by Anne Mather
The effort of making the tea exhausted her, however, and she had to sit down before tackling her packing. Walking round the hospital was one thing, coping with everything for herself was something else again. She would have to take a room in a hotel until she was strong enough to get a flat or a bedsitter.
In Sara's bedroom, she looked about her with sinking spirits.
Evidence of her occupation was strewn around, and Rachel bent to pick up one of the dolls, holding it close to her as tears pricked at her eyes. Then, angrily, she thrust the doll aside. She would never make anything of her life if she continually indulged herself in emotionalism.
During the afternoon she rested, and by evening she felt capable of packing a suitcase. Opening the wardrobe doors, she surveyed the array of clothes that James Kingdom had paid for. She wanted none of them. Instead she extracted her own skirts and trousers, the skirts and sweaters she had owned before coming to London. The only garments she intended keeping were those she was wearing. A foolish whim indeed to wear the clothes in which Joel had seen her for the last time.
She was in the bedroom, folding sweaters into the suitcase, when the outer door of the flat opened and she heard someone come in. For a moment her heart missed a beat and all James's stories of being alone in the flat came to haunt her. But then common sense asserted itself. Only two people had a key to the flat, apart from herself, James and Mrs. Talbot.
Taking a deep breath, she walked to the door of the bedroom just as the intruder came through the lounge to find her. But it was not James or Mrs. Talbot. It was Joel who confronted her, and Rachel fell back aghast as she realised she had taken off her wig to lie down and had not bothered to put it on again. She put up a trembling hand to her bared head, feeling the downy softness of the growth of new hair, knowing what a terrible sight she must present to the man staring so bitterly at her.
"Joel!" she breathed, finding her voice. "Wh-what do you want?"
"Oh, Rachel!" he rasped, raking a hand through his hair as he surveyed her. "Why in God's name did you discharge yourself from the hospital?" He looked past her to the open suitcase on the bed. "What the hell are you doing?"
Rachel wished she could cover her head with her hands. She was overwhelmingly conscious of the ugliness of it, and she turned, fumbling for the wig she had thrown on to the dressing table.
But Joel caught her shoulders from behind, swinging her round to face him, snatching the wig out of her hands and tossing it aside. "Answer me, Rachel! I mean to know!"
Rachel forced herself to say: "Let me put the wig on first," but he merely shook her, albeit gently.
"I don't care about the wig," he muttered savagely. "I don't care how you look. Rachel, what were you planning to do?"
She bent her head, unconsciously exposing the soft hairs on her nape to his view. "I - I was going away. Oh - " She looked up as his hands tightened, "not with Sara. I -I -I was going to write to you, but I can tell you now. Sara can stay with you - "
"What?"
"She can. She wants to. Oh, she's talked about not leaving me, but I know - "
"You know? You know? You don't know anything!" bit out Joel fiercely. He let her go so suddenly she almost fell, and with a muffled exclamation of pain he caught her again, pulling her into his arms, burying his face in the downy softness at the nape of her neck. He was trembling, she could feel it and because of this she didn't attempt to pull away. "Oh, Rachel!" he groaned shudderingly, "don't go away. Don't leave me! I don't think I can go on if you walk out on me again!"
Rachel dragged herself away from him then, staring at him disbelievingly. "Joel, we've been through all this - "
"No. No, we haven't." His dark eyes caressed her.
"We have." Rachel turned away, unable to look at him without wanting to go back into his arms. "Joel, I've said you can have Sara. I'm giving her to you. When - when she's old enough to decide, I'll - I'll come back."
"I won't let you do it!" he muttered, grasping her shoulders and drawing her back against him as if he couldn't bear to let her out of his arms. "Oh, Rachel, listen to me - listen to me!"
"You said you wanted to adopt Sara," she exclaimed, a little desperately, moving against him and feeling his instant response to her closeness.
"I know I did," he groaned, his mouth against her neck seducing her reason. "I do. I want to adopt Sara just as soon as we're married."
"What?" Rachel couldn't take this in. "Joel - "
"For God's sake, keep still, or I won't be able to guarantee the consequences," he breathed huskily. "Just stay there - mmm, Rachel, you've no idea how good that feels!"
Rachel could feel emotion sweeping over her body, and she exclaimed: "Joel, you said - when we were married!"
"I know I did." He twisted her round in his arms to look down at her. "Did you think I wouldn't? Isn't that what I've wanted all along?"
Rachel tried not to feel too disturbed. "For - for Sara's sake?" she probed.
"No," he said harshly, cupping her face in his hands. "No, not for Sara's sake! My God, Rachel, you take some convincing. Must I get down on my bended knees and ask for your hand?" He shook his head.
"W-would you do that?"
"If you wanted me to. You must know how I feel about you. I've demonstrated it so many times."
Rachel tried to take it in. "But - but - Erica - "
"I don't love Erica. I never did - I told you. I love you. I always have. When I lost you, I really suffered, believe me!"
"But I thought - your father said - "
"My father has a lot to answer for."
"But Erica - "
"I know. Erica came to see you. But I didn't know about that! How could I? I was in France. Then, when I came back, you refused to see me."
"You could have insisted."
"You don't insist when someone has been as ill as you have, Rachel." He shook his head. "I was prepared to wait. I didn't know you would do anything as crazy as discharge yourself from hospital." He shuddered. "To think - if I hadn't got back and gone to the hospital, you would have disappeared again."
"I thought that was what you wanted," she breathed, sliding her hands up his chest.
"What? After the way I showed you how I felt?"
"I - I knew you - wanted me. But you wanted me before, didn't you?"
"I never stopped wanting you!" he muttered, staring at her. "You've got to believe me. If you had come back - you would have known."
"But you never wanted children, Joel! You said so."
He sighed. "Yes. Well, perhaps I should tell you something, something my father should have told you. My mother died of kidney disease."
"You mean - "
"I mean, if there was any heredity involved, it was from my side of the family, not yours."
"I see."
Joel closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again. "It's no excuse for the way I behaved, I know, but my father was a changed man after my mother died. Everyone said so. He had loved her desperately, and I made myself a promise that I'd never love anyone like that. And - and if for some reason I should find someone - I'd never get married, never have any children to destroy our relationship."
"Oh, Joel!"
"I'm not proud of myself when I think what you went through alone. I should have made sure nothing like that could happen. But with you - " He looked disturbingly at her mouth. "Well, you know what it was like. I didn't want to spoil it. But I did."
"Oh, Joel, I love you!" she breathed, and with an exclamation he covered her mouth with his own and there was no more talking for several minutes.
When at last he lifted his head, he was breathing unsteadily and his eyes were glazed as she had seen them before.
"Oh, God, Rachel, never leave me! Never leave me!" He shook his head. "This is why I wanted Sara - God forgive me! Because she's your child as well as mine. I love her - but only because she's so like you. She may look like me, but she's just like you!"
His vulnerability was very disturbing a
nd it was with a great effort that Rachel tried to speak of more mundane things. "You - you didn't come to see me after the operation. Why not? Why did you wait until - until I had seen Erica?"
He sighed. "I went away - to France - to buy a house. A small chateau, actually. Will you share it with me - with me and my daughter?"
She stroked her fingers down his cheek. "What would you have done if I hadn't been here when you came back?"
"Gone quietly out of my mind," he stated steadily.
"You wouldn't!"
"No? I think I would. And I think my father thought I
would, too."
"What do you mean?"
"He telephoned me this morning. He told me he had had a call from the hospital to the effect that you were discharging yourself today. He thought I ought to know. Obviously, the hospital couldn't let you go without informing someone."
"Oh, Joel!"
"You might well say Oh, Joel!" He put his mouth to the corner of hers.
"So your father turned out to be not such a villain after all?"
"I don't know about that." Joel's mouth hardened slightly. "He knew what he was doing all along. It was his way of getting back at me. If only you'd come to me in the beginning ..."
"How could I?"
Joel nodded. "I know. What was it you called me? A selfish bastard? I was - I know it. But my God, I've paid for it." He sighed. "As for my father, if I were charitable I would say that he saw Sara's illness as a means to expunge the guilt he had always felt about my mother's death. He genuinely wanted to help her - that much I do know."
"And now - "
"Well, now we get married. As soon as possible."
Rachel touched her head. "You don't mind - about this?"
Joel smiled then, a warm indulgent smile. "Why should I mind? You look like a baby."
"An overgrown baby," murmured Rachel dryly.
"Not to me." He drew her close, pressing his lips to her soft scalp. "It will grow. I like the way you look, Rachel, I don't deny it, when you're beautifully groomed and your hair is soft and silky - but it's not your looks I love. It's you, the person you are. The mother of my child - the meaning of my life."
"Sara will be delighted," she murmured, when he lifted his mouth from hers again. "To have both a mother and a father..."
"... and a home," added Joel softly, releasing her to flex his shoulder muscles. "Now, will you move that suitcase off the bed or shall I? I'm worn out. I haven't slept for three days and nights. You have no idea of the trouble you've caused me, the night's sleep I've lost!"
"Is it worth it?" she asked, and he grinned sheepishly.
"Without a shadow of a doubt," he conceded, pulling her to him again. "Now, if I sleep here tonight, will you accuse me of taking advantage of you again ... ?"
Table of Contents
Start
