‘I’m not Hannah,’ she said, and he flinched.
‘I know that.’ He raked his hair, knowing he needed to get a handle on what he was feeling. Knowing it was too huge for any handle. ‘But I’d never want a marriage where I couldn’t reach you.’
‘Who’s talking marriage?’ she demanded, astounded.
‘Okay, I’m not,’ he said hastily. ‘Not yet. But even now, when we’re little more than friends, I hate you being here by yourself.’
‘We’re nothing more than friends,’ she said, calm and sure. ‘And I love being here. I don’t need you to know that I’m safe. I’m a big girl. I’m responsible for my own safety. I don’t take risks—or not many. You know I won’t ride Glenfiddich, even though I’d love to, but even if I did, I don’t want anyone wrapping me in cotton wool. If that’s the kind of relationship you want, then thank you very much but no.’
‘I think,’ he said carefully, ‘that right now I’d be content with any relationship you’d be prepared to give.’ He took her hand back in his and looked down at their linked fingers in the moonlight. She looked up at him, and he knew her answer was no.
‘I have my mother,’ she said, and it was like saying, ‘Step away.’
He didn’t. He held her more strongly still. ‘I won’t let your mother hurt you.’
‘You’ll protect me from my mother as well?’
‘From anything that threatens you. The way I’m feeling …’
‘Well, you can stop feeling,’ she said, suddenly angry. She tugged back as if he’d suddenly shown signs of the plague.
‘Lily …’
‘I’m my own person,’ she said. ‘Or I’m trying to be. I’m struggling really hard to have a life. With Mum like she is, I only manage it in snatches, but in those snatches I’m not about to be cocooned.’
‘I wouldn’t—’
‘Of course you would,’ she said. ‘That’s why you don’t commute from here, isn’t it—because you think that if you live here then you and your Uncle Tom might learn to depend on each other. You both hold onto your precious independence because anything else is too scary. And me? You’d take me back to the Harbour, back to the Sydney Scandal Central, you’d ensconce me in your sterile apartment and you’d keep me safe. You’d bring me up here when you’re free to watch me. I bet you’d even offer to buy me a nice quiet mare.’
That idea had crossed his mind. She met his gaze and saw.
‘Ha!’ She tried to smile but it didn’t come off.
‘Do you think,’ he said cautiously, moving sideways, ‘that apart from the safety thing, a relationship might be possible?’
‘Do you mean do I find you sexy? Of course I do.’
He reached for her hand again but she stepped away fast.
‘Of course you’re sexy,’ she said. ‘You’re so sexy you make my toes curl. And you’re kind and clever and a brilliant doctor, and I love the way your hair does that really cute kick at the sides. And you have the best horses. But you won’t let me ride them. You come with a past, and that past is problematic. And I come with a mother and she’s more so.’
‘I can fix—’
‘Your past? I don’t think so. How do you walk from the shades of a dead wife and child? Hannah will always be with you. I suspect you’ll always want her to be.’
He thought about that, trying to be fair. In some ways, she was right.
Hannah had been a gorgeous, vibrant girl who’d pulled him from his studious, solitary life and introduced him to fun. It hadn’t worked—he’d been too infatuated to see past her glossy exterior until it was too late—but he was grateful for what she’d given him. She’d died carrying his child.
She would always be a part of him.
‘And I’ll always be with my mother,’ she said, softly, watching his face. ‘Of the two, I’d choose Hannah. At least you can keep the parts of her you loved and let the rest go.’
‘You can’t do that with your mother?’
‘No,’ she said, and sighed. ‘Enough. This was a lovely walk. It was a huge compliment, saying you’d like what’s between us to go further, but I’m old and wise enough now to know what’s possible and what’s not.’
She took his hands back in hers and looked down at them, steadily, surely. She was bracing herself, he thought, and here it came.
‘Luke, let’s be honest,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t want to be tied in a relationship with me. You’d want to cocoon me and I’d kick against the traces and you’d hate it. My mother would be included and you’d hate it. The threat of what happened to Hannah would always hang over us and our lives would be impossible. Tonight we had great pie, some lovely wine, a gorgeous walk, but now it’s over.’
And before he knew what she intended, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him, lightly, a feather touch, her lips brushing his so fleetingly it was as if he was imagining it. And when he went to hold her close she backed away.
‘Your house is thataway,’ she said, pointing through the trees where he could just see his veranda light. He’d left the car and walked to Tom’s. ‘Mine’s in the opposite direction. The dogs will take me home. You need to go home by yourself. You and Tom have lives apart. You only know two extremes—apart or so close you’d cage me. But with my mother I’m already caged, and that cage is a long way from your side.’
She didn’t sleep. Of course she didn’t. How could a girl sleep after such a night?
She lay in the dark and thought about living with Luke Williams. Sharing his bed. Sharing his life.
Impossible, impossible, impossible—but, oh, to be asked …
For him to feel as she was feeling seemed a miracle. A miracle that couldn’t be taken further.
Maybe she should try it, she thought in the small hours. She could return to his apartment and see if she could make it work.
But if she put one toe in the water her whole body would follow. If she slept with him …
She knew she’d melt.
‘I’m weak,’ she whispered, and she knew she was.
‘And I can’t be,’ she said. ‘I’d break my heart. To let myself love him and then have to walk away …’
Oh, but to let him walk away now …
She rolled over in bed and stared across the valley. She could still see his veranda light in the distance.
Was he lying in bed thinking the same?
Thinking about sharing his life?
He wasn’t talking about sharing. He was talking about tugging her into his life and holding her close. They were two different things and she was wise enough to see it.
Sleep wouldn’t come. Her stomach was hurting. Avoid stress? Ha. She gave up, warmed a hot-water bottle to alleviate the cramps and headed out onto the veranda, where the dogs lay on an ancient couch. They roused and wagged their tails and shifted along, as if this was her place as well.
She lay, and the dogs sprawled on top.
‘See, I’m hopeless at being alone,’ she told them. ‘Is it time I went home to my mother?’
He dropped by the next morning, just at dawn. She woke to find him staring down at her, woman under dogs.
To say she felt at a disadvantage was an understatement.
‘Do you mind?’ she managed. ‘This is my bedroom.’
‘So I see.’ He sounded stunned.
He was looking gorgeous, she thought, in tailored pants and his crisp, white shirt. He wasn’t wearing a tie but it’d be in his car, she decided, ready to be popped on at need.
She was in her ancient nightgown. She’d be smelling of mosquito repellent. The only thing she could put on at need was dog hair.
She wanted, quite desperately, to be in her nice, anonymous, nursing uniform. On level pegging. Right now she felt like a charity case. Someone to be looked after. That was how he thought of her, wasn’t it?
‘You’ve slept with the dogs,’ he said.
‘Mmm.’ She tried to act casual. She yawned and stretched and the dogs yawned and stretched with her. ‘We like it out
here.’
‘You sleep outside when you’re here by yourself?’ He sounded appalled.
‘I have the dogs.’
‘I’m commuting,’ he said grimly. ‘I’ll stay at my farm until Tom comes home.’
‘Until …’
‘Okay, maybe I’ll commute after he comes home as well,’ he snapped. ‘Maybe I need to. He’s even more pigheaded than you.’
‘That’d be hard.’
‘I’ll see you tonight,’ he said, brusque again.
‘I’ll be going to bed early tonight. I’ll thank you not to check on me.’
‘Lily—’
‘Independence,’ she said.
‘It’s your mantra. You want it for yourself, so give it to me. Say byebye to Daddy, guys.’
She lifted two dog paws and waved them at Luke. Luke spun on his heel and left.
Discombobulated didn’t begin to describe how she felt as he walked away.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE next night Lily went back to the night shift. She put her head down and worked. She tried to put Luke out of her mind.
That was pretty hard when the entire hospital was treating them as a couple. ‘Would you and Luke like to come out with us? What are you and Luke doing at the weekend? Can we come up and visit?’
She got pretty good at avoiding invitations, and she assumed Luke was doing the same. ‘Sorry, we’re a bit overwhelmed with work now that Tom’s in hospital. Maybe when he’s better …’
When Tom was better, she’d be gone.
But still there was this insidious sweetness. Belonging. She’d never felt it before and it was almost overwhelming her. If she really did belong here … If she really was in love with Luke …
No. Reality was very different. She’d aimed for anonymous; she had to keep reminding herself that anonymous was what she wanted.
Luke was doing the same, knocking back invitations and trying to avoid being with Lily in a work capacity.
Professionally they hardly saw each other. Lily worked the night shift, Luke worked days. He made sure she wasn’t rostered to Theatre— ‘Personal relationships distract me when I’m working,’ he told Elaine, and Elaine raised her brows but made sure his theatre roster didn’t include Lily—and he didn’t need to see her at all.
But he did need to check she was still okay. He dropped by Tom’s farm every morning, making sure she was safe home before he left for work. She didn’t seem to appreciate it but he did it all the same.
Twice there were late-night lacerations where he was called in and Lily needed to assist. She was kindness itself to the patients but she was businesslike in her dealings with him.
‘I can see why you can’t have her in Theatre,’ Elaine told him, thoughtful. ‘When you see each other it’s like you both put on masks. Mr and Mrs Rigid. I don’t understand. The whole hospital knows you’re an item—why not relax and enjoy it?’
And then, toward the end of the second week, she probed deeper. ‘You two haven’t had a fight, have you? It’d be such a shame if we finally found out about your love life only to have it end. Your Lily makes every patient feel like the sun’s come out, but when you come into the room it’s like a cloud descends. I’m sensing domestic disharmony.’
Everyone was probing. Nurses, Luke thought dourly. Once upon a time they’d known their place, but Elaine was ten years older than he was, she’d been at the Harbour for ever and the only doctor she treated with deference was Finn.
There was another problem. Finn.
He couldn’t do anything about Finn, as he couldn’t do anything about Lily. Nothing but worry.
And, of course, this was the Harbour. He wasn’t the only one worrying.
‘Is Lily eating okay?’ Evie was probing, as seemingly the whole hospital was probing about Lily. ‘She’s still looking pale. She shrugged it off when I asked but, if I were you, I’d push for blood tests. We should have had them done when she fainted.’
‘She’s under stress,’ he said shortly, knowing what Lily’s reaction would be if he pushed any such thing.
‘Because of her mother?’
‘Yes. And she shouldn’t be driving back and forth to the farm.’ He raked his hair. ‘But I can’t stop her.’
‘Why doesn’t she shift from agency to permanent?’ Evie suggested. ‘The hospital would employ her in a minute. We could organise her onto the day shift and you could travel back and forth together.’
‘She doesn’t want permanent work.’
‘Because?’
‘Evie …’
‘Okay.’ She held up her hands in surrender. ‘I know. Relationships are out of bounds. I should know that—I’m hopeless at them. I’ll butt out. But she’s pale, Luke. Fix it.’
She was pale, Luke thought.
She didn’t want him interfering.
When Tom had been in hospital for two weeks—another week and he’d be ready for home—Luke dropped into his ward and found Lily perched on his bed. They were intent on Tom’s exercises, and for a moment he could watch them both, unnoticed.
Tom was looking great.
He tried to see Lily as the rest of the staff were seeing her—and Evie was right. She looked … strained. Just how much was her mother’s behaviour weighing on her?
He wanted to pick her up and take her home—only it was seven at night and she was about to start the night shift and he was about to go off duty. She was Lily the Independent, as was her right.
‘How’s it going?’ he asked from the doorway, and Tom saw him and beamed, and Lily turned and smiled but her smile was much more contained.
‘Brilliant,’ Tom said. ‘I can bend every single thing that needs bending. I’m fully weight bearing. I don’t know why they won’t let me home.’
‘They won’t let you home until they’re sure you’re strong enough not to fall,’ Lily said severely. ‘You go home early, you risk coming back in with a broken hip. Is that what you want?’
‘No, but—’
‘And Luke and I are caring for both farms like champions.’
‘Have you cut down the dividing fence yet?’ Tom demanded.
Lily smiled but her smile was forced. ‘You guys haven’t cut down the dividing fence in the whole time Luke’s owned his farm,’ she said. ‘I don’t see why I should make a difference. Luke, is it okay if we have a birthday party for Tom in your apartment next Saturday?’
‘A birthday party …’
She fixed him with a look that would have withered stronger men. ‘Tom turns seventy-five on Saturday, and he’s due to go home on Sunday. He’s made so many friends here we need to do something to celebrate. We can’t do it in the ward so I thought we could have a bash at your place. We could invite anyone from here who’s grown fond of him. Maybe we could invite Patty and the boys from the farm.’
‘They won’t want to come,’ Tom said, startled.
‘We’ll never know until we ask,’ she said serenely. ‘Pete’s Bar does catering. I checked and he said no problems—and Ginnie says they do awesome cakes. I’ll get balloons and—’
‘Hey,’ Tom said, starting to sound uneasy. ‘How many people?’
‘I don’t think,’ Luke said carefully, ‘that Tom’s ever celebrated a birthday in his life.’
‘Why not?’ She looked astounded. ‘Why ever not?’
Because they’d never thought about it, Luke thought. Tom had grown up in the same sterile environment he had. His parents and grandparents didn’t notice birthdays. After Luke had come to Australia, Tom had occasionally given him gifts, things he’d noticed he might like. They’d been awesome gifts; Checkers to start with, a trail-bike, an amazing sound system, furniture for his student digs at university. None of those gifts had been for his birthday.
He’d known when Tom’s was, though. Once, when he was in his early twenties, he’d made an effort, brought a card and a cake and a bottle of whisky and gone back to the farm for it.
‘Should’a rung before you come,’ Tom had said. ‘I
’m clearing blackberries from the back paddock today. Could use a hand, though.’
He’d ignored the birthday card. They’d eaten the cake without lighting the candle, and he’d put the whisky away for later.
‘Birthdays are fool nonsense,’ Tom said now, and Lily glared.
‘I like fool nonsense. I can’t believe you’ve passed seventy-five birthdays without being forced to blow candles out. Right, you have a week’s notice to develop some lung power. Seventy-five candles is huge.’
‘Just you and Luke,’ Tom said, belligerent.
‘And your friends.’
‘I don’t have friends.’
‘If you don’t have friends I’ll eat my hat,’ she declared. ‘Let’s see what happens.’
‘Are you out of your mind?’ Outside in the corridor Luke let fly. ‘Of all the stupid … Tom’s been a loner all his life. What sort of a statement is that—If you don’t have any friends I’ll eat my hat.’
‘The statement of someone who knows he has friends,’ she said evenly. ‘And the statement of someone who knows he needs them. If you’re going to stay aloof for the rest of his life, the more people he has around him the better.’
‘He wants me to stay aloof. He trained me in the art.’
‘No,’ she said flatly. ‘His parents trained him and your parents trained you. I’m seeing two guys who haven’t got the courage to decide what they want for themselves.’
‘At least we’ve figured where we stand. Not like you, letting your mother get away with making outrageous demands.’
‘As your parents’ training makes outrageous demands on you,’ she snapped.
‘Then you crack first,’ he said. ‘Call the bank and reclaim your money.’
‘Go in and hug your uncle,’ she said. ‘No? I rest my case.’
‘He doesn’t want—’
‘Doesn’t he?’
‘A birthday party…’ He raked his hair. ‘Honestly, Lily, no one will come.’
‘Patty’s coming.’
‘You’ve already asked her?’
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