“I won’t be here,” Renee said flatly. “If you won’t release me, I’ll check myself out. Either way, I am going home.”
Doctor Raynor sighed. He dragged a chair across to Renee’s bed and sat down wearily. He was a good man. Renee liked him. He seemed genuinely compassionate. He cleared his throat but it was a long time before he spoke, and when he did his voice was low and almost secretive.
“My wife lost a child,” he admitted, and a shadow of pain passed behind his eyes. “She was twenty-one weeks pregnant…” his voice tailed off. Renee sensed there was much more he wanted to say, but he stopped himself and shook his head sadly. When he looked at Renee again there was a glisten of tears in his eyes. “Just… just give yourself time,” he offered. “It’s not easy. It’s going to be very hard on you and your husband for a long time. You don’t need to pretend to be strong, Mrs Blake. It only covers the wounds – it doesn’t heal them. Don’t hide your emotions from friends and family around you. Be willing to open up… it helps with the healing.”
They sat in silence for a long time. Renee felt a wave of sadness crest and hang suspended, about to break over her and sweep her away into a torrent of despair. She closed her eyes and steeled herself, fending off the sensations with a tremendous thrust of determination.
The Doctor rose from the chair slowly, and there was a sense of sudden sadness and weariness in the way he stood. He reached out for Renee’s hand resting on top of the sheet and squeezed it gently.
“I’ll get the discharge papers ready.”
He made to move towards the door but Renee held his hand. “Have… have there been any calls for me?”
Doctor Raynor considered her carefully. “Only from the couple that were here early last night,” he said. “I spoke at length to the young lady who visited you. She has called every few hours.”
“Anyone else…?”
The doctor shook his head. “No. I’m sorry. He hasn’t called.”
Renee’s eyes flashed guiltily. He knew. He knew she had been praying for a call from Stefan, and that her fears and worries for his safety were the real reason why she was checking herself out of his care. He had seen the phone records for her room and noted the string of unanswered calls to her home address.
Renee sighed.
* * *
The orderly insisted on taking her through the front doors of the hospital in a wheelchair towards the waiting cab. Renee eased herself into the back seat and sat, pale and grim-faced. The drive back to the estate seemed to take an eternity. Renee felt the strain like a terrible tension, drawing every nerve and fiber in her body impossibly tight until she could feel herself shaking.
Hold on! Just a little longer. Keep it together…
Once inside the front door, Renee slumped down to the ground, and let the feelings and the terrible anguish surge up and over her at last. The house was empty. Stefan was not waiting for her.
Feeling beaten and exhausted, she began to cry – huge heavy tears that rolled down her cheeks. She was alone and vulnerable as she had never been in her life before.
Her shoulders began to shake and she felt the dam of her distress finally crack open, the tears welling within her and bursting in an uncontrollable outpouring that she had fought so hard to restrain for too long. She tried to hold them back – she tried to stay brave – but they burned her eyes and she let them flow.
Renee curled up on the carpet amongst the wreckage of her life and wept until there was nothing left within her, and then, finally, she fell into a nightmared sleep of exhaustion and despair.
Seventeen.
When Stefan woke it took him long moments to come alert and realize he was slumped uncomfortably across the faded sofa of Samantha’s apartment. He sat up slowly and scraped his hands through his hair.
Late afternoon light was spilling through a window. He shook his head, dazed and alarmed that he had slept through the day. He hauled himself stiffly off the sofa and went across to Samantha’s bedroom. He pushed the door open silently.
She was lying naked across the rumpled sheets, one arm thrown over her face so that the shape of her breasts was pulled high and rounded. Her skin was tanned a soft honey brown. Her long dark hair was fanned out in a flurry across her face and the pillow. She was sound asleep, her legs splayed carelessly apart. There was a curious frowned expression on her face and her lips were formed into a silent pink pout. Stefan stared at the woman for long moments. She looked disquietingly young.
He pulled the bedroom door closed and left the apartment. His motel room was a few blocks away. He walked quickly, feeling the blood returning to stiffened limbs and cramped muscles. He walked with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, his head bowed in the face of a harsh little wind that blew chill through the mountains.
Stefan went straight to the bathroom. He stripped off his clothes and showered, setting the hot water on high so that the stinging needles scalded away the feeling of being unclean. He turned his back to the water and let the steaming jets untie the knotted muscles in his shoulders and drum away his lingering sense of fatigue. He wrapped a towel around his waist, and was about to step from the bathroom when he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the steam-clouded mirror.
“Coward,” he whispered at the shadowy face that stared back at him. “You should have faced the pain. This wasn’t the answer.”
His face was all harsh gaunt angles beneath skin that was drawn tight across his features. His eyes looked dark and dull, with smears beneath each eye.
He had not shaven in two days. He ran his hand across his cheek, feeling the abrasion of the unshaven stubble. Then he caught the reeking whiff of cigarette smoke on his discarded clothes and instantly he was reminded again of the night he had spent in the young woman’s apartment.
He couldn’t stand to look at himself a moment longer.
He went to the mini-bar and poured a tumbler half-full of whisky. He drank quickly, then sank back down onto the narrow bed and closed his eyes.
He felt confused and unprepared, the edge of his mind dulled. Remorse and regret came in waves. He found it impossible to endure the relentless pound of dismay that flooded over him. He felt cold, numbed by the depth of his betrayal. A vivid image flashed across his closed eyes; the memory of the young woman standing naked and available to him in her panties, her lips wet and willing.
The image changed, growing dark and clouded until it was Renee’s face that swirled out of the blackness, the pain and sickened grief of her expression so frightening that he had to blink his eyes open to drive it from his mind.
He re-filled his glass and drank again. Then – mercifully – he drifted back to sleep.
* * *
Stefan awoke sitting upright in the bed just an hour later, a strangled cry of horror on his lips and his body hot with sweat. It took him minutes to steady the frantic race of his heart. He looked around the empty room quickly. Outside it was dark.
The half-empty bottle of whisky was standing on the bedside table. He looked at the temptation of it for a long moment – and then pushed himself angrily off the bed.
He went to the bathroom again and splashed cold water over his face. The lines of fatigue were still there, and the haunted look in his eyes might never go away. But now suddenly his jaw was hard-edged, his mouth firm and determined.
He went and stood back beside the bed. Next to the bottle of whisky was the telephone.
Stefan stared at them both, and then finally made his decision.
Eighteen.
“Could you put me through to room 103, please. I’m calling for Mrs Renee Blake. I’m her husband.”
There was a long pause on the line, a hum of static, and Stefan held the receiver to his ear impatiently. Finally the hospital receptionist came back onto the line, her voice distant. “I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have a patient in room 103 at the moment.”
Stefan went silent for long seconds, at first his mind leaping to the most dreadful possibility….
“There was a doctor attending to my wife. His name was Rain… or something similar…”
“Raynor?”
“Yes! That’s him. May I speak to him, please?”
The nurse held this call and Stefan rose stiffly from the edge of the bed, pacing back and forth on the short cord of the phone. Finally a man’s voice came on the line.
“This is doctor Raynor.”
“Doctor. It’s Stefan Blake. My wife Renee was admitted about thirty hours ago. She was in a motor vehicle accident…”
“Yes. Mr Blake.”
“Can I talk to her?”
The doctor’s voice took on a firm edge. “She checked herself out, Mr Blake. She’s no longer a patient. Against my advice she went home about an hour ago.”
* * *
The phone rang once, the sound shrill and demandingly loud. Renee flinched awake, instantly alert, but her body was pained and heavy. She leaned against the wall and clambered stiffly to her feet. The phone rang again and again.
It was dark in the house. Renee flicked on a light in the living room and snatched up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Renee. It’s me.”
Her knees buckled underneath her and she had to clutch at the sofa to keep her feet.
“Renee? It’s Stefan.”
Slowly she opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come. No sound at all. She felt her hand tighten around the receiver until her fingers hurt.
“Are you okay? Are you in the house alone?” A vivid image of Stefan’s handsome face came into her mind, every detail of his dark glittering eyes, his serious, sensual mouth, and the determined thrust of his jaw clear in her mind. The sound of his voice sent small shivers down her spine.
“Renee.”
“Where have you been, Stefan?” she asked softly, and the silence on the line lasted a long time. Renee pressed the phone tightly against her ear, and the silence went on, the only sound the rapid thump of her heart. It was a guilty silence.
Once or twice, while she lay in the hospital bed tormented by her remorse and sadness, she had tried to convince herself that Stefan’s pain was as deep as hers – that he had suffered by their loss in ways that she could not understand. Now she knew the truth. Stefan’s pain had been different – but not the same. She had the impossible burden of feeling responsible for the death of their child. Stefan’s guilt was in abandoning her. He had gone away to deal with the heartache, and in doing so he had left her to cope with deep turbulent emotions that she could not possible bear alone.
“I love you, Renee. I love you with all my heart. Does that still mean anything to you?” he asked softly, and she could not answer. Even in this moment of realization and understanding, she felt a rush of relief at the sincerity in his voice. Tears began to scald her eyes, and a different pain began to tear deep in her chest so that her shoulders began to shake as she cried.
It was the pain of longing and loneliness.
“I want to come home,” Stefan said into the silence. “I want to be there for you.”
“You had that chance, Stefan,” Renee said softly. “You had the chance I never had. I’ve had to endure it, Stefan. I have to live with it…”
“So do I,” he said, his own voice becoming thick with emotion. “And now I can, Renee. Now I’ve had the time to realize and remember all that matters to me is you. More than anything or anyone – it’s you I need. It’s you. As long as I have you, everything else can be endured.”
Renee stood, shaking wildly, feeling a rush of nausea and giddiness overcome her. The tears were choking in her throat.
Stefan heard the painful sobs across the line and the sound tore at his heart. “I’m coming home in the morning,” he said at last.
Renee swiped at her cheeks, brushing away the tears with the palm of her hand. “No. Don’t,” she whispered softly. “I won’t be here.”
Nineteen.
There were sheets of motel stationery on a small table by the room’s window. Stefan sat and stared out into the black loneliness of the night for a long time. Then – slowly – he began to write…
My darling baby Storm,
I miss you already, my baby girl, even though you were not meant for this world.
I will never get the chance to whisper how much I love you.
I miss the promise that you were – for you were the promise of hugs and kisses, and the promise of unconditional love.
In the years to come I will miss you more and more as all those things I dreamed for you can never be made real.
But you will live in daddy’s heart forever, my darling. And every night I’ll look for the brightest star in the sky, and know that it’s you – my Angel.
Stefan read the letter carefully, blinking a mist of tears from his eyes. When he was finished he folded the paper and slipped it into a corner of his wallet.
He knew it was time to go home.
He knew now that he could move forward.
Twenty.
Stefan was in the car, sober and driving before sunrise. He kept to the speed limit, following the signs back towards Bishop’s Bridge, growing more impatient and anxious as the miles flashed by.
He wanted the company of the radio, but he needed the silence to think.
How would Renee act when she saw him?
Would she be there – or had she gone to stay with Tink and Peter?
Would their lives ever be the same again?
What kind of future together did they have?
It was mid-morning before he was slowed by traffic on the outskirts of Bishop’s Bridge. Stefan sat drumming his fingers on the steering wheel until the township was finally in his rear-vision mirror and the winding road that snaked up into the mountains lay before him. He accelerated, knowing home was just fifteen minutes away; knowing he could not wait a moment longer for the answers.
When he arrived outside his house, Peter’s car was parked in the driveway. Stefan parked on the roadside and walked stiff and uncertain to the front door.
When he knocked there was no answer.
He knocked again. The house sounded empty. He waited for a full minute, and then unlocked the door.
“Renee?”
Stefan stood in the silence of the living room, staring. He noticed an unfamiliar handbag on the sofa – probably Tink’s. Peter’s car keys were on the kitchen counter. Stefan took a deep breath.
“Renee!”
The house was empty.
There was only one place they could possibly have gone, although Stefan could not immediately understand why. He pushed open the back door and strode purposefully through the yard, heading towards Picnic Rock.
* * *
It was a slow, painful climb up the mountain, and although Peter picked out the easiest path, Renee leaned constantly on his shoulder for support. Her teeth were gritted, clenched tight. Every step was a fresh agony, but she drove herself on. This was not something she wanted to do.
This was something she needed to do.
At her side, Tink worried constantly, and they paused often to rest and drink bottled water. It was a clear bright morning. The sun was rising warm in their faces against a cloudless sky. A gentle breeze rustled through the treetops. In the afternoon it would be warm, but now the air was still cool, and the shade from the heavy canopy of trees above them was a relief.
Renee paused, and she could feel the break of sweat under the light fabric of her dress, and the pumping of her lungs. She resented and despised the weakness of her body and the way her legs trembled.
She was weak. It was almost two full days since the accident, and now every bruised and wrenched muscle in her body ached fiercely. Her face was pale, her expression grim as she trudged onwards. She walked in silence, all of her concentration on merely putting one foot ahead of the other whilst around her Peter and Tink tried valiantly to lighten the mood with bright chatter and gasps of surprise when a deer or a beautiful bird crossed their path.
Finally the
ground before them began to flatten, and then the plateau at Picnic Rock appeared through a curtain of foliage.
Peter had brought a plaid blanket with him. He spread it out across the sun-baked earth and Renee eased herself wearily to the ground. She drank thirstily, her breathing ragged as she gulped down the cool water. She was wearing a loose-fitting summer dress – it was the only clothing she felt comfortable in that did not rub against her injuries – and Tink fussed about her, trying to make her comfortable until at last Renee frowned irritably.
“I’m okay, Tinkerbell,” Renee snapped.
Tink looked suddenly crestfallen. It was the first time she had ever heard Renee use her full name. “I just need a minute to rest.”
Tink flapped her hands and bit her lip helplessly. Renee’s expression softened. “I’m sorry,” she smiled, but it was lopsided with her pain. “I didn’t mean to snap. You’ve been such a good friend. Please forgive me. I just need a little time alone.”
Tink nodded, her expression still stricken. She left Renee on the blanket and went back down the slope to where Peter stood. “We’ll just take a walk around to the other side of the crest,” she said, pointing to the vague outline of another trail that disappeared back into the woods. “We’ll come back in half-an-hour.”
When she was alone, Renee pushed herself back to her feet and went to stand at the edge of the precipice and stared down. The view was breathtaking; rolling green hills and forests bright in the morning light. She sighed.
It was the perfect place for what she planned.
She stepped back from the edge and looked around at her feet. There were dozens of small rounded rocks, each about the size of a fist. Renee began to gather the stones, selecting each one with concentrated care, stacking them until she had a cairn that stood two feet high. When she was finished, she stood back from the monument and bowed her head solemnly.
Her Master's Kiss Page 29
