired her broken leg. He ran a finger gently back and forth across its silvered surface. ‘Was it after the car accident?’
The gentleness in his voice brought her eyes to his. Perhaps if she unpacked the boxes carefully and didn’t make any sudden movements, the memories would behave. She took a breath. ‘I don’t remember much about the accident but the three months in hospital were a nightmare.’
‘What happened?’
‘Everything hurt. I had cuts and gashes and little broken bits all over the place.’ She lifted her hand and wiggled her crooked pinkie. ‘I broke fingers and ribs, my leg, my back.’ She pressed her palm to her chest. ‘But heartbreak is the real killer.’
‘Heartbreak?’
She’d forgotten she hadn’t covered that part of the story. Hadn’t really intended to. It was just that heartbreak always seemed part of her injury list. ‘My fiancé …’ She shook her head.
Ethan took her hand, curled warm fingers around it. ‘Dee, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you lost someone in the accident.’
‘Oh, no, he didn’t die. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s alive and being a total arsehole to some other woman right now. No, he left me.’ She smiled tightly. ‘The day after I was told I’d need surgery on my back and that it was entirely likely I’d never get full use of my legs again. Great timing, huh?’
‘What a bastard.’
She watched as Ethan’s jaw clenched and unclenched, encouraged by his anger on her behalf. ‘Yeah, well, I fell to pieces. Lots and lots of little pieces. Like an enormous jigsaw puzzle. Amanda and I used to do them when we were kids. We got one with three thousand pieces once and it took the entire Christmas holidays to finish. Anyway, we had a system. We started with the edge bits and put the frame together, then little by little filled in the rest of it. The picture would be on the box and we’d use a magnifying glass to try to match up the pieces.’ She folded her forearms on the table. ‘After Anthony left, I felt like a million-piece jigsaw puzzle with no picture to go by. I had no idea what my life was going to be like after that and I couldn’t find a goddamn edge piece to save myself.’ She knuckled a tea
r from her cheek.
Ethan reached over and wiped one from the other side. ‘Did the surgery work?’
‘I wouldn’t have it, and that created a whole bunch of other problems. Mum went nuts, spent days and days trying to talk me into it. But I was a mess, crying all the time and kind of drug-addled and all I knew was that I was in no condition to make a decision about major surgery, especially when there were no guarantees.’
She dragged a hand through her hair at the memory. ‘God, it was so hard watching Mum deal with me falling apart. She was in such a hurry for me to get better. I guess she figured the quicker that happened, the quicker I could get on with my life and forget everything. But you can’t fast track heartache. You just have to wait it out. All I needed was someone to sit through it with me. In the end, I had to shut everyone out, stop listening, sift through all those puzzle pieces and live through it my way. It hurt Mum, I know, and she doesn’t agree with how I’ve put myself together, but I’m okay with it now.’
Ethan put a finger under her chin and gently kissed her lips. ‘I like all your pieces exactly where they are.’
As she looked into his dark eyes, she wasn’t sure what or why, but something inside her sighed and let go. She kissed him back, slowly, deeply, mmm’ing quietly as his hand slipped under her t-shirt. This moment would require her undivided attention. She tilted her head as Ethan nuzzled her neck, brushed away the small finger of concern that tapped her gently on the shoulder. The one that wanted to know how the moment would end.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dee’s eyes snapped open. She felt Ethan’s arm around her waist and smiled.
Then frowned. Something was wrong. No, not wrong. Missing.
She hadn’t gasped. For the first time in ten years she hadn’t woken with a spike of anxiety. Wow, it felt good. She slid out from under Ethan’s arm, rolled onto the yoga mat beside her bed and enjoyed an energised/exhausted stretch in the early-morning gloom. Big circles with the right leg. Big circles with the left. Great sex was good for flexibility.