But we’ll work it out wasn’t any kind of answer, because he was addicted to the volunteer life and she could see why he’d be like that. Dealing with such intense and desperate situations meant you didn’t have to examine your own thoughts and feelings. He’d been all but abandoned by his parents, had almost died in an avalanche. He’d been broken and the only way he knew how to fix himself was to fix other people and hope that some of it would rub off on him.
What he wasn’t addicted to was any kind of family life, or doing what he loved doing with a wife and child in tow. Not that she wanted to be a wife. That hadn’t been on her radar since she’d left her ex in Moustiers.
‘I think you’ve got an admirer,’ Ethan murmured, and it was so unexpected and strange that she frowned.
‘What?’
He tilted his head towards the old man, who was still dancing with his wife but also beckoning Claire over. ‘I think he wants to swap partners.’ Ethan grimaced. ‘I’m guessing you’ll dance with him?’
‘Jealous? Really?’ She loved the thought of dancing with Ethan to the romantic music in the pretty evening light, but that would create more problems. But she wasn’t going to refuse the old guy’s offer either. And a bit of jealousy wouldn’t go amiss. Grinning, she walked to the middle of the square and took his hand as Ethan offered his to the woman.
As Monsieur Cabot chivalrously twirled her round they chatted. He was here on holiday with his wife of sixty-two years. They had three children and eight grandchildren. They’d owned a boulangerie until he’d retired, only ten years ago. He was surprised to hear Claire wasn’t with Ethan as she told him they were just friends.
‘He’s a fool, then,’ M. Cabot said as he gamely twirled her around again, doing a little shimmy as he kept hold of her hand. Claire laughed. The man was clearly trying to impress her. ‘I snapped my wife up as soon as I could. It was love at first sight.’
She didn’t want to tell him she didn’t believe in it. Love took time to grow. You didn’t fall in love with someone when your eyes met across a room. Or a bar. Or a lift. That wasn’t how it worked. You didn’t fall in love like that. Her mouth was suddenly dry. ‘That’s very romantic.’
M. Cabot grinned and looked softly over at his wife, who was dancing a lot more sedately with Ethan. ‘The minute I met her I knew she was mine and I made sure she knew it too. I stole her from another man. Just a boyfriend, but you know how it is. If you find it, you hold onto it.’
She didn’t want to ask him how you even knew you’d found it. Her heart thrummed and she glanced over at Ethan, looking so strong, so beautiful, so...out of reach.
Heart hurting just a little, she turned back to M. Cabot. ‘You stole her? How so?’
His breathing was a little ragged and his face red from exertion as he laughed. ‘He wasn’t serious about her...wasn’t treating her right. I could see he wasn’t making her happy. So I walked right over to them and said, “We’re going to...”’
‘M. Cabot?’
He stopped dancing and closed his eyes. ‘Uh...head. Head.’
Suddenly Claire felt the whole weight of him against her as his legs sagged. ‘Oh! M. Cabot. Ethan! Quick!’
‘Hold on.’ Ethan was with her in an instant, taking M. Cabot’s weight and lowering him to the ground. ‘Okay. Let’s get you safe. Can you talk to me? Er...?’
‘Henri. Henri Cabot. He was fine, chatting happily, and then he collapsed against me. Said something about his head.’ Claire’s heart was pounding, but not just from the medical emergency. You didn’t fall in love like that. It had been a whole lot of lust, that was all. Right?
Ethan patted the man’s face gently, trying to get him to focus. ‘Henri? Peux-tu m’entendre?’
‘Do you want me to translate?’ Claire asked.
‘Was it that bad?’
‘It was excellent.’ She didn’t think that Ethan could do anything badly—not where medicine was concerned at least. She wasn’t sure about his sticking power in other things, though. ‘There may be things he says that you don’t understand. His speech is slurred.’
‘Tell him I’m a doctor. That he needs to try to stay calm and that I’m going to call an ambulance.’ Ethan’s eyebrows furrowed. ‘I don’t like the way his face is drooping at the corner.’
‘A stroke, do you think?’ She was aware that neither of them was looking after Madame Cabot, who was hovering at the side with her hand to her mouth.
Ethan was completely focused on Henri. ‘We can’t be sure, but it looks like it. Can you hold the fort while I get someone to call an ambulance?’
‘I’ll go. It’ll be easier if I tell them in French.’ Claire ran to the café, told a waiter to phone for an ambulance, brought a blanket to cover Henri and keep him warm until help came, and dragged over a rattan chair for Madame Cabot to sit on.
‘Does he have any medical problems?’ Claire asked Mme. Cabot—Adele.
‘Blood pressure. He’s on tablets.’ The older lady’s hands shook and she was pale and shocked. ‘That’s all, and he’s not very good at taking them because...’ She rolled her eyes, but they were so full of love and panic that it almost stole Claire’s breath away. ‘Because he’s a man and I can’t tell him to do anything without a fight. He won’t go to a doctor unless I push him.’
Not visiting a doctor didn’t mean you didn’t have problems. Claire relayed the information to Ethan, who was loosening Henri’s shirt collar and tie while asking questions about everything and nothing, just to keep the man talking. She was impressed to see him trying to use his rudimentary French, even if he was woefully wrong at times. He asked Henri to raise his brasse. The old man shook his head and looked as if he was trying to swim with his right arm.
‘Ethan, you mean bras. Arms? Right? Not breaststroke? Look, his right arm is moving, but not his left.’
In another situation the language confusion might have been funny but Henri clutched at his head and Claire could see the pain on his face. It was mirrored in his wife’s expression.
‘Help him, please.’ Mme. Cabot begged, her voice weak with worry. ‘What’s wrong with him?’
Claire held the lady’s trembling hand. ‘I don’t want to make a diagnosis without proper tests, but I think he might be having a stroke.’
‘No. He’s not.’ Mrs Cabot shook her hands free, knelt down and smothered her husband’s face in kisses. ‘Come on, Henri. Get up. Come and dance with me.’
Henri closed his eyes. From this angle one side of his face was definitely affected and drooping.
‘No, Henri. Don’t ignore me. Get up and dance.’ Mrs Cabot stroked his cheek and a tear landed on his skin. Oh, to have such a fierce love for someone that you thought you could will them better with the sheer strength of it. ‘Now, do you hear me? Get up. Please. Please, Henri.’
More tears fell onto Henri’s shirt. Claire’s throat was raw and she gently rubbed Mme. Cabot’s shoulders. There was nothing medically they could do without medication and equipment so they just needed to be there and be ready in case Henri’s condition deteriorated. ‘I think he needs a little rest. The paramedics should have some drugs to help him. He said you have children. Are any close by?’
‘No. Paris, Quebec, Rennes. Not here. He loves dancing. We met at a dance.’ She took his hand in hers. ‘He just walked up to me and whisked me into his arms and I’ve been there ever since. Henri, hold my hand. Henri! Why can’t he hold my hand?’
Claire squeezed the threatening tears away. ‘He might be able to use his other one.’
‘Don’t let him die.’ The woman’s face crumpled. ‘He’s the only man I’ve ever loved. How will I cope without him?’
Claire’s heart nearly broke in two. ‘It won’t get to that. The ambulance is on its way and they’ll take care of him. Let me call someone to be with you.’
‘No. No. I don’t want to worry anyone.’
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‘They need to know and they’ll want to support you and Henri. That’s what families are for.’
In a rush of affection Claire realised she’d want her family around her too, if what she suspected became a reality. She’d need their support. She didn’t want to go home, but she’d have to because there was no one else. She’d left her nursing friends here in Marseille, but none of them were the settling-down type.
Ethan wouldn’t care where she was, most likely, as it wouldn’t affect him. But her family would help her, after they’d recovered from the shock, the way she’d helped her maman. Yes, she’d go home to the mountains.
She was shaken out of her reverie by the sound of the ambulance siren. ‘Okay, we’ll need to give them some space while the paramedics work on him.’
It took them a few minutes to assess Henri, and Claire translated for Ethan. Their patient’s blood pressure was very high and it was, as they’d guessed, a stroke that was affecting his speech and causing the facial droop. There was a long road ahead for both Mr and Mrs Cabot.
Claire embraced the older lady before helping her into the ambulance. ‘Best of luck. Take care, Adele, and give him a hug from me.’
‘I will. Merci pour tout.’ Mrs Cabot cupped Claire’s cheek and smiled weakly. Then she glanced towards Ethan. ‘Hold him close tonight.’
I’d love to. She watched as Ethan gently embraced Adele and told her to look after herself and managed to coax a smile from her at the way he expertly dealt with a scared Henri and gave him courage. She saw the way he handed over information to the paramedics as calmly as any professional she’d ever seen.
He was everything she’d ever desired in a man. She wanted to breathe him in, kiss him hard and make love again. But things were far too serious for that and since her conversation with Henri she’d felt discombobulated.
She felt Ethan slide his arm around her shoulders as they waved the ambulance off and the temptation to hug him close was almost overwhelming, but she pulled away and gave him a smile that she hoped said, Stop. And he did, letting his hand drop to his side with confusion in his eyes.
They walked along in silence for a while and she tried to get the image out of her head of Mrs Cabot covering her husband’s face with kisses. That woman had not been willing to let her husband give up.
Claire imagined how it would feel to have a love so strong and unbreakable that you couldn’t bear living without it.
Love doesn’t happen with a look. It happens with time and connection and shared experiences.
It didn’t happen in three short weeks. And not, if she had any sense at all, with the most unattainable man she’d ever met. Trouble was, she had a bad feeling she was already halfway down that road, so no matter how funny and smart and compassionate Ethan was, she wasn’t going to allow herself to fall for him any more than she already had.
She didn’t love him. She didn’t. Her heart was hurting for the Cabots and not for herself.
Suddenly the night didn’t seem quite as temperate as before. A cool breeze floated in from the sea and she pulled her jacket around her shoulders as she started to walk quickly back to the hotel.
But Ethan was by her side. ‘Wait. Claire?’
She upped her pace. ‘There’s too much going round in my head. I can’t wait, Ethan.’
He touched her elbow. ‘I want to make sure you’re okay. That was pretty intense.’
‘It’s all intense. And it’s not okay.’
‘I know it isn’t.’ His eyes were bruised with hurt at her rejection. ‘But I have just one thing to ask you.’
‘What?’
‘Do a test, Claire. Find out what the reality is and then we can start to make a plan. Okay?’
‘As soon as we’re back on the ship I’ll do a test, I promise.’ If she was back on the SOS Poseidon then there’d be less chance of Chase shipping her back to shore too soon, then at least she’d grasp a few more days, even weeks of freedom before she went back home to face her friends and family.
But the problem was, when she looked deep inside her heart, where Ethan was concerned she wasn’t sure anything would ever be okay again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE NEXT DAY was torture. Three hours after they’d set sail they’d picked up a small deflating RHIB overcrowded with Sudanese refugees. At least, Ethan thought, he could speak with them in their own language, but the sun had been relentless and these guys—fourteen men with high hopes for a chance at a safe future—had been floating for days at the mercy of what little wind had reached them.
Severe dehydration was the most pressing problem, along with chemical burns from the cargo their boat had also been carrying. Some were barely able to speak because their lips were so cracked and their throats so raw.
Which, on a positive note, meant Ethan hadn’t had time to think about Claire and the way his heart had thumped as she’d walked back to the hotel in silence last night. The look in her eyes as she’d refused a drink and slunk off to bed had stayed with him into the early hours.
One of the men was writhing in pain on the trolley and Ethan was trying to get an IV line into pretty collapsed veins. Ethan rolled out his best Arabic, and when that failed to get a response tried his pidgin Beja. ‘Hey, Mustafa, this will work a whole lot better if you lie still.’
Confused and in pain, the man grabbed the cannula and tugged it out. Blood poured down his arm and onto the floor. Ethan stemmed the flow with pressure and strapped on a wad of gauze. Finding another vein that he could use was pretty difficult. ‘Lie still, mate. Come on.’ Give me a break, please.
‘Don’t bite me! You’re biting! Keep away!’ The man was clearly delirious as he thrashed out, missing Ethan’s jaw by a whisker.
He tried to calm the man down. ‘Hey, buddy. That’s a neat right hook you’ve got there, but please keep it for the boxing ring. I want to help you.’
‘Oh. I didn’t expect you to be in here,’ a suddenly red-faced Claire said as she breezed into the medical room, and his heart thudded hard just seeing her—everything was tangled up in lust and need and something deeper, something that scared him. Their relationship had gone from sexual to serious and his body and brain didn’t know how to compute it all. She came over to the trolley and smiled at their patient, unaware of the precariousness of Mustafa’s mental state. ‘Need a hand?’
‘I need to keep him still.’ His eyes flicked to her belly and he shook his head. ‘Could you ask for Akil or someone to come and help?’
‘I’m here.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘What do you need?’
‘Mustafa’s hallucinating and I want to get some fluids into him. But he’s scared and keeps hitting out. I don’t want you to get hurt. Basically.’
‘I’ll be fine.’ She gently took hold of Mustafa’s hand and coaxed him to lie down and keep still. But as Ethan started to make headway with the cannula the man started to shout and pull his hand away.
‘Keep still, honey,’ she said over and over, her tone getting a little more assertive with each rendition, but always sweet and gentle. But just when they thought he was relaxing, he’d straighten again and start to cower and shake and cry.
‘It’s okay. We’ve got you. You’re safe now,’ she cooed, stroking his hand and getting him to lie down again. ‘I know you’re scared but you’re safe here.’
‘No!’ Mustafa kicked out, his foot narrowly missing her belly and stormed out. Heart racing, Ethan grabbed at her to move her out of harm’s way but she shook herself from his grip and then rushed towards the door. ‘Mustafa!’
‘Do not go after him. Claire. Stop.’
‘He’s confused.’ She briefly glanced back at Ethan and then opened the door. ‘God knows what he’ll do.’
‘You are not to go after him, do you hear me?’ And, yeah, he knew his protectiveness was annoying but he didn’t care right now. Ethan visually tracked Musta
fa across the corridor and into another room. ‘He’s just gone into the men’s toilet and Chase has followed him in. If they don’t come out in a couple of minutes I’ll go in. Okay? There’s not enough room in there for more than two or three people. Chase’ll get a handle on it. If he doesn’t, he’ll call.’
Claire bristled. ‘I could have handled him.’
‘I know, but you shouldn’t have to.’
‘It’s my job, Ethan.’ She swiped the back of her hand over her forehead and breathed out sharply. ‘And I’m confused why you’re here instead of in bed, getting ready for the night shift.’
‘My sleep pattern’s all over the place so I thought I might as well come work here instead of lying on my bunk.’ Thinking about you and the what-ifs going round my head. Grasping the opportunity of them being alone, he closed the door to block out the rest of the world and lowered his voice. ‘Did you...?’
‘Do a test?’ Her eyes sparked a heated defence. ‘Yes.’
‘And?’ He held his breath, praying, but for what he didn’t know. Just praying he’d find peace with whatever she said. Having a baby might not have been on her bucket list until she was older, but it hadn’t been on his at all.
Her chin lifted defiantly, but her eyes glittered with tears. ‘It’s positive. I am pregnant.’
‘Okay.’ Trying to get a grip on his rapidly spiralling life, he swallowed hard, his body fizzing with something akin to expectation and even excitement, but his head was reeling at the possibilities and problems this brought. And the hope.
A baby. His baby. Their baby.
Emotions charged at him and he couldn’t name them all, panic mostly about a life he’d made. But warmth and strength and trepidation and pride hit him like a whirlwind. It was some kind of miracle. After all the crap he’d had in his life there was this. Maybe there’d been a reason he’d survived. Not anything to do with the lives he’d saved, his successes in the end, but to create something better. Something pure and perfect.
Claire looked up at him through eyes swimming with tears. ‘I’m sorry.’
Saved by Their One-Night Baby Page 15
