‘Nothing,’ Harriet started, then decided that surely she could be excused a tiny white lie. ‘Actually, I just came over a bit dizzy. I’ll be fine in a moment.’
‘Bed!’ Ciro declared, guiding her up by the elbow and practically frogmarching her towards the bedroom. Under any other circumstances it would have been a dream come true! ‘No arguments!’
He didn’t get one.
Mute, she stood there as he pulled the wooden slats on the divine view then proceeded to pull back starched white sheets. Her lies caught up with her as she truly did start to feel dizzy, only it had nothing to do with standing up too quickly and everything to do with the man guiding her by the elbow to the bedside and gently lifting her legs onto the bed.
‘Bed for me, too,’ Ciro said. ‘I’ve done my penance on nights.’
‘I like nights,’ Harriet admitted.
‘Me, too. Especially when you start in a new job. It forces you to find out where things are and how the system works. Right…’ He’d tucked her in firmly, the sheet well past her neck. ‘If you need anything…’
‘I won’t.’ Harriet shook her head, determined to redeem herself, to show she wanted nothing more from him than a courteous professional relationship and a friendly nod of greeting if they met on the stairs.
But it was Ciro lingering now, Ciro prolonging the conversation.
‘How long till you go back to work?’
‘They gave me two weeks.’
‘Well, use it wisely.’
She nodded, holding her breath, wishing he would go, yet somehow wanting him to stay a bit longer. He was just so easy to talk to, his smile, his demeanour so very disarming, Ciro Delgato did without trying something no man had ever done before. His mere presence soothed her, yet simultaneously excited her. She had a need to get to know him deeper, to find out what had brought him here, how long he was staying. But it was none of her business, Harriet reminded herself firmly. He had done her a huge favour in finding her this divine apartment—the last thing he needed in return was a nosy neighbour with a king-sized crush.
The internal admission shocked her, and as she lay stock-still her mind whirred.
It was a crush—a stupid crush—and all because he had helped her at her very worst, made her laugh when she should have cried, taken the pressure off the practicalities of finding somewhere to live and dealing with inquisitive colleagues.
‘You have to take things easy.’ Ciro’s voice was insistent. ‘Not so long ago people stayed in hospital for a full week after having their appendix removed. I really don’t like the thought of you having no one to take care of you.’
‘Ciro, I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I’m fine by myself.’
‘That sounds like the title of a song.’
‘It’s just how I feel.’ Harriet shrugged. ‘I really would prefer to be on my own right now. Mum and my friends all mean well, but I’m just—’
‘Fair enough,’ he broke in softly. ‘Can I drop by and check on you? I won’t impose,’ he added quickly before she could shake her head. ‘I’d just feel better if I saw that you were OK.’
Which was OK to agree to, Harriet decided. After all, she’d do the same for a neighbour. Giving a small nod, she closed her eyes, fully expecting to hear the bedroom door close, to be left alone with her jumbled thoughts. But he stayed.
‘When you’re up to it…’
Her eyes opened to his voice. She turned her head on the pillow to face him, and even though the light was dim it accentuated somehow how tired he must be, the hollows of his cheekbones deepened, that five a.m. shadow that was positively charcoal now. ‘We’ll have that talk.’
‘Talk?’ Harriet croaked, grateful that he had closed the slats and couldn’t see her flaming cheeks, anticipation flaring in every heightened nerve, simultaneously berating herself at her own presumption.
‘Over that large glass of wine. I’d like to get to know you better, Harriet.’ She didn’t answer, couldn’t. Her eyes wide, she blinked at him, though his expression was impossible to read in the semi-darkness. ‘Rest now,’ he said, his voice thick and heavily accented, the door closing softly behind him.
In the days that followed Harriet truly wasn’t sure if she’d dreamt the last part of the conversation, if her drugand anaesthetic-hazed mind had somehow played tricks on her, because surely there hadn’t been that hint of promise throbbing in the air, surely someone as utterly divine, as accomplished and confident as Ciro Delgato couldn’t possibly want to get to know someone as plain, unsure and downright mixed up as Harriet Farrell.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘CIRO!’
Harriet’s smile was wide as she pulled open her front door to see him standing there, holding a large brown paper bag. Berating the fact that she didn’t have her robe ready to pull on in case there was a knock at the door and a certain doctor decided to check how she was doing, she’d had to settle for pulling on a pair of shorts and praying that the two triangles of her bikini top kept at least the essential bits covered.
For the last few days Ciro had been playing the part of the dutiful neighbour and doctor to perfection, dropping in each evening to check on her progress, telling her off when, bright red, she’d answered the door having clearly fallen asleep in the sun. As boring as it must have been for Ciro, his visits were fast becoming the highlight of Harriet’s day! Late springtime at Coogee Beach was arguably the best place in the world for some serious recuperation of the soul, but there was only so much introspection Harriet could stomach, and any diversion, especially one as stunning as Ciro, was rather gratefully received.
‘I wasn’t sure if you were home.’ Ciro gestured to the dark flat. ‘I thought you might need these.’
The open door was clearly enough of an invitation for Ciro and he walked in. Harriet flicked on the light, watching open-mouthed as he proceeded to empty the bag.
‘Red wine, chocolate, a very slushy DVD.’ He held it up for her inspection and then carried on depositing his wares over the bench. ‘More chocolate and a box of tissues.’ He gave a triumphant smile. ‘Now that you are physically on the mend, I figure it’s time to start on the emotional so I’ve bought all the ingredients necessary for a woman who has a heart that is broken.’
‘A broken heart, even!’ Harriet grinned. ‘What makes you such an expert on women?’
‘I have three sisters,’ Ciro groaned. ‘So you can lose the sarcasm. Back home in Spain I do not have much of a first-aid kit in my hacienda, but I have a bag like this packed and ready in my pantry for when one of my sisters drops by unexpectedly or calls for me to come over urgently.’
‘I’m sure you make a lovely agony aunt,’ Harriet said, picturing the scene and heading over to the bench to eye the goodies. ‘Yes, please, to the wine and chocolate and the DVD. Actually, this is one I’ve been meaning to get, but I won’t be needing the tissues.’
‘Harriet, you don’t need to be brave.’
‘I’m not being brave,’ Harriet insisted. ‘I’m doing fine.’
‘Sitting in the dark, feeling sorry for yourself, is not doing fine,’ Ciro pointed out.
‘I was actually sitting on the balcony, watching a glorious sunset,’ Harriet corrected him. ‘And, before you suggest it, my lack of emotion has nothing to do with the fact I don’t have your sisters’ passionate Latin blood running through my veins. The simple matter is, I did all my crying over the end of my relationship long ago.’
‘A week isn’t very long,’ Ciro pointed out.
‘A year is, though.’ She gave a small shrug, then wished she hadn’t. Her tiny bikini was not really geared for shoulder movement and for a moment, so small it was barely there, she felt Ciro’s gaze flick downwards, and about the same time her heart rate soared skywards. She was suddenly acutely aware of her lack of attire, and that she hadn’t had a pert bust since pre-adolescence. Her very exposed breasts were jiggling around to a tune of their own and it would make it even more embarrassing if she suddenly dashe
d off, dropped the chocolate she had picked up and ran to the bedroom to throw on a T-shirt. Instead, she had to ride out the suddenly uncomfortable conversation, horribly conscious of the fact that, though newly tanned, her stomach could hardly be described as toned. ‘I did all the emotional groundwork months ago. In fact, if I hadn’t found Drew in bed with that woman, I don’t doubt for a moment that I’d be exactly where I am now.’ She registered his frown. ‘I’d decided we were both going to face up to it once I was feeling better, even as I was riding home in the taxi…’ Her voice trailed off. Over it she may be, but that didn’t mean she wanted to relive it just yet.
‘Would you like some wine?’ Ciro offered after a suitably long pause, realising she wasn’t about to elaborate. Probably because his apartment was the same as hers, when she nodded her acceptance, he was able to locate the corkscrew and glasses with ease. ‘Why don’t we try and catch the end of that sunset?’
Grabbing a flimsy wrap from the sofa, Harriet led him onto her balcony, grateful for the spectacular pink sky that surpassed any need for small talk. Watching in amicable silence as the sun dipped lower, listening to the raucous laughter of some teenagers partying on the beach, sipping on her wine, feeling the warmth of the liquid spreading through her, the exquisite shyness of having him so near finally abated enough to allow her to steal a glimpse of his haughty profile.
‘It is very beautiful,’ Ciro said, staring out into the distance. And Harriet murmured her agreement, only she wasn’t talking about the sunset. ‘Sydney really is very beautiful.’
‘It is,’ Harriet agreed, because with the stars so low you could almost touch them, with the sound of laughter and scents of garlic and herbs winging their way up from the bars and cafés along the foreshore, it would, quite simply, be impossible not to. ‘I didn’t think so at first, though,’ Harriet admitted. ‘I wasn’t looking forward to moving here at all.’
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Six months.’ She took a sip of her wine before continuing. ‘Six months has been about par for the course for the last few years. Every time I started to feel at home, every time I made a few friends, another role would come up, the next big thing Drew simply had to chase.’ Realising she was running the risk of sounding as if she felt sorry for herself, Harriet adopted a more positive note to her voice. ‘It worked, though. I mean, he started off in Perth with mainly walk-on non-talking parts and the occasional advert, then he took a part in Queensland on one of the local children’s shows as co-presenter, which got him noticed.’
‘Where to then?’
‘Melbourne. He got a fairly big part in a soap, and from there he was invited to play the roles he’s doing now, but it meant another move.’
‘And how did you feel about all these moves?’ Ciro asked.
Harriet gave a tight shrug. ‘Nursing’s very portable.’
‘I know that,’ Ciro said patiently, ‘but how did you feel about constantly moving?’
‘Exhausted,’ Harriet admitted. ‘Perhaps the most stupid part of the whole fiasco is that finally we seemed settled, geographically of course. Drew’s career was really taking off. For the first time in our marriage suddenly we weren’t dependent on my wage. I was even thinking about…’ She didn’t finish, shaking her head in the darkness, determined not to get maudlin, determined not to dwell on the could-have-beens that simply weren’t.
But Ciro wasn’t about to be fobbed off.
‘What were you thinking about doing?’
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ Harriet started, but she realised there was nothing maudlin about what she was thinking—in fact, it didn’t even involve Drew. And there was something infinitely patient about Ciro, something so refreshingly open and direct about him that somehow, and not for the first time, she found herself opening up.
‘You know how I told you I spent some time on an adolescent psychiatric unit? Well, it really had a huge impact on me.’
‘Were you thinking of doing psychiatric nursing?’
Harriet shook her head, blushing at her own presumption as she voiced her dreams, wondering what a very senior doctor’s take would be on them. ‘I wanted to study psychology, maybe one day specialise in people like Alyssa.’
And he didn’t give a patronising smile, or stare at her as if she were having some sort of manic delusion. He just gave a thoughtful nod. ‘You did very well with her—with her mother, too.’
‘That’s the part that interests me,’ Harriet responded eagerly. ‘The whole family dynamics, the bigger picture, not just what happened to, say, Alyssa, but what happened to her mother. Why her mother is so compelled…’ Her voice trailed off. She was embarrassed by her own enthusiasm but Ciro didn’t seem to mind a bit.
‘Alyssa spoke with me about you. She said you were very kind to her when she was on EHU.’
‘You’ve been to see her?’
‘A couple of times.’ Ciro nodded. ‘Though I’ll probably leave it for a couple of weeks. I don’t want her getting too dependent. You have to be very careful…’ It was Ciro’s voice trailing off now, Ciro giving a tight shrug, clearly trying to end the conversation.
‘You seem to know a lot about it,’ Harriet observed, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched his reaction. ‘More than most emergency doctors, perhaps?’
Almost reluctantly he nodded.
‘My twin sister, Nikki—’
‘You’re a twin!’
‘Yes, and we are very close. But Nikki suffers from an eating disorder. I have been through many hospital admissions with Nikki, so I know how hard the first few days can be. That is why I warned Alyssa that it might be exceptionally difficult for her on EHU. Staff on a general ward, no matter how good their intentions, just don’t understand that the entire body image and emotional thought processes of people with eating disorders are chronically distorted—that it’s about so much more than food.’
‘It must be hard for you,’ Harriet observed, ‘seeing someone you love so much suffering.’ But Ciro shook his head.
‘If it’s been hard for me then it’s been unbearable for Nikki. She is doing so well now, has fought her way back, but it isn’t something that can be cured as such. Every day is a fresh challenge. She has to be constantly vigilant, to recognise when old habits start creeping in…’ He gave a small smile, but it was loaded with pain. ‘But you already know this, don’t you?’
‘I know a bit,’ Harriet admitted. ‘I’d like to know more.’
‘You’d be very good.’
‘Would have been very good,’ Harriet corrected. ‘I was accepted to study psychology at uni a few years ago, but at the time we couldn’t afford it.’ This time Ciro did raise his eyebrows. ‘OK, Drew wasn’t getting much work and we really needed a full-time wage. But when we moved here and his work was more secure…’ She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘So what has changed?’ Ciro asked. ‘You can’t deny this is a new chapter in your life. Why not go the whole way and do something that you really want to?’
‘I might,’ Harriet said tightly. ‘Just not yet.’
But from his frown, Harriet realised he didn’t understand, just didn’t get the emotional war zone her life had been for so long now, still would be for a while yet, at least until her divorce came through. He couldn’t comprehend the battering her confidence had taken over and over, that apart from nursing every facet of her life had changed.
‘I want some peace,’ Harriet said finally. ‘I’m tired of unpacking boxes only to pack them up again a few months later, tired of being interviewed for a job I’ve been doing for years and starting over in yet another hospital, tired of having my mail redirected, or when the car needs a service having to find yet another new garage…’ Now she was starting to sound sorry for herself so she lightened it with a very bright smile. ‘I like Sydney,’ Harriet said firmly. ‘I love the fact that the beaches are just a stone’s throw from the city, love the ferries leaving the harbour, and the cafés and the mass
of people, love the fact that at five a.m. at the end of a night shift I can go up to the top floor and watch the sunrise on a new day.’
‘It sounds like you’re staying!’
‘I am,’ Harriet said firmly, but taken aback a touch by her sudden decision. ‘I like my job, like the people I’m working with, and for the first time in years I’m going to stay put. Who knows? When the dust has settled, maybe I will go to uni and do psychology.’
‘Just not yet?’ Ciro ventured, and Harriet nodded.
‘Just not yet. Thanks for this.’ Holding up her wineglass, she chinked it with his. ‘It’s nice to have a sympathetic ear.’
‘Harriet, I am not here just to offer sympathy.’ Those gorgeous mocha-coloured eyes were staring directly at her. ‘I am here to spend some time with you, to get to know you. I am not very good at hiding my feelings and until I knew that you were sure your marriage was over it would not have been appropriate for me to come around for anything more than a very brief visit.’
‘Appropriate?’
‘I have watched you on the beach.’ Ciro gestured to the vast expanse below. ‘Seen the indecision in you…’
‘Ciro, there was no indecision, just pain.’
‘You needed space,’ Ciro said firmly, and Harriet had to leave it at that, but knew that the second she was alone she would go over the words he had said and see, if on replay, they were as wonderful as they sounded now, if Ciro was really saying that he wanted to spend time with her, not as a colleague, not as a neighbour, but as a woman.
And it should surely have been the most nerve-racking evening of her life, but it wasn’t, and it had nothing to do with two glasses of wine and everything to do with this amazing, insightful man. A man who actually knew not just how to listen but what to say, too, making her laugh, regaling stories of his own. And by the time the mozzies had started making themselves known and the noise from the party on the beach became more raucous than high-spirited it seemed the most natural thing in the world to drift into the lounge to relax back on the sofa and break open the chocolate while watching what would surely now top the list as Harriet’s all-time favourite movie.
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