In Bed with Her Ex

by Lucy Gordon

Mardie was much, much more.

  ‘Ooh, there’s some stuff going on in that head of yours,’ she said. ‘For heaven’s sake, Blake, let it go. Race you back to the headland. You could always beat me, but you’ve been sick and I’ve been training. One, two, three, go …’

  And she was off, flying along the wet sand, her dogs hurtling along behind her. Dogs and woman …

  He’d never met someone so … free.

  She had her demons. Of course she did.

  She chose to let them take care of themselves.

  Maybe he, too …

  No. Too hard. It was far too hard.

  She beat him—of course she did—he’d spent the first half of the race in stupid, unproductive thought—and when he did finally catch her, she seemed angry again. They were at the start of the path up to the house. She didn’t pause; she went right on up, and when they reached his car parked out the front, she fussed over dog leads and didn’t look at him.

  He waited until she straightened. Tried to figure what to say.

  She held out her hand. A formal gesture of farewell.

  ‘I’ve had a lovely night,’ she said, a trifle too stiffly. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘That’s … I’ve enjoyed it, too.’

  ‘I can manage on my own now, with the dogs.’

  ‘I’ll be here on Thursday when Colin operates.’

  ‘There’s no need.’

  ‘I’ll be here.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said simply. ‘That would be lovely. Goodnight.’

  And before he could react, before he could reach out a hand and take hers—she slipped into the house with her dogs without another word.

  Tuesday and Wednesday, he didn’t see her. There was no reason.

  She needed to take Bessie back to the vet’s for a couple more pre-op tests, but she lived close and for him to take the half-hour trip there …

  As she’d said, there was no need.

  He had things to do. There were always things to do.

  One of the cheques for Mardie’s chokers bounced. He was used to that. Guys big-noting themselves among their peers, then letting the charity cope with the consequences.

  He made a few enquiries, discovered the guy did have serious money, discovered he’d tried this on before.

  He made a couple of calls to the media, had a journalist do a dig story and he had a phone call from the bank within the hour.

  The cheque had magically been cleared.

  There was no way the scum-bag was getting Mardie’s choker without paying.

  He could do good, he thought, as he tallied the figures for Monday night. He could make the foundation much bigger than it was now. He could make it huge.

  He wanted to work in the field.

  But that was dumb. The cause was what counted. To die of dengue because he wanted to be indispensable … How would Robbie feel about that?

  His twin. The guy who questioned everything he did.

  How would Robbie feel about Mardie?

  There was a dumb question. A dumb thought.

  Put her out of his mind.

  Then suddenly he thought … Irena. Irena was Mardie’s agent. If Mardie had an agent then there must be more sales.

  Mardie had looked him up. He could do the same. He did an internet search for one Mardie Rainey, looking for stockists. Discovered a tiny gallery that specialised in three-dimensional art.

  He just happened to walk past. He just happened to walk in, expecting rings, bracelets, maybe even chokers like he’d seen on Monday night.

  Instead he found tiny enamelled pictures. This then, was how she’d landed the job commemorating the pilots. Where she’d gained her reputation.

  These pictures were extraordinary.

  They were of … nothing. Glass on copper.

  A blade of grass against a weathered fence post.

  A piece of driftwood on a beach.

  A raindrop.

  Nothing.

  Everything.

  He looked at them and thought of Africa. A child’s sight.

  So little. Everything.

  He thought of Mardie’s life.

  And he thought of his own.

  Thursday. ‘Have her here at eight. No breakfast,’ Colin had decreed and Mardie had Bessie there at seven forty-five. She stayed in the truck until the clinic doors opened, hugging Bessie, wishing they’d elected to have only one eye done today and not both. Both eyes seemed scary.

  Even one seemed scary.

  She’d left Bounce with Irena and the cats. Bessie had to do this alone.

  She had to do this alone.

  Bessie seemed bereft, and she felt exactly the same.

  But then … Her truck door swung open and Blake was there. Just … there.

  Deep breath. This was good. Wasn’t it? Two of them could feel bad about Bessie together.

  He was so close.

  He’d asked her to marry him. The question had hovered in her head for two days.

  Stupid.

  She was so happy to see him again she could hardly speak.

  ‘S … so tell me again why we’re doing both eyes?’ she managed.

  ‘So we won’t have to spend another night like last one,’ he said. ‘Staring into the dark thinking of all the things that can go wrong.’

  ‘You, too?’

  ‘I know the odds,’ he said. ‘Healthy dog, healthy eyes under the cataracts, great surgeon, tried-and-tested procedure—this is as good as it gets. The biggest risk is retina detachment and that’s a risk no matter whether we do one or both. It’ll be fine.’

  ‘Yet you still sat up all night.’

  ‘Yep,’ he said and lifted Bessie from her arms. ‘I’m a sucker for a lady with facial hair. Colin’s here. All systems go. Let’s get our Bessie’s sight restored so she can get on with her life.’

  ‘Blake?’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘Did you come … just to wish us luck?’

  ‘I’ll stay close until it’s done. I’ve agreed to meet a couple of guys at the airport in an hour but that’s close enough to here. If you’d like me to stick around …’

  ‘I would.’ She hesitated. She shouldn’t need this man.

  ‘I definitely would,’ she said.

  They stayed with Bessie until the anaesthetic took hold, but then they had to leave.

  ‘You’re not watching,’ Colin told him. ‘Blake taught me,’ he explained to Mardie. ‘If there’s anything guaranteed to make my hands shake, it’s my teacher watching. Take him away and don’t let him come near until I’ve finished.’

  ‘Fine by me,’ Mardie said, feeling bad. She hugged Bessie and left. Feeling … watery.

  She pushed open the door to outside with more force than necessary.

  Blake ushered her through. Closed the door after her. Offered her a tissue.

  Went a step further and hugged her.

  ‘I don’t cry,’ she managed. Not pulling away.

  ‘You shouldn’t. Bessie’s about to be cured. What’s there to cry about?’

  ‘Do you get emotional about patients?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Liar.’ She knew this guy.

  ‘I shouldn’t.’

  She sniffed. She managed—with a pretty big effort—to pull herself out of his arms. Blew her nose, hard.

  Got a grip.

  ‘So you want me to stay here while you have your meeting at the airport?’

  ‘Stay with me,’ he said softly and took her hand.

  She gazed down at their linked hands.

  Thought, inexplicably, of Bessie and Bounce. Practically Siamese twins.

  She didn’t pull away.

  What was he doing, meeting these guys? He was wasting time.

  He’d met them the night of the dinner. Riley and Harry. Doctor and pilot with an Outback Flying Doctor medical service based at Whale Cove. Squeezing the dinner in between care flights.

  It seemed Harry was a friend of Raff’s, the Banksia Bay cop. Raff had told them a
bout him. They’d come on Monday night to listen. Asked if they could talk to him.

  A job offer? Questions about fund-raising? Normally he’d decline but he’d been feeling … disoriented. As if he didn’t know how to say no.

  Now … he and Mardie watched as the light plane came in to land, a patient was transferred to an ambulance headed for a city hospital, and then Harry and Riley were free.

  They didn’t speak. They simply waited.

  With their patient transferred, the men came over to them. Big men, tough, in the uniform of the Flying Doctor Service.

  ‘Raff says you’re looking for a job,’ Riley said bluntly, straight to the point.

  Raff. Banksia Bay. Of course. Everyone knew everyone.

  ‘He has his wires crossed. I’m not.’

  But it seemed Raff had done some research. He’d worked fast and he had it right. ‘Raff says you’ve been in Africa treating eyes,’ Riley said. ‘He says you can’t go back because of dengue. Now he thinks you’re planning to be a pen-pusher. That’d be just plain dumb. We could use you, right here, right now. There’s no dengue where we work, just a whole heap of need.’

  * * *

  It wouldn’t work.

  They drove back to the vet clinic and the silence in the truck was almost tangible.

  Blake was staring straight ahead.

  ‘I’m going back to California,’ he said at last. ‘I think I have to.’

  ‘So you met them why?’

  ‘I thought they might want to talk mutual fund-raising.’ But he hadn’t. He’d known the minute he’d met them that there was a job on the line. If he and Mardie …

  No.

  ‘You wouldn’t consider it?’ she ventured. ‘Robbie doesn’t give you that option?’

  ‘I should never have told you about Robbie.’ It was an explosion.

  ‘I should have guessed.’ She hesitated, and then went on. ‘Blake, that night, all those years ago,’ she said softly. ‘I can only imagine. Two little boys, lying in that great big house. Following rules. But then … the joy of sneaking out to play in the pool. Two little boys having fun. And tragedy. But surely that doesn’t mean you need to follow rules all your life, especially if those rules are ones you’ve set up for yourself. If those rules were meant to make up for Robbie, they never can. They never will.’

  ‘This is …’

  ‘None of my business? Maybe not. Or maybe it is my business, because you’re my friend.’ She took a deep breath. ‘On Monday you even suggested I marry you. It was offhand, like something I wouldn’t even consider, but you know something? I would.’

  ‘Mardie …’

  ‘Only not with your shadows,’ she said, with only the faintest tremor behind the words. ‘For I’m not sharing.’ Another deep breath. ‘Blake, have you ever talked to seven-year-old Blake?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s a thing you do,’ she said diffidently. ‘It’s a thing I learned. When Hugh died … I was a mess and our local doctor organised a shrink to see me. You know what was going round my head? That I hadn’t put the dogs in their crate. I’d cleaned it and then we were running late so I thought—why bother putting it back? So they were fussing in the back seat, and Hugh was telling them to pipe down, and the kids came round the bend. He didn’t have time to swerve. If he’d had that extra split second … I thought … Well, you know what I thought.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘Yeah, you say that. Everyone says it but you can hear it as many times as you want and not believe. You know that better than me. But the shrink … You know what he did? He made me find a picture of me from before the accident. And he said I needed to treat the hurting me as separate. The Mardie-Before and the Mardie-After. And the Mardie-After needed to talk to the Mardie-Before, talk through exactly what happened that day, tell her that what she did wasn’t criminal or even stupid. He said I should give that Mardie a hug and move on. And you know what? Eventually I did.’

  He didn’t say anything. Nothing.

  ‘So … could you look at a photograph of your seven-year-old self, and tell him he has to pay for the rest of his life?’ she ventured. ‘Or would you look at that seven-year-old and give him a hug and weep for what he’s gone through already? Robbie’s death. Your parents’ abandonment. And then … could you tell the little boy that you were to live his life as he ought to live his life? To have fun. To do good if that’s what you want, but only if that’s what you want, not because you’re paying back shadows. To …’ She paused. Thought about it. Finally said it. ‘To allow yourself to be happy.’

  ‘I think we should leave it,’ he said heavily, and she thought, yes, she should. She’d said everything she could say.

  Or … not quite.

  Just say it.

  ‘And, as for Monday … As for the diamond … I would marry you,’ she said simply. ‘In truth, I decided when I was ten that I wanted to marry you. And it seems I’ve never stopped. I loved Hugh, but in a different way; he was a different man. It doesn’t take away what I felt for him, what I feel for you. It seems I’ve loved you all the time and I guess I always will. Shadows or not. But if you can’t get rid of your shadows I guess our loving will keep us at a distance. Because there’s no choice. For both of us.’

  They met a beaming Colin.

  ‘I couldn’t ask for better,’ he said. ‘Textbook perfect. It’s gone brilliantly in both eyes. She’s on the way to recovery. All she needs is absolute quiet, to wear the cone collar all the time, no barking, drops twice a day, total care, and in four weeks I’m thinking you’ll have a magnificent working dog. Do you want to see her? She’s still heavily sedated.’

  They went in and saw her.

  Her eyes were still closed. Colin gently lifted a lid and the awful milkiness was gone.

  Mardie felt … She felt …

  Good. Excellent. Dog-wise, at least, this was job done. She could get on with her life with two dogs.

  Blake would go back to the US. Things would return to normal.

  But, despite her tumultuous emotions, Colin’s words were starting to sink in. Quiet. Cone collar. No barking. Total care …

  She didn’t quite have a handle on this.

  ‘No barking at all?’ she said, faltering.

  ‘I thought Blake would have explained post-op care,’ Colin said, frowning.

  ‘Blake did mention it,’ she said. ‘I just thought … I can handle eye drops.’ She took a deep breath. ‘No. Sorry. I can handle everything. I’ll take Bounce to the boarding kennels for a month. It won’t kill him. If Bessie’s locked inside, she’ll stay quiet.’

  ‘You’re hardly ever inside.’ Blake said.

  ‘I guess loneliness is the price she pays for her sight.’

  ‘It’s not,’ Blake said.

  ‘Not?’

  ‘I have an apartment here in the city,’ he said. ‘I’ll be working here for the next few weeks. I do some online teaching,’ he explained as they both looked at him in surprise. ‘I can do that while I keep Bessie at my feet. I know she’ll miss Bounce but it’ll work. I’ll bring her back to the farm in a month, just before I go.’

  There was the solution, just like that. Easy.

  Mardie looked down at the sleeping dog. Bessie.

  It should feel great.

  It was an eminently practical solution.

  She could walk away. Go back to Irena’s, collect Bounce, go back to the farm.

  Blake would return Bessie to her in a month. And then … nothing.

  It was a neat solution all round.

  It felt …

  It felt …

  Not neat.

  ‘That’s great,’ she said, sounding feeble. ‘I … You have your car here, Blake? I can go, then. I really would like to get back to the farm this afternoon.’ She put her hand on Bessie’s soft head, taking as well as giving comfort.

  ‘Take care of her,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you, Colin. And … and thank you, Blake. You’re both w
onderful.’

  ‘I’m not wonderful,’ Blake said.

  ‘Yes, you are,’ she said, gaining strength. ‘Yes, you are, if you let yourself be.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  FOUR weeks was a very long time in the life of Mardie.

  She did exactly what she’d been doing a month ago. She spent three days a week in the nursing home, helping aged fingers give pleasure to their owners, having fun. She worked furiously on her last plates, and then slowed because Robyn Partling’s life refused to be told in a rush. In a month they were done and she loved them.

  She could take them to Sydney this weekend and deliver them.

  Or not.

  This weekend Blake had said he’d bring Bessie home, and something inside her—the silly, hormonal something—was saying, Last chance, Last chance, Last chance.

  He rang, friendly but curt. ‘She’s done brilliantly,’ he told her. ‘Colin’s taken the cone off. Her eyesight’s amazing. He says she’s ready for farm life again. Can you be home at two on Saturday?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said simply—and then she was nervous.

  Really nervous.

  What was she doing, thinking last chance? There never was going to be a chance. He’d drop off Bessie and say goodbye and fly out to California and that’d be the end of an unsettling period of her life.

  She had to settle.

  Which meant … normal.

  Saturday.

  She went to see Charlie and told him Bessie’s latest news. She told her mum.

  ‘We’d love to see her come home,’ they both said, and she thought—normal; I can do that.

  Two o’clock on Saturday.

  Blake was coming home.

  No. Bessie was coming home. Blake was merely the delivery man.

  He turned into the farm gate, expecting the old Mardie. Mardie in her jeans and an ancient sweater—the Mardie who belonged here, not the unsettling Mardie who’d blown him away in Sydney.

  He wanted it to be the old Mardie. He’d take the thought of her back to the States with him, he thought, as he’d carried her in his thoughts for years. She was a warm part of his heart that had stayed safe, that was used for comfort but not permitted to interfere with what he had to do.

  He wanted that part of him to stay unaltered.

  He looked to the veranda and there she was, on the top step, Bounce beside her.