Читать книгу Three Blind-Date Brides: Nine-to-Five Bride - Melissa McClone - Страница 17

‘WE’RE to go straight to Mum and Dad’s unit. I don’t know what to think!’ Marissa’s words tumbled out in a rush, concern warring with threads of relief she couldn’t truly believe. Not yet. ‘They’ve let Mum go home with my Aunty Jean to watch over her. Aunty’s a registered nurse.’

‘How could they release her so quickly after such pain?’ Rick put the question that was filling her thoughts into words. ‘What was the diagnosis? Is this a decent hospital we’re talking about? If not, we’ll get her admitted somewhere else.’

‘Apparently a cyst ruptured on one of Mum’s ovaries. She is still in some discomfort but it’s not severe now. They say she just needs to rest with the appropriate medication. Once they were certain of the diagnosis they let her go.’

Marissa drew a quick breath. ‘It is a good hospital, the staff are reliable and Aunty Jean wouldn’t let them release her unless she was confident Mum was up to that. Even so, I need to see her. If I look at her, I’ll know—’

‘How do we get to your parents’ home?’ He gestured ahead of them. ‘Let’s get you there so you can see for yourself.’

‘If you follow this road it will take you straight through the main street of the town.’ He understood what she needed and that … warmed her. ‘After the Region’s Own Bank building you turn left and Mum and Dad’s unit is in the second street on the right.’

His gaze glanced left and right as he followed the directions she’d given him.

Many of the homes were red brick or weatherboard with corrugated iron roofs. Just about every front garden had rose bushes or camellias, a front fence with a wrought iron gate with an old-fashioned curlicue scroll design on top, and a mailbox on the right-hand gatepost.

There were vintage cars interspersed with sedans and utility trucks in the main street.

A rally weekend, Marissa realised vaguely, and sat forward in her seat again as they neared the turn to her parents’ home.

‘That’s their place.’ She pointed. ‘The small pale brick one with the red sedan and green station wagon parked out front.’

Rick followed Marissa’s directions and parked on the street behind the other two cars. He studied the workmanship of the square building design, with its regulation small porch, front window awnings and slightly curved pathway from the front fence to that porch, but his thoughts were focused on the woman at his side.

He’d expected Marissa to leap from the vehicle before he’d even parked it properly. Instead, at the last minute, she turned to face him.

Her eyes were wide, her expression a combination of concern and chagrin. ‘I haven’t thanked you for dropping everything to get me here the way you did and for your kindness during the trip. It … well … I hope Mum truly is a lot better, though I’m still concerned for her, and I appreciate—’

‘I know you do, and there’s no need to say anything.’ Maybe she was hesitating at the last moment out of fear of what she would find. If so, the sooner she saw her Mum the better. He opened his door and came to her side to help her out.

With her hand clasped in his as he helped her down, he admitted, ‘I wanted to bring you.’ He’d needed to, in the same way he’d needed to fix things for Darla over the years, for Faith.

No. Not the same. This was different.

Yes. It’s more than those urges have ever been.

He didn’t want to think that. Their gazes met and held for a brief moment and something flared between them. She did fly up the path then, and rapped on the door even as it opened from inside.

Rick followed more slowly and watched as a man with thinning grey-streaked dark hair pulled Marissa into his arms and held her tight. The comfort given and exchanged in their hug caught at something inside Rick and his chest hurt as he acknowledged the deep closeness playing out in front of him.

‘Dad, this is the boss of Morgan’s, Rick Morgan. I told you and Mum I’m working for him while his secretary is on sick leave and Gordon is on holiday.’ Marissa rushed the words out and then her voice softened. ‘Rick, please meet my father, Abraham Warren, but he prefers Abe.’

Did Marissa’s face soften on his name? It had seemed to and while something inside Rick took the thought in a stranglehold and refused to let it go, heat rode the back of his neck as he shook the older man’s hand and murmured a greeting.

He was concerned. He needed Marissa to see her mother and feel assured that the woman would be okay. It wasn’t anything else. Certainly not some misguided and misplaced hope that Marissa’s father would approve—like—him.

‘Thank you for bringing Marissa to us.’ Abe stepped back. If he noticed anything odd in Rick’s demeanour, he didn’t show it.

Rick wished he had some of the same self-control.

Abe went on, ‘Come inside, both of you. Marissa, Mum’s fretting that you rushed to get here, but she’s also bursting to see you. Maybe she’ll settle down and rest once she has.’

The combination of protectiveness and residual worry in the man’s tone said it all.

The small unit had a living area filled with a two-seater couch and several chairs. A kitchen backed onto the area and there were rooms packed tightly together off a hallway to the right.

Bedroom, bedroom, bathroom, Rick guessed. The laundry room would be at the back behind the kitchen. A woman emerged through an open door and smiled at Marissa. Hugged her briskly and stepped aside. ‘Go on and see your mum. A rupture is nasty and it can be very dangerous but your mum’s going to be just fine and I’m staying two nights to watch her in any case. It only took me two hours to get here from Tuckwell. I left quickly when your dad phoned.’

Marissa stepped through the door and disappeared. A moment later Rick heard a soft sob quickly stifled, followed by a rush of low words. Marissa’s voice and another one—older, soothing and being soothed. He wanted to burst into the room, do something. Hold Marissa and never let anything upset her again.

Instead, he stood in the middle of the living room, fists clenched as he forgot all about the two people waiting there, watching him. Then he turned to Marissa’s father. ‘Your wife truly is well enough to leave the hospital? Marissa was worried.’

‘Yes, and Jean will help me keep an eye on her.’ Abe examined Rick with shrewd eyes that seemed to have realised something about his guest. Maybe that Rick had eyes only for his daughter.

Rick ran a hand through his hair. ‘It’s been an uneasy few hours. Far more so for you, I’m sure.’

Abe stared hard at him for a long moment before he spoke again. ‘Very true. Now, how long have you and my daughter—’

‘Well, it must be time for a cup of tea.’ The nurse cleared her throat rather noisily. ‘How about I put the kettle on, Abe? I’m sure Tilda would enjoy a cup about now. We probably all could do with one.’

On her way past Rick, she gestured towards one of the squashy cloth-covered lounge chairs. ‘Why don’t you have a seat? And I’m Jean, Tilda’s sister, though I’m sure you’ve worked that out.

‘We can make our way through the introductions properly in a minute and you can tell us how the vintage car festival seems to be shaping up, how many of the cars you saw as you drove in.’ She glanced at Abe and her gaze seemed to warn him off launching a more personal inquisition. ‘It’s one of Milberry’s special weekends, you know.’

Rick had given away more of an interest in his borrowed secretary than he should have. At the moment he couldn’t raise much concern for the fact. Marissa had needed to get here. Rick had needed to smooth a path for her and he’d go on smoothing one for as long as he felt it was needed.

‘I’m afraid I didn’t take much notice of the traffic on the way in.’ Rick took a seat as ordered and put his hands on his spread knees. He gave himself time to look around this room owned by the people who had raised Marissa. There were photos of her everywhere.

Marissa as a baby, toddler, child and teenager and more recent ones.

‘Her hair was always curly.’ He murmured the words, took the cup that Jean offered, nodded his thanks. Cleared his throat. ‘It is rather noticeable. Her hair.’

‘Yes.’ Jean slipped into the other room to deliver the tea to Marissa’s mum.

That left Rick and Marissa’s father. ‘There won’t be any lingering effects from the illness, I hope?’

The older man rubbed a work-worn hand over his tanned jaw. ‘She’s exhausted now and they’ve given her some medication to deal with the after-effects but they say in a few days she won’t even know it’s happened. I’m just grateful …’ He swallowed and took a deep breath. ‘Now, if I can just get her to rest properly until she really is all better I’ll be satisfied. We could both get a bit of leave from our work—’

‘Rick, will you come in and meet Mum before she tries to have a nap?’ Marissa asked from the doorway of her mother’s room, and Rick rose immediately to his feet.

He caught her hand in his briefly at the door. Then he searched her face and noted the slight redness around her eyes. Asked in a low voice, ‘Will she mind me seeing her when she’s not a hundred per cent?’

‘Probably.’ Marissa’s smile held relief and gratitude and a wealth of affection for the woman Rick had yet to meet. ‘But her curiosity about my boss will overrule that.’

He didn’t feel like a boss right now. The expression in Marissa’s eyes as she looked at him, the way she’d curled her fingers around his hand—those hadn’t seemed very businesslike either.

They stepped into the bedroom together. There were no chairs. It wasn’t a hospital room, but the room shared by two people who’d loved each other and lived together for many years. A framed wedding photo hung on the wall at the foot of the bed. Knick-knacks sat cheek by jowl on a dresser with a man’s watch and a well-worn hat.

Rick imagined sharing such a room with Marissa. The idea was alien and stunning all at once. He turned to the woman in the bed. ‘I’m very sorry to know you’ve been unwell, Mrs Warren.’

Marissa stepped past him, went to her mother and caught her hand in hers, pressed it to her face and kissed the back of it before she eased down gently to sit on the bed beside her mum. ‘Yes, you’re not allowed to pull a stunt like that again, Mum. You scared me silly.’

‘I’ll try not to.’ Tilda Warren shifted slightly in the bed and, though her face bore the marks of the strain and discomfort she’d experienced, she looked enough like Marissa that Rick couldn’t help but like her on sight.

She smiled at Rick. ‘Thank you for bringing Marissa to us. I won’t pretend I’m not glad to see her. The last few hours were a bit frightening and I’m glad to see my girl.’

‘And now you’re going to rest and hopefully go to sleep.’ Marissa fussed a little and then, with obvious reluctance and an equal amount of determination, prepared to leave the room. ‘I’ll look in on you later, even if you’ve gone to sleep. Just to be sure …’

‘Thank you, love.’ Tilda sighed. ‘I admit I feel rather wiped out and I think I probably will sleep, at least for a while. They gave me painkillers. You’ll need some dinner, though, and—’

‘And we can take care of that by ourselves,’ Marissa interrupted with a loving smile, and they left the room together.

The depth of the relief Rick felt surprised him. That Marissa’s mother would be okay; that nothing had happened that would cause Marissa a lot of long-term unhappiness.

When Marissa stared rather blankly at the contents of the fridge, he asked if there were any restaurants or take-away food places in the town. ‘You’ve all had a stressful time. Let me at least pick up something for dinner.’

He did that, managing it without stepping on Abe’s toes. Abe sat with his wife even after sleep claimed her before he finally emerged and spent some time talking quietly with his daughter while his sister-in-law got up and down at intervals to look in on Marissa’s mum.

They spoke in hushed tones of nothing much. Abe asked a little about Rick’s business. Jean asked about his roots, and Rick admitted he’d never lived outside the city, that his sisters and nieces were there. His gaze tracked Marissa’s every movement. He had a plan for how he might do something for her mother as well …

Mum truly would be okay. Marissa looked in on her one last time and finally started to believe it. As she acknowledged this, some of the things she’d pushed aside in her haste to get here filtered through at last, and she frowned for a whole other set of reasons.

She stood and collected her bag from where she must have dumped it beside a lounge chair when she’d first come into the house. ‘You’ll be all right through the night, Aunty?’

‘Absolutely, and Abe can handle me creeping in and out of the room a few times to see to meds and things tonight.’ Jean rose to her feet as well. ‘It means turning you out of the spare room, though. There’s only a single in there with the sewing machine.’

Marissa glanced towards Rick. He’d also got to his feet and stood watching her. In truth his gaze had rarely left her since they’d arrived, and she felt ridiculously warmed and … comforted by that knowledge. ‘If Rick doesn’t mind, we’ll find a couple of rooms in one of the motels for the night. I’d like to visit Mum again tomorrow morning and then I know we’ll have to leave.’

Jean patted her arm. ‘Your dad will look after her and she’ll stay quieter if there aren’t too many people here to distract her from that. You know what she’s like. She was already saying she wanted to get out of bed and start organising things.’

They were all on their feet now, and Rick gestured towards the second bedroom in the house. ‘Do you keep anything here, Marissa? Maybe you should gather a change of clothes and some nightwear and a toothbrush before we go.’

‘You won’t get any rooms.’ The words came from Abe as he slapped a hand against his thigh. ‘I forgot about the impact of the vintage car festival. All the motels are fully booked, or so it said in the paper this morning.’

‘And Rick has no spare clothes, not even a toothbrush.’ Marissa turned his way. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t give that a thought when we left Sydney. I do have a few things here, but you—’

Rick shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I’ll make do, and maybe we can go to a motel in a nearby town?’

‘The nearest town large enough is mine, and it’s a two-hour drive away.’ Jean pointed this out with a frown. ‘You’d both be most welcome to stay at my place but it’s a long way.’

At that moment a soft knock sounded on the front door. Her father opened it.

It was Mrs Brill from the end of the street, a busy woman with five children and a truck-driver husband. She had a casserole in one hand and a key in the other.

She held out the casserole. ‘This is for dinner tomorrow night, and I saw the extra cars outside and wondered about accommodation. I’ve got the converted garage with a sofa bed that pulls out and a camp-bed I bought at a garage sale for the second room in there.’

‘That would be really helpful. We were just wondering how best to work that out.’ Jean spoke the words in her brisk, no-nonsense way. She took the casserole and handed it to Marissa, who carried it through to the kitchen.

By the time Marissa returned, matters were decided—Mrs Brill had left to start the short walk back to her home and Rick held the key to the converted garage.