by Anne Mather
But to her relief, when they entered the flat, he said no more about it right then, making himself at home on the couch, admiring the toys that Sara brought for his inspection, and eventually submitting to her pleas to be "drawn" again. He sketched a full-length portrait of her as she played with Helga and her other dolls, and because it was in her sketchbook, she told Rachel it was her very own picture.
Rachel busied herself in the kitchen. She had bought some bread on her way home from the hospital that morning, and there were plenty of eggs to make omelettes instead of the sandwiches she had initially thought of. She opened a large tin of chicken soup and poured it into a saucepan to warm, and whipped some cream to add to a tinned fruit salad that she served in dessert dishes.
The meal was a success. Hunger had sharpened her own appetite, and she refused to think too far ahead. Joel sat at the opposite end of the kitchen table, having shed his denim jacket, his arms protruding from the short sleeves of the sweat shirt, tanned and muscular. If ever she caught his eyes upon her, their coldness warned her that he was not finished with her yet, but mostly he talked to Sara, and she was the link between them.
"That was delicious," he said at last, finishing his second cup of tea, but looking at Sara. "How about you and me doing the washing up for Mummy?"
"All right." This was something new for Sara, never having been part of a family. "But can I wash?"
Rachel sat uneasily in the living room while Joel and Sara dealt with the dishes. She could hear Sara splashing in the water, and giggling at the things Joel was saying to her, and wondered why it couldn't have been James she responded to in that way. But then James had never played with her. He had talked to her, of course, made a fuss of her - bought her things, even. But there was not the rapport between them that there apparently was between her and - and her father...
Rachel got to her feet and paced impatiently about the room. She was becoming maudlin. This could well be a passing fancy for Joel, a diversion before something else diverted his attention. Wasn't that all she had been to him?
When they came into the living room a few minutes later, Sara was looking rather anxious. "My jersey's all wet, Mummy," she said, plucking at it worriedly. "I'm sorry."
"It was my fault," put in Joel abruptly. "It will dry, won't it?"
! His eyes challenged her, but Rachel couldn't withstand his compelling stare. "I - yes. It's all right, Sara," she assured the little girl hastily. "Besides, it's bedtime. You can go and take off all your clothes now and I'll put you in the bath." - "Could Joel put me in the bath?" exclaimed Sara, at once, and Rachel sighed rather irritably.
"No. No, Sara, I'll do that - "
"If Sara - " began Joel, but Rachel silenced him with an angry look.
"I'll bathe you, Sara," she asserted firmly. "Go along now."
"What's the matter, Rachel?" Joel demanded, as Sara went reluctantly out of the room. "Are you afraid I'll see the fistula?" His lips twisted as her eyes widened in dismay. "That is what's wrong with her, isn't it? Kidney disease?"
All through Sara's bath and afterwards, putting on her pyjamas, brushing her hair, Rachel thought about what Joel had said, and realised there was no point in pretending any longer. Sooner or later he would have to know anyway, she thought wearily.
Sara wanted a glass of milk for her supper, and then she went to say goodnight to Joel, who was waiting in the living room.
"Will you come and tuck me in?" she asked, small and appealing in her sprigged cotton pyjamas.
Rachel, watching Joel's face, saw the stirring emotion that tautened his jawline, and wondered if he would have felt differently about children had he found a woman he really wanted to marry. Perhaps the reason he was behaving differently now was because he had found that woman. Certainly Erica Grey played no small role in his life. It crossed Rachel's mind with a terrifying pang that had Joel learned of Sara's existence in other circumstances, he might well have wanted to adopt her - he and Erica. He would have had quite a case, she had to concede. And with the kind of lawyers he could afford to retain...
Her voice was therefore brusque, as she explained: "Oh, do hurry up, Sara. It's after seven."
"I want Joel to come!" Sara repeated, with annoying insistence.
Joel got to his feet. "Why not?" He looked down at Sara with an indulgent smile. "Come on - show me where you sleep."
Rachel accompanied them into the bedroom, but after kissing Sara goodnight she left them and went back into the living room. As she did so, the phone rang, and her nerves jangled with the sound. She could guess who it would be, but she had to answer it.
"Hello?" she said quietly.
"Rachel? Rachel, is that you?"
James's voice was just as compelling, and Rachel drew an unsteady breath before replying: "Yes. Yes, James, it's me."
"Are you all right? You sound - nervous."
"No, I'm not. Not really." Rachel forced her voice to remain steady with great difficulty. "Actually, I - I was putting Sara to bed."
"How is she? Did all go well last night?"
"Yes. Yes, everything went fine. How are you, James?"
"As usual, in the peak of condition." He chuckled. "How about you? Are you having an exciting time in London?"
"Hardly an exciting time, James."
"Why not? Miss Clay told you I'd opened an account for you at Harrods, didn't she? I've been imagining you enjoying a spending spree."
Rachel sighed. "No. No, Miss Clay must have forgotten to tell me that. But don't - don't trouble her, James, really. I - I'm not the type to spend money that freely."
"Nonsense! All women like spending money. I shall speak ' to Miss Clay first thing in the morning."
Rachel wanted to protest, but she knew from past experience that it would do no good. Once James made up his mind about something he was a very determined man. Her hand holding the receiver to her ear trembled slightly. His son was more like him than he cared to admit.
"In any case," James went on, "I thought I should keep you in the picture so far as the arrangements for our engagement party are concerned. Certain preliminary arrangements have already been made, and I wondered if there was anyone you ff> particularly wanted to ask."
Rachel shook her head, and then realising he couldn't see her, said: "I don't think so." The only people she could have asked were now living on the Continent, and she did not think either Colonel Frenshaw or his secretary would make the journey to London for such an event.
"Very well, then." James didn't sound disappointed, on the contrary, he sounded relieved, and Rachel guessed that he would not have welcomed any of her contemporaries from the orphanage with any degree of enthusiasm. No doubt, like the sons he had fathered, he hoped to mould her to some idealistic image of his own making.
Rachel sensed, rather than heard, Joel come into the room behind her. He didn't say anything, but she was conscious of his brooding presence. It made her nervous, and she said rather abruptly: "Is that all, then?"
There was silence for a long moment, and at last James responded: "Are you sure there's nothing troubling you, Rachel? You seem a little - distraught."
Rachel caught her breath. "I've told you, James, I'm fine, really. I - I have a headache, that's all."
Joel made a disbelieving sound behind her, and moved into the room, lighting a cheroot. But fortunately, James was offering his sympathy and heard nothing untoward.
"Why didn't you say so?" he asked now. "I expect it's the change of air. Langthwaite may have been remote, but it was far from the fumes of diesel oil." He paused. "Very well, my dear, I'll ring off. Oh, and by the way, I'm hoping to be back on Tuesday instead of Thursday. I'll let you know the time of arrival of my flight later. Give my love to Sara, won't you?"
"I will. Goodbye, James."
"Auf weidersehen, liebling. You see, I'm learning the language."
Rachel made some suitable reply and then replaced her receiver, turning reluctantly to face Joel who was standing before the hearth.
"Liebling," he commented, with cold mockery, revealing he had heard all of their conversation since he entered the room. "My father is getting sentimental in his old age."
"Must you be so unpleasant?" Rachel went to the windows and drew the curtains against the darkness outside. "I suppose you think discovering Sara's weakness entities you to be so objectionable."
Joel exhaled heavily. "I think I was entitled to know the truth about her condition," he replied forcefully. "A 'minor blood deficiency' was a totally misleading understatement of fact. Sara needs a dialyser, doesn't she? That's why she stayed in hospital last night."
"All right, all right!" Rachel turned back to him, folding her hands tightly together. "I'll tell you the truth. You'll have to know sooner or later ..." She looked down at her linked fingers. "Sara was born with a congenital malformation of her kidneys."
"Go on." Joel's face was grim.
"Well - " Rachel sought for words, "we -I didn't know at first. She seemed a normal, healthy baby. She was never big for her age, and she didn't gain weight very quickly, but nor did a lot of other babies." She sighed. "From being very small, she was - prone to infection. The mildest kind of virus seemed to cause her to run high temperatures and suffer gastric disturbances, and - eventually we discovered what was wrong."
"And?"
"Oh, Joel, give me time." Rachel sank down weakly into an armchair, staring blindly into the glowing coals of the electric fire burning in the grate. She moved her shoulders. "She saw doctors, specialists. They did everything they could, but it was never enough. Six months ago she suffered renal failure. That was when the dialysis began."
"God!" Joel paced restlessly about the room. "And even then you never thought to tell me!"
"Why should I?" Rachel looked up at him defensively. "It wasn't your worry, it was mine. I had chosen to bring Sara into the world. I was responsible for her."
"But in the circumstances - "
"The circumstances had nothing to do with anything. They were an unfortunate accident of nature. Retribution perhaps, for the way I had behaved!"
"Oh, God, don't talk such rubbish!" he muttered savagely. "What did you do, for heaven's sake? Except walk out on me!"
"Well, these things have been known to be hereditary, and it's possible that my parents, whoever they were - "
"Sara has two parents, too."
"But there's been nothing like that in your family, has there?" she exclaimed tremulously.
"Hasn't there?" Joel's brows had drawn together.
"Oh, Joel, don't bait me, please." She got to her feet again, and walked round the back of the couch. "Well, anyway, that was the situation six months ago, and - "
"Where does my father come into all this?" he interrupted her.
"He - that is - Colonel Frenshaw was having to sell up and go and live abroad. For health reasons, you see. Your father's bank handled all his investments."
"And - my father came to see the Colonel, I suppose."
"Yes. They'd known one another years ago, in London."
"How coincidental!"
"Do you think I planned it that way?" she demanded hotly. "I nearly died of shock when I opened the door and found James Kingdom on the step. Naturally, he asked the Colonel about me, and when he saw Sara ..."
"Yes. With his foreknowledge, he guessed what you had done." Joel's fists clenched. "But that still doesn't explain why you're marrying him. Has he promised you financial help for Sara? Is there some obscure surgeon somewhere who has perfected a cure for which you have to pay?"
"No. No, at least - it's a simple enough solution really. Your father's blood cell groupings match Sara's. He's agreed to a transplant of one of his own kidneys."
CHAPTER EIGHT
"What?" Joel stared at her in horror. "But my father's an old man!"
"Not so old." Rachel's fingers nervously massaged the back of the couch. "Besides, his kidneys are healthy, and apparently perfectly suitable for transplant."
"You can't be serious!" Joel wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. "My God, and you're marrying him for that!"
"Among other things." Rachel dug her nails into the cloth. "Joel, it hasn't been easy, caring for a child like Sara. At least, with James, she'll have every advantage."
Joel crushed out his cheroot with unsteady fingers. "I could give her the same advantages!" he muttered.
Rachel's breathing was shallow. "Financially, perhaps," she conceded.
He looked up, his eyes cold. "What else is there?"
Rachel looked away from him. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."
"That's good. Because I don't." Joel flexed his shoulder muscles impatiently. "I won't let you do it."
"You can't stop me."
"Can't I?" He unfastened the two top buttons of his sweat shirt and massaged his throat. "I wouldn't bank on that if I were you."
"Oh, Joel!" Rachel felt near to tears now. "Joel, can't we stop this continual bickering? You don't really care about Sara - or me. You have your work - and Erica Grey - "
"Let's keep Erica out of this, shall we?"
"Why should I? You can't deny the relationship you have with her."
"I don't intend to. Erica and I are two adult people. I admit that from time to time - "
"I don't want to know!"
Rachel turned away and put her hands over her ears, and she was not aware he had come round the couch to stand behind her until she felt the warmth of his breath fanning her skin. Then she lowered her hands to wrap her arms defensively around her.
"Oh, Rachel!" He spoke huskily, sliding one hand under the coil of her hair and stroking the sensitive nape of her neck. "You don't want to know because of what was between us. Don't try to deny it. You should never have gone away and left me. I went through purgatory trying to find you. If I'd known you were pregnant as well..." He slid his hand over one of hers, finding her palm with his thumb. "You remember how it always was with us. I admit I behaved selfishly, but try to see it my way. I wanted you - my God! how I wanted you! And you were beautiful, do you know that? I've never made love to any other woman. Sex perhaps - but not love!"
There was a liquid sweetness throbbing through her veins that quickened her pulse and weakened her lower limbs. She knew an aching desire to yield against him and feel the demanding hardness of his body. But she was not fool enough to imagine that the emotions he was deliberately arousing in her were anything more than an instinctive response to his undoubted sensual attraction.
Dragging herself away from him, she turned to face him, hands clenched by her sides, stiffening her resolve with anger. "Don't try to seduce me with words, Joel! I know you too well."
He shrugged, narrowing his eyes, feet apart, making her intensely aware of his dark masculinity. "You can't go through with this, Rachel," he stated in a low voice. "You know you can't."
"I shall go through with it!" she declared fiercely. "And no amount of sexual persuasion on your part is going to stop me!"
Joel stared at her unblinkingly. "I'm prepared to give Sara one of my kidneys. If my father is a suitable donor, I see no reason why I shouldn't be as well."
"No!" The word was torn from her. "I want nothing from you!"
"Not even your daughter's health?" he demanded, less coolly now.
"Sara is going to be all right - "
"And if the transplant fails? What then?"
Rachel caught her lip between her teeth. "Why should it fail?"
"What do the doctors say? What are her chances?"
Rachel moved her head helplessly. "They're - reasonable." She drew a trembling breath. "I can't tell you any more than that. I don't understand altogether what's involved."
"So you're sacrificing yourself for the child!" His lips twisted scornfully. "What kind of recompense are you making? What if the operation doesn't succeed? Will it all have been for nothing?"
Rachel held up her head. "James - James and I are not getting married until - until after the operation is o
ver."
"Oh, really?" Joel sneered. "So you imagine if it all goes wrong, my father will call off the deal?"
Rachel's brows drew together. "Why, of course."
Joel gave her a disgusted look. "You can't be serious!"
"What do you mean?"
Joel shook his head. "Well, I understand from Miss Clay that my father is organising a plush engagement party, is that right?"
"I - I believe so."
"To introduce you to his friends and colleagues in the City."
"Y-yes."
Joel drew a deep breath. "And you imagine after all the publicity that will ensue that my father will call the deal off if things don't go well?"
"Why shouldn't he?"
"Oh, Rachel, you can't be for real!" Joel sank down on to the arm of the couch, raking a hand through his hair. "Rachel, men like my father care a lot about their public image. Introducing you as his fiancée will be quite an achievement for a man of his age." He scowled up at her. "Quite an achievement indeed." He paused. Then: "If you try to call the engagement off because Sara isn't going to get well, he'll make mincemeat out of you in the press! Oh, no, Rachel, if you get engaged to my father, you can say goodbye to your freedom!"
"I don't believe you!" Rachel stared at him, her mouth working tremulously. "You're just saying these things to frighten me!"
"Am I?" He raised dark eyebrows. "I shouldn't be too sure of that, if I were you."
"Oh, what's it to you?" she exclaimed unsteadily. "Why should you care, one way or the other?"
"You know the answer to that," he told her, his voice thickening as he reached towards her and grasping her wrist pulled her close to him. "I care what happens to you, Rachel," he muttered. "I never stopped wanting you. I want you now -here."
His eyes were dark with emotion and Rachel's hands pressed desperately against his shoulders. But his shirt didn't come up round his neck, and her fingers encountered his smooth skin. She remembered the feel of his skin so well, and for an instant she thought of James's skin, and of how much more gnarled and lined it was. Joel took one of her hands and pushed it down inside his shirt, cupping her nape with his free hand and forcing her mouth down to his.
