A Stormy Spring

by MacKenzie, C. C.

  ‘Surely you have a duty to warn others?’

  ‘You mean to destroy his career?’

  ‘It is no more than he deserves.’

  ‘He was there for me.’

  Temper jerking on a too tight chain, Lucas set down his knife and fork with care and took a deep breath.

  ‘What he did was a classic case of abusing a person when she was vulnerable. He isolated you from your friends and family. He said you were too dependant upon your mother which was never true. And from what your mother told me he also dripped poison into her ear about Rick which caused a rift between you and your mother. He’s made an enemy of me simply to make it hard for you. The man is a control freak.’

  Throwing her napkin on the table, Becca leapt to her feet.

  ‘If you want to see a control freak, look in the mirror. You’re the one who threatened him and caused him to feel insecure in our relationship.’

  Stung, Lucas simply stared at her.

  The chain snapped.

  ‘Bullshit. He was stealing from you long before you ever met me!’ he roared.

  ‘And it’s none of your damned business,’ she yelled back.

  ‘You are taking your anger and frustration out on me. This is a classic case of shooting the messenger.’

  He could almost hear her counting to ten as her hands clenched at her sides.

  ‘For the third and last time I will deal with Justin in my own way when I am ready.’

  In spite of the voice in his head warning him to back off, Lucas couldn’t leave it there.

  ‘You are in denial.’

  That stubborn chin came up and those eyes were so cold he almost shivered.

  ‘What I am is tired. Tired of Justin, tired of being stuck here, and most of all tired of you.’

  She spun and dashed out of the room, up the stairs and he let her go.

  The boom of her bedroom door made him wince as he realised that yet again she wouldn’t be in his bed this night.

  But dammit, why was everything his fault?

  She needed a break, Becca decided.

  A break from Lucas and a break from the storm of emotions roaring through her system. She was being tossed around like a paddle boat in a hurricane.

  Opening her suitcase, Becca carefully searched for one of her most prized possessions, a framed photograph of a deliriously happy Rick taken on their honeymoon in the Maldives. A shaky finger traced his hair, his face, before she placed the picture on the bedside table. She was so tired of dealing with all the stuff that seemed to be hitting her on a daily basis. The turmoil of meeting Lucas and her behaviour which was so out of character, along with her pregnancy and now Justin’s betrayal. Rick and Lily had been pushed to the back of her mind. The realisation had guilt and shame hit her too hard. The anniversary of their burial was tomorrow and all she could think about was herself. What a truly selfish individual she’d become.

  Becca got ready for bed. It was pure impulse that had her shrug on one of Rick’s shirts in a bone colour and roll up the sleeves. The soft texture gently warmed her cold skin as trembling fingers buttoned up the shirt that fell below her knees. For months she’d slept in his shirts after he died. Inhaling his scent had brought comfort and it comforted her now.

  She switched off the light and snuggled under the duvet, burying her face in the garment desperately seeking a connection to him.

  Her exhausted mind tumbled her into sleep.

  Deep into memories and deep into dreams.

  She was dreaming.

  The logical part of her brain was aware of that fact even as a luminous circle of light appeared before her. Wearing pale blue jeans and a matching cotton chambray shirt, Rick stood with a little girl of eighteen months balanced on his hip who wore pale pink dungarees and a white T-shirt.

  Becca knew it was her child, Lily. She had tumbling curls the colour of burnt toffee and big blue eyes edged with ridiculously thick lashes. Her fingers stroked her daddy’s hair as she gave Becca a shy dimpled smile. They appeared terribly happy which instead of making her sad, a feeling of rightness washed over Becca. She desperately wanted to touch, to hold, but instinct told her it wasn’t the right place or the right time.

  As one, Becca, Rick and Lily turned to survey a moment from the past.

  The scene unfolding before them now was the day she’d buried her family.

  ‘Earth to Earth, ashes to ashes and dust to dust.’

  The words were meant, Becca knew, to ease suffering and to help the bereaved make sense of their loss. But she felt no easing of her suffering and no sense in her loss.

  Around her there stood dozens of mourners.

  And the sound of weeping, her weeping.

  She was burying her husband and her baby girl born too soon.

  Afraid to move, lungs heavy with sorrow, Becca shivered.

  The wind moaned a low lament through tall trees, their branches stripped bare of leaf.

  Dried, withered leaves skipped and whirled joyfully, leaping into the open grave to unite with their brethren as they covered the single coffin like a blanket. A coffin that contained two hearts that beat no more. And, God help her, Becca’s heart ached to join them.

  How could the world change so much in five days?

  Panic gripped her throat. She swallowed and panic lodged deep inside her chest.

  ‘She’s with Rick. They’re together now,’ a voice weighed down with sorrow murmured.

  Becca turned to her mother and Justin who moved to hold her.

  She couldn’t have borne this, done this, without them.

  ‘Come, we’ll return later,’ Justin said softly, wrapping a supportive arm around a waist that was too narrow and empty of her child. Grief, appallingly fresh, knifed through her.

  Becca closed her eyes tight, fought for control. She nodded, closed her eyes again and turned to accept the sympathies and sorrows of the assembled mourners.

  The funeral had been small and without fuss. White lilies in honour of her child and well-loved hymns. A simple ceremony.

  A gust whipped tall branches as the wind’s icy fingers pinched sad faces, plucking at heavy coats pulled tighter against its onslaught.

  Justin steered them towards a black limousine, flicked a glance into Becca’s dazed, despairing features and saw a heart utterly broken.

  The scene faded and now they stood, a man holding a child and a woman, staring at the grave.

  Becca turned to Rick and Lily, eyes swimming. ‘You’re telling me to move on, to let go?’

  Rick smiled. His eyes filled with joy and love as his fingers stroked their child’s hair. No words were spoken but Becca heard him in her heart say, ‘Be happy. Goodbye, my love.’ He turned away with Lily and walked into the light.

  He should leave her be.

  Standing outside Becca’s bedroom door Lucas turned away then spun back and placed his hand on the handle. Although the last thing he wanted to do was to upset her further, the persistent feeling that she needed him had grown all evening. He opened the door to pitch black. Moving to the en-suite bathroom he switched on the light and opened the door wide.

  She lay curled up in a ball like a little girl and appeared to be sound asleep. His attention was caught by a wooden framed photo of a handsome man on the bedside table and he knew who it was.

  He picked it up and moved into the bathroom.

  In his mind, Lucas imagined Rick as a skinny nerd in dark rimmed glasses and a bad skin. This guy looked nothing like that. He was incredibly fit, tanned and good looking with a shock of blonde hair and twinkling green eyes full of fun. Those eyes stared directly into the camera, into the person taking the photo. Lucas read sheer joy as well as a deep and abiding love. The most peculiar feeling of needing to measure up, to man up and step forward washed through him.

  Nervous tension coiled in his gut as he moved into the bedroom, returned the photo to the bedside table and stared at Becca. She appeared to be wearing a man’s shirt. His brow creased. And again th
e shirt wasn’t one of his. A tiny sob escaped from her throat as a fat tear leaked from her eye to run into her hairline.

  Lucas didn’t stop to think. He stripped and slid into her bed curving his body against hers. He couldn’t be sure but thought he heard her mutter ‘Goodbye’ before her breathing steadied telling him she was deeply asleep.

  His eyes riveted on the photograph Lucas held her until dawn broke.

  She was killing him.

  He had the babies to think of but he knew there was no way he could be in Becca’s life, loving her and needing her if she’d buried her heart with the dead.

  He’d begun to think he had enough love for both of them. But perhaps he was kidding himself?

  He needed her love like the air he breathed. And if she couldn’t love him back the way he needed to be loved by her then their relationship was surely over before it had even begun.

  For the first time Becca didn’t practice.

  She didn’t eat breakfast either which made Lucas’s housekeeper stare at her hard.

  Whatever she read in her face had Moira run a gentle hand over Becca’s hair.

  Dressed in a quilted black coat and knee length flat boots in black patent, Becca moved to the entrance door. A wreath of white rosebuds lay on the hall table.

  ‘John will put the flowers in the car,’ Moira said. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?’

  ‘No, I’ll be fine,’ Becca said and didn’t notice the worried look exchanged between husband and wife.

  The journey took her through familiar streets and brought back the reality and bone deep sadness of that day.

  If things had been right between them she’d have come with Justin. And now she’d lost him too. Lucas was right. She did need to deal with former dance partner but not today, not yet. Today was about honouring and remembering well good times, happy times, with the dead.

  Becca laid the flowers on the grave before the black marble headstone.

  She remembered the bite of the wind, how the cold had seeped into her bones.

  A tinkling noise had her turn to another grave where a pale blue teddy bear leaned forlornly against the headstone and a jazzy red and green windmill whirled crazily in the breeze. Simple mementos left by grieving parents for a lost child. And other graves where pot plants, wind chimes and tea lights in jam jars helped the bereaved cope with their loss.

  She sensed him, smelt him, before the black fleece blanket dropped on her shoulders.

  ‘You should have told me. I would have come with you,’ Lucas murmured in that deep voice which even today of all days managed to make her blood shimmer.

  Resentment with her reaction and with him for causing it made her tone sharp.

  ‘Today is not about you.’

  ‘Si, but if I had known, I would have understood why you have been unhappy. I thought I had done something wrong and upset you, querida.’

  Becca wanted to lash out to tell him he’d done nothing but upset her since the moment she’d met him.

  However, this wasn’t the time or the place for one of their bickering sessions.

  ‘The trouble is I don’t understand why. And I don’t want to hear it’s God’s will.’

  Big hands squeezed her shoulders and he pulled her back against the strength of his strong body.

  He took a deep inhale of breath before he sighed.

  ‘I sometimes wonder if we need to suffer in order to fully appreciate life and the things in it that truly matter. Perhaps the excruciating pain of loss makes us stronger, more resilient,’ Lucas said softly.

  ‘It didn’t make me stronger.’

  Strong arms wound around her waist as he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

  ‘Si, it most certainly did. You are the most courageous person I know. You opened your heart and soul to the possibility of what we might have together the first night we made love.’

  She knew that wasn’t true.

  ‘That was just sex. An exercise in self indulgence. And look how well that turned out.’

  He nuzzled the sensitive skin under her ear.

  ‘I have no regrets. I am sorry for all you have suffered, querida. But you cannot protect your heart from love. Rick loved you enough to want you to live.’

  That was true. ‘I know he did,’ she said in a broken whisper.

  ‘You do?’

  Becca turned to him with a sad smile. ‘I had a dream.’

  His arms tightened around her as he held her close.

  Yes, she did resent the hold Lucas had on her. He shouldn’t be allowed to pull at her, interrupt her focus this way but he did and she had no idea what to do about it.

  As Lucas settled Becca into the back of the Bentley a yell caught his attention.

  A posse of photographers raced down the road as a skinny gossip journalist who worked for a twenty-four hour news channel stepped into his face with a microphone. Her eyes held a malicious excitement that made Lucas narrow his own.

  He closed the car door on Becca’s ashen features and banged on the roof of the car. John roared away from the kerb leaving him to deal with the press.

  ‘Is it true you got a stripper pregnant after a threesome in The Cavendish International Hotel?’

  Lucas blinked before he beamed at her.

  ‘Is this April fool’s day?’ he wondered, his tone deliberately insulting.

  Strolling over to his car, no one looking at him would have guessed the amount of self control it took to stop him from ripping out the woman’s throat.

  The journalist’s eyes went wide at his attitude, her short legs pumping to keep up with his long stride.

  ‘Willow Bailey’s about to issue a statement about your relationship.’

  Was she indeed? Someone was making mischief and Lucas had a good idea who that someone might be.

  A camera man shoved from behind jabbed his lens on Lucas’s jaw. Lucas knew exactly how this game was played. He raised his palms in a peace gesture.

  ‘Gentlemen and er, lady. If you step back I am happy to make a statement.’

  Barely able to contain herself the reporter smoothed her hair and stood next to her cameraman as the feed went live throughout the world.

  Uppermost in Lucas’s thoughts were Becca and his father.

  Once the pack had calmed and he’d posed for relentless photographs, he spoke,

  ‘I am delighted to inform you I am to be married to Rebecca Wainwright. We have been seeing each other for some time.’

  ‘Is it true she’s an exotic dancer?’

  This time he threw his head back and laughed out loud. The sincerity of the sound burst the bubble of the reporter’s enthusiasm. The photographers backed off.

  ‘She’s shortlisted for a Tony and an award winning choreographer.’ His eyes went to slits now. ‘Perhaps you should do your homework.’

  Her eyes flashed with annoyance before they went sly. ‘Is it true she’s pregnant after a one-night-stand?’

  He shook his head as he unlocked his car and opened the door.

  Turning to her, Lucas spoke from the heart, ‘Rebecca and I have found something very special together. We are very much in love and I am a lucky man.’

  Lucas slid into the car and closed the door. He turned on the engine and beeped for the crowd to move before he savagely hit the accelerator.

  The reporter turned to the camera with an over bright smile.

  ‘You heard it here first on LB News. Lucas Del Garda is to marry Rebecca Wainwright a Tony Award winning choreographer. Senor Del Garda refused to comment on whether his fiancé is pregnant. I wonder how Willow Bailey will react to the news? I suspect there’s a lot more to this story. Back to the studio.’

  Four hours later Becca sat at the kitchen table with Moira watching Lucas’s face beam out of a huge flat screen television on the wall as the storm broke over the news wires.

  Lucas’s London townhouse was under siege with more journalists from Europe joining the fray.

  They’
d managed to unearth photographs of her wedding to Rick and the account of his tragic death. Along with whom her mother was and the fact Becca was shortlisted for a Tony.

  They’d played the loop every fifteen minutes with the ticker-tape screaming Breaking News - Willow Bailey statement expected shortly. Like everyone else on the planet, Becca was waiting to see what the beautiful blonde Broadway and West End actress had to say.

  ‘There are people starving in the world. You’d think they’d have more important things to report,’ Moira muttered darkly.

  She’d watched it time and again but Becca simply could not get her head around the fact that Lucas had happily announced to the world he was to be married. She had to hand it to him. He’d given an Oscar winning performance of a man deeply in love. Shame he hadn’t thought to tell the bride. Her phone hadn’t stopped with friends in the business leaving voicemails and texts. Her mother sounded deliriously happy. Becca warned her not to speak to the press. Burt Lindstrom left an upbeat message saying he wished them all the best and that they looked good together. Yeah right.

  Lucas still hadn’t put in an appearance. Yep, the son-of-a-bitch was happy to beam into the camera and tell the entire world he was in love. Was he indeed? First she’d heard of it. He hadn’t called or texted her or sent up smoke signals. Nothing. Usually, it took a lot to stir Becca Wainwright’s temper but now it bubbled quite nicely at a steady simmer.

  She was being railroaded into making a decision she wasn’t ready to make.

  But then the news flashed to a too pale Willow Bailey standing next to her Agent who looked a cocky, slippery creature. His too white smile beamed as he puffed out his chest.

  ‘Today we want to clear up speculation which has unfortunately been reported as fact. Willow Bailey’s relationship with Lucas Del Garda is a professional one. We want to thank Del Garda Enterprises for everything they have done over the past year to help build her career. And today I am delighted to announce that Willow has signed to the Alexander Collingswood Agency, ACA.’

  The same journalist who’d harassed Lucas now stuck her mike into Willow’s face.

  ‘Any comment on Lucas’s marriage plans?’

  Big violet eyes stared vacantly into the camera lens.

  ‘He is a wonderful man. I wish him every happiness.’