Читать книгу The Package Deal: Nine Months to Change His Life / From Neighbours...to Newlyweds? / The Bonus Mum - Jennifer Greene, Brenda Harlen - Страница 10
ОглавлениеTHEY PRETTY MUCH clung to one another for twelve hours. That was how long it took for the cyclone to blast their slice of paradise to pieces.
It didn’t matter, though, Ben thought in the moments he could surface to thinking. For now, for this time out of reality, he felt like he’d found his home.
Outside the cyclone shrieked across and around the island, doing its worst, while they made love and talked in whispers right against each other’s ears because that was the only way they could be heard.
There was a couple of hours’ eerie silence as the eye passed over. Mary suggested pulling apart then, checking the beach, thinking if something...someone else had been washed up... But Ben knew no one could have survived in a sea rougher than the pre-cyclonic conditions he’d been washed up in, and how did they know how long the eye would take to pass?
With his injured knee he couldn’t move fast, and the thought of his Mary—his Mary?—being caught up in it was unbearable.
Then the darkness and the wind closed in on them once more and the quilt was their refuge again.
Their bodies were their refuge.
Heinz was there, too. Every now and then the little dog squirmed upwards as if to make sure his mistress was still there, head as well as toes. Then he’d retreat to the warmth of the nest their feet made—as if he knew they needed privacy.
Privacy? Ben had never felt so private.
He was a loner. His parents’ appalling marriage, the family wealth that set him and Jake apart, had turned him into himself. He’d moved into his father’s financial world almost by default. There’d been no one else to take on his father’s role as head of such a vast financial empire, but in the end he’d found it suited him.
He discovered he had a talent for finance, and the financial world was superficial enough to suit him. Emotion had no place. He moved in sophisticated circles, with women who were content to partner him for appearances. They knew not to intrude on his solitude.
And yet this slip of a girl had broken through. How? He didn’t know, and for now he didn’t care.
They talked and made love, talked again, then fell into a half-sleep where their bodies seemed to merge closer than he’d felt to anyone in his life. Closer than he’d imagined he could feel.
She asked questions and he answered, and vice versa. There seemed no boundaries. The storm had blasted them away.
He found himself talking of his childhood, of the isolation he and Jake had found themselves in, how one dare had led to another. He told her of an understanding nanny who’d said, ‘Guys, you don’t need to kill yourselves to get your parents to notice you.’ And then she’d added, sadly, ‘Your parents are so caught up in their own worlds, you mightn’t manage it no matter what you do.’
Those words had been spoken when he was about twelve. They hadn’t made one whit of difference to the risks he and Jake had taken, but thinking back...
His mother’s demands that her children cheer her up, make her happy, pander to her emotions. Her eventual suicide when they’d failed. The appalling distant cruelty of his father. Their childhood behaviour made sense now, and here in this cocoon of passion and warmth and safety he could say it.
But he didn’t need to say it. It was just one of the passing thoughts that went between them, and it was as if he was lying in the dark, totally isolated, talking to himself.
Or not.
Because she listened and she held him, and the words were absorbed and held. Somehow, within that cocoon, he felt the armour around his heart soften and crack.
Just for now. Just for this storm. They both knew there was no tomorrow. Was that part of the deal?
‘Tell me about roller derby,’ he said at one point, and he felt her body lighten. A frisson of laughter seemed to pass between them.
What was it with this woman? If she smiled, he seemed to smile with her. His body seemed to react to hers, no matter what she did.
They seemed...one.
It was the storm, he told himself. Shared danger. The emotion and peril of the last two days. It was nothing more.
But somehow, right now, it seemed much more.
‘Roller derby’s my home,’ she said, and he blinked.
‘Pardon?’
‘You went into the army,’ she said. ‘I’m guessing roller derby’s the same thing for me. Nice, little Mary, goody two shoes, knocked down whenever I do anything that might be noticed because I have a powerful stepmother and three overwhelming stepsisters. But when I put on my skates, I can be someone else. I can be the me I suspect I could have been if my mum had lived.’
‘So when you put your skates on, you’re Bad Ass Mary.’
‘Smash ’em Mary,’ she corrected him. ‘I can do anything when I have my team around me. The power is unbelievable, but there are no roadside bombs for the unwary.’
‘Only the odd broken leg.’
‘I’ve never broken anything. I’m little and quick and smart.’
He could see that about her. It made him smile again.
‘And rough?’
‘You’d better believe it.’
‘I’d love to watch you play.’
‘That’s not going to happen.’ He heard her smile die.
‘You’ll find another team.’
‘Another team, another town, another life?’
‘Mary...’ He rolled over and tugged her close.
‘Mmm?’
‘That’s for tomorrow. Not now. Now is just...now.’
‘I should stop thinking about it?’
‘Yes.’
‘I need distraction.’
‘I’m good at distraction,’ he said, and kissed her. He kissed her as she should be kissed, this wiry, tough, soft, vulnerable, yet ready-to-face-the-world warrior queen. ‘I can provide distraction now. All you need to do is say yes.’
‘Yes,’ she whispered—and so he did.
* * *
She woke and there was silence.
Silence, silence and silence. It was so quiet it was almost loud.
She was cocooned against Ben’s body, enfolded and protected, and for a couple of dreamy moments she found herself wishing she could stay. But the silence told her this time out was almost over.
Any minute now the world would break in. They’d be rescued, she could pick up the pieces and start again.
A consummation devoutly to be wished?
No. She didn’t wish. All she wished was right here, right now. She closed her eyes and let herself savour Ben’s body. Life was all about now, she told herself. She refused to think further.
‘Mary?’
‘Mmm?’ Shut up, she was pleading beneath her breath. Don’t you know that if we wake up it’s over?
‘It’s over,’ he said, and she kept her eyes closed for one last millisecond, gathering her resources, such as they were.
She could do this.
‘We’ve survived,’ she said, and she thought, I will survive. And then she thought, How dramatic is that? Woman who’s just had a magnificent time out with a wounded warrior; celebrating survival? She felt like she should be celebrating much more.
She could put him in her book. Who was she kidding? He already was in her book.
And who was she kidding with her writing? Writing would give her an alternative career? That was fantasy.
Like now. But fantasy was over.
Ben was putting her gently away, kissing her with all the tenderness in the world but then setting her back, holding her shoulders so he could look into her eyes.
‘That was a very nice way to spend the storm,’ he said, and she managed a smile.
‘Diversional therapy? They taught us that at nursing school. It works beautifully.’
‘You never learned what we just did at nursing school.’
‘I... No.’
‘Mary, if there are consequences...’
‘There won’t be consequences.’ She said it with more confidence than she felt. It was the wrong time of the month, she should be okay, but...but...
But there were things she could do. She just had to be practical.
‘I’ll always be here for you,’ he said, and there was that in his voice that said he meant it. ‘No matter where you are in the world, if you ever need me...’
‘If ever I wash up on a beach...’
‘I’m not joking,’ he said, and touched her lips gently with his fingers. ‘I’m yours for life.’
He meant he had a lifelong debt, she thought. Yours for life? No and no and no. Already she could see him moving on.
‘We need a radio,’ he said.
‘There’s been no transmission since before I found you. I suspect the mainland transmission towers have gone.’
‘Phone?’ he said without much hope.
‘Same. But I turned mine off, conserving the battery so when it does come on again I can call.’
She saw his relief. ‘You normally get reception?’
‘From higher on the island, where the hut is.’ She hauled herself together, trying to ignore the feel of his hands on her shoulders, trying to ignore the part of her that was screaming that she didn’t want to leave this place.
She had to leave.
‘I’ll do a recce,’ she said. ‘Heinz and me. It’s time he got some exercise.’
‘We’ll do a recce.’
‘Yeah, Commando Sir,’ she said dryly. ‘Have you seen the size of your knee?’
‘It’s better.’
‘It’s straight. It’s not better. And there’s no proof you don’t have a broken bone. You want to be on the other side of the island and the bone shifts? What good would that do either of us?
‘I need to find out what’s happened to Jake,’ he said, and she knew his focus had gone out of this cave, back to the most important thing in the world.
His twin.
He’d moved on. She must, too.
She sat up and stared out into the bright morning light. The sky was clear, the wind had dropped to almost nothing, and she could see the turquoise blue of the bay. ‘The tide looks like it’s out,’ she said. ‘There’ll be a couple of hours when I can access most parts of the beach. What if you stay here and tend the fire, and Heinz and I will do a circumnavigation of the island. We’ll check and see what’s left of the hut but we’ll check the beach first.’
She very carefully didn’t look at his face. She stared out to sea as if she wasn’t thinking about anything at all except maybe finding the odd interesting shell. ‘It’d be good to see what the storm’s washed up,’ she said in a voice that said she was hardly interested.
He wasn’t fooled for a moment. ‘Mary...’
She dropped the pretence. ‘I know you’re worried. You shouldn’t be. He was in a harness. Those choppers don’t drop anyone.’
‘Thank you,’ he said. He was trying to believe her but he was also thinking of next worst-case scenarios. ‘Mary, there were others...’
‘I’ll be looking. I’m not Jake-specific. Any more commando heroes washed overboard, I’ll tug ’em home.’
‘Isn’t one enough?’
‘One’s more than enough,’ she said, and then, because she couldn’t help herself, she took his face between her hands and she kissed him. She kissed him strongly and surely, and he wasn’t to know that for her it seemed like a goodbye.
‘One’s more than enough,’ she said. ‘One’s given me strength that should keep me going for a long, long time.’
‘How long?’
‘I’d guess a few hours,’ she said, forcing herself to put the kiss aside as it was too hard to think about. ‘It normally takes two hours to walk the beach but with the debris it might take me four. Don’t expect me home for lunch.’
‘For better or worse but not for lunch?’
‘That’s right, dear,’ she said, and grinned. ‘I’ll take an apple and a water bottle. Meanwhile, you keep the home fires burning and have my slippers warmed and ready. Bye.’
* * *
She left, taking Heinz with her, and he wanted to go with her so much it almost killed him. Only practicalities stopped him. His leg would impede them both. He did need her to go right round the island. He did need her to check the shore.
Just in case.
But she was right. Harnesses didn’t fail. Jake would be safe. He was being paranoid.
And now, on top of his worry for Jake, another worry was superimposed. Mary, pushing her way through debris, navigating a cyclone-devastated island...
What if she fell?
She wouldn’t. What had she said? She was little and quick and smart.
She was, too.
His warrior woman.
He smiled. Mary. He owed her so much. How could he ever repay her?
Do something about her appalling family?
What?
He threw a couple more logs on the fire and thought about the sequence of events leading to the coroner’s verdict. Had she employed a lawyer? He bet she hadn’t. A lawyer would have cross-examined, produced times and witnesses outside the family, talked about pre-existing family conflict.
Would Mary allow him to push for a rehearing? Would she allow him to do that for her?
He suspected not. He could hear the defeat in her voice, but also the loyalty. Somewhere there was a father she still loved, and these appalling women were his wife and daughters.
What else? He’d never felt so helpless.
She’d been gone for half an hour, far too early for her to return, yet already he was imagining worst-case scenarios. There’d been trees ripped, maybe landslides from so much rain. So many hazards...
Things on the beach.
Jake...
In desperation he picked up the papers she’d been writing on. He’d watched her, half asleep, and seen the intent look on her face. It had seemed like this was something that took her out of her current misery.
‘None of your business.’ She’d said it loud and clear.
It was none of his business. He owed her privacy but he was going out of his mind.
He hauled himself outside to sit in the sun, acknowledging as he did just how swollen his leg was; how impossible it was that he do anything useful.
He stared out over the storm-swept island, at the flattened trees, at the mountain of debris washed up on the beach.
Jake.
Mary.
It was too much. He hauled himself back inside to fetch the papers.
It was none of his business. He acknowledged it, but he started to read anyway.
* * *
Negotiating the beach was a nightmare. The cyclone had caused storm surges and the water had washed well up the cliff face. She looked at the new high-water mark and shuddered. If she hadn’t found Ben when she had...
Don’t go there, she told herself. It made her feel ill.
Surely no one else could have survived, but she had to check. The debris washed up was unbelievable—and some of it looked as if it had come from the yacht fleet.
Every time she saw a flash of something that shouldn’t be there, a hint of colour, waterproof clothing, shattered fibreglass or ripped sails, her heart caught in her mouth. No bodies, she pleaded as she searched. No Jake? He had to have been rescued.
What sort of people manned those rescue helicopters? she wondered, thinking suddenly about the woman who’d been dangling in a harness with the unknown Jake. There was a prayer in her heart for both of them—indeed, for anyone who’d been out there.
But even before she’d found Ben, the radio had said people had died.
She searched on and stupidly, weirdly, she found herself crying. Why? Tears wouldn’t help anyone. She was Mary, the practical one. Mary, who didn’t do emotion.
Mary, who’d just spent twenty-four hours in a stranger’s arms?
She didn’t feel like Mary any more. Over the past months she’d been blasted out of her nice, safe existence, first by the death of her stepsister’s baby, then by a storm—and now by a man holding her as if he cared.
He was shocked and frantic about his brother’s safety. He’d been using her body to forget.
‘And I was using him,’ she told Heinz. She was sitting on a massive tree trunk washed up on the beach, retrieving her apple from her backpack.
But he’d held her as if he cared. No one did that. Even her father...
Don’t go there. She’d loved her father as much as she’d loved her mother. Her mother’s death had been unavoidable.
Her father’s marriage to Barbie had meant desertion and she’d never truly trusted anyone since.
She stared down at her apple, but she didn’t feel like eating. What was she doing, dredging up long-ago pain?
She wanted, quite desperately, to be back on the mainland, surrounded by her roller-derby team. She needed a fast, furious game where she could pit her wits and her strength against skills that matched hers—where she had no room to think of anything beyond the physical.
As she’d been when she’d lain in Ben’s arms?
Only there’d been room for more than the physical with Ben. It had felt like there was far more.
And there wasn’t. She didn’t need anyone. Hadn’t her whole life taught her that?
‘So get over it. Get over him.’ She crunched her apple with unnecessary force. Heinz looked at her with worry, and she bit off a piece and offered it.
He wasn’t interested. He headed back into the kelp. Here be dead fish and stuff. Here be something better than apples.
‘That’s what I get for hauling your dog food to the cave,’ she retorted. ‘Some dogs would be grateful for apple.’
Her words caught her sense of the ridiculous and she managed a half-hearted smile. It was only half-hearted, though. She truly was discombobulated. In the last couple of months her world had been blasted apart, and the cyclone seemed the culmination.
Wrong. Ben seemed the culmination.
* * *
He was a fast reader but sometimes he slowed. Sometimes he wanted to soak in each word.
He’d desperately needed an escape from his worry about Jake. Last night Mary had been that escape. Now the manuscript in his hands was giving him a lesser one.
His dark, shadowed eyes, grey and mysterious, seemed to bore into parts of her she hadn’t even known existed. They seemed to see the wolf within.
He got it. He was grinning with delight as he recognised himself. She’d gone back and crossed a few things out in the backstory. His build, his eyes, his physique, were superimposed on...her hero?
This man was supposed to be a twin? Heaven help her if there were two of them. One was enough to make a werewolf run for cover.
He read on, entranced. Escape... That’s what this woman was all about, he thought, and she was very, very good at it. Her writing was part of her. The whole was entrancing.
* * *
She rounded the entire island. She found storm-blasted birds, some dead but most simply stunned and battered, hunkering down while they recovered.
She—or rather Heinz—found dead fish. Heinz let the birds be but not the fish. How much fish could one dog eat? Mary was past caring.
Thank God, no bodies.
Finally she made her way inland to check on the hut. But what hut? The base of the fireplace was all that was left. The tin roof was scattered through the bushland. The timber walls had crumbled. Her friends’ possessions were sodden and ruined. There seemed nothing left for her to save.
‘And we’ve probably ruined the quilt as well,’ she told Heinz.
‘I’ll fix it.’
Ben’s voice in the stillness made her jump. She turned and he was sitting on a fallen tree at the edge of the clearing, watching her.
‘You shouldn’t have come,’ she said, shocked. ‘You should be resting your knee.’
‘You’ve been gone for four hours,’ he said pointedly. ‘A man’s allowed to get worried. Two stout walking-sticks and I managed.’
‘How did you know where to come?’
‘There are two paths from the cave. One leads to the beach. I figured the other led here, and I figured this was where you’d end up. I’m up there with Einstein,’ he said proudly.
She managed a smile. He looked astonishing. His face was battered, the shirt and pants he was wearing had the odd rip, he’d wrapped his one bare foot in a ripped towel to form a makeshift shoe, but he looked...healthy?
Maybe more than healthy, she conceded. He looked more tough, rugged and good-looking than any man had a right to look.
Especially when a woman had to be sensible.
Think about something else, she told herself desperately. Focus. She gazed around the clearing at the mess.
Nothing occurred. She just wanted to look at him.
‘I’ll have the quilt cleaned,’ he told her. ‘Restored if necessary. I’ll have this cottage rebuilt if insurance doesn’t pay for it. I’ll do anything in my power to pay for what you’ve done for me. Starting with the quilt.’
‘How did you know the quilt’s important?’
‘I’ve seen homes destroyed in Afghanistan. I’ve seen women who’ve lost all their possessions, and I’ve seen what a tiny thing can mean.’ He smiled at her, but his smile had changed. All the compassion in the world was in that smile. ‘After you left I had a chance to take a good look at that quilt. It’s amazing.’
‘Barbara’s grandmother sewed it for her trousseau.’
Some time during the last twenty-four hours she’d told him about Barbara and Henry.
Some time in the last twenty-four hours she’d told him almost everything.
‘There’s not a lot here we can salvage,’ he said, and she didn’t reply. There wasn’t any need.
‘The boat?’ he asked, without much hope.
‘Smashed.’
‘You didn’t think to put it somewhere safe?’
She flashed him a look.
He grinned. ‘Yeah, I know. Lack of forethought is everywhere. I should have put my yacht in dry dock in Manhattan.’
‘The world’s full of should-haves.’
‘But on the other hand, I brought crackers, cheese and chocolate with me from the cave,’ he said, and she looked up at his lopsided hopeful expression and she couldn’t help smiling. He was playing the helpful Labrador.
And suddenly she thought... Cellar.
Henry had told her about the cellar, almost as an aside, when he’d been describing the house. ‘There’s a dugout under the washhouse,’ he said. ‘Accessed by a trapdoor. I keep a few bottles there if you’re desperate.’
Did this qualify as desperate?
She left Ben and headed for where the washhouse had been. She hauled a few timbers aside and after a couple of moments Ben hobbled across to help.
‘We’re looking for?’
‘Desperate measures,’ she said.
‘Sorry?’
‘Desperate times call for desperate measures. I’ll make it up to Henry somehow.’ She hauled the last piece of timber aside and exposed a trapdoor with a brass ring.
Ben tugged it up. It was a hole, four feet wide, maybe three feet deep.
‘You could have hidden in here during the storm,’ he said.
‘Yeah, right. Four feet by four feet, filled with a hundred or so bottles of wine.’
‘After the first twenty you wouldn’t have noticed you were squashed.’ He lifted out the first bottle and stared. ‘Wow. Your friends have good taste.’
‘It’ll take me a month’s salary to pay them back but this might be worth it.’
‘I told you, I’m paying.’ He lifted the next bottle out and eyed it with reverence. ‘I’ve been trying to think of the perfect wine to go with crackers, cheese and chocolate. I think I’ve found it.’
‘You think we dare?’
‘I know we dare,’ Ben said. ‘My leg hurts. This is for medicinal purposes, if nothing else. And, Mary, I suspect you’re hurting, too,’ he said, and suddenly his voice gentled again. ‘Carting me up that beach was no mean feat. You must be aching, and inside there’s probably almost as much hurt as I’m carrying. I think we need this wine, Nurse Hammond. I think we both need all the help we can get.’
* * *
They sat on a sun-drenched log, looked out over the battered island, ate their crackers and cheese, and drank amazing wine.
The cheese was a bit dry and the glassware left a bit to be desired. Every glass in the cottage had been broken but a couple of ancient coffee mugs had survived the carnage.
It didn’t matter. The food tasted wonderful. The wine—stunning even in different circumstances—couldn’t have tasted better if it was drunk from exquisite crystal.
They didn’t talk. There seemed no need.
They were perched on a ledge overlooking the entire west of the island. Every tree seemed to have been shattered or flattened. The beach was a massive mound of litter. The sea still looked fierce, an aftermath of the storm, but the sun was on their faces. The world around them had been destroyed but for now, for this moment, all was peace.
Heinz had been lying at Mary’s feet. He suddenly stood, staggered a few feet away—and brought up half a fish.
‘Nice,’ Ben said.
‘I reckon he ate about six,’ Mary told him, grimacing. ‘There may be more to come.’
‘He might have chewed them before he swallowed.’
‘He was a stray when I found him. He eats first and asks questions later. Even essential questions, like “Can I fit it in?” or “Is it edible?”’
‘Really nice,’ Ben said, and then, when Heinz looked wistfully down at his half-fish, he stirred, grabbed a stick, gouged a hole in the sodden earth and buried it.
Then, at the look on Heinz’s face, he shoved the stick deep in the ground and tied a piece of ripped curtain at the top.
‘X marks the spot,’ he told Heinz. ‘Come the revolution, you know where it’s buried.’
‘Nice,’ Mary intoned back at him, and their eyes met and suddenly they were laughing.
It felt...amazing.
It felt free.
And Mary thought, for all the drama and tension of the last couple of days, she was feeling better than she’d felt for months.
Or years?
Because she’d made abandoned love to a guy she hardly knew?
But she did know him, she thought. She watched the laughter in his eyes, she watched the way he fondled Heinz’s floppy ears, she saw the tension in his face that could never be resolved until he knew his brother was safe, and she thought...she did know this man.
Somehow in the last twenty-four hours he seemed to have become part of her.
And that was crazy, she told herself. Any minute now the world would break in, and part of her would disappear back to Manhattan.
Besides, she didn’t do relationships. She’d trusted her father with her whole heart and he’d turned his back on her. His back was still turned. How did you walk away from something like that?
‘I read your book,’ he said, and she froze.
‘You read...’
‘Werewolves and dragons—and me.’ He grinned. ‘Entirely satisfactory.’
She was on her feet but feeling like the earth was opening under her. Her writing... It had always been her escape. This man had read it? ‘You had no right...’
‘I know,’ he confessed. ‘But I was bored. Do you mind?’
‘I don’t show my writing to anyone.’ It was part of her, the part she disappeared into when life got too hard. That he’d seen it...
‘You should. It’s great.’
‘It’s fantasy.’
‘I suspected that,’ he said gravely. ‘I haven’t exactly learned how to handle a six-pronged sword in real life.’
She closed her eyes.
‘Mary, I really am sorry,’ he said. ‘You look like... It seems important. I shouldn’t have intruded. I shouldn’t have looked.’
He shouldn’t have looked into her? What was it about this man? He was seeing...all of her.
She opened her eyes again met his gaze. Straight and true. Where had that phrase come from?
He was a man to be trusted?
Maybe she had no choice. She’d already exposed so much.
Deep breath. What would a normal...writer...say if someone had read their work? ‘You think it’s over the top?’ she tried, cautiously, and he seemed to relax.
‘It is over the top and it’s great.’ He grinned. ‘A few more thousand words and the publication world awaits.’
‘Don’t mock.’
‘I’m not mocking,’ he said, and there was that look again. Straight and true. ‘Mary, it’s awesome.’ Then his face changed, to an expression she could hardly understand. ‘I think you’re awesome,’ he added. ‘I wish there were some dragons I could slay on your behalf in real life.’
This was doing her head in. Any minute now she’d step forward and take this man and hold him.
She didn’t do relationships. She didn’t trust.
She could trust this man?
‘M-meanwhile, we need to figure how to get off this island,’ she managed, and heaven only knew the effort it took to get the words out.
‘We do,’ he said ruefully. ‘Fantasy’s great, but the real world awaits us.’
‘It does,’ she agreed, and then she muttered an aside. ‘I just need to keep remembering it.’
