Читать книгу How To Mend A Broken Heart - Amy Andrews - Страница 8

TESS sat at the table, staring out over the Brisbane River, while Fletch was in the kitchen fixing them both a top-up of their glasses. A light breeze ruffled her utilitarian locks and she had to shake herself to believe she was actually sitting on her ex-husband’s deck, drinking wine.

The whole scene felt surreal. Jean’s dementia had dragged her reluctantly into her past. A time when things had been simple and she’d truly believed that love could get a person through everything. It was a strange reality that warred with her present-day situation.

What did he want to talk to her about regarding Jean? Surely he had better access to the medical side of Jean’s condition than she did? He probably had half a dozen gerontologists up his sleeve he could talk to. Or maybe he was after practical advice? How to care for his mother on a day-to-day basis? Or a recommendation for a good home-care agency, maybe?

Whatever it was, she hoped he made it snappy because when she got to the bottom of her second glass she was walking away.

Fletch paused by the sliding door, watching Tess’s profile for a moment, and wished he was sure of her. He needed her help. Once upon a time he could have counted on it. But a lot of water had flowed under the bridge since then and she was so very, very skittish.

Plus he wasn’t so sure of himself now. His plan had sounded fine in theory but being with her again was confrontational on many levels. He’d thought he could handle it but standing two metres from her he realised it would be physically and emotionally harder than he’d ever imagined.

Still … he was desperate and Tess was perfect.

He took a deep breath and stepped out onto the deck. ‘Here you go,’ he said, placing her refilled wine glass in front of her.

Tess glanced down at the offering and murmured, ‘Thanks.’

She picked it up and took a decent mouthful, the smooth, fruity crispness against her palate not really registering. She placed the wine back down as Fletch sat opposite her, hearing the clink as it met the smoky glass of the tabletop. ‘You wanted to talk about Jean?’ she prompted.

Fletch sighed. Obviously there wasn’t going to be any small talk. Which he’d have preferred. He had no idea how she was going to react to his proposition, although instinct told him it wouldn’t be very well …

‘I need to get someone in for Mum. Someone who can be here while I’m out. When I accepted the contract I thought I’d be able to juggle it and her. It’s only part time and Mum doesn’t need constant care and attention. But the truth is I don’t feel comfortable leaving her at all. I just don’t think she’s safe enough and I’d feel a hell of a lot better if she wasn’t here by herself.’

‘Like a home-care nurse?’

Fletch shook his head. ‘No. I’m not after someone to help with her physical needs because she’s still capable, so far, of taking care of that. Although having someone who understands Alzheimer’s is a definite plus … I’m thinking more like a companion.’

‘You mean someone closer to her own age?’

‘I mean someone who knows her. She’s not great with strangers—they distress her.’

Tess’s brow wrinkled. ‘That would be ideal, of course. Are you thinking of one of her old friends?’

Fletch didn’t take his eyes off her. ‘I’m thinking of someone closer than that. Someone she knows really well who has experience with the elderly and with dementia sufferers. The best of both worlds.’

Fletch watched and waited—waited for his meaning to sink in. It didn’t take long.

Tess narrowed her eyes. Was Fletch thinking what she thought he was thinking? She shook her head at him. ‘No. No way.’

‘You’re perfect, Tess.’

She shook her head again, mentally recoiling from the plea in his wattle-leaf gaze. ‘No.’

‘I know this is kind of out of the blue—’

‘Kind of?’ Tess spluttered.

‘I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t stuck.’

Tess stared at him, wondering when he was going to grow a second head. ‘Putting everything else aside, I’m leaving for the UK tomorrow.’

‘It’s just until after Trish is back on her feet. A couple of months.’

Tess blinked. ‘I have a job, Fletch.’

Fletch snorted. He’d always thought Tess squandering her critical care skills in a geriatric facility was such a monumental waste of a highly skilled nurse, even if it was to his advantage now.

She glared at him. ‘That I love. Where I get an enormous amount of respect and job satisfaction.’

It might just be a little nursing-home in the middle of the Devonshire countryside but people depended on her. The staff and the residents. When she’d needed a place to hide and lick her wounds they’d taken her in and given her a direction for her life. They’d helped her function again.

‘I’m sure they’d understand if you explained the circumstances. I can recompense you if it’s money you’re worried about.’

Tess shook her head at his utter gall. Had he thought she’d just agree? They’d been virtual strangers for the past nine years and he expected her to just … comply? And that splashing some money around would sweeten the pot? Sure, she loved Jean, he knew that. He knew how close they’d been. But it was still a big gamble for him to take—betting the bank on her.

The woman who had already turned her back on his family.

‘So this is it?’ she demanded. ‘This is your brilliant plan? Ask your ex-wife? Who just happens to be here at the same time you need someone to look after your mother? That’s crazy! What would you have done if I hadn’t been in town?’

‘It’s not crazy. It makes absolute sense. You’re the perfect person to ask. And, yes, the timing has been perfect too but, frankly, Tess, I would have gone to England to get you.’

‘To get me?’ Fletch held up his hands in a placatory manner.

‘To ask you,’ he amended.

Tess wasn’t placated. ‘How about this, Fletch? How about you give up your job and look after your mum instead? Trish’s been doing it for two years. Surely you can take a lousy couple of months off to do your bit.’

Fletch nodded. ‘And I will. If you won’t … I will. But studies like this are so important, Tess. The results can help the way we treat acute head injury. What we learn from them can make a real difference to neurological outcomes. This is critical stuff, Tess.’

‘Someone else can do it,’ she snapped.

‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘Someone else could … but this is what I do.’ He placed his hand on his chest. ‘This is my field of expertise.’ And his passion—Tess could hear it lacing every syllable. But chasing after medical rainbows wasn’t going to bring Ryan back. She stood up, the metal chair legs scraping against the terracotta tiles.

‘No, Fletcher. I’m sorry about your study, I really am, but I do not want to do this.’

He rose too and opened his mouth to interject and she held up a finger, silencing him. She looked into his determined face, his jaw set, his hand thrust on a hip, and she knew he didn’t get it. Didn’t understand why she’d be rejecting his perfectly rational plan.

He didn’t understand how just being around them—him and Jean—would be like a hot knife to her chest every day. How the reminders of Ryan that she was able to keep rigorously at bay on the other side of the world would be torturous.

It was suddenly vitally important that he understand. Vitally.

‘I get by, okay? I make it through each day and I sleep at night and my life is on an even keel. It may not seem very exciting to you—I’m not setting the world on fire with my cutting-edge research, but it took a while to reach this place and it works for me, Fletch. I don’t want to undo it.’

Fletch felt his breath catch as the fierce glow of her amber eyes beseeched him. He held her gaze, ignoring the anguish he saw there. ‘I came home the other day to a blaring alarm and smoke pouring out of the oven. She’d baked some biscuits and forgotten about them.’

He refused to look away, refused to back down. His mother was his priority and Tess was the answer. He needed her.

Whatever the emotional impact.

He was pushing her, he knew that, but listening to her talk had him thinking that maybe this was exactly what Tess needed also. Maybe she needed to start living a life where she more than just got by.

It was criminal that she was living this half-life stashed away in the English countryside where nobody knew her past and she could eke out an existence by pretending nothing had happened. That her whole world hadn’t come crashing down and sucked her into the deepest, darkest despair.

Maybe it was time for both of them to confront the past and deal with it. To talk and grieve together instead of separately. He’d let her deny and avoid all those years ago because her sorrow had been all-consuming and he’d been walking through a minefield he’d had no idea how to navigate whilst suffering his own debilitating grief.

He hadn’t pushed her back then.

But maybe it was finally time to push.

Tess swallowed as his intense look seemed to bore a hole right through her middle. It made her feel ill thinking about Jean almost burning the place down but her ex-mother-in-law wasn’t her responsibility.

She was ex for a reason.

And she didn’t want to get sucked back into lives that were too closely entwined with the tragic events that had defined all their lives since.

It just would be too hard.

She shook her head and turned away. ‘Goodbye, Fletcher.’

Fletch shut his eyes as she whirled away, heading for the door. Damn it! He’d felt sure he’d be able to convince her. He opened his eyes, resigned to letting it go. He’d tried. But he had to respect her decision.

Tess stalked into the apartment. Wheel of Fortune had finished, the show’s theme song blaring out. Jean was nowhere to be seen.

‘Jean?’ Tess called, reaching for the remote. Nothing. Not that anything could be heard over the roar of the television. ‘Jean?’ she called again, hitting the mute button.

‘Tess?’

Tess walked quickly towards the feeble, panicked voice she could hear coming from the kitchen area. ‘Jean?’

‘Here … I’m here.’

Tess rounded the bench to find Jean sitting on the floor, her back propped against the fridge, staring down at two raw eggs, one in each hand, the shells crushed, yolk oozing between her fingers. She looked at Tess with red-rimmed, frightened eyes, the papery skin on her cheeks damp.

‘I don’t know what these are,’ she said to Tess, holding them up.

‘Oh, Jean …’ Tess sank to the floor beside her and put her arm around skinny shoulders. ‘It’s okay,’ she murmured. ‘It’s going to be okay.’

Jean shook her head, pulled away to look at her daughter-in-law. ‘I’m frightened, Tess,’ she whispered, and started to tear up again. ‘Something’s wrong. H-help me, please.’ Her voice cracked. ‘Please … h-help me.’

Jean dissolved into soft tears and Tess felt her heart swell up with love for this woman who had been like a mother to her as she snuggled her into the crook of her shoulder.

‘Shh,’ Tess crooned, rocking slightly. ‘Shh, now.’

Tess heard footsteps and looked up to find Fletch staring down at her with solemn eyes. He crouched beside them and Tess saw that all-too-familiar look of sadness sheen his eyes to silver. She watched as he reached for his mother’s shoulder, placed his long brown fingers over her pale, waxy skin and gently rubbed.

‘It’s okay, Tess,’ he whispered over his mother’s bent head. ‘I’ll fix it.’

Tess shut her eyes as Jean’s plea tugged at her. She was almost out the door, damn it. She didn’t want to be needed like this. Not by Jean. And certainly not by him.

Not fair. So not fair.

But, as Fletch had only just pointed out, when had life ever been fair?

Could she really turn her back on Jean who had never asked her for anything? Fletch maybe, but Jean?

She opened her eyes. ‘Let me see if it can be arranged …’

Fletch felt his heart swell with relief and something else far more primal. He sagged slightly as what seemed to be the weight of the entire world lifted from his shoulders. ‘Thank you,’ he mouthed. ‘Thank you.’

Tess pushed the ‘end’ button on the phone thirty minutes later. Her boss at Estuary View Nursing Home had been very understanding of Tess’s predicament and had urged Tess, her best employee who only ever took the same two weeks off every year, to take as much time as she needed.

So, that was that.

She kept her elbows firmly planted on the balcony railing, staring out over the river darkening to liquid mercury. The city’s first lights winked on the polished surface and shimmered in the wake of a City Cat as it fractured the surface. She was surprised at the tide of nostalgia that crept over her.

Brisbane was her home town.

And she’d been away for a long time.

In recent years it had been a place to dread, a place of terrible memories, a heinous pilgrimage. But a sudden strange melancholy infused her bones.

Irritated by the path of her thoughts, Tess turned her back on the river. Through the open doorway she could see Jean sitting happily once again in front of the television, sipping a fresh cup of tea, her incident with the eggs forgotten. Fletch sat beside her, holding her hand, his dark wavy hair a stark contrast to the thin, white wisps of his mother’s.

He looked up at her at that moment and for a second they just stared at each other. Tess felt the melancholy sink into her marrow. Then Fletch raised an eyebrow and she nodded at him and he once again mouthed, ‘Thank you,’ before kissing his mother gently on the head and easing away from her.

Tess moved inside, following Fletch into the kitchen.

‘All sorted?’

She nodded. ‘Yes.’

They were standing a couple of metres apart and Fletch took a step towards her as a well of gratitude rising inside him propelled him forward. In the old days he would have swept her into his arms. ‘I know this is a big ask, Tess …’

Tess shook her head. If he truly knew, he wouldn’t have asked. ‘You have no idea, Fletch.’

Just looking at his face caused her chest to ache. It took her back to times she’d spent ten years trying to forget. Ryan had looked so like his father it had been ridiculous. He took another step towards her but she held up her hand to ward him off.

Fletch stopped. ‘You think this is any easier for me?’ he asked.

Tess dropped her gaze at the honesty in his. It was a horrible situation for them both. ‘What time do you want me here in the mornings?’

Tess had no idea where she was going to stay for the next couple of months but she’d figure it out. In the interim she could extend her stay at the hotel. But there was no way her budget could stretch to such luxury for more than a week.

Fletch frowned. ‘I don’t just want you here in the mornings, Tess, I want you here twenty-four seven.’

Tess’s gaze flew back to his face. ‘What?’ Her heartbeat kicked up a notch as his meaning sank in.

‘Mum’s wandering more during the night and can become quite agitated when you try and get her back to bed. She’s particularly disorientated when she wakes up in the morning since moving from Trish’s. She sees me and the first person she asks for in the morning or if she wakes at night is you. It’ll be good for her to have you right there when she’s so distressed.’

Tess held his gaze. ‘And when I go?’

Fletch had always believed in not borrowing trouble. He had it covered for the next two months and that was all he was worried about for now. ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,’ he said, his expression grim.

‘Your mother’s condition needs a little more forward planning than that,’ she said waspishly.

Dealing with families of dementia sufferers, Tess knew that those who had planned for every contingency coped better with the curve balls the condition threw them.

Fletch nodded. He couldn’t agree more. ‘Another reason why I need you here. Forward planning.’ He looked into her shuttered gaze. ‘It makes sense for you to stay here, Tess. And where are you going to find short-term accommodation at such late notice?’

Anywhere but here. ‘I have friends in Brisbane …’

‘Do you? Do you really, Tess? Kept in contact with the old crowd, have you?’

Tess broke eye contact. He knew she’d severed all links when she’d moved overseas. Before that even, when concerned friends had been too much for her to handle. She’d withdrawn from all her support groups, from her life really, as grief had consumed her utterly.

‘I can’t pretend happy families with you, Fletch,’ she said, the marble surface of the kitchen bench cold beneath her hand. ‘Too much has happened. Living with you again … it’ll bring too much back.’

Fletch nodded. He knew that. And after only a couple of hours in her company he knew it would be harder than he’d originally thought. But sometimes the greatest gain came at the greatest cost. Ten years ago she’d shut down, shut him out—shut the world out—and he’d let her. With her here and committed to the task she wasn’t running away any more and maybe, just maybe, they could face head-on what they hadn’t been able to a decade ago.

‘You think it’s going to matter where you lay your hat each night,’ he asked her downcast head, ‘when we’ll be seeing each other day in and day out?’

Tess knew he was right. It was going to be difficult whether she stayed here or not.