One Hot Winter's Night

by Woods, Serenity

  She was about to hang up when the phone clicked, and then he said, “Heath Roberts.”

  Emotion rushed through her at the sound of his deep voice, and she had to bite her lip again, willing herself to keep calm.

  In the background, she heard a woman say, “Honey, I told you not to answer. It’s just some crank in corduroy pants wanting to sell you some ancient crap nobody’s interested in.”

  “Lucy,” Heath scolded, his voice muffled, presumably with his hand over the phone.

  Cat’s heart pounded. Of course, Lucy could be a work colleague. But her use of the word “honey” suggested something more. She hesitated as tears threatened to fall. “Hello?” he said again into the receiver. “Sorry.”

  She closed her eyes. “Hi.” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Hi, Heath. It’s Cat. Cat Livingstone. From the British Museum. In London.”

  There was a moment of silence. Then he said, with wry amusement, “I guessed that. I only know one Cat. Hey, sweetheart.”

  His endearment made her eyes fill with tears. She bit her lip again and looked up at the ceiling.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “Okay.”

  A pause.

  He cleared his throat. “Where are you?”

  “London.”

  Another pause.

  “How have you been?”

  “Fine.” She looked at her shoes.

  A slightly longer pause.

  Then he said, “What’s up, love?”

  She forced herself to swallow, to calm down. “It’s Alex.”

  “What’s happened?”

  Cat shook her hand in the air as if that would stave off the emotional tsunami she could see approaching her. “He’s had a heart attack. I’m in hospital with him.” She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth.

  He paused for a moment. Then he said, “Which hospital?”

  What did it matter? She told him, somewhat impatiently. Then she heard him say something to the Lucy woman, his voice muffled again.

  When he came back, his tone was gentle. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” And then the wave washed over her, and she sank into a chair. “No.” She rested her forehead on her free hand. “Heath, I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have called. I know we said we wouldn’t, but…I just needed to talk to you. I miss you. But friends are allowed to miss friends, aren’t they?” She tried to make her voice light-hearted and failed miserably.

  “Sure,” he said. “Absolutely.”

  “Heath?” Her voice was small, pathetic.

  “Yes?”

  “You know you’re more to me than a friend, right?” Her eyes filled, and she bit her lip. She felt as if she’d just stood herself in front of the English archers at Agincourt and their bows were all pointed at her.

  He hesitated. Then he said, “Hold on. I’ll just be a minute.”

  She held the phone tightly, her throat so constricted she couldn’t swallow. What was he doing? What was so important he’d ignored the most significant thing she’d ever said to a man in her entire life? Was he saying goodbye to his girlfriend? Putting Cat on hold while he kissed her? Tears broke free and rolled down her face, and she covered her mouth with her shaking hand.

  “Catherine?”

  She could only answer with a huge sob. She’d never sounded so femininely pitiful in her entire life and she hated herself for it.

  He spoke firmly. “Hang in there, honey. There’s a flight in ninety minutes. Lucy’s booking me on now.”

  “Lucy?” she managed to squeak.

  “My sister-in-law. She’ll drive me to the airport.”

  The relief was so great, she could only reply with an even louder sob.

  “Sweetheart, I know it’s a long flight, but I’ll be there late tomorrow. Don’t go anywhere. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  “I’ve got to go now or I won’t make the plane. I love you.” He didn’t wait for her to answer and hung up.

  He was flying across the world for her. On Christmas Eve. And he still loved her.

  She burst into tears.

  Chapter 30

  Heath arrived at the private hospital just after midnight, London time. He was tired, dishevelled and slightly disoriented—his eyes stung, and he’d had to resort to his glasses. But as he waited for the elevator to take him to the ICU, he could only feel excitement at the thought of seeing Cat again.

  When he arrived at the nurse’s station, he gave his name and asked if the nurse could direct him to Alexander’s room.

  “Are you a relative?” the stern-looking nurse asked.

  Without hesitation, he replied, “I’m Catherine’s partner.”

  “Ah. Okay. This way, please.”

  “How’s he doing?” Heath walked beside her along the corridor.

  “Actually, he’s improved over the last couple of hours—we’ve taken him off the respirator. You’re welcome to stay. We don’t have visiting hours as such, but if we think you’re tiring him, you will be asked to leave.”

  “Yes ma’am,” said Heath.

  She gave him an amused look before stopping outside a room, and looked in. “Oh, Cat’s not there. She’s probably gone to get a coffee. She won’t be long—she’s hardly left his side.”

  “Okay.” He smiled as she opened the door for him.

  He paused in the doorway. The room looked like the space shuttle—full of wires and flashing lights and buttons. Alexander lay in the bed, attached to a gazillion tubes and drips. But he was breathing on his own, and he had colour to his cheeks.

  Heath walked over and stood beside him as the nurse checked the screens and fiddled with the drips. He felt awkward being there—he didn’t know the old man well, after all, and the last time they’d met in Xi’an, Alexander had threatened to punch his lights out. He didn’t want to give him another heart attack if he happened to wake up. But it was already too late, because Alexander’s eyelids fluttered, and then he looked up.

  Heath smiled and put a hand on his arm. “Hey, Professor Hammond. It’s Heath Roberts. Cat’s just popped out—she won’t be long.”

  Alexander studied him. “Heath?” His voice was croaky and he swallowed. “What are you doing here?”

  “Doing what you told me to.” Heath winked at him. “Looking after your protégée.”

  Alexander gave a short, weak laugh. The nurse glanced at Heath warningly. Alexander looked across at her and rolled his eyes at Heath. Then he whispered, “She didn’t do it, you know.”

  Heath knew he should tell the old man not to talk, but Alexander’s words intrigued him. “Do what?”

  “Buy the Maori weapons. She sent the guy packing. She’s a good girl.” Alexander’s eyelids fluttered again and the nurse gave Heath another warning glance.

  “Go to sleep,” Heath said softly, patting his arm. Alexander did so, his chest rising and falling shallowly, but evenly.

  A shadow moved in the room, and Heath looked up at the doorway. Cat stood there staring at him. She wore jeans and an old blue jumper and looked thin and pale. She’d scraped her hair back in a ponytail and wore no make-up.

  The nurse looked at them. “I’ll be back in two minutes,” she warned. “Keep your voices down.” And she left the room.

  Heath watched her go, and then his gaze slid back to Cat. “Hey.” His heart pounded, but he made his pose casual.

  “Hey,” she said back. She bit her lip. She didn’t move. “You came,” she said quietly.

  “Of course I came. That’s what friends do when other friends are in trouble.”

  Her eyes went glassy and her lip trembled. Then a tear spilled down her cheek.

  He sighed. “Oh come here.” He walked over, and she met him halfway. He wrapped his arms around her, and she started crying into his jacket.

  He let her cry, kissing her hair and stroking her back until she finally quieted. She pulled back and left the circle of his arms for a tissue from the bedside table. She dried he
r eyes, not looking at him. Then she said, “Let’s go outside. I don’t want to wake Alex.”

  He followed her out and down the hall to a leisure room with chairs and sofas and a TV. It was now nearly eleven-thirty, though, and the room was empty, cast in darkness. Neither of them turned on a light, content to see by the light from the corridor. He took off his jacket and hung it over a chair, then shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

  She walked to the window, looking down at the gardens. He went over to stand beside her. The sky was heavy and grey, and the meteorologists had forecast snow.

  “Thank you for coming all that way for me,” she whispered.

  He reached out and touched her cheek. “I’d do anything for you. Haven’t you got that yet?”

  She rested her cheek in his palm. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  He stroked her skin with his thumb. “Never. If you want me, I’m here.”

  “I do. I really do. It’s just… I don’t know how to have a relationship. I’m so crap at it, Heath. I’ve kept my heart intact all these years and promised myself I’d never open myself up to being hurt again, and I’m scared.”

  He dropped his hand to hold hers and pulled her over to the sofa with him. He sat, bringing her with him, and held her hand. “Sweetheart, that’s okay. Relationships are scary. People say things like ‘I’ll love you forever,’ but that doesn’t really mean anything because you can’t promise how you’re going to feel in a year’s time, or even a month’s time. All we can say is ‘I like you, I enjoy being with you, and I’d like to get to know you better.’ Surely that doesn’t sound too scary?”

  She looked down and examined his brown hand, his long fingers. “I suppose not. I just…”

  He raised her fingers and kissed them. “I know this is going to be difficult for you. But I need you to tell me why you left your parents and ran away to London.”

  “I don’t know… I can’t…”

  “Come on. It’s just me here. I’m not going to make judgments—I just need to know. We can’t move forward until then.”

  Chapter 31

  He was right—she knew it. But it was just so hard. She’d shut away those feelings for so long—did she really want to dig them all up again?

  Basically, though, it came down to two choices. Either she opened up and told him, or she kept quiet and would lose him. And that wasn’t really a choice at all.

  “Okay,” she whispered. She cleared her throat. “You may not have guessed by my accent, but I was actually born very working class.”

  “I didn’t realise that, no.”

  “I know the term doesn’t really mean much to Kiwis as you don’t have the same class system over there. But here in England, even today there’s a class system. You’re judged by your accent and your education rather than your wealth. Anyway, my parents were very ordinary, my father worked in the local paper mill, my mother was a cleaner. And when I was two years old, they died in a car accident.”

  His eyes widened. “Oh.”

  She continued on matter-of-factly. “I was adopted by my mother’s sister Anna and her husband, Liam. He was a manual labourer who worked on building sites.” Her stomach clenched just talking about him, but she made herself continue, conscious of Heath’s fingers stroking her own. “He didn’t have a qualification to his name. But he was good looking. He was one of those men who got whatever he wanted by using charm. That’s how he got Anna—she was a shop girl, and she was bowled over by this handsome jack-the-lad who swept her off her feet.”

  She sighed, the words coming easier now she’d made the decision to tell him. “He was a terrible philanderer—he was always out at the local pub getting drunk and going off with other women. Anna was already a sour, resentful woman by all accounts, and his unfaithfulness tipped her over the edge. She was horrible to him, and in return, he beat her.”

  He tightened his fingers on hers, his face filled with pity and, underneath it all, anger. He stroked his thumb across her knuckles. “Did he hit you?”

  “Sometimes. Not very often. Only if I got in his way when he was angry.” She pushed away the memory of his belt cutting into her back.

  “Is that why you left?

  “Partly. Anna never stood up for me—in fact she seemed quite pleased when he turned his anger on me. But anyway, that wasn’t all of it.” She had to carry on with the story and get it off her chest. “When I was fifteen, he came home drunk one night. And he tried to…” Her voice tailed off as emotion overwhelmed her.

  Heath went pale. “He abused you?”

  “He wanted to. I didn’t let him get that far. I grabbed my coat and my purse and left—just walked out, and kept walking.” She shivered, remembering the day so clearly. “I thumbed a lift to London and lost myself in the city. Begged for food, lived on the streets. It was hard and frightening, and several times I nearly went back, but I couldn’t bear the thought of living there. I know he would have tried again.” Tears rang down her face.

  Heath pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.”

  “It’s okay.” Her voice was muffled against his jumper. “Alex and Melissa found me, and they were wonderful—I’ve always thought of them as my real parents. They brought me up as their own, and I told them I wanted to forget who I was, forget Catherine—you see, that was what my aunt and uncle called me. But Alex and Melissa called me Cat, and they gave me speech lessons, educated me, and helped me to put her behind me.”

  “And there’s me insisting on calling you Catherine.” His voice was hoarse. He rested his lips on her hair. “Can you forgive me?”

  She pulled back, wiping her face. “Actually, the strange thing is that now, having told you everything, it’s like I can finally stop trying to ignore my past. The things that happened forced me to meet Alex and Melissa, and that’s a good thing. And you using my name—it erased the memory of him saying it, you know?”

  He cupped her face. “You’re so brave. No wonder you found it difficult to trust again.”

  She swallowed. “I haven’t told you, but I did try to have a relationship. I met a guy a few years ago, another archaeologist, and we dated for a few weeks. We actually got to bed, but when he tried to…well, you know, he couldn’t. I was so nervous I just clamped up tight. And he was so horrible to me about it—I promised myself I’d never go there again.”

  Heath looked genuinely puzzled. “But you slept with me in Sweden. How on earth did you make that step?”

  “I wasn’t going to,” she admitted. “I was trying to get the necklace and thought I’d get you into the bedroom and then escape.”

  “So what happened?”

  She met his hazel eyes and her cheeks grew warm. “I got seduced.”

  He started to chuckle. “Is that a complaint?”

  “No.” She reached up and touched his face. “It was the best thing that ever happened to me. You’ve been so patient with me, Heath. And I’m sorry I’ve kept you at arm’s length.”

  He turned his head and kissed her hand. “I understand. I think it was good for me to have to work hard to get what I wanted for once. It made me realise just how much I wanted you.” He pulled her toward him and touched his lips to hers. “Merry Christmas.”

  Her eyes widened. “Is it Christmas Day already?”

  “I think so.” His brow creased. “I’m not sure. I’m a bit jet-lagged.”

  She bit her lip. “I’m sorry to take you away from your family on Christmas Day.”

  He brushed her hair from her face. “I’d rather be with you.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “I haven’t got you anything.”

  “Well, I’ve got something for you.” He hesitated. Then, to her shock, he pulled something out of his pocket, moved forward on the seat, and knelt before her. He opened the jewellery box to show her the gleaming diamond ring. “Dr Catherine Livingstone, will you marry me and make me the happiest man on earth?”

  She stared at him,
open mouthed. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “But, but…” She couldn’t believe he’d asked her. “We’ve not even known each other a month. I’m screwed up, and you might change your mind after a few weeks in my company. I’m grumpy in the mornings. And useless at cooking.”

  “We’ll work it out,” he said, smiling.

  She studied the ring and couldn’t stop herself reaching out to touch it. “Where did you get it?”

  “When the plane stopped to refuel in LA, I rang a friend in London and asked him to get it for me. I described what I wanted, but I know you didn’t get to choose it and it may not be the perfect fit. So I’d be happy for you to take it back and get exactly what you wanted.”

  She pulled it out of the box and slid it onto her finger. It fitted perfectly.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, turning it so it glittered in the light.

  “So is that a yes?” His eyes were hopeful.

  She still couldn’t believe it. “It’s not going to be easy,” she said, trying to stop her heart swelling. “I’m not going to forget everything just because I’ve opened up to you.”

  “I know. Telling me all your problems won’t make them go away. You’re not going to suddenly never think of your past again. But I hope it means we’ve taken the first, tiny step on the road to moving forward.”

  He kissed her fingers. “Catherine, I want you to know that I’d never, ever, do anything to hurt you. I understand what you’ve been through, and I’ll bear that in mind when we’re in bed. Sex should never hurt, or be shameful, or humiliating. Any time I do—or suggest I do—anything you don’t like, I want you to tell me. I won’t be annoyed or upset. We’ll just think of something different to do.”

  She nodded, hope beginning to flower inside her.

  “After saying that,” he continued, a smile creeping onto his face, “I’m not going to change because of what you told me. I’m not going to stop trying to shock you, because I like the light that comes on behind your eyes when I say something that turns you on.” Her cheeks grew hot, but he tucked a finger under her chin so she couldn’t look away. “I’m going to continue to love you in ways you can’t even conceive of yet, because I can see the passion fluttering inside you like birds caught in a cage, and every time I love you I let one of those birds out. And I’m not going to stop until they’re all free.”