The Family She's Longed For

by Lucy Clark

  ‘“And then my heart with pleasure fills, and dances with the daffodils!”’ She quoted Wordsworth to him and he smiled.

  ‘Go and tell Gwenda our little girl is fine. I’ll try and talk the recovery nurses into letting her come in.’

  ‘I’m sure you will, Virgil.’

  Clara laughed. He was back. Her lovable, caring and silver-tongued darling was back.

  When she told Gwenda the good news the other woman’s face instantly relaxed and she breathed out with relief.

  ‘She’s really OK?’

  Clara chuckled and nodded. ‘She really is.’ Clara beckoned for Gwenda to follow her. ‘Virgil is going to try and smuggle you into Recovery. After all, you’re like another grandmother to her, and she’ll want you close by.’

  Sure enough Virgil had squared it with the nurses.

  ‘But only for two minutes.’

  ‘Two minutes is all I need to see that she really is OK.’

  With Gwenda and Virgil by Rosie’s side, Clara was starting to feel the area was a little crowded and, not wanting to make the Recovery nurses angry, she excused herself.

  ‘I just need to check something,’ she murmured before leaving Recovery.

  She left Recovery and walked down a long corridor towards the front of the hospital. The late evening warmth surrounded her as she breathed in deeply, grateful that Rosie was all right. The sky was a blend of glorious colours and she forced her mind to settle down to a more normal pace. She stared at the sky, just absorbing the moment—something she’d learned to do during that long year of recovery—but knew she’d soon need to start making arrangements for her return to Loggeen.

  ‘Hopefully,’ Virgil said to her a while later as she bent to kiss Rosie’s forehead, ‘we can transfer her back to Loggeen tomorrow some time.’

  Rosie had been moved out of Recovery and onto a ward. Gwenda was sitting in a nearby chair, passing the time by knitting, and Virgil was keeping a close watch on his daughter.

  ‘Children do tend to recover so much quicker than adults, and if the doctors are happy with her progress then that’s a definite possibility,’ Clara agreed. ‘But you take care, too, Virgil. Don’t go skipping meals or sleep. You won’t do Rosie any good if you do. Doctor’s orders.’ She pointed her index finger at him for emphasis.

  ‘You’re not my doctor,’ he replied as he released his hold on Rosie’s hand and placed his arm about Clara’s waist, drawing her closer. ‘You’re my fiancée.’

  Clara raised her eyebrows in surprise and then looked across at Gwenda, who had stopped her knitting.

  ‘Did you hear that, Gwenda? I’m supposedly Virgil’s fiancée.’

  The older woman’s lips twitched as she tried to hide a smile.

  ‘Forgive me for pointing out one small flaw,’ Clara continued, ‘but you haven’t actually asked me to marry you—ergo, I can’t possibly be your fiancée.’

  ‘A small oversight.’ He shrugged. ‘The fact remains, though, that I do want to marry you, Clara. So what do you say?’

  She started at him, aghast. ‘What? That’s it? That’s my proposal?’ she asked incredulously.

  ‘Well, it’s not exactly the way I planned it,’ Virgil responded, scratching the side of his head.

  ‘Good—because I don’t accept that proposal.’

  His answer was to chuckle, and she sighed with relief. Seeing him less stressed was a good thing.

  ‘Why don’t I walk you to the helicopter and you can tell me what your answer might be when I do propose to you properly?’

  ‘Checking to see I’m going to give you the answer you want?’ she asked as they left Gwenda to keep an eye on Rosie.

  ‘I may be impatient, Clara, but I’m not a complete fool. Of course I’m checking. What man proposes if he knows the answer is going to be no?’

  As they got into the lift to head towards the helipad, Virgil slipped his arm around her waist, his tone soft as he spoke.

  ‘I know we have a lot of things to discuss, but I’m sure we’ll get there, Clara. You love me. I love you. Everything else is—irrelevant.’

  ‘Virgil...’ Her eyes were wide with concern. ‘I hope that is the case because—’

  ‘Shh.’ He bent his head and placed his lips briefly on hers. ‘It can wait. Everything will be fine—trust me.’

  Once they stepped out, a cool breeze whisked around them. Now that the sun had set, the evening had become rather cool. Floodlights lit the area and the helicopter pilot gave Clara the thumbs-up when he saw her. He proceeded with his pre-flight check and she took the opportunity to say a proper goodbye to Virgil.

  ‘Please keep me up to date with any changes, good or bad, in Rosie’s condition?’

  ‘Will do,’ he promised, drawing her closer. ‘You take care, Dr Lewis. We’ll have that talk as soon as we can.’

  Then, before she could say anything, he simply lowered his head and captured her lips with his.

  The kiss was soft and gentle and yet filled with promise. The warm, masculine scent of him swirled throughout Clara’s body and she sighed with relief. As the wind began to pick up slightly, Virgil gathered her closer, protecting and shielding her from its coolness.

  Clara’s heart pounded with love for him, and the knowledge that her feelings were reciprocated only intensified her own. Virgil loved her, and yet there was a niggling doubt in the back of her mind that refused to budge, and it was that which was causing her the most consternation.

  * * *

  ‘You love him. He loves you. I don’t understand why the two of you aren’t announcing plans for your future life together,’ Arthur stated the following evening, when Clara and Juzzy went over for dinner.

  ‘Arthur, things aren’t always so cut and dried,’ Maybelle said, her words pointed. ‘Remember with us... We loved each other but there were other things to sort out first.’

  Arthur sighed as he passed the salad bowl to his sister. Clara helped herself but then looked down at her plate, unsure she’d be able to eat the delicious meal her brother had cooked.

  ‘What is the one thing that’s really troubling you?’ Maybelle asked, after watching Clara push her food around on her plate for a minute or two.

  ‘The one thing?’ Clara looked at her sister-in-law. ‘I guess it was when Rosie was sick, and he looked at me with such disbelief that I could actually love her so much even though she wasn’t my own flesh and blood. I do love that little girl.

  Later, as Clara tucked Fuzzy-Juzzy into her doggy bed and went to brush her teeth, she started to count her blessings. She enjoyed good health, had a roof over her head, a good job, a loving dog and a family who stood beside her, no matter what.

  But what she wanted was to have Virgil—her soul mate—in her life on a permanent basis. She wanted to adopt children so Rosie could know and understand the love of a sibling. She wanted Gwenda to enjoy being a grandmother to all those children, and she wanted to fill a house with love and make it a home. Their home. Hers and Virgil’s.

  Was it wrong to want so much?

  * * *

  Three days later, after sporadic short phone calls and many text messages, Virgil, Gwenda and Rosie were back home, the little girl apparently quite excited to have her leg in a purple plaster cast.

  ‘She wants you to come over and write your name on it, and for Juzzy to put her pawprint on the cast,’ Virgil said over the phone.

  ‘That’ll be...interesting. I can just imagine Juzzy stepping into a tray full of paint and then running around the place, leaving pawprints on everything but Rosie’s cast.’

  His answer was to chuckle, and the warm sound washed over her, causing the love she felt for him to burst forth within her again. No matter what his reaction might be to what she had to tell him, her heart would be his for ever. This was something she�
�d come to terms with over the past few days. She loved Virgil. One hundred per cent. And that meant she would either have a very happy life with him or a lonely one without him. For now, though, she was through living in limbo.

  ‘Listen, are you free right now? My last patient has cancelled so I’m done for the day and, well...I need to talk to you.’

  ‘I’m free,’ he told her, but she thought she heard a note of concern in his tone.

  Was he worried about what she might say? Or was Clara simply borrowing trouble yet again?

  ‘Do you want to come to my place? See Rosie? Have dinner?’

  ‘Actually, why don’t you come to my apartment. We’ll be less likely to be disturbed.’

  ‘Fingers crossed no emergencies come in,’ he stated. ‘I’ll be at your apartment in about twenty minutes. I just need to finish writing up some paperwork.’

  ‘Sounds good. See you then.’

  And she rang off before she could change her mind.

  Twenty-five minutes later Clara was pacing around her apartment, wondering if something had happened to him.

  ‘Where is he, Juzzy?’ She opened the front door and checked the hallway again, but there was still no sign of him. Telling herself not to panic, she re-straightened the cushions and checked her phone for the hundredth time just in case Virgil had sent her a message. Nothing.

  Thirty-five minutes later there was a knock at her door and she opened it, her eyes wild and filled with worry.

  ‘Hi!’ Virgil stood there, smiling at her, and all Clara could do was throw herself into his arms and press her mouth to his.

  Given she hadn’t seen him since she’d left Melbourne, he was most definitely a sight for sore eyes.

  Their mouths knew exactly how to respond to each other, how to entice and excite. Clara shivered involuntarily and sighed as he continued the sweet torture, shifting them both slightly so they weren’t standing in the doorway. Clara kicked the door closed with her foot before deepening the kiss. She loved him so much and wanted him to feel every ounce of that love. She wanted him to be secure in the knowledge that together they could accomplish anything.

  Virgil’s rough five o’clock shadow tingled lightly over Clara’s face as he broke free and pressed small kisses all the way around to her ear. ‘This is so right,’ he murmured. ‘We belong together. We’ve always belonged together.’

  It was such an exact replica of her own thoughts that she marvelled at how in tune they were with each other’s feelings.

  She led him to the lounge, holding his hand in hers.

  ‘Before you start, can I just say that I’m really happy you’re trusting me with whatever it is you need to tell me?’

  Clara nodded and let his hand go, her palms beginning to perspire with her increased anticipation. ‘I have something to tell you. And I’d like you to remember while I tell you that I love you.’

  ‘Clara?’ He frowned at nervousness. ‘This is me you’re talking to. We’ve worked through so much. We can deal with whatever comes our way.’

  ‘Oh, Virgil, I hope so.’

  Clara swallowed a sob, trying to summon the courage to confess the truth. He went to envelop her in his arms but she held up a hand to stop him.

  ‘No.’

  She needed to see his face when she told him the news, to try and read his initial reaction. The best way was the most direct—just blurt it out. And blurt it out she did.

  ‘Virgil, I can’t have children.’

  There—she’d told him. The millisecond of relief she felt was squashed by the immediate devastation that crossed his face.

  ‘What? How?’ he questioned. ‘But I know you want children, Clara, and I know you love Rosie, so—’

  ‘I do, Virgil.’ She clasped her hands to her chest, covering her heart. ‘More than anything in the world I would love to have a child to grow within me, but it’s medically impossible.’

  As though the penny had dropped, he stared at her for a moment. ‘The car accident.’

  ‘My pelvis was so drastically crushed that I had to have a hysterectomy and unilateral oophorectomy. The remaining ovary isn’t in good shape either, and was only left so I didn’t go directly into menopause at such a young age.’

  She bit her lip, willing him to speak, to say something, but he remained silent, as though trying to take in everything she was saying.

  Finally he cleared his throat. ‘That evening when we went for the picnic—’

  She nodded. ‘I wanted to tell you but I didn’t know how. I know you want more children, Virgil, but I...I...can’t.’ Clara choked on a sob. ‘And I want you to know that even though I’m not Rosie’s biological mother—I’ll never be anyone’s biological mother—I love her so very much, as though she really were my own. I love her, Virgil, and I hope that together you and I can raise her and love her and perhaps provide her with—with siblings in another way.’

  ‘Adoption?’

  She tried not to wince at the way he spoke the word, as though it were ludicrous.

  ‘Or we could use a surrogate. Perhaps one of the reproductive specialists can find one good egg of mine and fertilise it and—’

  ‘What?’

  He was looking at her as though she’d grown an extra head. Clara wrapped her arms about her waist, glad she was sitting down, because the look on his face of utter disbelief at the realisation of what her words meant, was making her feel faint.

  Virgil stood and walked over to the bookshelf, where there were several pictures of Clara and her family, but she could tell he wasn’t seeing any of them. His mind was whirring, trying to compute what she’d told him.

  Eventually the surrounding silence became too much for her to bear.

  ‘Say something. Please?’

  Virgil dragged in a breath and turned to look at her, raking his hands through his hair in agitation, as though he had no clue what to say or how to deal with the bomb she’d just dropped.

  ‘I’ll be honest with you, Clara. I’m stunned. Your injuries must have been utterly horrific. I mean, you told me you’d sustained a pelvic fracture as well as other trauma, but to have to deal with something like this as well...’

  He trailed off, and Clara wasn’t sure whether it was a good or bad thing that he was processing just how extensive her injuries had been. The question she needed an answer to was whether or not he’d be willing to try and have a family with her in the not so usual way.

  He was looking at her now as though he was waiting for her to say more.

  ‘Er...my accident... Right... Well, it was a good twelve months before my gait was back to almost normal, but my surgeons were happy with my progress.’

  She wanted to add that it could have been worse—that she could have ended up in a wheelchair or even lost her life—but the physical trauma of her accident had been dealt with and she’d moved on. Hopefully Virgil would be able to move on with her.

  He raked a hand through his hair once more, looking adorable and cute and so sexy and... And then she realised he was shaking his head in a negative way.

  ‘I...er...I need to go.’

  Clara closed her eyes, desperately trying to hold back the tears—tears which were only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the heartbreak she was presently feeling.

  ‘I need to think,’ he ventured, obviously feeling the need to twist the proverbial knife he’d just thrust into her heart.

  He didn’t make any attempt to hold her or kiss her or anything, but instead walked to her front door, opened it quietly and left.

  Clara clamped both hands over her mouth in an effort to hold in the heartbreaking sobs which threatened to burst forth. She didn’t want him to hear her crying. She didn’t want him to see how his words, his actions, had ripped her to shreds once again.

  She collapsed bac
k onto the sofa, curling up into the foetal position and giving in to the pain. The old feelings of helplessness and heartbreak returned as the tears fell.

  Juzzy—beautiful Juzzy—came and curled herself instantly in her mistress’s arms. Clara held on to the dog as she sobbed. She had always yearned to be a mother, and with Rosie she’d been given that opportunity. Now it would all be taken away from her.

  No friend in Gwenda.

  No daughter in Rosie.

  No soul mate in Virgil.

  She was alone—again.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE RINGING OF the phone pulled her from the deep sleep she was in and for a moment Clara had no idea where she was. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was very uncomfortable.

  Opening her eyes, she realised she was still curled up on the sofa. Fuzzy-Juzzy had clearly decided to go and eat at some point, because she could hear the dog lapping from her water bowl.

  The phone continued to ring. Sitting up, she groaned as her muscles protested at the position she’d contorted them into. Her mobile was on the coffee table in front of her.

  ‘Hello?’ she mumbled, her throat dry and scratchy. ‘Dr Lewis.’

  ‘Clara.’

  Virgil’s deep voice rumbled down the line and Clara almost dropped the phone.

  ‘Virgil,’ she whispered. All coherent thought left her as their discussion the previous evening, came flooding back.

  ‘Clara—we need to talk.’ He was direct and to the point. ‘I know it’s early, but can you come over before you head to work? Rosie would love to see you,’ he added as an incentive.

  Anger burst forth within her. ‘Don’t use Rosie as an excuse. I think it’s best for Rosie if I don’t see her again.’

  ‘I can understand your anger—’ Virgil ventured, but Clara interrupted.

  ‘Oh, you can, can you? I don’t think so, Virgil. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to open up to you? To trust you? To tell you about something which has caused me years of distress? I saw a therapist for well over two years post-accident, because I wasn’t able to deal with the fact that I might never become a mother, and then...and then you come back into my life and I think... Well, actually it doesn’t matter what I thought, because all you’ve done is prove to me that you haven’t changed at all. You’re still that same man who put his own agenda in front of my happiness all those years ago.’