* * *
Touring with the theater company had meant that Fleur had made hundreds of hotel rooms her home for the night. Her alarm clock on the nightstand, together with the photograph of her mom and dad, and the brush and comb her grandmother had given her when she was little, had been enough to make her feel at home wherever she was.
She had none of those small, personal items here, but there was something of Rick. A pot of pens and pencils sat on his desk, each one bearing the name of a different museum or gallery in London. A picture of Ellie, in an old-fashioned frame that looked as if it too had some sentimental significance. Fleur pulled the sofa bed open, smoothing the sheets and pillowcases. When she switched off the overhead light, in favor of the softer glow of the desk lamp, the office seemed as if it could be a good home for the night.
A tap sounded at the door and she opened it, to find him holding two mugs of hot chocolate. She motioned him inside, and he sat down next to her on the bed.
“Is Simon okay?”
“Yes, he’s up in the ward now, sleeping.” Rick put his arm around her shoulders. “What you did this evening cost you, didn’t it?”
“You question that?”
Rick kissed her forehead. “No, I respect it. But I think you should get some rest now.”
“Will you stay with me?”
“I have a feeling that tonight’s going to be busy, and I don’t want to disturb you. I can find a bed somewhere else.”
“I’d really like you to stay here, even if it’s just for a little while.” It felt as if Rick had come home to her. A temporary home, but for tonight it was their home.
He nodded. “I’d like it too.”
* * *
Rick had been called back to work almost as soon as they’d finished their hot chocolate. He’d kissed her, telling her to go to sleep, and he hadn’t returned. Fleur woke early, washing as best she could in the small closet attached to Rick’s office, and went to find him. He was busy with a man who had been brought into the clinic after slipping on the ice when he’d gone out to clear last night’s snowfall, and Fleur went to find him some coffee.
By the time she’d refilled the reservoir of the coffee machine in the patients’ lounge and found some milk from the kitchen, he’d finished his examination and pronounced the man bruised but otherwise unhurt. They sat together in the clinic’s reception area, watching the early morning bustle of the clinic begin to gather momentum.
“Busy night?”
“Yes. The storm kept a lot of the clinic’s patients awake too, so I had my hands full.”
“Are you hungry? I’ll get you something.”
“No, thanks. I’d like to get home and see Ellie for breakfast before she gets brought back here to the daycare center. Then I’ll get some sleep.” He grinned at Fleur. “Are you coming with me?”
She had nothing else to do today. And even if she had, she’d cancel it. Fleur reached for her coat. “Yes. I’m coming.”
* * *
Rick had been awake and alert for the drive home, and mostly awake and alert as Ellie had chatted to him over breakfast. But as soon as the childcare assistant shepherded Ellie out of the front door, his fatigue caught up with him and he walked into the sitting room, tipping himself down onto the sofa.
“Don’t sit down.” Fleur took hold of his hand, pulling his arm. “You need to go to bed.”
“Yes, I do. With you.”
“And you need to sleep for a few hours.”
“We can do that.” He grinned, getting slowly to his feet. “Afterwards...”
“No. Sleep first.” Fleur propelled him out of the room and up the stairs. Rick walked into his bedroom seemingly on autopilot now. “When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep, Rick?”
“When I was with you.” He sat down on the bed and pulled her onto his lap.
“Well, you can sleep now.” She might join him for a couple more hours as she hadn’t slept well for the last three nights either.
She pulled his sweater over his head and unbuttoned his shirt, while Rick kicked off his boots. Then she rolled him back on the bed, undoing his pants and pulling them off.
“You’re undressing me. Sure you don’t mean to have sex with me?” He was grinning sleepily.
“You’re no good to me like this.” Fleur pulled the covers to one side, and he slid under them. “I want you alert.”
“I can be alert. Any time you give me the word...”
“The only word I’m giving you is sleep.” Fleur undressed quickly, slipping under the covers next to him, and he wrapped his arms around her.
He twined his fingers in hers, drawing her hand to his lips for a kiss. “I could get used to this. Going to sleep with you.”
Fleur could get used to it too. She could get used to the way he’d made her feel when he’d told her that she was beautiful, calling the scars on her legs badges of courage when she’d confessed she thought them ugly. She could get used to relying on Rick and having him rely on her, then falling into bed, too tired to do anything other than sleep but wanting to do it together.
Rick’s passion was dizzying, spectacular, capable of taking her to places that she’d only dreamed about. But the busy, flawed everyday with him was just as good.
He let her settle comfortably, her head resting on his chest, and as Fleur snuggled against him he mumbled something, his words slurred and incomprehensible.
“What did you say?”
“Uh?” He started a little, as if she’d just pulled him back from the edges of a dream. “Nothing. Go to sleep.” Rick closed his eyes again, clearly intent on doing the same himself now.
Maybe he’d said the same three words to her, that Fleur had already said to Rick in her dreams. But love wasn’t what they’d signed up for. It was a complication that was best left unspoken.
* * *
Rick woke to the scent of soap, and a kiss that could only be Fleur’s. He opened one eye, glancing at the clock, afraid he’d slept for too long and that he’d have to go and pick Ellie up from the daycare center soon. But it was still only midday, and he had time to spend with Fleur.
“Ten minutes to get showered. I’m making breakfast.”
She was out of the room before he had a chance to even sit up, leaving a cup of fresh brewed coffee on the bedside table.
He could smell bacon and...something else. The something else turned out to be a stack of pancakes with maple syrup.
“I made you a proper American breakfast, with maple syrup from the island. I’m glad to see you had a bottle in the cupboard.”
“Are you kidding? The grocery shop refused to deliver to me unless I included it on my list.”
Fleur grinned. “Quite right too. Now it’s up to me to make sure you don’t leave it unopened at the back of the cupboard.” She put a plate down on the kitchen table in front of him, stacked with pancakes and bacon. “I guess you know the story of how Maple Island got its name.”
“No. Tell me...” He started to eat, suddenly realizing that he was hungry.
“The early settlers in the area had found out how to get syrup from maple trees, which was really important to them because they needed to be able to keep stores of food over the winter to stop them from starving. At that time, the island was covered with maples, and you could see the autumn colors from the mainland. Some of the more adventurous souls made their way across the bay to tap the trees that grew here, and they found that the island had all they needed, including excellent soil for crops and good fishing. So they stayed, and founded our community.”
Our community. Rick smiled. “And when did your family come here?”
“My dad’s family were amongst the first—Jacob Miller is listed in the old documents at the library, he and his family built one of the first houses in the town. My mum’s family came a lot later, her grandparents only
moved out to the island when they got married.”
“So you must feel that you have roots that go pretty deep into the ground here.”
Fleur poured the coffee and sat down, starting to eat. “How long has your family been in London? But you’re here. Starting out somewhere doesn’t mean you have to end up there.”
Touché. A bottle of maple syrup and a few stories were just that. Fleur had a life in Boston and the island couldn’t offer her what the mainland could. She could tell stories and talk about our community, but it didn’t really change a thing. They were both on a journey, learning how to make sense of what had happened in their lives. It was too bad that those journeys would end up in different places.
“What are the jam jars for? With counters in them?” Fleur was tucking into her food now, and pointed with her fork to the two jars standing on a shelf.
“Those? They’re a little tradition that Ellie and I have. They’re special wishes. We each get one counter a week, and we’re allowed to spend them on a special wish. Something that we can grant each other. It’s my way of showing her that she can have anything, but not everything.”
“And which one’s yours?”
“The full one. I don’t spend many of mine. Ellie spends hers every week.”
Fleur chuckled. “Good girl. Not much point in keeping all your wishes in a jar.”
“No, I suppose not.” Rick picked up the last piece of crispy bacon from his plate, biting the end of it.
“So, you’ve made me sleep. And now you’ve made me eat...” A thought hung in the corner of his mind. Something he couldn’t quite place.
“And you’re wondering what I’m going to make you do next?”
“No, I was thinking it was about time that I suggested we do something.”
She slid down off her stool, winding her arms around his waist, and he pulled her close. This felt so good. Rick’s suggestion seemed like a foregone conclusion but he made it anyway, because he wanted the thrill of whispering the words into her ear and then making them a reality.
“Next thing on the list is that we make love.”
“Convince me...”
Yeah, he could do that. She was already trembling in his arms...
Making love... Having Fleur in his arms... Suddenly the thought that had been eluding him for the last couple of minutes sprang clear into his head. This morning, as he’d drifted off to sleep, the emotion that had resounded in his heart had made an attempt to be heard.
I love you.
He’d come to his senses just in time and not repeated the garbled words because they weren’t for Fleur to hear. But it made no difference, because he couldn’t just flip a switch in his heart and feel differently about her. If he loved her, then he’d pay a price later when she left, but that was already a fait accompli. Having her now was more than worth the cost later.
He slid down from the stool, picking her up in his arms. Fleur gave a little squeal of delight. “Where are you taking me now?”
“You have to ask...?”
* * *
“I’m glad I never read that leaflet about making love after injuries like mine. It couldn’t possibly do you justice...” Fleur lay on his chest, lazily running her fingers over the well-defined muscles. It was a pleasure that—along with all the other things about Rick—just didn’t seem to get old.
He chuckled. “That’s good to hear. It’s only really a set of guidelines.”
Guidelines that Rick had explored thoroughly and applied a great deal of ingenuity to. Fleur was convinced that if she’d been locked in a full body cast, he still would have found a way to make it special. Still would have made her feel as if she was beautiful.
“I was thinking...”
“Yeah? What were you thinking?”
“I called Jim Brady while I was making breakfast, and asked if I could see my file. He said I could come to his office anytime I wanted. I just have to give him some notice, so he can make sure he’s around.”
“That’s good of him.”
“I was...wondering if you’d come with me.”
Rick wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “I was going to ask you if you wouldn’t mind my coming along. When do you want to go?”
“I could see whether he has some time this afternoon.” Maybe Rick had something else planned for the rest of the afternoon but somehow this was more of an expression of sharing than almost anything Fleur could think of.
“This afternoon would be great.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SHE KNEW THAT Jim Brady was busy today—snowstorms didn’t fall under the mantle of law enforcement, because Jim couldn’t arrest the weather, but he’d be out and about, making sure that no one needed help. But he’d taken time out from that to come back to his office and brew one of the strongest cups of coffee that Fleur had ever tasted.
He’d ushered them behind the counter and into the main office, where his desk was crammed together with two others that were used by the temporary deputies during the summer. Switching off the shortwave radio, he poured the coffee and led them along the corridor right at the back.
This was the part that Fleur had been dreading. The interview room had become even colder and more forbidding in her imagination, but it was the only place that afforded any privacy. But Jim turned left, instead of right, taking them through a door that Fleur didn’t remember having been there.
“We knocked this through last year, and I took over an old storeroom from the town hall offices. What do you think?”
There were two blue and white striped sofas and a couple of armchairs. Also a water dispenser and a coffee machine, with three boxes of tissues stacked up next to it. A toybox, painted a darker shade of blue than the walls. The overall effect was...much more welcoming. Blue...
“They say blue’s restful.” Jim surveyed the room with an air of satisfaction.
“Yes, it is, we use it a lot at the clinic.” Rick came to her rescue, and Fleur nodded her agreement. “You’ve done this all yourself?”
“Yep. I figured we needed somewhere nice to talk to people who come in to report a crime. The interview room is for suspects.”
That sounded like a promising start. Fleur sat down on one of the sofas and Rick looked around the room, commenting on the state-of-the-art video recording equipment that was tucked discreetly in one corner, and examining the painted rendering of the harbor, which was composed mostly of different shades of blue. She sipped her coffee, wincing slightly as the caffeine bolt hit the back of her throat and made her heart beat faster. Maybe a couple of boxes of herbal tea would be a good idea if Jim wanted a restful feel, but the intent of this room was very clear. She was a guest here, and not a suspect.
Rick chatted to Jim, allowing her time to settle. There was a manila file on the low table in front of her, and Fleur saw that it had her name on it. She hesitated. Now that the old file was within her reach, she had no excuse not to look in it. And she felt suddenly ashamed of what she might find there. Whether it might be clear that Sheriff Taylor had made exactly the right decision when he’d said that Fleur had provided no proper evidence and a jury wouldn’t believe her.
Rick caught her staring at the file and reached for it, picking it up as if to test its weight. “Hasn’t bitten me yet...”
Fleur managed a smile. She took the file from him, opening it and laying it on the coffee table. Rick seemed unwilling to look at the contents without her permission, and she moved a little closer to him, pushing the file in front of him. She felt his arm around her shoulder, and suddenly she felt strong enough to do this.
There wasn’t much there. A very sketchy statement, in Sheriff Taylor’s handwriting with her signature at the bottom. A few forms, the gist of which was that there was insufficient evidence and no further action was to be taken.
“I suppose...that’s all pretty clear cut
.” Fleur felt a little disappointed. There was nothing here that she didn’t already know.
Jim pushed an envelope across the table to her. “There were a couple of photographic negatives. I had them developed.”
“I remember. He took some photographs before I gave my statement...” Fleur opened the envelope and heard Rick catch his breath.
“He didn’t think that this was worth taking any action over?” Angry incredulity sounded in his voice.
The cut lip and swollen eye were worse than Fleur remembered them. Much worse. And the anguish in her own eyes was so akin to the way she’d been feeling all these years. The emotion that she’d held onto and internalized for so long. Shock hammered through her and she sprang to her feet, looking for a way out...
She felt Rick’s arms around her, and realized that she was shaking. Fleur clung to him as if he were the only thing in the room that might stop her from falling. “I want to go...”
Jim shook his head, but said nothing.
“Okay. It’s okay. If you want to go then that’s what we’ll do. But if you want to stay, I’ll be here with you. All the way. We can stop at any time, and we can leave at any time. Right, Jim?”
“Yep. That’s exactly right.”
The panic began to subside, and Fleur sat back down. Maybe she could do this after all. If Rick just held onto her, and he showed no signs of letting her go, it would be all right. She took a gulp of coffee, wincing again to find that it was just as strong as it had been a moment ago.
She pointed shakily at the file. “There are tapes...” Three cassette tapes, in a plastic folder that had been stapled to the inside of the file. “Have you played them, Jim?”
“Yes. But I think you should hear them too.” A portable cassette player was on the table in front of them, and now that Fleur thought about it, there was no other reason for it to be there.
Resisting Her English Doc Page 13
