How To Save a Marriage in a Million (13 page)

Richard sighed with relief. He’d been expecting the third degree.

‘Yes. That would be perfect. It shouldn’t take long. When’s your next shift at the hospital?’

‘I have the weekend and go back Monday night. I’ll probably be awake most of the night because I slept this afternoon. That’s the trouble with working nights, you have a couple of days off to get back into your normal diurnal rhythm and then it starts all over again.’

They talked little on the brief walk to Joanna’s and the limited conversation they had was superficial small talk. Richard recognised the house at the front of the block and followed Joanna to her place at the back. She opened the sliding door and Richard followed her inside.

‘Sit down,’ she said, as if she were about to entertain the tax inspector.

He sat on the sofa and watched her walk into the kitchen. Yes, she looked decidedly uncomfortable, which was the last thing he wanted.

‘How was choir practice?’ The question was merely an extension of the conversation they’d started on the walk home when he’d rambled on about the band and the pieces they were rehearsing. It had simply been a strategy to break the silence.

‘Okay.’ She turned her back on him and reached up to a cupboard where several mugs were stacked. ‘Someone suggested we could look into seeing if any of the kids wanted to be involved.’

‘You mean patients?’

She turned to face him. ‘And possibly members of their families or friends as well.’

He took a moment to process what she had just told him. Definitely a good idea from the viewpoint of morale but the practicalities of getting a group of sick and injured children together and transporting them to the town hall, the venue that had been booked for the concert, would make the project difficult to say the least.

‘How would—?’

Joanna smiled. ‘I know what you’re going to
say. The physical restraints imposed by half the performers being in wheelchairs or hospital beds or hooked up to IVs and various monitors would make a concert in the normal sense impossible.’

She had his curiosity aroused.

‘Tea or coffee?’ she asked as she turned off the bubbling kettle.

‘Tea, thanks.’

She poured the drinks and brought them over to the low table near where he sat. Also on the tray was a small plate of home-made coconut slice, one of his favourites. He thought how touching it would be if Jo had made them especially for him, but of course she’d had no idea he was going to visit. As if reading his mind, she picked up the plate and offered him a piece. He took a bite.

‘This is even better than I remember.’

Removing the tea bag, she stirred milk into her tea.

‘It’s probably my downfall. I still love baking.’ She cast her eyes downwards. ‘Although it’s not the same…’ Her voice trailed off.

‘Delicious,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you still like to cook.’

He suddenly realised what a tactless thing that
had been to say. He leaving her was no reason to stop cooking the things he’d always liked. In fact, talking to Joanna felt like walking on thin ice. He had no idea where the fragile areas lay and certainly didn’t want a dunking. How much of the past was out of bounds?

‘What were you saying about the concert?’ Talking about the present was a much safer bet.

She leaned back in her chair and rested her tea on her knee, taking a measured breath.

‘Well, if you’re really interested…’

‘I am. After all, I’ve been persuaded to perform so my reputation’s at stake.’

She smiled. Richard was relieved she still showed traces of the sense of humour that he’d thought she’d lost.

‘One of the nurses on General Surgical—I don’t think you know her, Lorraine Henderson…’ He shook his head and she continued. ‘Her husband is a professional video photographer, does wedding DVDs and the like.’ She took another breath and it was evident by the look on her face she was discussing the beginnings of an idea she was already passionate about. He let her go on without interruption. ‘To cut a long story short, the whole
concept is to create a movie of the kids without having to necessarily move them from their beds, let alone the hospital.’

She was beaming now, expectantly waiting for his comment. He certainly didn’t want to put a damper on the suggestion before it had gone past the planning stage but he had his doubts.

‘Sounds fabulous. Definitely original.’ He hesitated a moment. ‘Have you got a big enough pool of talent?’

Her eyes narrowed. She’d undoubtedly interpreted his comment as criticism rather than simple caution.

‘You don’t think it would work,’ she said flatly. All her previous enthusiasm vanished.

‘I didn’t say that.’

She took another mouthful of tea and brushed some coconut off the table.

‘Have another.’ She offered him the plate again.

‘No, thanks.’

The both sipped their drinks and it suddenly seemed the most difficult task in the world to broach the subject of her talk with Danny Sims’s parents. Maybe he would leave it to another day but Joanna solved the dilemma for him.

‘So what was so important you’d planned to visit me on my day off to discuss it?’

Right.
She’d
brought up the subject. And it needed to be discussed. He owed it to Barbara to at least try to find out what the problem had been.

‘Barbara asked me to talk to you.’

She put her cup on the table and crossed her arms across her chest. He took it as a defensive gesture.

‘Barbara? I don’t understand. Why would Barb—?’

‘She was worried about you.’ He leaned across and put his hand on hers, relieved she didn’t pull away.

‘Worried about what?’ He imagined the cogs of her brain turning but he had the feeling she knew what he was talking about.

‘She said you were upset last night after talking to the Simses. I can guess at why—’

‘You didn’t tell her?’ Joanna cut in sharply, and Richard felt her tension increase.

‘You mean about us and Sam? Of course I didn’t. That’s our own private business.’

‘Yes.’ Her eyes connected with his and the look
she conveyed was one of understanding, of the bond of a shared past.

‘What did Jenny and Pete want to talk about?’

Joanna withdrew her hand and edged away from him. He didn’t want her to reject him and he felt partly responsible for any distress she was experiencing. Coming back and opening a window to a time that had been so traumatic for both of them wasn’t something he’d planned.

She attempted a smile but it was unconvincing.

‘They were suffering from information overload and started asking questions like “What are Danny’s chances of pulling through? Will he suffer? What is the success rate of the treatment?”’ She sighed. ‘All things I’m sure you’ve told them already but they didn’t want to believe the odds are so heavily stacked against their son.’

‘And what did you tell them?’

‘It’s not my role to spout cold statistics. I told them to ask you.’ She paused. ‘I said you were a wonderful doctor…’ she flushed and looked away ‘…and not to be worried about talking through things with you, no matter how long it takes.’

‘And?’ He wouldn’t let her stop there. Her lower lip began to tremble.

‘I said they’re going through exactly the same emotions as just about every other parent of a child who is diagnosed with cancer.’

Richard knew there was more. He hadn’t lived with and loved Joanna for over seven years without being able to tune in to her emotions. He didn’t want to push her, though. So he waited for her to decide whether she would reveal that little extra. She looked up and her pupils dilated. A single tear escaped and coursed down her cheek. She sniffed.

‘They wanted to know if I’d nursed any patients with Ewing’s before or if Danny was the first.’ Her tormented gaze was again fixed on his as if continuing the conversation was a challenge for her. The look in her eyes said she was determined not to break down. Why? Richard wondered. During the good times they’d had together they’d always been honest with each other, always been able to unburden their worries and share the load. He wanted so much for her to share with him now.

On impulse, without a care for the consequences, he moved to sit next to her. Draping his arm across her shoulders and drawing her towards
him seemed a natural thing to do. Again she didn’t resist and leaned into his embrace.

‘What did you tell them?’ he whispered as he reached across and began gently stroking her hair. She sighed and stilled his hand by grasping it with both of hers.

‘I said Danny was the first. Which wasn’t strictly true. I’ve seen one other case—a boy called Callum—but his tumour was picked up early and he survived. I didn’t want to get their hopes up.’ She turned her face to him and for the first time since Richard had been back she dropped her protective shield of guarded coolness and let him close to her.

‘Danny reminds you of Sam?’ Richard said gently.

‘Yes, but Sam was our son and there’s a world of difference…He was our son.’

He knew what he wanted to say but the words stuck in his throat. He wanted to tell Joanna that the pain of losing Sam was the worst thing he had ever experienced; that he’d hid the sadness and guilt because he’d wanted to be strong for his wife and child; that he’d never been able to share
the dark depths of his emotions with anyone, not even her.

‘You never cried for him.’ Joanna looked away and began running her fingers back and forth along the back of his hand with a restlessness he recognised. She was still hiding something. He stilled her hand.

‘I never let anyone
see
me cry.’

‘But you were always a tower of strength, never lost control.’

And that was exactly what he had wanted her to believe. One of them had had to stay at least outwardly strong, and he’d spent years as a doctor fine-tuning the skill of keeping his distance, of not getting emotionally involved. But if he’d known his intentional coolness would drive a wedge between him and his wife, he would have willingly shared the truth of how devastating that time had been for him. He hadn’t wanted to be pitied, though. His job, in some ways, had made it worse. He could recite the statistics, he knew the odds, but he’d prayed every day for a miracle. And deep down he’d assumed he’d failed as both a father and a husband and nursed the irrational belief that he had been somehow to blame.

‘It was a facade, Joanna. It was the only way I knew to help you through. I thought—’

‘Oh, Richard. Why didn’t you tell me? I was convinced you’d stopped caring. That you’d fallen out of love with me and I was a burden to you.’

He released her hand and drew her closer. He gently kissed her forehead as relief flooded his senses like the first rains after a brutal and unforgiving drought.

‘I still love you, Joanna.’ He could see the beginning of tears brimming in her eyes but he’d come this far and had to tell her. ‘After I left to go to the U.K. I tried to stop loving you but…’ Words suddenly seemed inadequate. He tilted her chin so he was looking straight into the depths of her dark, unfathomable eyes. ‘It might sound like a cliché but there is no other way to tell you.’ He attempted to swallow the lump in his throat but it stubbornly stayed put and made his voice rough and erratic. ‘The years I shared with you and Sam…They were the best of my life.’

She reached up and placed her hands behind his head. Her touch was an exquisitely sensual caress. He wanted to hold her close in his arms, to rock away the years of hurt and misunderstanding. He
wanted to kiss her but the most precious thing for him would be the gift of her love. He realised it was asking too much so soon. He imagined she was more confused than him. They had only touched the surface of a past full of misconceptions, misplaced untruths and delusions. Both their lives had changed and they needed to get to know each other all over again.

It was a start.

If Joanna was willing…

‘What are you thinking?’ she said.

He hesitated but wanted to start afresh and be perfectly honest with her.

‘I was thinking how much we’ve both changed.’

She surprised him with a smile.

‘For better or worse?’ Joanna asked, but it wasn’t a fair question and the answer fitted somewhere in between.

‘Neither. Just different.’

‘Because it’s just you and me? No baby, no child to cement our relationship? You know, for such a long time I thought life would never be normal again. Sam was…Sam was our future…’ She took a deep sighing breath. ‘He was a gift…and I only had one shot at being a mother. I didn’t
expect it to be easy but I was prepared to give it my best and I blew it.’

Richard leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the mouth, with what he hoped was tenderness and reassurance. His lips moved to her forehead then her temple. Not only was she attractive on the outside but she had an inner beauty that she guarded like a precious jewel. She had been a wonderful mother and it hurt to hear her say she was to blame.

‘You can’t mean that.’

‘I don’t know…no…I didn’t mean—’ Her eyes were moist and brimming with sadness.

Richard cut short her answer by placing his index finger on her mouth. He felt responsible for the anguish that accompanied their memories. He saw much more hope and joy in looking forward and he desperately wanted Joanna to be part of his future.

‘I’m sorry I’ve made you unhappy. If there’s anything I can do…’

She swallowed. The sadness left her eyes and was replaced by a dogged certainty. She’d made up her mind about something—something that had erased the negativity.

‘Stay tonight.’ The words were barely a whisper. He wondered if he’d heard correctly and battled to contain his surprise. He’d been expecting a rejection.

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’ve got nothing to lose, Richard.’

But he knew, in reality, how much they both could lose. Sleeping with Joanna now was a huge gamble but he didn’t know how to say no. He wanted her with a powerful passion he’d thought he’d never feel again. He stood up, reached for Joanna’s hand and she led him to the bedroom.

CHAPTER SEVEN