‘That sounds serious. Can’t we talk while I cook?’
He shook his head and after a moment she untied her apron and turned off the pan she’d been about to sauté the mushrooms, shallots, capsicum and bacon in.
And she followed him out onto the patio where he studied the Mary-Lue bobbing a bit on the end of the jetty as a boat wake rocked it.
Then he turned to her. ‘Tim-has died, Maisie.’ And he watched her reaction like a hawk.
CHAPTER TEN
S HE went white and had to sit down heavily. ‘Died?’ she repeated hoarsely. ‘How?’
‘In a diving accident in Vava’u. He actually saved someone’s life at the expense of his own.’ He told her some of the details. ‘He…I’m bringing his body home; I’ll leave this evening in about an hour, so I should be home tomorrow morning. We’ll only stay to refuel.’
She stared at him, still clearly in shock. Then she placed her hands on her stomach as if trying to shield her baby from the news, and Rafe Sanderson made his own deductions.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said very quietly.
‘I-I don’t know what to say.’
‘You don’t have to say anything. I have my own regrets about Tim. You were right, it wasn’t easy for him growing up in my shadow and with an embittered mother in the background. I should have-taken that into account a lot earlier than I did. That’s why I don’t want him to make his last journey home alone.’
Tears were sliding unnoticed down Maisie’s cheeks and once again Wes, who followed her everywhere, put his paw on her lap.
‘But,’ Rafe went on when she tried to speak but couldn’t, ‘what time will Grace get home? I don’t want to leave you alone…I know, I’ll ask Sonia-’
‘No.’ Maisie found her voice. ‘She’s-got her own problems. And Grace should be back shortly.’
‘What problems?’ He frowned.
‘Liam wants a divorce and it’s hit her for six.’
He swore softly. ‘I’ll give her a call. Maisie-will you be all right?’
‘Yes. Really! I’m fine, so don’t worry about me.’ She looked away from him. ‘It-it was just-a shock.’
‘Naturally.’ He paused. ‘Come and help me pack.’
‘I…Would you mind if I just sat here alone for a little while, Rafe?’
For some reason he frowned but then he shrugged. ‘Sure. But think of this, Maisie. He died a hero and that’s how Tim was. He could be very bad but when he was good he was good.’ And he went inside.
Leaving Maisie to ask herself exactly what she did feel over this news. Shocked, of course. Moved to tears for her baby, who would never have the opportunity to know her father and might have wanted to one day, whatever he was like, and who was to say he mightn’t have reformed his ways? Perhaps.
Maybe even moved to tears for someone who had been so full of life but whose life had gone horribly wrong…
But bereft?
No, she realised, because her closure with Tim Dixon had come in a little palm-thatch hut perched on a rock groyne in Tonga.
That was when she’d realised she was well and truly out of love with him-if she’d ever been in love with him in the first place.
So, some sadness, yes. But not the dreadful pain of losing someone beloved that she knew so well from losing her parents…
‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,’ Rafe said.
His bag stood in the middle of the lounge; he’d changed into khaki trousers, a check shirt and a corduroy jacket.
‘I won’t,’ Maisie promised.
He studied her for a moment. The long, pretty Paisley cotton dress she wore, her blue sandals that she probably couldn’t see over her bump now, the curiously steady green eyes-was she still in shock? he wondered.
‘Feeling better?’ he queried. ‘By the way, Sonia is coming over, after dinner.’
‘Oh, you didn’t have to! Anyway,’ she paused as she heard a car, ‘there’s Grace now.’
‘She wanted to. Tim was also her cousin.’
‘Thanks,’ Maisie said huskily. ‘Look, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. And I think what you’re doing is very-appropriate.’
He lifted a hand, hesitated, then dropped it to his side, and said goodbye.
What had he been going to do? Maisie wondered as she watched him stride out with his bag.
Did he think she hadn’t noticed that he avoided all physical contact with her?
She put her hands to her face briefly then made a bright effort to greet Grace when all she wanted was to be alone.
But Grace had a request. Her mother wasn’t feeling well, so would it be OK if she went over to spend a few hours with her?
Yes, fine! Maisie agreed and came to another decision.
She rang Sonia and told her she needed an early night so not to worry about coming round. Then she said abruptly to Sonia, ‘Go and see Liam and tell him.’
She heard Sonia’s indrawn breath, then, ‘No, it’s too late. It can’t change anything now and-’
‘Yes, it can. Maybe not for him but, now you’ve come to understand about the emotional fences, it’s no good still hiding behind them. It may be painful but it’s got to be liberating for you at least to be honest with him.’
‘But that might make him feel sorry for me!’
‘It might but don’t accept it. Life-life isn’t always easy but if being honest with yourself, really honest, means you have to be honest with Liam, in the long run that will help you.’
There was a stunned silence down the line then Sonia said, ‘Maisie? Are you all right? You sound-is it Tim?’
‘No. Of course it’s sad, but-no. How do I sound anyway?’ she asked ruefully.
Sonia hesitated. ‘Rather wise and clear-sighted. Rather-’ she hesitated again then chuckled briefly ‘-decisive. And I suppose you’ve got Grace but-I still don’t know if I can do it.’
Maisie didn’t enlighten her about Grace. ‘Yes, you can,’ she said. ‘Sonia, can I tell you something? I will anyway. I admire you tremendously, you’ve been a wonderful friend and thank you so much, but trust me, I know you can do this and I know you should. Do it now.’
‘So I did,’ Sonia Sanderson said distraughtly to her brother the next day, ‘with the most amazing consequences, but I had no idea she was actually saying goodbye to me! None at all, otherwise I would have gone straight over. And then-and then Grace went to see her mother and she was sure Maisie had gone to bed when she got home quite late until it struck her that Wes was restless, you know how he gets when Maisie is not around, so she went to check and-and she was gone. So were some of her clothes and the baby’s.’
Rafe swore. They were driving home from the airport, where Sonia had met him, and they’d stood together side by side on the tarmac, with heads bowed, as Tim Dixon’s coffin was unloaded from the plane and given into the undertaker’s care.
‘Did she leave a note?’
‘No, nothing. Oh, Rafe, what are we going to do?’
‘Get her back,’ he said briefly.
‘How?’
‘At nearly eight months pregnant, she’s not going to go far.’ A muscle flickered in his jaw.
He swung the car into the Raby Bay driveway and Grace came running out of the house.
‘Maisie’s in hospital! She had a minor traffic accident but they took her to hospital because she was pregnant and insisted on keeping her in overnight. Then she went into labour this morning, thankfully still in hospital, so they decided to ignore her request that nobody should be notified, and they tracked down the car. Oh, I feel so terrible!’
‘And if only I hadn’t been so wrapped up in my own affairs,’ Sonia cried.
‘Enough,’ Rafe growled. ‘Which hospital, Grace?’
She told him.
‘Coming?’ He glanced at Sonia.
‘Of course!’
Susannah Wallis made a surprisingly determined entry into the world, despite being six weeks early. She was rushed to the neonatal unit and a humidicrib.
/> Maisie got through it somehow but the pain-shot shadows she drifted in and out of were made all the worse by the concern that she’d brought this on herself. If she hadn’t been driving with an overburdened mind and a mist of tears in her eyes, she might have been able to avoid the accident.
Rafe and Sonia Sanderson arrived an hour after the event.
They were told that Maisie was fine but sedated because she seemed to be a bit more traumatised than was normal. They were told that the baby was expected to overcome the potential complications of her premature birth.
‘Did the accident bring it on?’ Rafe asked.
The doctor scratched his head. ‘That’s hard to say. Maisie did present symptoms of concussion, that’s why we kept her in, but no other injuries. I would have expected her, if the shock of the accident had caused it, to go into labour sooner, but there’s really no set formula for it. And, for instance, some premature births are simply spontaneous, in that, at least half of them have no known cause.’
‘Can stress be a factor?’
Sonia found herself holding her breath as Rafe asked this.
‘It can, yes. But before she embarks on any more pregnancies, Maisie should be checked for any uterine malfunctions that can, for example, cause premature birth, just to be on the safe side.’
‘Rafe,’ Sonia said, as they waited for Maisie to come round, ‘don’t blame yourself. You did everything you could for her.’
‘Except give her back to Tim,’ he murmured.
Sonia’s eyes widened. ‘Is that why she ran away? But would she have taken Tim back? From what you told me, he didn’t want her.’
‘Does that make you stop wanting someone?’ Rafe shoved a hand through his hair. ‘And something traumatised her into going. It had to be the news of Tim.’
He stared at Maisie looking so pale but with a livid bruise down one side of her face, and curiously frail in the hospital bed, as if all her sparkling vitality had been quenched.
She was hooked up to a drip and she had a name tag on one wrist; and he sighed heavily.
Maisie grew properly lucid that afternoon.
She’d known Rafe was there beside her bed for some time but the sedation had kept claiming her back into its soothing arms. Then it began to release her and at last her eyes were clear, she moved and pushed herself up a little.
‘Maisie,’ Rafe said, and took her hand, ‘they think the baby’s going to be fine, although they’ll keep her in the premmie ward for a while.’
Her fingers clutched his as a rush of relief hit her.
Then she frowned. ‘Are you sure? You’re not just saying it?’
He shook his head. ‘She’s also got your hair. Well,’ he smiled, ‘what there is of it is definitely gingery.’
‘Oh! I tried to tell her that if she had any say in the matter she’d be much better off as a blonde.’ Her eyes, so green against the unusual pallor of her skin, were humorous but she sobered rapidly.
‘Rafe-Rafe,’ she said and licked her dry lips, ‘you must be angry-I was going to post a letter to you…’ She found she couldn’t go on.
‘Maisie, I was much more concerned than anything else. But this is not the time for recriminations or explanations or decisions-except one.’ His eyes were steady and she suddenly realised he was paler than normal.
‘You need,’ he went on, ‘to recoup your strength and Susie is going to need all your care and attention for the next few months. Will you come back to Raby Bay, at least for the time being?’
She drew a deep breath-and nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
‘You-’ But he stopped as Sonia tiptoed in, bearing two lidded paper cups of coffee.
And Sonia, after she’d assured herself Maisie was as well as could be in the circumstances, flung her arms around her sister-in-law and hugged her almost fiercely.
‘You were right. I went to see Liam and I told him all about me and how his news had acted as some sort of catalyst that made me really understand. But I said I was only telling him so I could come to terms with myself so he wasn’t to worry or feel guilty or sorry for me. Do you know what he said?’
Maisie shook her head somewhat dazedly.
‘That he’d only asked for a divorce because the separation was killing him but his pride wouldn’t allow him to say so!’
Maisie was given a sleeping pill that night despite the fact that she was exhausted. She was also sore and feeling strung-up and desperately anxious to be able to see her baby-they’d told her she could do that tomorrow-and supremely conscious of the irony of her situation.
Because her “clear-sighted wisdom” had worked for Sonia but not for her. Indeed, it had been born from her decision to leave Rafe, and explain, in all honesty, why she had reached it.
So she’d written a letter she’d planned to leave in the house for him. At the last minute she’d taken it with her and decided to post it to him just in case anyone else found it.
It was still sitting in her bag.
And she was now committed to going back to him for the time being anyway. But could she handle him knowing the truth for however long that “time being” might take?
She didn’t think so…
CHAPTER ELEVEN
T HREE months later, Maisie nursed Susannah in her arms and sang softly to her on the patio at Raby Bay.
Wes was curled up at her feet and Susie was watching the pattern of light and shade the grapevine was creating. Then her lashes sank and she fell asleep.
Maisie rocked her a little longer, kissed her softly then she put her into her pram and adjusted the net. Susie didn’t stir.
‘There you go, Wes,’ Maisie murmured to the dog, ‘one contented baby! We’re getting pretty good at this!’
She got up and wandered to the edge of the patio where she stood looking out over the water but as if she was looking far, far away to a distant horizon…
That was when Rafe, who’d watched the little tableau of a girl and her baby unseen from inside, came to a decision.
Susie was thriving now and the ordeal of the neonatal clinic was well and truly behind them. Some complications had arisen but Maisie had been marvellous in the way she’d coped, refusing ever to lose hope.
Of course, it had been an anxious time when the baby had first come home, but once again Maisie had proved equal to the task.
And now she was a calm, relaxed mother and you could never doubt she adored her baby.
She was also looking well and slim again but there was something elusive about her; just occasionally, the smallest hint of a haunting sadness.
He had no doubt what it was, just as he had no doubt the time had come to release her. But how?
In stages, he thought, that’s obviously going to be the best way.
‘I took a bit of a liberty with your house,’ Rafe said that evening.
Maisie glanced at him across the polished surface of the dinner table. They were eating Grace’s superb rack of lamb studded with rosemary tips and basted with a blend of olive oil and sun-dried tomatoes. There were side dishes of cauliflower au gratin and snow peas.
It was just over seven months since they’d first met and summer had slid into autumn.
Maisie had a new hairstyle, a shorter, elegant bob but still curly. She wore a sage-green waistcoat over a long-sleeved ivory blouse and black velvet trousers.
‘You did?’
He nodded. ‘Remember you told me about the plans your father had to renovate it? Well, I went ahead and got it done.’
She blinked at him. ‘So-all the time I thought it was rented out and not being a financial burden on you the opposite was happening?’
He lifted his shoulders. ‘It’s been a drop in the ocean.’
She frowned suddenly. ‘What about the Amelie? I’ve just realised Jack never came back to me, so I suppose it’s still for sale?’ She looked a question at him.
He shook his head.
‘What does that mean?’
‘It never went onto
the market but it’s in good shape.’
Maisie discovered she had difficulty with her voice. ‘Why?’
‘I got the impression it meant a lot to you. By the way, I’m off in a few days on a business trip for about a month.’
Maisie blinked again at this apparent non sequitur.
‘All business?’ she queried, and paused to ponder that his business lifestyle certainly wouldn’t fit in with a proper married life. She articulated the thought. ‘That seems rather a long time.’ She put her knife and fork down and took a sip of water.
‘All business, all the same.’
‘Poor you,’ she murmured and fingered the edge of her linen place mat before she took up her knife and fork again.
No sign of regret or even much interest, he reflected, but had he expected any? No, but that had to make it all the easier.
‘When I come back,’ he went on, ‘I’ll be moving into the apartment.’
She froze as she suddenly made the connection with her house and boat. ‘Does-does that mean you’re throwing me out of here?’ She closed her eyes immediately in frustration-what a thing to say!
‘No. I think we should stay married for a year at least, not only for Susie’s sake but also the comment it might cause otherwise. If you’re happy here that’s fine, and you should stay as long as you like.’ He gestured. ‘I just wanted you to know that somewhere you seemed to love is ready and available.’
Maisie sought desperately for composure. ‘Won’t it cause comment-me living here, you living elsewhere?’
‘Not nearly the comment a divorce after only a few months would. Anyway,’ he shrugged, ‘I often spend the night there when I’m flat out rather than driving here.’
It was true.
‘I suppose you’d like to be able to get on with your life? I mean, that’s quite natural, I’m not saying you shouldn’t or anything like that,’ she hastened to assure him, but, as the full implications of what this meant struck her, she pushed her half-full plate away suddenly.
Of course, there might be one special area of his life he wanted to get on with; women. Perhaps he’d already done so while she’d been so caught up with Susie so as not to even wonder lately?
From Waif To His Wife Page 14
