Falling In Love Again

by Marilyn Forsyth

‘Gemma? How would I know?’ Devane said, flashing him an irritated look. Then a malevolent smile crept onto his face. ‘Don’t tell me. She’s stabbed you in the back, too, huh? Welcome to the club, Coltrane. That woman just can’t be trusted.’

  The caustic words cut like a razor across Jamie’s heart and he had barely enough self-control to restrain from driving the smirk down the professor’s throat. But he needed answers first.

  ‘Not Gem. Gracie. My fossil.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ The man grabbed the handle of his case and again attempted to push his way past.

  Jamie stopped him with a firm hand to the shoulder. ‘I think you do.’

  Standing behind the professor, Slade straightened to his full height, his eyes taking on a dangerous glitter, clearly interested in hearing more.

  Devane gave Jamie a withering look. ‘Get out of my way. My plane is waiting.’

  ‘You’re not going anywhere until I check that suitcase,’ Jamie explained with deadly patience.

  ‘Yeah, let’s all ’ave a look.’

  ‘Stay out of this, Slade. It’s got nothing to do with you.’ The professor’s contempt for the guy was obvious.

  ‘I reckon it does,’ Slade contradicted, moving threateningly in on Devane until they stood toe to toe.

  ‘Back off, moron!’ The professor shoved him with his suitcase.

  Before Jamie could register what was happening, Slade had latched onto Devane’s shirt front, slammed him into the wall and delivered a vicious punch to the stomach. The air whooshed from between the professor’s lips and he collapsed to the floor.

  Instinctively Jamie intercepted the boot aimed at Devane’s head. Slade responded with an upper cut to Jamie’s chin. Pain exploded along his jawline; the rust-like taste of blood flooded his mouth. All self-restraint slipped and an insane rush of fury flashed through him. Anger at the professor, at Slade, and at the situation he now found himself in.

  Next thing he knew, his fist was buried in Slade’s stomach and the guy was doubled over in front of him. Devane moaned from his position, curled up on the floor.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ Harry started down the hallway towards them. He’d only taken a couple of steps when he stopped abruptly. Appearing to have lost balance, he leaned a shoulder into the wall and put a hand up to cradle the side of his forehead.

  ‘Harry?’ Fear skittered up Jamie’s spine. ‘What’s wrong?’

  His father lifted his head to look at him; one side of his face had sagged and confusion clouded his eyes. Slurring unintelligibly, he pulled himself upright and attempted to walk, but one leg dragged behind the other and he lost balance again. He toppled over onto the carpet just as Gem rounded the corner.

  ‘Dad!’ Jamie bellowed, racing to reach him.

  Chapter 20

  Tears pricked Gemma’s eyes as she stared down at Harry. He lay on a stretcher in the motel hallway, still unconscious, one half of his usually smiling face a sagging travesty of its old self. Jamie stood beside her, his face robbed of colour by shock. Both Roger and Slade, who’d been there when she first arrived, were now nowhere to be seen.

  Lou had arrived from the clinic within minutes of Jamie’s frantic call, her initial horrified distress almost immediately replaced with professional care. They’d watched in helpless silence as she’d hastily loosened Harry’s shirt and trouser belt and checked his vital signs. Then, given the nod, they’d jumped into action to carefully lift Harry onto the stretcher she’d brought with her.

  Lou rolled Harry onto his side, propped his head up with a pillow and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.

  ‘What is it, Lou? What’s happened?’ Jamie demanded with frightened urgency.

  ‘Your dad’s had a stroke, love.’ Her tone was grave and concern was etched deep into the lines around her mouth.

  Jamie groaned, sinking his head into his open hands. ‘It’s my fault. He caught me fighting with Slade and—’

  ‘No,’ the older woman interrupted, shaking her head back and forth vehemently. ‘No, Jamie. Harry was complaining of a headache and dizziness last night. I told him he should book in for a check-up today, but you know what he’s like. He said it was probably just his blood pressure acting up and all he needed was a good sleep.’ She reached up and encircled Jamie in her arms. ‘Your dad’s a stubborn man. Don’t you go blaming yourself.’ She let him go and stepped slightly away to look up into his face.

  ‘Is he gonna be okay?’ Jamie’s voice was barely above a whisper, as though he could hardly bear to ask.

  ‘I’m not sure, love. A stroke can be serious. Any interruption of blood to the brain, like a clot, is dangerous and the longer it’s left untreated, the greater the chance of some sort of ... ’ Lou paused, clearly struggling to control herself to even form the words, ‘… permanent damage.’

  Jamie’s heart-wrenching moan opened the lock on Gemma’s own grief, allowing it to flood through her. It was all too easy to imagine what this man she loved was going through; she’d been there herself when she’d been told that her mother was dead and her father was in a critical condition following the car accident. Her dad had lingered for three unspeakably sad days, never regaining consciousness before succumbing to his injuries.

  Her lips contorted at the force of the unwanted memory. It had taken place so long ago but the agonising sense of loss was still there, intensifying as she looked into the heartbreak of Jamie’s expression. He stood beside her, pale-faced, jaw trembling, and her heart ached, literally ached, for him.

  ‘I’ve stabilised him as far as possible, but he needs specialised medical care,’ Lou continued. ‘Broken Hill Hospital has the closest Stroke Unit.’

  ‘He’s not gonna ... he won’t ... die, will he?’

  The sob in Gem’s chest rose into her throat. Though she felt Jamie’s pain, she didn’t know what to say or how to say it; and even if she’d been able to speak, anything she said would only sound trite and inadequate in the face of his suffering. Instead, she reached for his hand, wove her fingers through his, and tightened her grip. He squeezed her fingers in return, engulfing them in his huge fist. She could feel him trembling.

  Unseen by Jamie, Lou’s face twisted in anguish for a second, before she managed to shift her features into a mask of calm. ‘Come on now, Jamie. You and I both know Harry’s a fighter.’ With all the gentleness of a mother, she laid a hand on his arm. ‘He will pull through this.’ She nodded her head vigorously at him, but from the shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes, Gemma could tell she was trying to convince herself as much as Jamie.

  His storm-blue eyes bottomless wells of wordless pleading, Jamie nodded along with her.

  Lou drew in a rallying breath. ‘I don’t want to put any more pressure on you, but time is critical with a stroke. The earlier it’s treated, the better the chance of a full recovery. We have to fly him to Broken Hill, Jamie. We need to get to the plane.’

  Galvanised into action, Jamie grabbed hold of the stretcher and began pushing. ‘I’ll go get the ute. The tray’ll be big enough to fit this.’

  Gemma finally found her voice. ‘Jamie, I’m not sure you should be flying in the state you’re in.’ She tried to keep pace with him as he wheeled his father down the corridor towards reception.

  He made no response until they reached the foyer and he turned to her. ‘Dad’s depending on me. I can’t let him down.’ Clearly shaken out of his customary self-control, he dragged in a breath through his nose. ‘Don’t worry, I’m okay. I have to be.’ He snatched the car keys from behind the desk and headed for the door.

  When he left, Lou took hold of Harry’s limp hand and gently stroked his hair. ‘Please be all right.’ Grief made her voice break. ‘Please, please, be all right.’ She turned to Gemma, the look on her face that of a woman whose entire world had collapsed. ‘I feel so helpless. I’ve done all I can, but ... Harry has to get through this. He has to.’

  Unable to bear the sorrow in the other woman’s eyes
, Gemma wrapped her arms around her and pressed her cheek to hers. ‘Hey now, like you said, you’ve done everything possible, and Harry’s tough. He’s going to be fine.’ I hope, she thought sombrely. She positioned herself to look directly at Lou. ‘I’m sure he will.’

  Lou’s wan smile of gratitude stirred in Gemma a torrent of tender feelings for the older woman. The intensity of the emotion took her by surprise. She’d only known Jamie’s dad and Lou for a week and yet in that time they’d both come to mean a great deal to her. The idea of either of them not playing a large role in her future was inconceivable; Harry was her baby’s grandfather. He had to pull through this.

  Gemma volunteered to monitor Harry while Lou made a quick phone call to Rosie, the other community nurse, explaining the situation and asking her to cover for her for at least the next couple of days while she accompanied Harry to Broken Hill. Then, ever practical, she’d headed to Harry’s room, returning with toiletries and clothes for him before racing back to the clinic for an overnight bag she kept there for emergencies.

  While she was gone, Jamie arrived with the ute and wheeled Harry outside. The morning air pulsed with the promise of the scorching heat yet to come. Every breath seared Gemma’s throat and she had to screw up her eyes to cut out the glare. Working together, they carefully secured the stretcher inside the tray and erected a temporary canopy.

  Jamie turned to Gemma. ‘I have to go.’

  Struggling to hold back tears, she nodded her understanding. He gave her a look as if he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words; he appeared utterly lost.

  Did he want her to go with him? Should she offer? Her aversion to hospitals bordered on obsessive since the time spent in the ICU with her dad. She swallowed around the huge lump in her throat. If Jamie wanted her there she’d overcome her fear. Somehow.

  Then a sudden thought struck. ‘What are you going to do about the motel? Someone has to be here for the opal dealer when he arrives tomorrow.’

  Jamie’s body deflated like a punctured balloon and he pressed his fingers against his eyes. ‘I ... I ... don’t know. I can’t think right now.’ He looked and sounded like the battle he was fighting was already lost.

  She had to take some of the weight from his shoulders. ‘I can deal with it.’

  ‘You’re okay with that?’

  ‘I’ve stayed in enough motels to know the procedure. Ask to see identification. Get credit card details. Check the guest in. Show them to their room. Simple as,’ she said, pleased she could sound so confident.

  Jamie’s relief was palpable. He handed her the keys and gave a few hastily imparted instructions before Lou joined them.

  ‘Keep me informed on what’s happening?’ Gemma gave what she hoped was an encouraging smile, wishing she could totally believe what she was about to say. ‘Harry’s going to be all right.’

  Lou nodded with hollow confidence before she climbed into the passenger seat, and Jamie offered a weary smile of bravado.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, his gaze spearing deep into her eyes. ‘I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.’

  For a second they hung there, frozen on the brink of an emotion so powerful it stole her breath, then the space between them contracted to nothing at all and he was clinging to her, clinging like she was all there was between him and certain death.

  When he pulled away, a little piece of her went with him.

  * * *

  Gemma’s first instinct on walking back inside and finding herself alone was to call Drew. After everything that had just happened, she needed to hear his voice, needed the comfort of being told that she was loved and missed. She plonked herself down behind the desk in the foyer and picked up the landline.

  ‘Hi, honey bunny.’

  ‘Mummy!’ he squealed.

  Her heart lurched; the excitement in his tone instantly cheered her, but he sounded too damn far away. She wanted him here with her, his small, warm body nestling into hers.

  The standard mum question, as usual, came first. ‘Are you being a good boy for Angela?’

  ‘Uh huh. I helped her get brekky. And guess what? I poured my own milk.’

  She summoned up an image of him sitting at her friend’s breakfast bar: his sweet grin, his intelligent dark eyes, his chest puffed up with his own self-importance.

  ‘Wow! You didn’t spill any?’

  There was a slight hesitation. ‘Only a little bit.’

  She chuckled, picturing from experience how much ‘a little bit’ might be. ‘I’m proud of you, baby.’

  ‘I’m not a baby, mummy.’

  ‘No, you’re not. You’re growing up way too quickly. I’ll have to send you out to work soon.’

  He giggled and her spirits lifted in an indefinable joy.

  She could hear Angela in the background, and then Drew groaned. ‘Awww.’

  ‘What’s up, kiddo?’

  ‘It’s time to leave for school.’

  Already? Nooo. She checked her watch and her shoulders slumped. ‘So it is. Well, my darling, I love you and I miss you. Talk to you tomorrow. Have a great day.’ She rushed the words, afraid he’d recognise the sadness in her voice.

  ‘I miss you, too, mummy. Bye. Love you.’

  As she replaced the receiver, a giant sigh escaped, a mix of disappointment and gratification. She should be used to the feeling by now. It was her reaction every morning after speaking with Drew; the sheer pleasure of hearing his voice intermingled with the sadness of being so far away from him.

  These powerful maternal feelings inside had to be the same feelings that Harry had for Jamie. And vice versa. She could only hope that the relationship she had with her little boy would always remain as strong and loving as theirs was. Harry had to be okay.

  She refused to dwell on that; readying the room for the opal dealer would hopefully take her mind off things.

  It didn’t take long, but provided the distraction she’d needed. Only when she’d finished did she allow herself to sit and think. And only then did it come to her that, with the shock of Harry’s seizure, the Gracie situation had been all but forgotten. She leaned back into the chair behind reception, tap-tapping a pen on the desk, frustrated and distressed over the fossil’s disappearance.

  Where the hell could she be? Had Roger somehow managed to steal her? If that was the case, he’d be long gone by now.

  To stop from travelling down a path so disturbing she hardly dared acknowledge it as a possibility, she began tidying the desk area. In the top drawer, underneath some photos of Gracie, she came across a dog-eared picture of herself. Jamie had taken it a lifetime ago, when she was nineteen or so, not long after they’d hooked up. Wind-whipped hair surrounded her face, a face gazing intently at the man behind the camera. The glowing eyes and radiant smile reflected how much in love, how happy she’d been then.

  Not so very far from the way she’d felt only a matter of an hour ago ...

  But so very different to the way she felt now with a weight of unbearable worry for Harry dragging at her shoulders, concern over what had happened to Gracie crowding her mind, and in her heart a tangled knot of emotions regarding where she and Jamie went from here. What were the implications for their relationship if Gracie was never found?

  She picked up the photo and hugged it to her chest, briefly enjoying the sweet memory of another life; a life filled with spontaneous declarations and demonstrations of their feelings for one another. She loved the girl she’d been back then. So carefree, so optimistic.

  But the succession of tragedies following Jamie’s departure had changed her. Instead of staying true to her real self, she’d allowed herself to drift with events, blaming others for all the bad things that had happened to her, resigning herself to the fact that the only happiness she’d ever know was in loving her son.

  Elbows on the desk, she cupped her forehead in her hands. She shouldn’t keep doing this; reflecting on her life only made her sad. The bottom line was that if she could have rewritten the
past, she would have. But then she may never have had Drew, and the thought of that was incomprehensible. Loving him was her reason for existing.

  ‘Well, well. If it isn’t the bitch who stabbed me in the back.’

  The scathing words set her heart thudding hard and fast against her ribcage.

  ‘What are you doing here, Roger? I thought you’d have left by now.’ She kept her voice calm and measured, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing that he’d startled her. The slightest hint of weakness and he’d go for the throat.

  ‘I’m waiting for someone to get me a cab. I’m presuming the old guy’s still out of action?’ He peered around the foyer, as if looking for Harry. ‘What happened to him, anyway?’

  The imperious attitude and lack of consideration for Harry’s condition sent a surge of resentment through her. ‘What do you care?’

  ‘I don’t. I just want to know if or when he’ll be back. My plane’s at the airport and I need a lift.’

  His offhand dismissal of the fate of a man she’d come to like and respect forced her hackles up further. ‘Do you actually have genuine feelings for anyone? For anything?’

  Dark eyes afire with acrimony stared back at her. ‘I used to have feelings for you. I used to love you.’

  Her laugh was short and bitter. ‘If you did, you had a strange way of showing it.’

  ‘Yeah, well ... ’ He gave a dismissive shrug, following it up with a withering glare. ‘What I do care about is the possibility of losing my job because I failed to secure this fossil, thanks to your interference.’

  What? ‘You don’t have Gracie?’

  ‘I’ve already been through this with Coltrane,’ he said impatiently. ‘I wouldn’t still be here if I had the skeleton.’

  Knowing him as well as she did, that much had to be true, but Roger was an inveterate and convincing liar. Aware she was entering dangerous waters in questioning his integrity, non-existent though it was, she defiantly met his stare. ‘You won’t mind showing me what’s in your suitcase, then.’ A feeling between trepidation and panic roiled her stomach; daring to query him had never gone down well in the past.