“Aaron…”
Clara stopped as Pam walked up and stood before them, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m so sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but I’ve had an emergency call. It’s Mrs. Lyttle. Barnaby’s collapsed. She’s quite distraught. I think someone should go out and see her.”
“I’ll go,” William said, putting down his drink.
“No, it’s okay. I’ll go.” Aaron didn’t want to stay anyway. He was sick of all the questions, and although he loved his friends and family dearly, he needed a bit of space.
Bridget stood as he got to his feet. “I’ll go with you if you like.”
“Are you sure?” He hesitated. Mrs. Lyttle’s old spaniel had been unwell for some time. If the dog had collapsed, Aaron doubted there was much he could do for it. “It’s probably not going to be pleasant. I could call a taxi to take you home.”
“No, that’s okay. I’d like to help.”
“Okay, come on then.”
“Leave Tycho and Kepler with me if you like,” Joe said. “You can pick them up tomorrow.”
“All right. Thanks, mate.”
Clara stood, clearly worried she’d upset her son. “Aaron, I’m sorry…”
“It’s all right. I’ll talk with you later.”
“Nice to have met you all,” Bridget said, and everyone returned the compliment.
Aaron held out a hand. She slipped hers into it, and they headed off to the car.
“I’m sorry,” she said as they walked. “I feel a bit responsible for this afternoon. Your family is obviously going to be worried about you. I shouldn’t have gone.”
“It’s not your fault, honey,” he said, touched that she felt the need to apologize. “Far from it. I’m just really sorry they kept going on about it. I should have guessed they wouldn’t let it rest. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. They’re right, in a way. We do have to have that conversation.”
He unlocked the car and they got in. He didn’t want to have the conversation. He wanted to bury his head in the sand and enjoy the last few hours they had together without worrying about what was to come, but he knew he couldn’t put it off forever.
And now they had another problem to contend with. He told Bridget about Mrs. Lyttle and her dog as he drove them the short distance across Russell to her house. “Barnaby’s fourteen, so he’s not young, and he has something called copper-storage disease that’s caused hepatitis—that’s inflammation of the liver. I’m afraid this isn’t good news. I’m guessing his liver has finally failed.”
“Is there anything you can do?”
“We’ve done everything we can. We’ve been battling it for years with diet and drugs, and he’s been lucky to make it to fourteen. I’m hoping he’s in no pain and near the end.” He hated putting animals to sleep, and he doubted that Harriet Lyttle would let him do that anyway.
They arrived at her small house buried amongst the palms and ferns, and made their way to the front door. He rang the bell, but she didn’t answer, so he beckoned to Bridget and led the way around the back.
Mrs. Lyttle sat on the deck, up against the window on a pile of cushions, with the dog on her lap. As soon as he saw the dog, Aaron knew he didn’t have long.
She turned a pale face up to him. Tears stained her cheeks, and some of her gray hair had escaped her bun to stick to them. “Can you do anything?”
Aaron dropped to his haunches beside her, half aware that Bridget had slipped into the kitchen. He heard the sound of her filling the kettle as he inspected the dog, listened to his pulse, and lifted his eyelids.
“I’m sorry,” he said as gently as he could. “His eyes are yellow. His liver’s failed. His heartbeat is very weak. It won’t be long now.”
Tears slid down her face. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without him.”
“I know.” He knew there was no point in suggesting she leave the dog and sit in a comfortable chair, not until she had to. “Can I get you anything? Bridget’s making you a cup of tea.”
“That would be nice.” The answer was automatically polite; he wasn’t sure if she’d even heard him.
So he lowered himself onto the floor and sat against the glass beside her. He put a hand on Barnaby’s head and stroked his ear. “Where did you get him from? Here in Russell?”
“No.” She wiped her face. “I drove all the way to the Hokianga for him. He was very small then, but he was so good on the journey home—he didn’t make a peep. He was excited to go to his new family.”
“He has such a lot of character,” Aaron said. “Do you remember the day he came into the surgery and chased that cat?”
She laughed in spite of herself, casting a weak smile at Bridget as she joined them on the deck with a tray of cups of tea. “Yes, I remember. I gave him such a scolding, and he looked at me with his big brown eyes as if to say, ‘But Mum…!’”
Aaron smiled and slid his hand under the dog’s thigh. He felt for a pulse, but couldn’t find one.
“I can’t believe he likes bananas,” he said, waiting a little while just to make sure. “I think he’s the only dog I’ve ever known who would eat them.”
“He loves most fruit. Oranges, apples. But he barks at grapefruit. He thinks it’s biting him because it’s so sharp.”
Aaron removed his hand and stroked the dog’s ear. “He’s gone, Harriet. I’m very sorry.”
She looked down in surprise. “Oh. Are you sure?”
“There’s no pulse. He just slipped away. He wasn’t in pain. That’s a wonderful way to go—on the deck where he loved to be, with his favorite person in the whole world.”
Opposite him, Bridget covered her mouth with a hand.
“That’s good,” Harriet said, still stroking him. “That’s good. Thank you, Aaron. You’ve been so good to him. He loved Joe, but you were his favorite vet.”
Aaron swallowed hard as tears poured down her face. “Can I call anyone for you?”
She shook her head and tried to wipe them away. “I’ll be okay. It’s just the shock, that’s all.”
“Aw.” He put his arm around her and held her as she sobbed, resting his chin on the top of her head.
“I’m sorry,” she squeaked.
“It’s okay.” He met Bridget’s glassy eyes and saw that her face was wet, too. “He was well loved. Not every creature is that lucky.”
*
After a while, Bridget managed to persuade her to go inside and sit in a comfortable armchair. Aaron already knew that Harriet wanted Barnaby to be cremated, so he picked up the dog and carried him to the car before returning to the living room.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call anyone?” He dropped to his haunches again before her. Bridget sat to her right, holding her hand.
“No, I just want to be alone.” The old lady was tearful but calm. “I’m going to go through my photo albums tonight and think about all the good times we had. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. I’ll give you a call in a few days, and I’ll bring you his ashes, help you bury them in the garden, if you’d like. Maybe plant a tree or something over them?”
“That would be lovely, thank you Aaron.” She smiled at Bridget. “And thank you too. You make a lovely couple.”
They smiled at that unexpected compliment. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Bridget said.
Touched and relieved that at no point had Bridget remarked that it was ‘only a dog,’ he pushed himself to his feet and took her hand. “All right, we’ll leave you to it. But you can call me anytime if you need me, okay? You know my mobile number.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Okay. See you soon.”
He led Bridget out to the car.
Chapter Twenty-Five
It was only a short drive to the surgery. Bridget held his hand the whole way, fighting against tears. He squeezed it occasionally, telling her he was aware of her emotion. He hadn’t shed any tears himself, but she’d seen him get choked up when the old lady had to
ld him he was the dog’s favorite vet.
When they arrived, he said, “Stay here,” and she didn’t argue. She heard him go around to the back of the car and retrieve the dog, then watched him carry the spaniel across to the surgery.
When he’d disappeared, she leaned her head on the rest and covered her face with her hands.
If she hadn’t already fallen in love with Aaron, she would have done so that afternoon. Watching him examine the dying dog and then get down on the floor to comfort his owner, she’d felt overwhelmed with emotion. He had such a huge heart and incredible compassion. Just being with him made her feel a better person. How could she ever let that go?
She wiped her face and composed herself while he was gone. This had to be one of the more unpleasant parts of his job. Kind of like being a doctor, she thought—present for both births and deaths, a part of the cycle of life in all its guises. She loved that about him, that he hadn’t shied away from being there when the dog died, so the old lady wasn’t on her own. He wasn’t afraid of emotion like some men were.
When he came out, she didn’t miss that her heart gave a little leap at the sight of him. He locked the door and walked across to her. He looked tired, his shoulders sagging a little, shadows under his eyes. He got in the car and sat there for a moment, then without another word started the engine and pulled away. She waited for him to speak, but he didn’t say anything, so she remained quiet, giving him some space.
She thought he was going to head for his house, but to her surprise he turned off onto the road that headed toward the beach. It was only a short drive, and within minutes he’d parked on the grassy verge above the sand. It was nearly six o’clock now, the sun heading toward the horizon and giving a crimson blush to the blue sky. There was hardly anyone on the beach, just another couple walking away from them at the other end.
She wondered whether he’d want to talk in the car, but he got out, so she did too. He locked the car and walked down onto the sand.
Biting her lip, she followed him. She couldn’t quite read his mood. Obviously he would be upset about the dog, but she sensed it was more than that.
His family had upset him that afternoon, although she wasn’t quite sure whether it was because he’d felt embarrassed at their questions or angry that they were pressing him to think about the decision he was going to have to make.
Had he decided it would be too hard to continue seeing her? Or was he worried she might not want to see him?
Just then, he held out a hand to her. Relief fluttering in her stomach, she slipped hers into it, welcoming the close of his fingers around hers.
“Izzy told me at the party that she and Joe can’t have kids,” she said. “Things like that, and what happened to Barnaby, tell me there can’t be a God.”
Aaron shrugged. “You could argue that because they can’t have kids, they’ll probably adopt and take care of a baby that somebody else can’t, so maybe there is a plan to it. And as for Barnaby… Buddhists say that life is impermanent and ever-changing, and it’s fighting against change that brings us pain. They say we need to accept that pain and suffering is part of life, because people and things don’t live forever and have to decay and die.” He gave her a wry smile. “It’s not as easy as it sounds though.”
“You like Buddhism?”
“I like some of its ideas. It doesn’t make life fair, though. It’s not fair that Joe and Izzy can’t hold their own child in their arms. Everyone should know what that feels like.” He turned his gray gaze to her. “Do you want kids?”
She nibbled her bottom lip, feeling them edge toward the real issue. “Yes, I think so. The responsibility scares me, but in essence, I think life is about procreating and leaving something behind when you’re gone, don’t you?”
“I do.” He looked out to sea.
“Do you think you’d like more kids?”
He hesitated for a moment, and then looked back at her. “Maybe.”
She held her breath. She couldn’t read the look in his eyes. Give me something, she begged, but he remained quiet and wary.
Deciding to take a chance, she said, “So, you’re crazy about me?” His words at the party had shocked and thrilled her. It was the first time he’d really said how he felt.
He sighed then, and his lips curved up. “I’m completely crazy about you. You must have guessed that by now?”
She gave a sexy little shrug. “Maybe. Well, I suppose that’s a start.”
“Yes, it’s a start.”
She looked at the boats crossing to Paihia and heading out to the islands. To the north, gannets were diving, probably for pilchards or mackerel, she thought, remembering what the man on board the dolphin watch boat had told her. She’d discovered a love of the sea, and she’d proudly related her new knowledge to Aaron, but of course he’d already known. He’d told her that gannets could live to be thirty-five, which had surprised her, then he’d laughed at her indignant glare that he always seemed to know more than she did.
“I’m a vet,” he’d said. “And I live in the Bay of Islands. I know a bit about the animals that live here.” At the time, it had made her smile. Now, the memory only added to the warmth that was blooming inside her.
The spring breeze blew across her face, blowing the cobwebs from her emotions, and suddenly it seemed that there was only one real question that needed asking—or answering.
“I’d like to see you again,” she said.
He stopped walking and turned to look at her, shock on his face. Shock that she’d been brave enough to speak, or shock that she’d admitted she wanted to see him again? She took the opportunity of his silence to study his face that was becoming so familiar to her, his aquiline nose, his gray eyes that she now knew held a hint of green near the irises, his generous mouth that he liked to press to hers so much, his strong jaw that was showing a few days’ growth again, because she’d learned that he had sensitive skin and shaving sometimes brought him out in a rash.
“For God’s sake,” she said, “say something.”
“You want to see me again?” He looked as if he didn’t quite believe it.
She moved closer to him, holding his hands in hers by their sides. “I’d like to. But I understand if you want to call it a day.”
“Call it a day?”
“If you don’t want to see me again.”
He stared at her. “Of course I want to see you again.” He spoke as if she’d said something idiotic.
She couldn’t suppress a smile at that. “Are you sure?”
He blinked, and with a sudden rush of understanding she realized he’d been overcome with emotion. He looked away, swallowing hard, and she softened inside like a marshmallow dropped into hot chocolate.
“Aw.” She led him over to a bench and pulled him down beside her.
He cleared his throat and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Sorry. It’s been a tough few days.”
Of course, he’d had the trouble with his son to think about, the hassle with his family today, and now the incident with the poor dog.
“It’s okay.” She rubbed his back. “You have such a large heart. I love you for that.”
He turned his head then to meet her gaze, his eyes questioning.
“I know it’s too soon to say it,” she said. “I’m not daft, and I’m not leaping into anything. Love’s like evolution—it takes time to develop, and I’ve never believed in insta-love. But if it’s not love I’m feeling, I’m not quite sure what to call it. When I look at you, my stomach flutters and I find it difficult to catch my breath. I want to be with you all the time. I can’t think of a single thing I don’t like about you. Everything you do makes me smile, from the way you eat a packet of crisps in two mouthfuls, to how you throw cushions at your dogs and pretend it was me. You’re strong and kind and compassionate and warm, and you treat me like I’m something special, like I’m a princess. I love the way you look at me, as if you’re thinking about what I look like naked all the time.”
<
br /> “That’s usually the case,” he said with a half laugh, studying his hands.
“Do you feel the same?” She ran her fingers through his hair. “Because if we do try to make this work, it’s not going to be easy. If you’re not sure… if you’ve had a good time but you think what you feel isn’t going to be strong enough to keep us together, I’d much rather you say now, no hard feelings. I’ve had a fantastic time, and being with you has done exactly what I hoped it would—proven to me that what happened between Mal and me wasn’t my fault, or at least it wasn’t only my fault. It’s proven that I’m still attractive, and that I am capable of loving and being loved by someone. That in itself has made it worthwhile.”
He was still leaning forward, but now he lifted and half turned on the bench to face her. “I’ve made the mistake before of falling in love too soon. That’s why my family and friends are worried, because they’re afraid I’m going to make the same mistake again. But this is different from before.”
Her pulse raced, but she sat quietly, almost holding her breath, desperate to hear him say the words. “Really?”
He reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I was a lot younger then. I believed that I loved Nita from the moment I saw her. Now, I’m older and wiser. I know that a relationship has to be built on more than desire. We had nothing in common, not movies, or music, or an understanding of animals, or a love of the sea, but I didn’t think it mattered.”
He looked out at the sunset, and his eyes were distant, so she knew he wasn’t seeing the ruby-red clouds or the threads of orange that wove through the purple sky. “The failure of our marriage was my fault as much as hers—I know that now. Not because I didn’t try hard, because I did, but because by proposing so quickly I didn’t give time for love to grow, and for us to discover whether we were right for one another.”
He looked back at Bridget then, his gaze caressing her face. “Because of that, I’m scared to say I love you, because I am afraid of making the same mistake again. In spite of that, though, I can’t deny what I feel for you. I want you—everything about you heats my blood, from the way you move—you kind of sway when you walk, did you know that?—to the way you brush your hair until it shines, to your gorgeous lingerie that confuses me because I can’t work out whether I want to leave it on so it frames your luscious body, or rip it off so I can slide my hands over your skin.”
Persuading Spring: A Sexy New Zealand Romance (The Four Seasons Book 4) Page 19
