How To Mend A Broken Heart

by Amy Andrews

  Fletch nodded. ‘And I will. If you won’t…I will. But studies like this are so important, Tess. The results can help the way we treat acute head injury. What we learn from them can make a real difference to neurological outcomes. This is critical stuff, Tess.’

  ‘Someone else can do it,’ she snapped.

  ‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘Someone else could…but this is what I do.’ He placed his hand on his chest. ‘This is my field of expertise.’ And his passion—Tess could hear it lacing every syllable. But chasing after medical rainbows wasn’t going to bring Ryan back. She stood up, the metal chair legs scraping against the terracotta tiles.

  ‘No, Fletcher. I’m sorry about your study, I really am, but I do not want to do this.’

  He rose too and opened his mouth to interject and she held up a finger, silencing him. She looked into his determined face, his jaw set, his hand thrust on a hip, and she knew he didn’t get it. Didn’t understand why she’d be rejecting his perfectly rational plan.

  He didn’t understand how just being around them—him and Jean—would be like a hot knife to her chest every day. How the reminders of Ryan that she was able to keep rigorously at bay on the other side of the world would be torturous.

  It was suddenly vitally important that he understand. Vitally.

  ‘I get by, okay? I make it through each day and I sleep at night and my life is on an even keel. It may not seem very exciting to you—I’m not setting the world on fire with my cutting-edge research, but it took a while to reach this place and it works for me, Fletch. I don’t want to undo it.’

  Fletch felt his breath catch as the fierce glow of her amber eyes beseeched him. He held her gaze, ignoring the anguish he saw there. ‘I came home the other day to a blaring alarm and smoke pouring out of the oven. She’d baked some biscuits and forgotten about them.’

  He refused to look away, refused to back down. His mother was his priority and Tess was the answer. He needed her.

  Whatever the emotional impact.

  He was pushing her, he knew that, but listening to her talk had him thinking that maybe this was exactly what Tess needed also. Maybe she needed to start living a life where she more than just got by.

  It was criminal that she was living this half-life stashed away in the English countryside where nobody knew her past and she could eke out an existence by pretending nothing had happened. That her whole world hadn’t come crashing down and sucked her into the deepest, darkest despair.

  Maybe it was time for both of them to confront the past and deal with it. To talk and grieve together instead of separately. He’d let her deny and avoid all those years ago because her sorrow had been all-consuming and he’d been walking through a minefield he’d had no idea how to navigate whilst suffering his own debilitating grief.

  He hadn’t pushed her back then.

  But maybe it was finally time to push.

  Tess swallowed as his intense look seemed to bore a hole right through her middle. It made her feel ill thinking about Jean almost burning the place down but her ex-mother-in-law wasn’t her responsibility.

  She was ex for a reason.

  And she didn’t want to get sucked back into lives that were too closely entwined with the tragic events that had defined all their lives since.

  It just would be too hard.

  She shook her head and turned away. ‘Goodbye, Fletcher.’

  Fletch shut his eyes as she whirled away, heading for the door. Damn it! He’d felt sure he’d be able to convince her. He opened his eyes, resigned to letting it go. He’d tried. But he had to respect her decision.

  Tess stalked into the apartment. Wheel of Fortune had finished, the show’s theme song blaring out. Jean was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Jean?’ Tess called, reaching for the remote. Nothing. Not that anything could be heard over the roar of the television. ‘Jean?’ she called again, hitting the mute button.

  ‘Tess?’

  Tess walked quickly towards the feeble, panicked voice she could hear coming from the kitchen area. ‘Jean?’

  ‘Here…I’m here.’

  Tess rounded the bench to find Jean sitting on the floor, her back propped against the fridge, staring down at two raw eggs, one in each hand, the shells crushed, yolk oozing between her fingers. She looked at Tess with red-rimmed, frightened eyes, the papery skin on her cheeks damp.

  ‘I don’t know what these are,’ she said to Tess, holding them up.

  ‘Oh, Jean…’ Tess sank to the floor beside her and put her arm around skinny shoulders. ‘It’s okay,’ she murmured. ‘It’s going to be okay.’

  Jean shook her head, pulled away to look at her daughter-in-law. ‘I’m frightened, Tess,’ she whispered, and started to tear up again. ‘Something’s wrong. H-help me, please.’ Her voice cracked. ‘Please…h-help me.’

  Jean dissolved into soft tears and Tess felt her heart swell up with love for this woman who had been like a mother to her as she snuggled her into the crook of her shoulder.

  ‘Shh,’ Tess crooned, rocking slightly. ‘Shh, now.’

  Tess heard footsteps and looked up to find Fletch staring down at her with solemn eyes. He crouched beside them and Tess saw that all-too-familiar look of sadness sheen his eyes to silver. She watched as he reached for his mother’s shoulder, placed his long brown fingers over her pale, waxy skin and gently rubbed.

  ‘It’s okay, Tess,’ he whispered over his mother’s bent head. ‘I’ll fix it.’

  Tess shut her eyes as Jean’s plea tugged at her. She was almost out the door, damn it. She didn’t want to be needed like this. Not by Jean. And certainly not by him.

  Not fair. So not fair.

  But, as Fletch had only just pointed out, when had life ever been fair?

  Could she really turn her back on Jean who had never asked her for anything? Fletch maybe, but Jean?

  She opened her eyes. ‘Let me see if it can be arranged…’

  Fletch felt his heart swell with relief and something else far more primal. He sagged slightly as what seemed to be the weight of the entire world lifted from his shoulders. ‘Thank you,’ he mouthed. ‘Thank you.’

  * * *

  Tess pushed the ‘end’ button on the phone thirty minutes later. Her boss at Estuary View Nursing Home had been very understanding of Tess’s predicament and had urged Tess, her best employee who only ever took the same two weeks off every year, to take as much time as she needed.

  So, that was that.

  She kept her elbows firmly planted on the balcony railing, staring out over the river darkening to liquid mercury. The city’s first lights winked on the polished surface and shimmered in the wake of a City Cat as it fractured the surface. She was surprised at the tide of nostalgia that crept over her.

  Brisbane was her home town.

  And she’d been away for a long time.

  In recent years it had been a place to dread, a place of terrible memories, a heinous pilgrimage. But a sudden strange melancholy infused her bones.

  Irritated by the path of her thoughts, Tess turned her back on the river. Through the open doorway she could see Jean sitting happily once again in front of the television, sipping a fresh cup of tea, her incident with the eggs forgotten. Fletch sat beside her, holding her hand, his dark wavy hair a stark contrast to the thin, white wisps of his mother’s.

  He looked up at her at that moment and for a second they just stared at each other. Tess felt the melancholy sink into her marrow. Then Fletch raised an eyebrow and she nodded at him and he once again mouthed, ‘Thank you,’ before kissing his mother gently on the head and easing away from her.

  Tess moved inside, following Fletch into the kitchen.

  ‘All sorted?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes.’

  They were standing a couple of metres apart and Fletch took a step towards her as a well of gratitude rising inside him propelled him forward. In the old days he would have swept her into his arms. ‘I know this is a big ask, Tess…’

  Te
ss shook her head. If he truly knew, he wouldn’t have asked. ‘You have no idea, Fletch.’

  Just looking at his face caused her chest to ache. It took her back to times she’d spent ten years trying to forget. Ryan had looked so like his father it had been ridiculous. He took another step towards her but she held up her hand to ward him off.

  Fletch stopped. ‘You think this is any easier for me?’ he asked.

  Tess dropped her gaze at the honesty in his. It was a horrible situation for them both. ‘What time do you want me here in the mornings?’

  Tess had no idea where she was going to stay for the next couple of months but she’d figure it out. In the interim she could extend her stay at the hotel. But there was no way her budget could stretch to such luxury for more than a week.

  Fletch frowned. ‘I don’t just want you here in the mornings, Tess, I want you here twenty-four seven.’

  Tess’s gaze flew back to his face. ‘What?’ Her heartbeat kicked up a notch as his meaning sank in.

  ‘Mum’s wandering more during the night and can become quite agitated when you try and get her back to bed. She’s particularly disorientated when she wakes up in the morning since moving from Trish’s. She sees me and the first person she asks for in the morning or if she wakes at night is you. It’ll be good for her to have you right there when she’s so distressed.’

  Tess held his gaze. ‘And when I go?’

  Fletch had always believed in not borrowing trouble. He had it covered for the next two months and that was all he was worried about for now. ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,’ he said, his expression grim.

  ‘Your mother’s condition needs a little more forward planning than that,’ she said waspishly.

  Dealing with families of dementia sufferers, Tess knew that those who had planned for every contingency coped better with the curve balls the condition threw them.

  Fletch nodded. He couldn’t agree more. ‘Another reason why I need you here. Forward planning.’ He looked into her shuttered gaze. ‘It makes sense for you to stay here, Tess. And where are you going to find short-term accommodation at such late notice?’

  Anywhere but here. ‘I have friends in Brisbane…’

  ‘Do you? Do you really, Tess? Kept in contact with the old crowd, have you?’

  Tess broke eye contact. He knew she’d severed all links when she’d moved overseas. Before that even, when concerned friends had been too much for her to handle. She’d withdrawn from all her support groups, from her life really, as grief had consumed her utterly.

  ‘I can’t pretend happy families with you, Fletch,’ she said, the marble surface of the kitchen bench cold beneath her hand. ‘Too much has happened. Living with you again…it’ll bring too much back.’

  Fletch nodded. He knew that. And after only a couple of hours in her company he knew it would be harder than he’d originally thought. But sometimes the greatest gain came at the greatest cost. Ten years ago she’d shut down, shut him out—shut the world out—and he’d let her. With her here and committed to the task she wasn’t running away any more and maybe, just maybe, they could face head-on what they hadn’t been able to a decade ago.

  ‘You think it’s going to matter where you lay your hat each night,’ he asked her downcast head, ‘when we’ll be seeing each other day in and day out?’

  Tess knew he was right. It was going to be difficult whether she stayed here or not.

  Fletch willed her to look at him. ‘We have to prepare ourselves for the fact that this isn’t going to be easy, Tess. It will bring back painful memories. But if we keep our focus on Mum then I’m sure we’ll get through it.’ He shrugged. ‘Who knows, we might even become friends.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘I hear that’s possible.’

  Tess speared him with a look. ‘We’re not an ordinary divorced couple, Fletch.’

  He nodded, acknowledging the truth of her words. ‘Still…I never wanted it to be like this between us, Tess.’

  Fletch tamped down on the guilt that he kept in a box labelled ‘Tess’, knowing that ultimately it was he who had severed their relationship. He wished he could go back and undo what he’d done that night nine years ago. That his actions hadn’t made their already shaky marriage untenable and guilt hadn’t driven him to grab hold of the out she’d given him.

  Yes, their relationship breakdown had been multi-factorial and, yes, she had been the one to ask for a divorce, but when it had come to the crunch, he hadn’t fought for it.

  Or her.

  He’d run away—just like she had.

  Tess still remembered her surprise at his easy capitulation when she’d asked him for a divorce. ‘We don’t always get what we want,’ she said testily.

  He held up his hands in surrender. He didn’t want to get into this now. He really didn’t.

  ‘This apartment is big enough for all of us, Tess. It would really help Mum and me if you stayed here for the duration.’

  Tess would have liked nothing more than to walk away and never see Fletch again. But there was no way she could turn her back on Jean now, and Fletch was right—it was easy and convenient for her to stay here.

  She hadn’t fought with him nine years ago as they’d calmly ended their marriage—why waste her breath doing so now? She’d do what she had to do then leave—just like she’d done before.

  ‘Fine,’ she muttered. ‘I’ll go and get my stuff.’

  * * *

  An hour later Tess was back from checking out of her hotel and following Fletch as he showed her to her room.

  Which looked suspiciously like his room.

  ‘This is your room,’ she said bluntly, looking at the signs of his habitation strewn everywhere.

  His watch and one of those crime novels he loved to read lay on the bedside table. A desk by the large floor-to-ceiling windows housed a sleek laptop and a tottering pile of papers and medical journals. A tie was thrown over the back of the chair. A pair of socks lay discarded on the thick, expensive-looking carpet.

  ‘Yes. It is.’

  Tess stared at him incredulously. ‘I am not sharing a room with you.’

  Fletch clutched his heart in mock injury. ‘You wound me.’

  ‘Don’t you have another room in this luxury riverside apartment?’ She ignored him, crossing her arms. ‘And don’t you dare lecture me about being adult, about me not having anything you haven’t seen before or about keeping the pretence going into the bedroom because this is not negotiable!’

  Fletch smiled as her eyes hissed fire at him like a lava flow of molasses. She looked so much like the old Tess for a moment that his breath caught.

  Even if he hadn’t seen any of what she had in a very, very long time.

  ‘The only other bedroom I have, my mother lives in.’

  ‘This is a two-bedroom apartment? Only two bedrooms?’

  Tess hoped that the squeak she could hear in her voice was just being distorted through the layers of confusion in her brain.

  ‘It’s okay, Tess. I’ll sleep on the couch. It’s perfectly comfortable. Probably better with Mum tending to wander during the night anyway.’

  Tess felt a wave of relief wash over her as she sagged against the doorjamb. In fact, she felt a little silly at her reaction that could be seen as being slightly over the top. But, honestly, sharing the apartment with Fletch was bad enough—she didn’t even want to contemplate sharing a bed with him too.

  She already knew how good that was.

  And guilt had driven all the good out of her a lot of years ago.

  ‘I think you’re going to need to get yourself some clothes,’ Fletch said as he plucked her overnight bag from her fingers and strode across his room, dumping it on his bed.

  She nodded. ‘I hadn’t exactly planned on staying. I’ll slip down to a department store in the next couple of days and pick up a few outfits.’

  His eyes met hers as he tried not to think about the time she’d dragged him into the change room at a department store on a slo
w Sunday morning and had had her way with him in front of three mirrors.

  He failed.

  And if the sudden smoulder in her eyes was anything to go by, so had she.

  ‘I’ll let you get settled in,’ he said, withdrawing quickly—because he knew from bitter experience that down that path lay no good.

  * * *

  Tess was in bed by eight-thirty. The jet-lag, the wine and the tumult of emotions from the day had well and truly caught up with her. She’d tried really hard to stay awake with Jean and Fletch but in vain. Fletch had

  nudged her awake and ordered her to bed. She hadn’t even bothered to shower or change—just kicked out of her cargo pants and collapsed onto the bed in her knickers and T-shirt, barely getting the covers over her before she sank into the blissful depths of dreamless slumber.

  She wasn’t sure how many hours had passed when she first heard the commotion. It took Tess a while to realise Jean’s sobbing wasn’t coming from inside her head as it usually did but externally, outside the room somewhere.

  And it was actually real this time.

  She sat bolt upright as the shackles of heavy slumber fell from her eyes. The clock said two a.m. as she kicked the covers aside and stumbled out of the room, her heart pounding like a gong.

  ‘Jean?’ she called as she hurried down the hallway to her mother-in-law’s room.

  Nothing. The bed was empty.

  ‘Jean?’ she said again, louder this time as she headed towards the source of human

  anguish getting louder and louder.

  ‘Out here, Tess,’ Fletch called.

  Tess entered the lounge area. The lamp near the television threw weak light into the room and she headed to the lounge where Fletch sat comforting his weeping mother.

  ‘Everything okay?’

  Fletch nodded over his mother’s head as Jean sobbed.

  ‘It’s no good, Fletcher,’ Jean sobbed. ‘No good.’

  Tess, her lack of clothing eliminated from her subconscious by nagging fatigue and her pounding heart, crouched down in front of them. ‘Hey, Jean, don’t cry, sweetie. It’s okay.’ She rubbed her palms against a pair of bony knees. ‘What’s the matter?’

  Jean turned wet cheeks on Tess. ‘You should never let the sun go down on an argument. Never spend a night apart. Fletch’s dad and I never spent a night apart.’ She grabbed Tess’s hand. ‘You never know how long you have with each other.’