by Sue MacKay
He nodded, found a smile for her. ‘You bought me seven T-shirts, each with a day of the week printed on it. You told me you hadn’t even looked at anything but the size on the packet.’ His smile widened. ‘You know something? Sometimes those shirts were the only way I knew what day of the week it was.’
A tear rolled down her cheek. ‘It was a fairly hideous time all right. It kind of set us up for what came later, left us unable to deal with it all.’
‘Hey.’ He picked up a serviette and gently dabbed the tear away. There was nothing Tori could do that would twist his heart more than if she cried. One tear was as good as crying. ‘Don’t. We’re past those months. Look at you with your own clinic and me working in London. That’s why we did all those hours of study and work, to get to where we are now.’ At what cost? At the beginning of their marriage they had been unbelievably happy. They’d shared everything from housework to study to intimate dinners, which had often been takeaways because that’s all the time or energy they’d had to eat. With hindsight he might get things right second time round. As if there’d be a second time.
‘Excuse me, monsieur, madame.’ The waitress placed two cups of coffee before them.
‘Merci,’ Tori told the girl.
Ben went with, ‘Thank you,’ and got a smile from Tori. He told her, ‘I’m glad you didn’t see fit to try and persuade me Dad’s way was right. I couldn’t have coped with that. I wanted to get it right without any extra pressure about how to go about it.’ His stomach slowly returned to normal. But his heart was still having difficulty keeping a regular rhythm. ‘I was at fault. That woman would still be alive if not for me wanting to make a name for myself.’ There, he’d finally told her. Even if she’d known then, she’d now heard it from him.
About to sip her coffee, Tori gasped and the cup banged back on its saucer. ‘None of us can undo anything, Ben. What happened is over and done, and you’ve moved on. We’ve moved on. Spending time thinking how differently we could’ve done things only makes for more distress, not less. I wasn’t perfect, either.’
He liked it that she included herself in this; hated it that she truly believed there was no hope for them in the future. Not together, anyway. Tori had moved on. He’d thought he had, too. Seemed he might’ve got that wrong.
Since when had he begun to think they could still have something going for them anyway?
Since the moment he’d spied her in the crowd, that glorious hair like a beacon beckoning him.
Or had it been when they’d eaten pastries on the street yesterday?
During their walks along the promenade?
Listening to her talk about her young patients at the conference? Yes, maybe, except that’s when he’d known her future remained firmly in New Zealand so there was no chance of a relationship together. Long distance didn’t cut it, would be far worse than living in the same apartment and hardly seeing each other. He couldn’t leave England. Starting his career a third time spoke of unreliability, something he wasn’t prepared to be known for. He had to show he could be the surgeon he’d dreamed of becoming. Show himself more than anyone else.
* * *
Back in the auditorium Tori barely took in a word Luc was saying to the audience as he introduced Ben and his colleagues for their session. Round and round in her skull went the words Ben had said over coffee.
He’d handled the situation all wrong. Yes, he had, but so had she. He’d never lied to her, just had never given her his version of what had happened, had never sat down with her to have an in-depth talk about how he’d felt and what he’d wanted to do. She still couldn’t fathom why he’d left her. That had cut deep.
For Ben to say goodbye after citing their lack of communication and the attention he needed to give his career to get past the stigma created by the death of his patient, which would mean even less time with her, had been hard to swallow. But when he’d added he didn’t love her the same any more she hadn’t had an answer to that. If love had died, it had died, and there had been no resurrecting it. Or so she’d told herself countless times over the intervening years.
But she hadn’t been entirely honest, either. Ben’s departure had been a terrible blow, and then she’d had an even bigger shock when she’d lost the baby she hadn’t even realised she’d been carrying. By then it had been too late. What good would it have done to tell him she’d lost their baby? Of course, Ben would have come back to help her if she’d asked, but Tori had known she wouldn’t be able to cope with the pain of him leaving her a second time. The only reason she’d have accepted Ben back would’ve been if he loved her, but he’d told her he didn’t.
John nudged her. ‘It’s starting.’
When she looked at Ben’s friend she saw concern directed at her and felt guilty for being so rude. She’d barely spoken to him when he’d come and taken Ben’s chair at the front to keep her company. ‘Thank you.’
John nodded. ‘No worries,’ he said in true Aussie style.
That made her smile and then she looked up at the stage and gave Ben an even bigger one. Whatever their differences and unresolved issues, she was glad they were having this time together.
Sitting back, Tori listened with growing interest to the four men on stage talking about heart transplant procedures. They came with an established record of success, and with ever-increasing survival rates over the difficult first year after the transplant.
‘Which,’ Ben pointed out in answer to a question from the floor, ‘means increased survival rates in ongoing years.’
‘Is the rate any better in transplants using hearts that have to be restarted after death?’ Another question from the floor.
‘That technique is still in the early stages so we don’t yet have enough data to know the answer to that. But I don’t see why the outcome can’t be as good as with live hearts.’
Ben’s enthusiasm for his work was apparent in his voice, his facial expressions and the way he held his body. Tori watched in wonder, transfixed. This was Ben at his best. This was the man she’d known he’d become. Thank goodness the medical council had had the foresight to let him continue his career without intervention.
‘Ben’s really something, isn’t he?’ John leaned close as the audience clapped at the end of the session.
‘Yes, he is,’ she agreed around a blockage in her throat brought on by unshed tears.
‘London’s lucky to have him.’
Tori raised an eyebrow at the wistful note in John’s voice. ‘You tried to keep him in Sydney?’
‘Absolutely. But he was determined to go halfway round the world and prove he could mix it with the big boys. I don’t think that was the real reason at all, as he’s not a snob. But something was driving him to go away.’
‘I wonder if he wanted as much distance as possible between him and Auckland.’ Did John know what had happened there?
John shrugged. ‘Listening to him, I can’t say he was wrong to go. He’s found his niche.’
A chill lifted bumps on her skin. ‘You’re right. He’s never going to move back Down Under. Especially if he gets that partnership he told me he’s hanging out for.’ The sooner she accepted that, the sooner she could stop thinking about him other than as someone she used to know very well.
‘Tori, Ben could do transplants in New Zealand as easily as in London.’
‘What are you saying?’ Didn’t he want Ben back in Sydney?
‘He made his mind up to head to England the day your divorce was finalised. Before he got drunker than I’ve ever seen a man.’
‘I don’t think you should be telling me that.’ I don’t want to know that. It’s too late.
‘Ben’s my friend. I want what’s best for him.’ John looked sad as he stood up. ‘A wonderful career is all very well, but there are more important things to think about. I’ve seen him play with my kids,
seen his eyes fill with longing for his own family.’
Tori watched John weave his way through the crowd, leaving her to digest what he’d not said. Had Ben gone so far away to put maximum distance between them? That didn’t make sense. She hadn’t been knocking on his door, asking for a second chance—not since those first bewildering and horrible weeks after he’d walked out on her. Once she’d gone to see him, begging for him to come back or at least explain why he didn’t love her any more, but faced with his unwavering stance she’d quickly found her pride and stopped harassing him. Then she’d miscarried and that had been that. No going back.
Had John been suggesting Ben hadn’t really wanted to go? Or that he wanted to return? No, not likely. No one had forced him to go. He could’ve stayed on in Sydney, even returned to Auckland if he’d wanted to. As he could anytime he chose.
More confused than ever, Tori stood up, surprised how the uncertainty confusing her made her legs unsteady. Someone nudged her in passing and she hesitated. Next on the agenda was morning tea and then another session in here.
‘Hey, Tori.’ She heard Ben’s voice over the heads of people pressing to get out of the room. He was pushing against the tide to get to her.
‘Hey, Ben,’ she whispered.
Suddenly she couldn’t do it, had to get outside and away from everyone. Away from where Ben was. She needed to clear her mind of all this and find calm before being able to talk to him as though there was nothing wrong between them. She needed to find strength and resolve so every time she looked Ben in the eye she wouldn’t have this crazy urge to pitch herself into his arms and hold on for ever.
She needed to withdraw and regroup. To find a backbone and remain impervious to his charm, friendship and all the things she knew he could be. Loving, sexy, fun, caring...
CHAPTER FIVE
TORI CHARGED OUT of the hotel and through the door held open by the doorman. ‘Merci,’ she acknowledged, and took a breath of fresh air.
It had become claustrophobic inside. Hundreds of conference attendees seemed to be pushing against her, taking her air, deafening her with their incessant chatter.
‘Madame Wells, are you all right?’ Monsieur Leclare was beside her.
‘Oui. It’s very warm inside and I needed to get some air. That’s all.’ No way could she tell this kind man she was about to bolt from his conference and go AWOL.
‘You’ve been listening to the panel, no?’
She nodded. ‘It was excellent.’
‘And yet you are flustered. I think you need time away from all these people.’
Exactly. One in particular. But she wasn’t telling Luc that. ‘I thought I’d take a short break outside while everyone’s having coffee.’
‘Non, non. I have an idea. Take a few hours off. You’re in Europe, you must see some of the sights.’ Before she could agree and tell him she already had plans to study the map and see where she could go to get away from any chance of bumping into Ben, he snapped his fingers at the concierge.
Tori couldn’t keep up with his rapid French, and there obviously wouldn’t be any chance of her having a say on where she was going so she gave in and waited with interest to see how the rest of her day transpired. This was exactly what she needed—a distraction from Benji. Ben. When would she stop thinking Benji?
Less than an hour later Tori found her seat in the train carriage her taxi driver had led her to. Sinking into it, she looked around at her fellow passengers. Tourists hauling heavy backpacks, local women with their shopping bags, elderly couples on an outing. This was one of the regular runs down the coast to the border with Italy, and she had a return ticket for today. Understanding most of what was being spoken was near impossible so she let the talk flow over her, like she was in a cocoon where nothing could touch her. Right now she wanted to absorb France, not stress about anything.
As the train pulled out of the station she turned her focus onto the buildings they passed, let the tension ease out of her muscles. Years back she’d have downed a couple of glasses of wine to dispel her anxieties. Not any more. Not after losing her baby because of her drinking. Admittedly it had taken more than two glasses to relax her with all that had been going down at the time, but she felt sure the alcohol had cost her baby’s life.
Don’t go there. Not today. Please.
Her gaze followed the unfolding scenery. The farther from Nice central the more apartments came into view. Washing hung from balconies, bright flowering geraniums in pots decorated every available space. And between the buildings the bright blue of the sparkling Mediterranean. Then around a corner and houses clustered on the hillside, yellow and orange and red stone buildings tucked hard up against each other. Just like the pictures in the travel brochures, only more colourful, more vibrant and beautiful.
The next corner and the sea again, yachts of every size and shape bobbing gently in the current. A cruise ship took up a large portion of the picture, motorboats speeding to and from it.
Tori sat absorbing everything, letting her mind take a break, enjoying being in France. She snapped her camera far too many times, zooming in and out, sometimes finally getting the right frame only to have the train pass a power pole or tree as she pressed the button. The tension eased right back, her stomach stopped its ping-pong game, and she began to relax and put everything aside—for now.
At Ventimiglia, on the Italian border, she got off and went for a walk, had coffee and pizza and visited a market where she bought knick-knacks to take home. When she finally took the train back to Nice she was ready to face dinner with Ben and his friends.
* * *
‘Where did you get to today?’ Ben asked as they strolled through the old part of Nice to the restaurant Rita and John had chosen.
‘Italy.’ She smiled as three pairs of surprised eyes looked at her. ‘I took the train along the coast, past Monaco, down to the border.’
‘Had enough of the conference?’ Rita asked, with a knowing glint in her look.
She winced. ‘I know I shouldn’t have gone away but, hey, when am I going to get back here again?’ She wouldn’t apologise, and she wouldn’t allow that disappointed look in Ben’s eyes to deflect her. This was her trip, and she had needed to step away from him. Anyway, she’d gone with Luc’s blessing. What’s more, it had worked. She was so much more relaxed and in control of her emotions since that train ride.
Rita shook her head. ‘Fair enough. You obviously had a lovely time. You seem refreshed, if that’s the word.’
John was watching her but didn’t say anything. Thank goodness. Was he wondering if their conversation that morning had led to her taking the day off?
Time to change the subject. Tori tipped her head back to stare up at the building to their left. ‘Aren’t these amazing?’ The stone walls were so old. History screamed at her. New Zealand was an enfant compared to Europe. At windows and narrow doors, meticulously worked wrought-iron balustrades made her mouth water. ‘We’ve got nothing like this at home.’
Ben nodded. ‘I like it that most buildings are not very high. The narrow streets don’t feel closed in or as cool as they do in cities with high-rises.’ He’d been a little cool himself since they’d met up in the hotel foyer half an hour ago. Probably having doubts about spending too much time with her.
‘Here’s the restaurant.’ John indicated a group of tables and chairs ahead of them.
‘Outdoor dining, perfect,’ Tori said. ‘Thanks for inviting me along.’ This would be fun, and far better than eating on her own. As long as she kept relaxed and didn’t let Ben dominate her mind.
Rita hugged her. ‘You’re welcome. Now, let’s have fun.’
With great company and food, how could they not? As Tori sat on the chair Ben pulled out for her she sniffed the air. ‘Garlic. Naturally.’
‘Onions, seafood and oranges.’ Ben
nodded and seemed to be struggling not to smile. ‘Are you ordering in French or English this time?’
‘Definitely English. When I make up my mind what I’m eating I want to be sure I get it.’ She turned to give him the once-over. ‘You’re as excited as I am.’
‘You bet. Wait until we get to Paris.’ His smile finally appeared.
Her stomach crunched. Paris. They weren’t going together, but they would catch up at the medical school. Paris. Alone. Damn Ben. Why had he mentioned it? ‘I’m looking forward to exploring the city.’
Ben tapped his fingers on her hand. ‘Want to see the Eiffel Tower at night?’ His gaze locked on hers.
‘Of course.’
‘With me?’
‘Of course,’ she answered before she could overthink his invitation. So much for remaining aloof, but Paris on her own wouldn’t be half the fun as sharing the sights with Ben would be.
His smile widened. ‘It’s a date.’
A date? With her ex? As she sucked air into her lungs she met Rita’s caring look and saw her nod. She’d already got the message that John thought she should be trying harder with Ben. Were they ganging up on her? Trying to undermine her determination to keep things between her and Ben ticking along in a friendly way—as in not in love? As her lungs pushed out air she said, ‘It’s a date.’ The only one she’d have with Ben, but since she’d agreed, she was going to enjoy every minute of it, and to heck with her heart’s relentless pounding.
She squashed down on the flicker of hope that there might be something in the future for her and Ben. She couldn’t afford to hang her heart on that fragile wish. But...
What did I just do? Ben leaned back in his chair and stared at the menu in his hand. He didn’t care what he ate any more. He shouldn’t have invited Tori to go to the tower with him. How was that remaining remote and keeping his emotions in order?
