A Baby on Her Christmas List (12 page)

Still, the winemaker seemed gentleman enough not to pry and diverted his gaze from her bump back to Liam. ‘Look, I’ve got a bit of a rush on, can’t stay and chat. Give my regards to your father, Mac. I hear he’s retiring up north.’

Liam’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Oh? Really?’

It was his friend’s turn to raise eyebrows. ‘You didn’t know?’

‘I haven’t caught up with him for a while.’

‘No. He said as much last time he was over. He seemed a bit miffed. But, then, he always did. Are you going to pop over to The Pines?’

Liam shook his head. ‘No. He sold it years ago. No point going backwards, is there?’

‘I don’t suppose so. Look, thanks for coming. Lunch is on the house. Good to see you.’ Chris turned to leave then paused. ‘Oh, make sure you try the syrah too. Delicious.’

Lunch was lovely, and as filling as Liam had promised, and Georgie ate as much as she could, managing almost the whole meal without mentioning the last conversation. But in the end it got the better of her. Her heart began to race as she brought up the difficult subject, so she tried to keep her voice level. ‘So, when did you last talk to your dad?

Liam shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Two years ago?’

‘Two?’
It seemed nonsensical to have no communication with family members. If she—

‘Look...’ Pushing aside his empty plate, he let out a long breath. ‘Please don’t give me a lecture on how lucky I am to have a father and that I need to make the most of him. I know that’s how you feel about families. But it isn’t how I do.’

‘But—’

‘It’s a lovely day. I really don’t want to spoil things.’

‘That may be a little late.’ Although she knew she shouldn’t have pushed it, he’d brought her out of a desire to help her, and to give her a rest. She was the one spoiling things.

For a moment she thought he was going to stamp or growl, but he fought with his emotions and put them back in that place that he never let anyone see. The man must have some ghosts, she thought, if he was so unwilling to talk. But he was tight-lipped about his work too—he kept everything tied in. Some people needed counselling, but he just wore it all in his skin, would never consider any kind of help, not even to get things straight in his head.

He saw that as a strength. ‘Let’s not do this today, Geo. Let’s enjoy ourselves, plan the garden, take a walk, anything but this. Talking about my family tends to put a huge downer on everything.’

‘Okay.’ But something niggled at her. Ate away at her gut. She was genuinely trying to help. ‘Or we could say everything really quickly and get it out in the open.’

He shook his head with irritation, but he smiled. ‘Or say nothing at all.’

‘Or I could ask Chris.’

‘He doesn’t know everything.’

Now she knew she could leave it and walk away and pretend this conversation hadn’t happened. Or she could take it a step further...hell, he knew everything about her. Everything. ‘And I know nothing. When did you last see your mother? What is The Pines?’

‘Okay, so we
are
doing this.’

She took a sharp breath and threw him her most winning smile. ‘I see it as my duty as a friend to annoy you until you actually get to the nitty-gritty.’

‘You don’t have to take that role so much to heart, Georgie. Maybe the nitty-gritty isn’t what you think it is.’ He placed his napkin on the table and stood, offering her his hand, but he looked impatient rather than annoyed. ‘The Pines was my grandad’s house and I am resolutely not going there so don’t even ask. Just don’t. It’s a no. There is no point going over stuff, it doesn’t help. You can’t change the past and some of it is best not remembered. And I last saw my mother on Mother’s Day. I took her out for tea. And it was awkward as always.’

‘No. You were in Pakistan, or South Sudan—somewhere. Either way, you weren’t here. Make it the year before.’ They walked out into the vineyard. Rows and rows of vines stretched before them on and on into the distance. They wandered aimlessly down a row, inhaling the smell of freshly mown grass. ‘You know, Liam, your parents will be the only grandparents our child has. Seriously, they are the only other people in the whole world with a connection to him...or her. They are flesh and blood. I really wish you could try to make things work between you all. If not for anyone else’s sake, for Nugget’s.’

He shook his head. ‘Sometimes I wish I didn’t know you as well as I do, because then I wouldn’t have to put up with this. Trouble is, I do know you and I know you won’t give up. At all. Digging and digging.’

‘It’s what makes me such a good nurse, and why you love me.’

‘Love?’ He stopped short and stared at her. For too long. For so long she wondered what the heck was going on in his head. She closed her heart to his shocked question...
love?
She didn’t want to know his answer. Or maybe it had always been there and she’d been afraid to look. But in the end he just shook his head. ‘My parents divorced when I was ten, and neither of them have shown any interest in me since well before then. The feeling’s mutual.’

‘Why?’

‘You really do want to do this, don’t you?’ He ran his fingers through his hair, opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again. ‘Because Lauren died. And rightly or wrongly we all blame me.’

‘Why? What on earth happened? What could you have done that was so bad?’ Over the years Georgie had pondered this. She knew his sister had died, knew his parents were separated. But piecing the bits together had been like trying to do a jigsaw with no picture as reference.

They walked in silence to the very end of the row and onwards towards the ocean, found a crop of rocks in the little bay and sat on them. A breeze had whipped up, but the sun still cast a warm glow over them. Even so, Georgie shivered at the look haunting Liam’s face. The dark shadows were back. His shoulders hunched a little. He’d already let go of her hand and even though they were sitting side by side it seemed almost as if he’d retreated within himself.

His voice was low when he finally spoke. ‘She was a premmie, born at thirty weeks, and had a struggle, but she finally got discharged home. She was doing well. She was amazing. Really amazing. The light of our lives.’

Georgie sensed something terrible was coming. She laid a hand on his shoulder and waited, holding her breath. The sound of waves crashing onto the shore was the only thing that broke another prolonged silence. That, and her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

‘I caught a winter bug. Nothing serious, just a stupid cough, fever and a snotty nose that laid me low for a few days, one of those that most kids get. Mum banned me from being near her. Very sensible, in hindsight. I just thought she was being mean.’

He looked like he wanted to continue but couldn’t find words. When he composed himself enough to speak his voice was cracked and barely more than a whisper, ‘But Lauren was so fascinating, such a little puzzle of noises and sounds with an achingly beautiful smile, that, as an eight-year-old big brother with a strong sense of responsibility and a lot of curiosity, I didn’t want to keep away. So one morning when she was crying I sneaked into her room and picked her up, soothed her back to sleep. I held her for ages, I don’t know how long, but long enough for her to go to sleep and for me to care enough not to wake her, so I held her some more.

‘A few days later she came down with the same bad bug, but she couldn’t fight it off. She tried, though. Tried damned hard. But she just wasn’t strong enough.’

He hauled in air and stood, hands in pockets, looking out to sea. So alone and lost that it almost broke Georgie in two. She imagined what it must have been like for a young boy to go through something like that, and her heart twisted in pain. He’d been doing what he’d thought was the right thing. Not knowing how wrong it could be. But the baby could have caught a bug anywhere—in a shop, at the doctor’s surgery, in a playgroup. It had been bad luck she’d caught it from her brother. Bad luck that had kept him in some kind of emotional prison for the rest of his life.

At least, Georgie thought, she hadn’t had something and then lost it. She just hadn’t had anything at all, and in some ways that seemed almost preferable to suffering the way Liam had. Again she couldn’t think of anything helpful to say, and couldn’t have managed many words even if she’d known some formulaic platitudes that might have helped. Her throat was raw and filled with an almost tangible sorrow for him. ‘I’m so sorry, Liam.’

‘To cut to the chase, my parents were never the same after that. Eventually the grief was too much for their marriage. I got lost in the slipstream of guilt and blame. We’ve all rarely spoken since, doing only the perfunctory family necessities, if that. I suppose you could say it’s pretty damned loveless.’

No.
He
was loveless. Losing his sister and then being neglected by grieving parents must have been almost unbearable, especially countered by a flimsy excuse that it had all somehow been his fault. He’d been a child too, for goodness’ sake. How could you lay blame on someone who only wanted to give a baby more love?

Georgie knew Liam well enough to know there was little point in trying to convince him that he was anything other than culpable. If he didn’t believe it himself, and if his parents, the people who mattered, had never tried to reassure him, then what would her words mean to him?

But she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, hoping that somehow the physical sensation of her touch might convey her empathy for him in a way that words never could. ‘And that’s why you fight so hard year after year to save all those babies in those disaster-stricken countries.’

‘They just need a chance. I can’t right any wrongs and I can’t wave a magic wand but I can give them real help.’

‘And that’s also why you don’t want a family of your own.’

‘Yeah, I didn’t do so well with mine. Lauren dying was hard going, but you get through it. Somehow. Eventually. But what I needed most was help, support, love. And I got nothing. Families can hurt you so badly. I wouldn’t want to do that to any child of mine. Worse, judging by my experiences, I’d probably do more harm than good.’ He shook his head, shook himself free of her grip, and walked back towards the vines.

‘No. You’re going to be a great dad.’

He pulled up to a halt. ‘Really? You think? After what I just told you? I don’t want to go through anything like that again. I don’t think I’d survive it. I don’t want to...’ He started to walk again. Head down. Shoulders hunched.

She kept a few feet behind him, giving him the space he clearly craved. ‘To what?’

‘To lose something like that again.’

‘You wouldn’t.’

He railed round at her. ‘How can you be sure? How can you stand there and make promises no one can keep?’

It was all so clear now. His idea of family was broken. His image of love was filled with so many negative connotations he couldn’t dare risk himself again with that emotion. That was why she’d found him so distraught that first day she’d met him—caring for a sick baby had diminished him, reminded him of what he’d lost. But he’d taken that loss and turned it into his vocation. Not many could do that. Not many would face their fears every day.

Although he never let it get personal. He never let anything get to him. Ever. That was what the death of his sister had taught him, to keep everything and everyone at a safe distance. So he wouldn’t feel responsible, so he wouldn’t have to face the prospect of more pain if things got sticky. Hell, she’d been watching him do it for years, and had never felt how much it mattered. But now,
God
, now it mattered.

And still she was left only with questions. If that was how he felt, why had he torn up the contract? Was this all just some duty kick he was getting?

What would become of them all?

Sometimes she wished she had a crystal ball and could look into her future and see how it all worked out. But this time she was afraid. Afraid that what she’d see wasn’t what she wanted.

She left him to meander through the vineyard, stopping to look at the tight fists of bright red buds at the end of each row, gathering strength to grow into flourishing roses, and to watch tiny white butterflies skitter past. And as they walked she noticed his shoulders begin to relax again. The sunshine and quietness chased the shadows away and eventually he came back to her, took her hand in his and walked towards a cluster of old stone buildings.

But before they left the vines Georgie paused and looked at the tiny fruit gripping tightly onto ancient gnarled wood. ‘Do you think Chris would mind if we tried one of the grapes?’

He laughed. ‘I think he probably would, but they’re not remotely ripe anyway. They’ll make our stomachs hurt.’

‘But they’re award winning, it said so on a big certificate on the wall back at the restaurant. Should we try? I’ve never had anything award winning straight off the vine before. How about you? You should try one.’

‘No.’ He pulled her hand away from the plant and hauled her against him. His eyes were hungry, his breathing quickened as he looked into her face, at her eyes, at her mouth. He was a complex man filled with conflicting emotions—but that didn’t make her want him less. He was real and, yes, he was complicated. He was layered and that was what made him all the more intriguing.

He cupped her face and stared into it, his expression a mix of heat and fun and affection. Then he pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her hard. It was a kiss filled with need, with deep and genuine desire. This was new, this...trust, this depth, sharing his worse times and dark past. It was intense and it was raw but Georgie felt a shift of understanding to a new level. A new need. His grip on her back was strong as he held her and for a few moments she thought he would never let her go. And, holding him tight against her, she wished that very same thing with every ounce of her soul.

* * *

‘Can I drive the car? Please?’ Georgie grabbed the keys from Liam’s hand and he let her take them. Let her run to his pride and joy and take the driver’s seat, which he would never ever normally do. But, well hell, just telling her about his old life had set something free from his chest. He felt strangely lighter, freed up a little.