'The disease that your dad got was really, really rare,' he found himself saying. He was still standing awkwardly above them. Susie was crouched, holding her boys close. 'It's called leukaemia. Sometimes when adults get leukaemia they die. But when kids get it.. .you know what? Kids nearly always get better. Sol think we can guarantee that you won't die of leukaemia.'
It wasn't quite true, he thought. There was a chance in a million that he'd be called a liar, but that chance was so small that for now the important thing was that they accept it as the truth and move on.
'You're a doctor,' Joel said, sniffing and turning from the safe circle of Susie's arms. 'You make people better.'
'Just like your mother,' Sam said, and smiled.
'But you couldn't make my dad better.'
'We've talked about that,' Susie said gently. 'Sometimes it's just people's time to die. Mostly it's when they're really old. But sometimes it's because they have dreadful accidents like Mr Coutts when his house caught on fire. Or when they get a really bad disease like your Dad had. But mostly it's 'cos they're old and they've finished living their lives. That's why we should have lots and lots of fun when we're young. So, yes, you and your Uncle Sam can go play soccer.'
Uncle Sam. The name hung over all of them. It was a brilliant ploy, thought Sam, and he smiled at Susan.
And then she smiled back.
Wham.
How the hell had that happened? One minute he was concentrating on life-and-death matters and traumatised children and then.. .She only had to smile.
Her eyes were still moist. Her smile was a bit tremulous, a bit wary, but still.. .He'd never seen such a smile. It knocked him sideways.
'You're our Uncle Sam?' Joel asked, and he had to haul himself out of Susie's smile and think of an answer.
'Um.. .yes. I guess I am.'
'Cool,' Joel breathed.
'Uncle Sam's American,' Robbie said.
'That's right. I'm American.'
'There's a picture of an Uncle Sam in Tom Adams's poster book,' Robbie said, eying him doubtfully as if he suspected he was being duded with an imposter. 'He has a big hat on with red, white and blue stripes and he's saying, "Your Country Needs You.'" 'I guess there's probably more than one Uncle Sam in the world,' Sam said weakly.
'And you really can play soccer?' Joel said, getting back to the important issues.
'Yes.'
'Can you take us to Whale Cove? That's the best soccer-playing sand. The rest is too small when it's high tide.'
'He can play with you here,' Susie said.
'It's too small here,' Joel objected.
'Can I take them to Whale Cove?' Sam asked. Then as he watched her face, seeing myriad conflicting emotions, he said, 'OK, maybe it'd be better to stay here and play.'
But then Susie almost visibly came to some inner conclusion, some really difficult decision:
'No. It's OK. You can all go to Whale Beach.'
'Will you bring lunch over?' Joel said.
'And our togs?' Robbie added.
'I don't have time.'
'You promised you'd take us swimming at lunchtime,' Joel said, wounded.
'I'll bring you back,' Sam said gently, seeing Susie close to panic.
'No,' she said, and she rose and squared her shoulders. 'I can do this. I'll bring lunch across.'
'It shouldn't be an ordeal,' Sam said, and he had to force himself not to reach out, not to touch her, not to somehow make contact. For that was what he wanted.
Not...Not for him, he thought, startled at the direction his thoughts were heading. But for her. He wanted to reassure her. He wanted to comfort her.
Yeah, and the rest, he thought, stunned. And that was dumb. She was terrified now. How to make it worse? Try and get physical.
One step at a time.
And there was another dumb thought. Where did he want this to go?
He simply wanted to get to know his brother's kids, he told himself. That was all.
'Do the boys know the way?' he asked.
'We do, we do,' the boys yelled in unison.
'Then let's go,' he said, and smiled at Susie. 'Is there anything we need to do before we go? Do you want us to stop at the store and buy something for lunch?'
'I don't need anything,' she said, sounding breathless. 'Except...'
'Except?'
'Except for you to stop smiling,' she snapped. 'It's driving me crazy.'
CHAPTER SEVEN
They were still playing soccer when she arrived.
Whale Cove was a tiny secluded inlet on the north of the island. The cove was only a couple of hundred yards wide, but the incline to the sea was slight, meaning there was a vast sandy swathe before the water—an ideal soccer field—and the water was shallow until far out. The beach closest to the tiny island town was good too, so most of the locals didn't bother to get into the car and come here, but this had been a favorite fishing spot for Susie's Grandpa. She'd spent half her childhood here.
It was home.
Once, when she'd been young and had fancied herself in love, she'd thought of bringing Grant here. Now there was the echo of Grant here, playing soccer with her sons.
Except...this wasn't Grant. An echo? A pale replica of Grant? No way.
They hadn't seen her arrive. The road rose to a steep bank before the cove, so she was looking down at the game being played out on the beach below.
Sam was good.
Soccer was an island passion, more important even than ballroom dancing. The few children on the island lived and breathed soccer, and the adults watched it on television with the almost religious fervour of the truly committed. Once the island had fielded a team in the mainland competition, and it was a source of immense sadness that there were no longer sufficient young men to carry on the team's proud history.
All of which meant that Susie knew her soccer. So she knew now that the ball skills Sam was showing were seriously good. She watched him kicking the ball back and forth to each of the twins in turn, adjusting the ball between each pass with deft foot juggling. She was very, very impressed.
And now she had a giant case of hero worship on her hands, she thought as she watched her boys struggle to perform to Sam's standard, trying out his moves, giggling with pleasure as he progressed around the sand with the ball bouncing up and down on his head between passes.
A comic.
She'd never have thought it of him. Yes, she'd only known him since yesterday but he'd seemed...sad? Well, he would be, she thought. He'd just lost his twin.
But...How close had they been that Grant could bequeath his money to her and never tell Sam of his sons' existence?
For Grant must have known about the boys. She'd checked over the years, not wanting to send information to old addresses. Grant's mother had told her the hospital where he'd been working. She'd checked every year before sending updated photographs. Often Grant had moved on but there'd always been a forwarding address they were willing to give her.
So Grant had seen his sons, yet he'd shown no interest. Now here was Sam, making her boys fall in love with him.
In love...
The thought came from nowhere. Goodness, she was overreacting, she told herself. One morning's soccer. But she looked down at them, three crazy kids together.
Sam.
Oh, for heaven's sake. Here she was, reacting like a moonstruck teenager. 'That's the sort of behaviour that got you into trouble in the first place,' she muttered fiercely to herself, and collected the picnic basket from the back seat of the car, collected her common sense from down around her ankles, and headed down to the beach to join them.
They saw her coming when she was halfway down the track. They were still her kids, she thought as they abandoned Sam and the soccer ball and whooped up the track to meet her.
And that was a dumb thought, too. How could she imagine that her kids were any less hers because this stranger had appeared? He had no claim on them, neither would he want any. He'd be nice to them for a
little; give them a helpful vision of who their father was and then disappear.
Leaving her financially secure.
That was something she hadn't got her head around yet. The cheque that Sam had presented her with would make all the difference.
They were tearing up the path now, her two rascal kids she loved with all her heart. She set down the picnic basket and braced herself, but still staggered as they hit her full on.
'He's the best.. .He can really play.. .Did you see him pass? Did you see me kick? I nearly got it past him. Mum, you should see him pass!'
They were delirious with happiness and she found herself grinning with them as Sam followed them more sedately up the track.
He stood looking down at the boys, his smile slightly crooked as if he wasn't quite sure what had caused the mass hysteria. 'You'll strangle your mother if you hug her so hard,' he said mildly, and the little boys whooped as if he'd said something really funny.
'Get the picnic rug from the car,' Susie told them, disengaging herself, dusting herself off and straightening. Then as the boys tore away she smiled up at Sam.
'Thank you,' she said simply. 'That's wonderful.'
'What?'
'They love soccer. I'd like to take them for decent coaching but there's never time.'
'They're pretty good for seven.'
'Yeah, well, we practise a lot.'
'We?'
'I can kick a mean soccer ball.'
'You're kidding.'
She grabbed the soccer ball, wheeled and kicked it down toward the beach. There were two straggly trees right at the end of the track, at most a couple of yards apart.
She kicked it neatly between them.
'Someone wiser than me said women need to do everything twice as well in half the time to be considered the equal of their male counterparts,' she murmured, dusting sand off her hands in a brisk, businesslike manner. 'Luckily, that's not so difficult. Right. Lunch.'
'You and Robbie against me and Joel first,' Sam said, challenging her.
She looked up into his laughing eyes and thought, no, this is really dangerous, don't do this. But she already knew it was too late.
It was a wonderful hour and a half. To Sam's astonishment Susie's boast had not been an idle one. He'd played at a high level—there was no threat to him if he put his mind to it—but Susie's skills meant that their beach challenge was incredibly satisfactory. She obviously practised with the boys for hours. How many mothers did that for their kids? he wondered. And then thought, How many single mothers did he know? Not many. Those he knew were harried and hard-working. So must Susie be, yet as soon as she'd set the picnic basket down and lifted the ball her cares had been thrust aside.
She whooped with the boys, giggling, shouting, exhorting, yelling and high-fiving with Robbie when they scored against Joel and Sam, and groaning in mock hair-pulling frustration when there was a goal scored against them.
Then hunger called and the soccer ball was put aside and lunch was attacked with the same enthusiasm. She'd made it herself, he thought, and this was no gourmet's delight. She'd sliced a loaf of bread thickly, then made chunky sandwiches with beef and salad three inches thick. They ate them lying full length on the rug, while gazing up at the few white clouds scudding over the sun-drenched sky. The kids and Susie did this often, he thought as he watched them. She had a twin on each side of her. They were content just to concentrate on the serious business of eating. Conversation wasn't necessary.
He was jealous.
It took a few minutes before it kicked in but when it did it almost took his breath away. He'd never had this. His parents' marriage had been dysfunctional. He'd never been sure how they'd managed to conceive at all, and they sure as hell hadn't wanted to raise them. Grant had been raised by a succession of au pairs, usually girls with very little English, out to have a good time rather than care for their charge. Sam had mostly been raised by Aunt Effie.
It didn't matter now. Hell, he was thirty-six. What was the use of aching for a childhood he'd never had?
It wasn't that. He was aching for Grant.
He'd taken his sandwiches a little apart, so he could sit on a rock and survey Susie and the boys from a distance. The little boys were lying dreamily on either side of their mother. While he watched, Susie finished her sandwich, then sat up to fetch herself another. Before she lay down again she kissed each freckled nose in turn.
The boys giggled. Grant would never have giggled, he thought. Grant would have been tugging Susie, saying, 'Look at me, look at me,' unable to bear that attention be paid to anyone but himself.
He felt sorry for Grant.
That was such a blasting thought, coming from nowhere, that he stood up and walked, unable to stand still, thinking it through.
Sure, Grant had been sick. Sure he'd felt sorry for .Grant when Grant had been so ill. But before...
He'd always assumed Grant had felt right with his world. Grant had been in control. Yes, his twin had been selfish, but he'd got what he'd wanted.
But now...He turned and looked at the little group on the sand and thought, Grant, you missed this. You could have had it. You stupid, messed-up piece of grief.
'There's room on the rug if you want.' Joel had obviously been watching and was keen to make sure all was right with everyone. 'It's cool to lie on your back and watch the clouds. Mine's a crocodile.'
'A crocodile?' Sam said cautiously.
'Mine's a bunch of balloons,' Susie said. 'That's all I can manage today.'
'Mine's a bulldozer,' Robbie said in satisfaction. 'I reckon I win.'
'We see things in clouds,' Susie said, taking pity on his confusion. 'You look up and see what you can see in the clouds, then if you can make everyone else see it then you win. But bunches of balloons don't really cut it.'
'Lie down and see,' Joel said, obligingly. 'Mum, move over.' Then, as she didn't move, he sighed over the obstinate ways of grown-ups and rolled his little body over his mother and his twin so he was on the outside edge against Robbie and there was a gap right beside Susie. 'Lie down and look,' Joel commanded. 'But can you pass the sandwiches first, please?'
So Sam passed the sandwiches and lay right beside Susie and looked at clouds. The rug was a wee bit too small for the four of them and Susie's body was touching his, just lightly, but touching for all that. Susie's body tensed as he sank down beside her. So did his. But it couldn't last. No one could stay tense for long here. The food was great. The sun was warm on their faces, and the conversation was fun.
They discussed Joel's crocodile and decided they were impressed. They discussed Susie's balloons and Sam was polite but the twins were scornful. They discussed Robbie's bulldozer and judged him the winner.
'Unless you can find something else,' Robbie said, but he sounded anxious.
Sam looked skyward while he munched another sandwich—when had he last eaten this much lunch?—and decided that all he could see were bulldozers, crocodiles and clouds. Nothing else.
'Then Robbie's today's champion,' Susie decreed, and rolled over, kissed her son on the tip of his nose and then peeled off her T-shirt. Then her jeans. Underneath she was wearing a faded red bikini. A seriously gorgeous faded red bikini. Maybe it was only seriously gorgeous because Susie was in it, Sam thought. 'Who's for a swim?' she demanded, and Sam had to blink and haul his attention away from one very small bathing costume.
'Don't you drown if you go swimming on top of a big meal?' Sam asked cautiously as the twins leapt to their feet and headed for the water, but Susie grinned and shook her head.
'There speaks a truly well-trained physician, I don't think. Cramps after lunch went out with whalebone corsets. Coming?'
'I don't have trunks.'
She wrinkled her nose. 'That's right, all your luggage went the way of the car. Will insurance pay for new ones?'
'I suspect burned swimming shorts are the least of the expenses my insurance company is facing,' he said morosely.
'You've lost your
computer, too?'
'Doris has already sympathised about my computer.' Gee, her bikini was...was...
'Hey, I'm not sympathising,' she retorted. 'I think anyone going on holiday with a computer needs their head read.'
'I wasn't coming on a holiday.'
'Why were you coming?'
'To see you.'
She considered that. Her lovely body was blocking his sunlight. Her shadow was falling over him and the sensation was somehow intimate. He shaded his eyes to look up at her and felt even more deeply the sensation that his world was being twisted.
He was being stupid. He'd met this woman only twenty-four hours ago. She was the mother of his nephews. To feel.. .as he was feeling was stupid, stupid, stupid.
'You didn't come to see me,' she said, reasonably, seemingly unaware of the sensations chasing themselves round his head space. 'You only needed to put the cheque in the post. Or were you wanting to see what sort of a mercenary wench your brother had been involved with in his shady past?'
It was so much what he had been thinking that he found it hard to answer. What had he expected? He'd seen some of the women Grant had been involved with over the years and they had always been., .well, not like this. Not like Susie.
It was the most beautiful bikini...
'You could have posted the cheque,' she said again, softly. Insistently. She needed an answer.
'I wanted to meet you.'
'Why?'
'I've lost all of Grant,' he said, forcing himself to think as logically as he possibly could. 'I wanted...'
'To see if there was any connection left?' Her face softened in sympathy. 'I can understand that. And it must have been quite a shock to find the twins. Twin echoes of Grant.'
'They're so much not like Grant,' he said slowly, thinking it through.
'Why not?'
'They care,' he said softly. 'Already I can see that. They love you. They love each other.'
'They surely do that,' she agreed, and turned to watch them. They'd surged into the water and were now splashing in a furious display of who could get the most water in the air.
His Island Bride Page 8
