* * *
“How dare you walk out on me?” Peter was furious of course—as she’d known he would be. He’d barely given her time to enter the office before charging in to glare at her like a wild bull.
“I was sick.” Sam let out a soft sigh. “I went off home. As I was, I was useless to you with a migraine.” Peter in this mood was hard to take.
“Sick? I don’t believe that for a moment. You’ve been off the planet since returning from Tasmania.” Obviously he didn’t care who heard him—his voice rose a few decibels. “There’s another man, isn’t there? You tagged me along.” A finger wagged at her. “I’m telling you now, I won’t be made a fool of.”
“You didn’t need me to do that.” Sam matched his stance and glared at him. “You made a fool of yourself without my help. You thought the promise of an engagement ring would get me into your bed. Well, let me tell you this: I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last man available.”
“Oh no? We’ll see about that. Nobody makes a fool out of me—least of all a frosty virgin from the backblocks.” He lunged for her, stumbling when she sidestepped. “I’ve put up with your rebuffs for too long, and now it’s time to claim my just desserts.”
As he regained his footing, he clutched at her shoulders in an iron grip. Fear gave her the strength to struggle free. As she thumped him on the chest she caught sight of one of the salesgirls outside her office and almost collapsed with relief. Thank God for the glass wall giving the outsiders a full view of what went on in the small room.
“I suggest you take your hands off me. Unless, of course, you want your entire staff to know their boss is a rapist.” Sam heard the quiver in her voice.
With a sullen mutter he thrust her from him. “Saved by the skin of your teeth.” There was something menacing in the way he spat the words at her. He straightened his shirt and stood brushing at his front as if she’d contaminated him.
“You can take your job and stuff it where it hurts.” Sam put as much distance between them as she was able to in the small space.
“And you can get out of my sight.” For a moment he stared at her then pushed her aside to storm from the office.
“What are you looking at?” he demanded of the young woman who still stood as if transfixed. “Get back to work.” He strode through the shop.
It didn’t take Sam more than a few minutes to gather her personal possessions together. Then she went in search of her second-in-command. “I’m leaving, May, so you’d better take over.”
The woman smirked. Whether she’d heard the whole sordid episode Sam neither knew nor cared. She’d never been a close friend, and Sam had the feeling May would be prepared to satisfy Peter in every way. They didn’t have much to say to each other, but Sam liked a couple of the other saleswomen. They said how sorry they were to see her go, but understood why.
Feeling strangely disorientated, but relieved, Sam drove home. As she rode up in the elevator she rested her forehead on the cool mirror as a wave of nausea swept over her. With her handkerchief she wiped a film of perspiration from her top lip. She had to face up squarely to what she’d suspected for days. She’d read enough articles in magazine’s to know the symptoms of pregnancy.
As she entered her flat she tossed her handbag on the hall table and took a calming breath. Throwing her jacket carelessly on a chair she flopped onto the sofa and kicked off her shoes.
“Oh Mac,” she breathed as tears seeped from her eyes. “What am I going to do?”
This self-pity was moronic, but she’d shed more tears since getting back than in the months after her first flight from home. When her period was late she hadn’t given it a lot of thought. But all the signs made it blatantly clear she was carrying Mac’s baby.
If only she didn’t feel so sick and listless all the time. Impatiently, she brushed at her wet cheeks. How she wished he was here to comfort her. The constant longing for his strength was destroying her.
Now she had to search for another job. She would need work at least until she grew too enormous to carry on. Not many shops would want a very pregnant saleslady. It wouldn’t be so bad if she had more energy. At the moment she felt no desire to contact agencies, let alone attend interviews. Logic said she ought to go home. Her mother would welcome her with open arms. But how could she live with Mac so near? How could she bear to see him getting on with his life?
How could she stand watching him marry a local girl; one likely to be having his children? Perhaps he would marry Clare now, preferring her over a cold-hearted bitch like Sam. Mac was unselfish enough to bring up another man’s child as his own. Clare loved him. Despite all that woman’s faults, he at least knew where he stood.
No, there was no going home now. She’d die a thousand deaths if Mac married another woman, especially if that woman was Clare.
A buzzing brought her out of a fitful doze. Sam blinked her eyes open and sat up groggily. Lord, she must have fallen asleep again. She’d been doing a lot of that lately. A glance at her watch showed she’d slept for a couple of hours.
She went to her inter-com unit by the front door and pressed the button. “Yes, Les, what is it?”
“There’s a visitor down here, miss.” The security guard sounded as if he wasn’t sure if he’d done the right thing by calling her after she’d told him strictly no visitors. “They insist on seeing you. I told them you’re unwell and don’t want to be disturbed. What shall I do?”
Sam was in no mood to handle Peter. Trust him to follow her home. Couldn’t he take a blunt refusal? “Tell him I’m too sick to see anyone, Les,” she snapped.
“But it’s a young lady.”
Young lady? Sam rubbed at her forehead. It could only be one of the salesgirls with a query. She shrugged wearily. “All right, send her up.”
Sam went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, then dragged a comb through her hair. As she straightened her skirt she grimaced at her reflection. She looked like a pale waif, with dark shadows beneath her eyes and sunken cheeks.
The bell chimed and she went to put her eye to the peep-hole. With a gasp she opened the door. “Clare, what are you doing here?” As she allowed the blonde woman to enter she felt an attack of dizziness hit her again in a wave, so leant back against the closed door until it passed.
“I went to the boutique, and they told me you’d left early.” There was a diffidence to Clare she’d never shown before. She clasped her hands in front of her as she walked into the room.
“The boutique?” Sam gaped at her. “How did you know where to find it?”
“I asked your mother.” Clare looked at a spot over Sam’s head.
Why on earth had her mother divulged such information to her archenemy? Sam frowned. Her mother would get a strong talking to, for sure, next time she rang her.
“I have to talk to you.” Clare’s attitude and softly spoken words were so unlike the woman Sam knew and hated that she felt confused.
“I really don’t see what we can have to say to each other.” Wasn’t that a fact? Clare had said enough at Mac’s flat. Sam gestured for Clare to sit down. As Sam joined her on the sofa her hands shook so much she put them beneath her thighs to conceal the tell-tale sign of nervousness. “For the life of me I can’t understand why my mother gave you the name of the boutique.”
Clare had lost a lot of weight. Dark shadows beneath her eyes made her look frail and ill. In fact she looked a lot worse than Sam. “I do have a lot to say to you.” Clare fidgeted with her hands and looked about. “I can’t rest until I’ve straightened things out between us. I’m on my way to Sydney. To be married.”
“Sydney? Married?” Stupidly Sam gaped at her.
“Yes.” Clare uttered a wistful little laugh. “I had an offer from a man up there.” Listlessly she shrugged. “I’ve decided to take him up on it.” She looked down at her twisting hands. After a brief pause she said. “I lost the baby.”
“I’m so sorry.” That was the truth. The th
ought of losing the baby she carried in her womb filled Sam with dread. In a protective gesture she pressed both hands over her stomach. The being growing within her was more precious to her than her own life.
“I’m not.” Sam stared at Clare in stunned silence. “I wouldn’t make a good mother, no use in pretending otherwise.”
Sam shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”
A wistful little smile curled Clare’s lips. “I’m not like you.”
Well, that was the stark truth, but Sam wasn’t about to agree right now.
Clare pressed her hands on her thighs and dragged in a deep breath. “One thing I’m sure of is I wronged you. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try to make amends.” She wiped her face on a lace handkerchief she brought out of a pocket.
This statement rendered Sam speechless. Never in her wildest imaginings would she have expected Clare to own up to that.
“I’ve always been insanely jealous of you.” And never would Sam have expected to hear such words pass Clare’s lips.
Sam stared at her. “Jealous of me? Impossible.”
“It’s true.” Clare rubbed her forehead. She looked about to pass out. “Do you think I could have a glass of water?” she muttered.
“Of course. Forgive me?” Sam went to the small kitchen and brought back a glass of iced water. While Clare sipped the water, Sam hovered, not quite knowing what to do or say next. “I haven’t eaten yet. Would you join me?”
Clare looked at her watch and shook her head. “No, I can’t. I have to catch my plane in an hour. I wouldn’t mind a coffee, though. I haven’t had anything since the cup of tea on the plane from Tassie.”
As Sam busied herself making the coffee Clare turned to watch her. “I was always infatuated with Mac, you know,” she said. “You were the only one he ever cared a fig about and I was insane with envy.”
“You? Envious?” Sam found it hard to believe Clare was actually admitting this to her after all the heartache she’d caused. The infatuation with Mac was easier to believe—that was well-known.
“Yes, believe it or not. We all knew how it was while we were at uni. He was like a lovesick fool most of the time and that maddened me more than ever.” With a self-deprecating shrug she took the cup Sam offered her. “I manipulated everything that night when you found us in the barn.”
Sam couldn’t find the words to tell Clare she already knew this and could never forgive her for it.
Clare stared down at her cup. “I thought he’d turn to me if you weren’t chasing after him. But it backfired, and he hated me.” A shuddery sigh came out of her mouth.
“Mac hated you?” Sam whispered.
“He never said so in as many words—but I knew I’d blundered. After I graduated I went back to Sydney and met up with Grant. He knew all about me and how I was.” She shrugged. “Grant was willing to take me on. But then I got pregnant, and decided to head for home. I pleaded with Mac to take me on as a partner. I hoped he’d turn to me when he knew I was having a baby.” There was something really forlorn in her expression, but then, for a brief moment, a flash of the old hatred returned to her eyes as she glared at Sam. “But you turned up again.”
“I’m sorry, Clare.” Sam didn’t know what else to say. Picking up the empty cups she rinsed them at the sink. She felt a stab of pity for her long-time enemy. “Loving him as I do, I can well understand how you feel. I just never thought of you loving him so deeply too.” She went to stand by Clare.
Clare twisted the ring on her right hand round and round. “Mac wouldn’t give me the time of day. I think in my case it was always that I wanted the unattainable. I hate that stupid town anyway. I was a fool to go back.”
Rising from the chair she faced Sam—a bitter little smile on her mouth. “I don’t know if it’ll work with Grant, but nothing would ever come of my unrequited love for Mac. I should have been sensible enough to see he would never have eyes for anyone but you.” She pulled her coat collar up around her chin and sighed. “God, you’re so lucky. Go to him… And be happy.”
Sam reached for her hands. “Thank you,” she said quietly, feeling drained. “I hope you find happiness, I really do.”
Clare pulled away. “Oh well, I’ll give it my best shot. Grant’s going to set me up in a practice in an exclusive suburb where I’ll be treating pampered pets of the filthy rich.” A hint of her former arrogant self returned as she grinned. “Who knows, I may get gifts from grateful owners—such as a racehorse or similar. I’m a good vet,” she claimed as she walked to the door. “I know all those simple folk back home never thought I’d make it, but I’m very good at my job.”
Sam opened the door and Clare turned to smile at her again. “I just wasn’t cut out for field work. All that trudging about in the mud to fix cows and horses doesn’t appeal to me. I like my patients to be clean and small.”
“To be honest, Clare, I was always dumbfounded you became a vet.”
Clare made a small huffing sound. “Don’t I know it? You and every other inhabitant of that silly little town.”
“But, you proved them wrong didn’t you?”
Clare laughed, but there was little humor in the sound. “I really have to go.”
Sam touched her sleeve and Clare looked down at her fingers on her arm. “Thank you,” Sam said softly. What else could she say? A weight had been lifted from her heart.
Clare twisted her mouth ruefully, nodding once before she strolled to the elevator. As she entered Clare waved once before the doors slid shut.
Sam closed the door of her flat and leant against the wall. Then she let out a joyful laugh and with an unrestrained burst of happiness did a jig about the room.
Reaching for the telephone she dialed her mother’s number. “Hello, Mum.”
“Sam. How are you? Is anything wrong?”
“No, everything’s fine.” Sam pressed a hand on her stomach. Couldn’t be finer.”
“I hope I didn’t do the wrong thing…” Barbara sounded anxious. “I didn’t know whether to give Clare your address when she asked for it.”
“No, you did the right thing. And everything’s perfect. I’m coming home.”
“You are?” Barbara still sounded puzzled. “You’re sure everything’s all right.”
“Yes, I’m sure. This time I’m coming home for good.”
Lonely Pride Page 30
