Bondi Beach (2 page)

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Authors: Kat Lansby

Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary, #Literature & Fiction, #Contemporary Fiction

BOOK: Bondi Beach
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Chapter 5

JANUARY 5

The first of the flowers arrived in the morning. No one had sent flowers to me since Jack’s funeral. They were a small bunch of cream orchids with a “get well” card. With only one good eye and an aching head, I asked the nurse if she would read the card to me. She told me that the flowers were from the man who’d hit me with the surfboard. It said simply, “I hope you feel better soon. – Martin Ross.”
That was thoughtful
.

I didn’t enjoy being in the hospital but decided to make the most of it.
Using my smart phone, I took a photo of myself from the hospital bed and posted it on
Facebook with a caption that read, “Having a great time in Sydney!”

Friends weren’t sure what to make of it, but the outpouring was touching
. They wanted to know what had happened, and some began trying to come up with a good caption for the picture. My favorite: “Knife fight at the bar last night – I won.”

“I l
oved the captions, but it wasn’t that exciting,” I replied on my Facebook page. “I was hit by a surfboard, and I wasn’t even surfing!” The comments that came as a result of that post kept me laughing throughout the day and feeling a little less alone.

A
t about 5 p.m., a nurse came into my room with dinner. She told me that I had a guest outside who wanted to see me. It was Martin Ross. I asked her to let him in.

Although I’d gotten
up close and personal with his yellow surfboard, I’d never actually seen the man behind it. Martin was tall and lean, probably about six feet, with what looked like naturally mussed light brown hair and beautiful green eyes with gold around the pupils. He was dressed in a white button-down shirt, jeans, and loafers.

“Hi, I’m Martin,” he
said warmly, extending his hand and giving me a subdued smile.

I smiled a little as
well, grateful for the fact that he’d even bothered to visit me in person after already having gone to the trouble of sending flowers. “Hi. Eva Jensen.” I shook his hand and gestured toward the one chair beside my bed. “Please, sit down.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner,”
Martin offered as he settled into the recliner.

“It’s alright,
” I assured him. It wasn’t nearly as appetizing as last night’s dinner at the hotel, and I knew that I wouldn’t be missing much by letting it get cold. Besides, it was really thoughtful of him to come by.

Martin
seemed uneasy as he struggled to maintain eye contact. Given my appearance, I couldn’t blame him. I had a swollen black eye and stitches along my brow line. I wasn’t the easiest thing to look at. Leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped over his knees, he looked at me sheepishly. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

Touched by his sincerity, I shook my head.
“It’s okay. It was an accident. I know you didn’t mean to do it.” I motioned to the table by the bed. “Thank you for the flowers and the card.”

He
glanced at them and back at me before pointing toward my eye and squinting a little. “I suppose it hurts quite a bit.”


It does, but I’ll be okay,” I assured him.

Looking concerned, he said,
“Well, I just wanted to apologize for what I did to you. I’m really sorry.” He shifted in his chair, sitting back against the cushions. There was an awkward silence. “So, you’re American?”

“Yes.”
As much as I appreciated him coming, my head and face were throbbing, and I hoped that the nurse would come in soon with something for the pain.

He cocked his head to the side.
“Are you here with a group?”

“A tour?”

He nodded.


No. I came alone.” I didn’t bother going into detail about having asked Tess and Denise if they’d wanted to join me.

“Really?”
He sounded surprised. “Not many people travel solo.”

Feeling a little self-conscious
and not wanting to get into why I’d come here in the first place, I looked down and nodded a little. Big mistake. The pressure on my face from lowering my head worsened, so I lifted it back up and struggled to look at Martin. Surely, the nurse would be here soon. “I’ve always wanted to see Australia,” I managed to say. “I planned to start out in Sydney and travel around the country for several weeks.”

He watched me for a moment, a look of concern crossing his face.
“So, you’d only just arrived when I hit you?” he asked, appearing more upset with himself than he’d been before.


Yes,” I smiled, trying to reassure him. “Really. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Running his hand
across the back of his neck, he looked at me guiltily. “I feel terrible. How long will you be here – at the hospital?”

I shrugged a little.
“I don’t know. If everything goes okay, they’ll release me in another day or two.”

That seemed to make
Martin feel a little better. “And your eye’s going to be alright?”


It’s a little early to say. The eye socket wasn’t fractured so that’s good news,” I said encouragingly. “They won’t know about permanent vision damage until the swelling goes down. The doctor was hopeful about my eye and brain when I talked with him this morning.”

Martin seemed worried.
“Your brain?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I have
a concussion, and I get dizzy when I try to stand. We’re hoping that I don’t have a more serious brain injury.” I didn’t know how to make him feel any better except to say, “Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll be okay.”

He
brought his hand up and ran it over his face as he shook his head slowly. “I am
so
sorry. I’ll try to find a way to make this up to you.”

When the nurse came in with another
vicodin, I felt a surge of relief. I took the tiny paper cup that held the pill and reached for the apple juice on my breakfast tray. After I had swallowed down the pill, the nurse left the room.

“Well,”
Martin said, “I should probably let you eat dinner and get some rest.” He stood to leave. “Again, I’m really sorry about all of this.” He obviously felt terrible about what had happened.

“It was an accident. I’m sure I’ll be alright.”

He nodded, and we said goodbye.

After he left, I ate dinner and turned on the TV to catch up on news
. Before I went to sleep that night, I checked back in on Facebook. There were a few new comments – enough to make me smile and feel a little closer to home.

 

Chapter 6

JANUARY 6

The next morning, it took a moment for me to realize where I was. Once I opened my eyes, however, there was no doubt that I was still in the hospital in Sydney.
What a way to start my trip
. I smiled a little, trying to remain positive. I was hopeful that I would be out in a day or two and able to get on with my travel plans.

I
got out of bed and made it to the bathroom and back feeling a little dizzy. My head and eye still hurt, and the nurse promised to bring me something for the pain.

Just as I was finishing breakfast, Martin walked in
. Frankly, I’d expected yesterday’s visit to be the only one. Even though I knew that he felt terrible for hitting me with his surfboard, he hadn’t done it on purpose, and I didn’t want him to continue feeling guilty. I just wanted to get better, check out of the hospital, and go on with the rest of my trip.

“Hi,” I said
, certain that he heard the surprise in my voice.


Good morning.” He smiled, looking a little more at ease than he had the previous evening. “I hope you don’t mind my stopping by.”

“No
. It’s nice to have some company.” With the pain receding, I was able to smile at him and mean it.

He
chuckled a little as he pulled the recliner closer to the bed and sat down. “I seem to catch you during meals.”

G
lancing over at the tray of half-eaten food, I shook my head. “I’d just finished.”

H
is green eyes fixed on my blue ones as he became more serious. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Okay
. I’m still dizzy when I get up, but I hope that goes away soon.”

Martin’s brows furrowed
. “How long do they expect that to last?”

I shook my head.
“I don’t know. If it’s just a simple concussion, it should go away soon. If it’s more serious, I have no idea.”

When the nurse
entered the room to take my food tray, Martin got out of the chair and moved it closer to the head of my bed so that it was out of her way. He waited until she left to sit back down and continue our conversation.

“Do you plan to stay in Sydney long?”
he asked.

Although his expression showed a general curiosity, there was something more serious in his eyes, but I didn’t know how to interpret it. Maybe it was just the blow to my head and I was imagining things.

“Five days was all I’d planned for Sydney. Then, I was going to rent a car and drive through every state.”

“Wow!” he laughed. “That’s a lot of driving.” He had
beautiful eyes and a gorgeous smile, and it was nice to see him more relaxed than he’d been yesterday.

I shrugged.
“I suppose it is. I really wanted to come here and get my bearings first before planning the rest of the trip.”


Well,” he said, reaching for my hand and squeezing it briefly, “if you’re here long enough, I’d like to take you to dinner one evening. It’s the least I can do to make up for the hospital meals.”

A little surprised
by his touch and his generous invitation, I smiled. “Sure. I’d like that.”

Suddenly feeling self-conscious,
I asked him to tell me about himself. Originally from Brisbane, he had a small family that consisted of a younger sister and his mother. No nieces, nephews, or grandparents. Years ago, he’d modeled when he was in college. Now, he worked for a non-profit organization that provides clean drinking water and renewable energy in the developing world. He traveled a lot for work, mostly to various countries in Africa. Right now, they had a project going in Gabon.

His modeling comment had made me feel a little self-conscious in my hospital gown
, and the work that he did reminded me that I had no clue where I was going in my life after this trip was over. I felt insecure. Somehow, he seemed to have sensed that I’d gone somewhere else in my head and waited for me to come back. His eyes were curious when I looked back up at him again.

“What brought you to Australia?”
he asked quietly.

His question refocused my attention, and
I looked at him for a moment. “The short version is that I needed to get away.”

A mildly quizzical look crossed his face, but he let it go
and nodded instead. “There is a lot to see here. After coming all this way, I hope you’re not disappointed.”

I smiled as the nurse brought me a
vicodin. “It can only get better, right?”


Right,” he smiled warmly. “It can only get better.”

*****

A short while later, Dr. Felix Pine made the rounds and announced his intention to release me that day, but there was a catch. Although my vital signs were good, he said that I shouldn’t be alone until the dizziness was gone and we had a better sense of how serious the brain and eye injuries were. He looked at both of us.

“Do you have someone here – a husband, family – who can look after you?”

Anxious to get out of the hospital, I shook my head. “No, but I’ll be okay.” Even if it meant staying in a hotel for a few days, I needed to get out of here. Though I’d tried not to think about it much, being in a hospital raised some dark childhood memories, and there were moments when I felt desperate to leave.

I felt Martin watching me closely but didn’t look at him.

“I’m not fully comfortable releasing you on your own,” Dr. Pine told me firmly. “If you get up and you’re dizzy, you could fall and hurt yourself. I suppose we could keep you here a few more days.”

“Really,
” I protested strongly, “I’ll be fine.”

Martin shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. I glanced over at him, and his eyes caught and held mine for an instant.

“Do you still have a room at The Langham?” Dr. Pine asked, and I looked back at him.

“No
. I was due to check out today.”

He
sat back in his chair, and I could tell that he was getting ready to incarcerate me for another few days. I was certain that I’d be more comfortable healing in a different environment, preferably one with a normal bed, a window with a nice view, and the kind of peace and quiet that can’t be found in a hospital. Besides, I didn’t even know if my health insurance would cover the time I’d already spent here.

Martin spoke up.
“If you release her today, we’ll pick up her things at the hotel, and she can stay with me for a few days until you clear her to travel.”

Dr. Pine looked at
Martin for a moment before fixing his gaze on me. “Eva, are you comfortable with this?”

I
looked over at Martin, who nodded so subtly that I wondered if I’d imagined it. I knew that he felt guilty, but this was too generous. Still, I was anxious to leave the hospital, and this appeared to be my only way out.


Okay,” I said, again glancing at Martin before looking at Dr. Pine. “Just a few days, right?”


Probably,” Dr. Pine agreed. “We’d like to see you back here in four or five days. I’ll put in the orders to release you today.”

We thanked him, and he
walked out of the room.

Mildly incredulous,
I looked over at Martin. “What have you just done?”

He laughed
. “Saved you from a few more days of hospital food.”

*****

After I checked out of the hospital, Martin and I stopped by The Langham to pick up my suitcase, which we loaded into his Land Rover Discovery. By the time we arrived at his home near Narrabeen Lakes about thirty minutes later, I’d already seen more of the area around Sydney than I’d seen since coming to Australia.

We pulled into the driveway of a secluded
, modern, single-story house at the end of a quiet road, and Martin parked his car in the circular drive out front.

From the driver’s seat, he turned to face me, his green eyes kind but serious.
“Wait here.”

I nodded, and
he got out of the car and walked around the back, removing my luggage and carrying it up the steps to the front porch. I watched him as he jogged back down the steps to my side of the car. When he opened my door, he said, “Here – take my hand.”

I reached for his hand, which was
steady and comforting. “Thanks.” I stood slowly. A slight wave of dizziness and nausea passed, and I closed my eyes until it was over.

“Okay
?” he asked.

I nodded, and h
e held my hand as we moved slowly toward the front door. “I’m sorry I’m not quicker than this,” I apologized. I remembered the nurse saying that dizziness is a common side effect of vicodin, which was helping with the pain but making me feel even loopier than I would have without it.

“No, y
ou’re doing great,” he assured, his rich voice deeply comforting.

Don’t pass out
. Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

That
was my mantra as we walked up several long, shallow steps that curved across the front of the house. A moment later, we made it through the heavy wooden front doors and stood in the foyer. Almost the entire back wall of the foyer was glass, which provided a terrific view of the grassy yard behind the house and over a short stone wall beyond which I could see the ocean in the distance.

I managed a smile.
“You’ve got quite a backyard.”


Yes, it’s a great place,” Martin agreed but was more focused on helping me to navigate my way through the house. “Okay, watch your step. The floors are flagstone and can be a little slippery.”

We turned right and entered
a large, curved open space that separated the living room, dining room, and kitchen on the left from the three bedrooms on the right. Martin led me to a beautiful bedroom with wood floors, heavy wooden beams across the ceiling, cream walls, and an enormous window on the wall opposite the door. It had its own private bathroom, which was located near the bedroom door.

“This
is your room,” he said, still holding onto my hand while walking me over to the bed.


Thank you,” I told him. “I think I’ll lie down for a little while.”

“That’s a good idea,” he said.
“I’ll bring your bag in.” As he left the room, he called out over his shoulder, “Is there anything I can get for you?”


Do you have any tea?” I thought the chances were good since tea had become a popular drink following British colonization long ago and had outlasted British rule.


Sure,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

Martin brought
my suitcase in and placed it on the floor near the bed, and I thanked him. Then, I closed my eyes when he left the room again. He busied himself in the kitchen before returning a few minutes later with a cup of tea. I opened my eyes when I heard him reenter the room.

“Thank you,” I said as he placed the
cup on one of the two bedside tables.

He nodded
. “What else do you need?”

My face and head hurt a little
. “Can you get me a Tylenol?”

“Not the
vicodin?”

Shaking my head, I said,
“I don’t want to take the vicodin unless I have to.”

He looked through my bag with
the hospital discharge instructions and medications but couldn’t find it.


I’m sorry,” I told him. “I think it must be in my purse. Middle pocket with a zipper.”

A moment later,
he pulled out a bottle of Tylenol, opening it and handing me two pills. Martin watched as I took them followed by a swig of tea, which burned my tongue.

I laughed a little while he grimaced.
Sitting up, I looked over at him. “I’m going to try to sleep through this.”

Martin
’s eyes narrowed a little, and he nodded. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone then. I’ll be in my office on the other side of the wall if you need anything.”


Thanks.”

As h
e left and pulled the door mostly closed behind him, I buried myself under the covers and lay on my back in the quiet of the room praying for sleep to come quickly.

*****

A few hours later, Martin knocked lightly on the door before entering. I was awake, and my head was feeling a little better.

“Come on in,” I offered.

“Hello,” he said quietly as he entered the room.

Although I was s
till feeling a little out of it, I was glad for his company. “Hi.”

Martin grabbed one of the two wooden bedroom chairs and placed it beside the bed before sitting down.
“I thought you might be hungry.”

“A little
.” I glanced around, careful to keep the top of my red nightgown in place as I sat up. “What time is it?”

His eyes stayed fixed on mine.
“Just past eight. What would you like?”

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