Читать книгу Merry Christmas - Emma Darcy, Emma Darcy - Страница 9

CHAPTER FOUR

HE WAS holding her hand.

The physical link generated a flood of warm feeling that drove away the chilling fear of the unknown and soothed the whirling chaos in her mind. She hadn’t died and moved on to where impossible things were possible. She wasn’t dreaming. Nick Hamilton’s hand pressed solid substance in a world that had shifted too fast for Meredith to retain a grip on it herself.

The initial confusion of finding herself on her bed, with him sitting beside her, quickly cleared as she remembered what had gone before. “I must have fainted,” she croaked in surprise.

Her voice startled him out of the private reverie he’d fallen into. His head jerked around to face her. His eyes had a dazed look. “Yes,” he said, his focus sharpening. “You still look pale. Would you like a drink of water?”

She started to prop herself up on her elbow. The room reeled. She fell back on the pillows, hopelessly dizzy. “Yes, please. It might help.” She closed her eyes, fighting a wave of nausea. “Sorry...”

“My fault.” His weight shifted off the bed. “Be right back.”

A combination of shock with too much wine on an empty stomach, Meredith reasoned, wishing she’d had the sense to eat properly. She didn’t want Nick Hamilton thinking she was sickly and unable to cope with difficult situations. He might think bet ter of her meeting Kimberly for even a short time.

The longing to see her daughter in the flesh rose so strongly, it overrode every other consideration. To actually see her, watch her in action, listen to her, hear how she felt about so many things... it would be worth any amount of heartache.

Fearing that the opening Nick Hamilton had offered might be withdrawn if his impression of her was negative, Meredith swung her legs off the bed and bent her head down to her knees, determined on regaining her equilibrium. By the time he returned with a glass of water, she had steadied enough to drink it.

The weight of liquid helped settle her stomach. As she put the emptied glass on the bedside table, she glanced up to thank him, only to find he wasn’t watching her. He was staring at the photographs on the wall and the grim set to his face did not reflect any pleasure in them.

Her heart sank as she realised what an overwhelming effect the display might have on someone who hadn’t seen it, who didn’t live with it. She didn’t expect others to understand her need for these all too few windows on the life of her lost child and she instinctively recoiled from having that deeply driven maternal need exposed.

“I didn’t invite you in here. I don’t invite anyone in here,” she burst out defensively.

The look he turned on her was so wary it made Meredith feel frantic. Was he in retreat from her? She made a floundering gesture at the photographs.

“I mean all this...it’s private,” she cried, desperate to win a sympathetic hearing. “You probably take Kimberly and everything about her for granted, having her around you all the time. This is the only way I have of seeing my child grow up.”

He shook his head, an appalled expression in his eyes, as though, until this moment, he hadn’t begun to comprehend the immense loss she’d borne since Kimberly’s birth.

“I gave her up because I thought it best for her. That doesn’t mean I love her any less,” Meredith asserted with vehement passion, trying to appeal to his sense of fairness.

“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “I had no idea...no appreciation of...” He gestured apologetically. “I beg your pardon for not being more...prepared.”

The father of her child, appearing out of nowhere to suddenly hold out the chance of a reunion—more of a reunion than he knew—how could he have any idea what it meant to her? She ached all over just looking at him, having him near, bringing back the memories of her double grief.

He backed off a step, his face creased in pained concern. “I didn’t mean to invade your privacy by bringing you in here. It was only to help. If you’d prefer to recover alone now...”

Anxiety sank its claws in. Was he seizing an opportunity to escape from a situation he was finding too fraught with emotion? Had she just ruined the one chance she might ever have of meeting her daughter? The last thing she wanted was to drive him away. So much was hanging in the balance. She sought frantically for ways to plead her cause and all she could come up with was to beg a stay of judgment.

“Please don’t go. I won’t collapse on you again.”

An aeon seemed to pass as his eyes bored into hers, searching, sifting, undecided as to what was right or wrong. His tension made hers worse. Every nerve in her body was strung tight, willing him to stay and talk until a more favourable position was reached.

“I’ll wait in the living room,” he said, clearly discomforted by the walls of photographs, the stark evidence of deprived motherhood and the overcharged atmosphere that had risen from its confrontation.

An intense wash of relief brought a hot flow of blood to Meredith’s cheeks. Hopefully it gave them a healthy-looking flush. “I’ll come with you,” she rushed out, afraid to let him out of her sight in case he had second thoughts. “It’s food I need. Once I’ve had something solid to eat I’m sure I’ll feel much better.”

She quickly pushed up from the bed, swaying slightly before finding her balance. He was beside her in an instant, ready to lend his support. Her eyes pleaded for belief as she assured him, “I’m not usually fragile.”

“Take my arm.” It was a firm command. “I’ll see you seated on your sofa. Then you can tell me what to do in your kitchen to assemble a meal for you.”

“I can manage,” she protested, intent on proving it.

“So can I,” he insisted, intent on taking control.

The need to show independent strength suddenly lost its importance. If she kept him busy with her now, she gained the time to impress him as a responsible person whom he could trust to act both sensibly and sensitively when it came to a meeting with Kimberly. It had to come to that. Had to.

She hooked her arm around his and felt his muscles harden as her hand slid over them. It made her feel skittish, uncertain if he was inwardly recoiling from her touch or reacting to it in the way he once had. Though it was madness to think of that now when so much else was at stake. Besides, the quickly sparked desires of youth hardly fitted into this picture.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t help being extremely aware of him as he matched his steps to hers in their walk to the living room. Her upper arm was tucked against the warm wall of his chest and their hips and thighs brushed, arousing little shivers of sensitivity that sharply reminded her of how intimate they had once been.

Breathing in his aftershave lotion—surely the same tangy scent he’d used then—tickled her nostrils, evoking the memory of how he’d brought all her senses incredibly alive that summer. Every smell had seemed exotic, every colour brighter, every sound magnified, every taste heightened, every touch...Meredith fiercely clamped down on that line of thought. It was stirring feelings she couldn’t afford.

It was a relief when Nick Hamilton deposited her on the sofa and dropped all physical contact with her. He took off so briskly for the kitchen, Meredith suspected it was a relief for him to have some distance between them, too, though his reasons were undoubtedly different. Getting on with the business he’d come about would be very much on his mind.

She watched him taking inventory of the contents of her refrigerator and called, “A sandwich will do. There’s bread in the fridge.”

Decisive and efficient in his movements, he set out a loaf of bread, butter, a packet of sliced cheese and tomatoes, then switched on the griller at the top of the stove. He was certainly kitchen trained, Meredith thought, and wondered how much he fended for himself. Was he married?

However pertinent the question was in the circumstances, Meredith shied away from it, reluctant to picture him with a wife. Then she remembered the misery of trying to get along with her stepmother and wondered if Kimberly was suffering the same problem, having lost the parents who had brought her up and then been landed on a woman who had no deep caring for her, a woman who was only there because she was attached to Nick Hamilton.

Meredith knew from first-hand experience how unwanted a girl of Kimberly’s age could feel, given such a situation. And it stood to reason that something had to be prompting the desire to meet her real mother. It also stood to reason that a man as attractive as Nick Hamilton would not be without a woman.

Another question sprang to mind. How did Kimberly know about her? Surely it would be uncharacteristic of Denise Graham to reveal anything about Kimberly’s real mother to the child she was bringing up as her own daughter. It struck Meredith that Nick Hamilton might have more to answer for than he’d like to admit.

“How long has Kimberly known she was adopted?” she asked, feeling the knowledge had to have come after the death of her adoptive parents.

“She found out a week before the car accident that killed Denise and Colin,” he answered flatly.

Found out? Dear Heaven! Had the resulting upset contributed to the accident?

Nick Hamilton’s dark gaze lifted briefly from the bread he was buttering, a heavy sadness dulling his eyes. “Apparently Denise was sorting through photographs and discussing with Colin which ones to send to you. Kimberly overheard them and pieced the information together.” He frowned. “She has a bad habit of eavesdropping. Perhaps being an only child...no sibling to talk to...”

“Did she confront them with it?” Meredith broke in anxiously, imagining the guilt her daughter might feel if there’d been arguments.

He shook his head. “She wanted to think about it. Work out what it meant to her.”

A lot of inner turmoil there, Meredith thought, though it was a relief to learn there had been no open conflict for which Kimberly might blame herself.

“Then her world came crashing down,” Nick Hamilton continued, “and there were so many changes for her to take on, I guess she clung to what was safely familiar rather than pursue what probably seemed like an intangible dream.”

“So you didn’t talk to her about it?”

“I thought it better not to. She had enough trauma losing one set of parents, let alone two.” He grimaced. “She kept it to herself until a few days ago.”

Holding such a big secret all that time...holding it in reserve, Meredith thought, and wondered how often her daughter might have fantasised about another life as she tried living with the man who had been legally appointed her guardian, a man who was only an uncle by adoption. Or did Kimberly instinctively feel more closely bonded to him...her real father?

Was there an innate tie of blood, whether it was known or not? Would her daughter feel she was a total stranger or would there be an instant, intuitive link between them? The need to know pounded through Meredith, bringing a wave of excitement, of almost unbearable anticipation. It was difficult to contain it but she sternly told herself she had to while a meeting was still not settled.

She watched the only man she had ever loved place the sandwiches he was intent on toasting under the griller and tried to imagine what he was feeling about Kimberly’s request, coming virtually out of nowhere. He would not have been prepared for that, either. But Nick Hamilton was no dodger of delicate issues. He faced them and dealt with them according to his sense of rightness. It was that very quality of character Meredith had implicitly believed in when she had found herself pregnant.

“You think a rich college boy is going to stand by you?” her stepmother had mocked. “He skipped out fast enough when I told him your age. A guy like that doesn’t want to be shackled to a sixteen-year-old country girl who was no more than a Christmas vacation fling to him.”

He hadn’t skipped out. Meredith hadn’t thought it then and she didn’t think it now.

It had shocked him when her stepmother had confronted him with how young she was. Meredith had let him assume she was older, knowing she could easily pass for nineteen and desperately wanting to go with him wherever he wanted to take her. She’d argued to herself that love had nothing to do with age.

But Nick had faced the issues squarely and laid them out to her. She still had two more years of school plus tertiary education after that, if she wanted it. There was so much more for her to do and experience and think about before tying herself to anyone or anything. She should be free to make the choices that would best suit her. The love they felt for each other could be recaptured when she was older. He didn’t feel right about taking up her life while she still had so much in front of her.

He had given her his address and suggested they send each other Christmas cards if they both wanted to keep the connection going. No commitment. But there was no harm in maintaining a friendly communication once a year. When she was twenty-one...

“Isn’t eighteen old enough?” she’d protested, devastated at the thought of waiting so many years before they could be lovers again.

“It wouldn’t be fair,” he’d answered ruefully. “Any more than it would be fair of me to stay on here, Merry. The more deeply we get involved the harder it will be to part.”

He’d gone that very day, the day after her stepmother had discovered them making love on the back veranda and created such an ugly scene, accusing Nick of taking advantage of a girl who was barely past being a minor. Despite his shock, Nick hadn’t allowed her stepmother to turn what had been beautiful into something low and dirty. And though he had left her, it wasn’t without the promise of a future for them...if their love held true. Giving her his address was proof of his good faith. He wouldn’t have done that if he was skipping out on her.

Meredith had known her pregnancy would come as another shock to him. He’d taken precautions every time they’d made love. How they’d failed she didn’t know but she’d had no doubt Nick would stand by her. He was kind and caring and responsible and honourable. She couldn’t imagine him letting her down.

It hurt, even now, thinking back to the Christmas after the birth of their baby. Secretly, she’d been so sure a Christmas card would come from him. Even though he was overseas in America, he would think of her and write and then she’d have a contact address and be able to write back, telling him what had happened. She had dreamed of him flying home and reclaiming their child from his sister. They’d be married and...but no Christmas card had come from him.

The only communication had been the first promised packet of photographs from his sister.

So had begun the painful process of accepting that Denise Graham had told the truth about his losing all memory of the time they’d spent together. Or that Nick had put her out of his life. Either way, it was too late to change her mind about giving up her baby daughter. That decision was irrevocable.

But some dreams refused to die. A year later she’d succumbed to the temptation of going to the address Nick had given her, the Grahams’ address, hoping to see him since his two years in the U.S. were up, wanting the chance to know for certain how matters stood between them. The Grahams had moved. None of their neighbours knew where they’d gone. The one avenue she’d had to him was closed.

She’d told herself to get on with her life, and she had, but for a long, long time the dream had persisted that he would turn up one day and make everything right again. And here he was, but with no memory of her, and trying to make things right for the child he thought of as his niece.

He emerged from the kitchen, carrying a plate of toasted sandwiches, and Meredith steeled herself to keep a calm composure, determined on convincing him she would do what was best for Kimberly, the welfare and happiness of her daughter being her first consideration. But she couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering over him, nor could she quell the wish for some sign of the love they had once shared.

Her pulse quickened with each step he took toward her. As he bent to set the plate on the coffee table in front of her, her eyes feasted on his face, admiring the long thick sweep of his eyelashes—their daughter had inherited them—and retracing the sensual contours of his mouth, remembering the explosive passion of his kisses. Her muscles clenched, wanting the release he had once given them, and Meredith savagely berated herself for being unable to suppress the desires he stirred.

“Are you married?” she asked, driven to know if he was out of bounds to her. If he was, maybe she could put this intense distraction aside and concentrate solely on establishing time with Kimberly.

“No.” He flashed a sharp look at her before moving to settle in the armchair on the other side of the table.

Meredith struggled to maintain a natural air of inquiry. That one brief word eased the terrible tightness in her chest. It was like a song of hope in her ears. For a moment or two her mind danced with wonderful possibilities. Then the realities of today’s world crashed in, reminding her of the commonplace arrangements that didn’t require marriage.

“Do you live with...with a partner?” She couldn’t bring herself to say lover.

“No.” He sat facing her, watching her, and Meredith could only hope he couldn’t see she was giddy with relief. His expression was carefully schooled to give nothing of his thoughts away as he slowly added, “I employ a woman to come in weekdays and be there after school hours. She also looks after Kimberly whenever I’m out in the evening. She’s with her now. They get on quite well.”