An Ocean Between Us

by Serenity Woods

  “She broke his heart?”

  Genie tipped her head from side to side. “He was upset at the time, but the two of them were never hearts and flowers in love. He wasn’t like how he is with you.” Genie took a mouthful of prawn from her spoon, her eyes meeting Hermione’s.

  Hermione’s face burned. “He’s not...we’re not...”

  “Oh, I think you are. Or he is, anyway. I’ve never seen him so besotted. I know it’s only supposed to be a fling, but I thought you should know.”

  Hermione looked down at her chowder, her appetite disappearing. That was why Genie had asked her to lunch. She wanted to warn her. Danny was her friend, and Genie was saying subtly—or maybe not so subtly—that Hermione should be aware that he’d fallen for her, and she had to be careful not to break his heart.

  “Hey.” Genie laid a hand on hers. “Don’t be upset. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that to come out the way it did. He’s a big boy and he’ll be fine when you’ve gone. I just thought you should know how he’s feeling.”

  “He told you this?”

  Genie snorted and leaned back. “Don’t be daft. When have men ever been aware of what they’re feeling? But it’s obvious.”

  “How?”

  Genie drew a spiral over her eye. “He’s dazzled. He couldn’t take his eyes off you at the bar, and earlier I couldn’t get a word in edgeways. He talked about you non-stop.”

  “Goodness.”

  Genie laughed, finished off her chowder, and pushed away her plate. “So come on then, tell me about yourself, and about this Richard. What’s that all about?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Danny let himself in the front door and walked through to the living room. It was empty, but he could hear Fleur singing in the kitchen.

  “Hey.” He went up to her and gave her a hug from behind.

  “Danny boy!” She turned from washing the dishes, her arms soapy up to the elbows, and kissed his cheek. “Hello, darling. You’re back early.”

  “I said I’d be home by ten and it’s nearly ten thirty.”

  “I know but I assumed you’d be otherwise engaged.” She winked at him and picked up a cloth to wipe her hands.

  He gave her a wry look, deigned to answer, and looked out of the window. His father sat in the garden, watching the birds feeding on the table. “How is he?”

  “He’s okay.” She turned away as the kettle boiled and clicked off. “Coffee?”

  “Fleur?”

  She readied a third cup and poured the hot water into the plunger. “He had a bit of an incident in the night, that’s all. Lost control of his bowels. It wasn’t an issue, all cleaned up and everything, and I’ve washed the bedding, but he’s very embarrassed about it.”

  “Fuck. It’s the second time that’s happened.”

  She stirred the plunger. “Do you think it shows a degeneration of the nerves in the area?”

  “He’s definitely getting worse. He’s not had control of his bladder for a while, but this is new. Did you notice any problems with his speech?”

  “No, not really, but I did him tomatoes on toast for tea and he had trouble swallowing the skins. I think you’ll have to give him skinless ones from now on.”

  Danny’s throat tightened. Ray Love sat slumped in the wheelchair, clearly dejected, not even the sight of his birds enough to lift him out of his depression.

  “It’s not going to get easier,” Fleur said softly, pouring the coffee.

  “I know. We’ll manage.” Danny steeled himself for an argument, but after a glance at his face, Fleur said nothing.

  Placing the mugs on a tray along with some biscuits, she picked it up and gave him a bright smile. “Come on. Let’s cheer the old boy up with tales of your exotic night.”

  Rolling his eyes, he followed her outside. It was clouding over to the east, but for now the garden was warm from the sunshine, and he could smell the ripe mandarins that hung in the trees like bright orange baubles. Later, he decided he would pick a couple and squeeze some fresh juice for his father. He might have trouble eating the flesh but at least he could drink the juice.

  “Hey Dad.” He leaned down and kissed his father’s grey head.

  “Danny boy. How did it go? Have a good evening?”

  “Great, thanks.” He sat on the bench next to his father’s wheelchair. Fleur put the tray on the table, and the two men took a mug and a biscuit from the plate.

  “Come on then,” Fleur teased, “let’s have a few gory details. We lead very dull lives, Danny. Entertain us!”

  “We played Scrabble, watched TV, then went to bed in separate rooms.”

  Ron snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  Fleur smiled. “Did you have a good time? It can be different, sometimes, being with someone you haven’t known for a long time for more than an hour or two—it can be hard to find things to say or it feels awkward.”

  “No, it wasn’t like that.” Danny dunked his biscuit, took a bite, and chewed thoughtfully. “She was very easy to be with. I didn’t think she would be, because we’re from such different backgrounds—I thought we wouldn’t have anything in common, but the differences between us just made her interesting. We liked the same things—movies, music, travel. We had the same views on many subjects. She had opinions, but not overwhelming ones, and she was willing to listen to my point of view. She was lovely, actually.”

  He sipped his coffee, only then aware of his father and his aunt exchanging a glance. “What?”

  “Are you seeing her again?” Fleur asked.

  Danny shrugged. “I’d like to, but...you know...it depends.”

  “Does she want to see you again?”

  His lips curved slowly at Fleur’s impish, hopeful smile. “Yes, but don’t start getting your hopes up and buying your hat for the wedding. She’s only here for another couple of weeks—she flies out the day after midwinter. There’s hardly time for anything to get serious.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun while she’s here.”

  “She was nice,” Ron said. “Classy, but not superior.”

  “You mean apart from assuming I was a workman?”

  “Come on, Danny, you were as bad with your first impressions of her. You thought she was a poor little rich girl, spoiled and pampered.”

  “She is spoiled and pampered.” Even as he said it, though, he knew it wasn’t true. He leaned back in the chair and ran a hand through his hair. “No, that’s unfair. Obviously her family’s rich so she’s never gone without, but she doesn’t come across as pampered. She works hard, and she tries to be independent. It’s difficult when you have family responsibilities—it’s not easy to break away from that.”

  Ron looked down into his coffee mug, and Danny felt a sweep of guilt. “Hey, I didn’t mean you, Dad.”

  “I know, but it’s the same thing, isn’t it? Don’t you think I know that I came between you and Lynda, son? Don’t you think that kills me every day?”

  “No, Dad, you didn’t. What came between us was that she didn’t understand sometimes there are more important things in life than sailing off into the sunset together. I don’t want to be with a woman who thinks responsibility to one’s family isn’t important.” At least Hermione understood that, he thought. Of all people, she was the one who got that the most.

  He sighed and tipped his head back to look up at the clouds. “I know it’s not a nice thing to say, but Lynda was convenient, for a while. She fitted the role of girlfriend, she was someone to take out, and it was nice being a couple for a while. But she wasn’t The One.”

  Wait, The One? What was he talking about? He’d never believed in soulmates before, the idea that there was one person in the whole world with whom he was destined to be. Hermione’s romantic notions must be rubbing off on him.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Fleur said. “Why don’t I come and stay with Ron for two weeks, and you go and stay with Hermione?”

  “Thanks for the offer, Fleur, but I couldn’t ask that of
you. You have your own family to think about.”

  She blew a raspberry. “My children are grown up now, in case you haven’t noticed. Rose and Lily can just as easily call in here as at home, and it’ll mean Ron will get to see their kids.”

  “What about Jack?”

  “Jack can stay here too—the spare bed’s a double. He won’t care, long as you’ve got the rugby channel on Sky. He can be some company for Ron, too, they’ve always got on well.” Her eyes said what her lips didn’t need to—that Ron might feel more comfortable dealing with a man if he had any personal issues.

  Danny stared at her, his brain whirling. Stay with Hermione for two whole weeks? “I don’t know if she’d want me there permanently.”

  “Oh... I saw the way she looked at you. I’m sure she’d be delighted. But you can ask, anyway.”

  “I...” He looked at his father.

  “Go on, son,” Ron said softly. “You need a holiday.”

  “I can’t afford to take time off work, Dad.”

  “I meant from me. It’ll do us both good. I’ll feel better knowing you’re having a bit of a break and doing something for yourself. You’re a good lad, and you’ve made a lot of sacrifices for me.”

  He held up a hand to stop Danny talking. “Let me finish. I’m not being a martyr here. I’d have done the same for my father, God rest his soul, and I understand what you’re saying about Lynda and not wanting to be with someone who doesn’t feel the same way about family. But you’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty. Don’t think I don’t count my blessings every single day that you have a heart of gold and that you’ve been there for me.”

  To his embarrassment, Danny’s eyes filled with tears and his throat tightened. “Aw, Dad...”

  Fleur leaned across and squeezed his hand. “It’s time you did something for yourself. And it would only be for two weeks, anyway. Go on, sweetheart. It’ll be good for you. We all need a change sometimes.”

  Too emotional to talk, Danny stood and walked down the path, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. Tuis and mynah birds fluttered into the air as he passed the bird feeder, and the smell of lemons arose from a nearby tree as the fantails jumped from branch to branch.

  He’d made the path wide so his dad could get his wheelchair along it easily, and at the bottom was a small pool with fish and frogs that Ron liked to watch. Danny stopped there, half-sheltered from Ron and Fleur in the trees, and let the emotion wash over him for a moment.

  He’d never doubted that his father appreciated what he’d given up to look after him, but it wasn’t something they’d ever talked about. For a start, they were men, and it was generally understood things like that didn’t need to be said. Plus, Ron got embarrassed and ashamed at the notion that someone had to look after him at all, let alone his own son. He was a proud man, and Danny always did his best to help his father keep his dignity. If that meant not discussing his own sacrifices, then that was fine.

  So to hear his father finally say that he knew and appreciated what Danny had done for him was a special moment. He raised a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes, took a shaky breath, and wiped his cheeks. “What a pussy,” he mumbled, stuffing his hands back in his pockets.

  Two whole weeks with Hermione... He watched the orange fish slipping through the reeds and wondered what she’d say if he asked her. What would he do if she said no? He sighed. It would hardly be the end of the world.

  Perhaps the bigger question should be: was it a good idea that he stayed?

  He nudged a small rock with his toe. He liked her. He wanted to spend time with her. In fact, he was already missing her.

  “Nope, nope, nope,” he said out loud to the fantail that was jumping around in front of him, but it didn’t sound convincing even to his own ears. He was already half in love with Hermione Spencer after spending only one night with her. How the hell was he going to feel if he had her to himself all night every night for fourteen days?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Hermione finished her chowder and dabbed her mouth with the serviette. “Mm. That was absolutely delicious. The best I’ve had.”

  “It is super here,” Genie said. The waiter came up and removed their bowls, then gave them the menu so they could choose a dessert.

  “Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” Hermione said, then laughed. “I’ll have a Belgian chocolate pot, please!”

  Genie grinned. “Same for me, please. And a latte to follow.”

  “Yes, me too, thanks.”

  They handed the menus to the waiter and settled back to finish off their wine.

  “So come on then.” Genie’s eyes twinkled. “You haven’t answered my question yet.”

  Hermione sighed and looked out of the window. The clouds were coming in more quickly than she’d thought, blocking out the sun and turning the sea to a dark blue, whipping it into waves. “Yes, I’m getting married. His name’s Richard Tracey, and he’s the son of the Earl of Dartington.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Well said.”

  “Sorry. But it’s like you’ve stepped out of Pride and Prejudice.”

  Hermione smiled. “I can see why it looks that way to outsiders.”

  “So your whanau are making you marry this dude?”

  “Sorry, far-no?”

  “Whanau. Family.”

  “Oh. Yes. I mean no. They’re not forcing me. It’s just the done thing. It’s hard to explain.” Hermione waited for Genie to mock her.

  But Genie’s brow furrowed and sympathy filled her eyes. “That must be difficult for you.”

  Hermione swallowed, the other girl’s kindness surprising her. “It wasn’t for a long time. All through my teens it was a comfort, knowing that I didn’t have to worry about finding a partner, a husband, because one had already been arranged for me.”

  Genie nodded slowly. “I can see that.”

  “My parents had told me there was no rush—that the wedding could wait until I’d left university, and I just didn’t think of it much. I’ve known Richard since I was a child, and we’ve always got on okay. He’s a nice guy.” She pushed away the memory of the shiver he’d given her when he’d asked her what she was wearing.

  “But it’s gotten more difficult recently?”

  “University opened my eyes to real life. All around me were girls who were falling in love and choosing the man they were going to be with for the rest of their lives—or the foreseeable future, anyway. I began to do a lot of reading about relationships, about the nature of love, and I thought I had it all figured out.”

  Her face warmed. It took a lot of courage to tell Genie this, but maybe it was because she was the other side of the world and she was talking to an almost stranger, or maybe it was just that Genie seemed so un-judgmental, that she felt an urge to confess.

  “I read time and again about how people mistake the spark of lust for love, and how we’ve all come to think that the phrase ‘fall in love’ means you can literally love someone immediately. The books said this is a huge mistake, and once that insta-lust wears off there’s often very little left. They said love that lasts needs a strong foundation. It needs to be built on a relationship where the couple have many things in common, and have similar thoughts and views on life, and that’s why relationships where couples are friends first are often the most successful.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “It does, and so I thought I was incredibly lucky to have this ready-made husband who I’d known for so long waiting for me. I started making lists of the kinds of things we could do to create excitement in our marriage—because I was already conscious there was no excitement there. My business grew out of that, and it’s done well enough that I know there must be some truth in the notion that relationships have to be worked at to be successful.”

  Genie leaned back and smiled at the waitress as she brought out their desserts. “Wow, that looks good.” She sank her spoon into the chocolate pot and ate a mouthful of the gooey cake. “Aw, heaven.
” Turning the spoon over, she licked it clean, studying Hermione while she did so. “I think you’re right. Divorce is more common nowadays because people are looking for the quick fix, for the insta-love, as you put it, and when it goes wrong, they think the relationship is broken and they split up. But a successful relationship does take work. It takes patience and compromise, because nobody’s perfect.”

  “That’s what I thought. But... I think I made the mistake of assuming that you can have a successful marriage without that initial spark.” Hermione dipped the spoon into the pot. It looked delicious, but suddenly she couldn’t bring herself to eat it. “I’d decided that falling in love wasn’t a basis on which you could build a marriage, but what I didn’t realize was that for it to work, there has to be that initial attraction, or what’s the point?”

  Genie let out a long sigh and ate another spoonful. “I’m sure there are many successful marriages that don’t start with falling in love. Or where the exciting insta-love fades but the couple stays together because they are comfortable and safe—and we shouldn’t sneer at that. Many people aren’t lucky enough to find a partner, and security and contentment are things that are important for a happy life.”

  “I guess.”

  “But the thing is, I suppose it’s up to the individual to decide if that’s enough. Many women devote their lives to their families and friends, their career, and to keeping their homes nice and making sure their partner wants for nothing, and they’re willing to let go of the excitement because they think they have more than enough to outweigh its loss. But I don’t know that I’d be happy with that.”

  Hermione finished off her glass of wine. “You think a relationship needs excitement?”

  “I think my relationship does. Look, if—God forbid—Niall had a terrible accident and lost the use of his legs or something, and he could never have sex again, that doesn’t mean I’d leave him, of course it doesn’t. There is more to a relationship than sex. But I know that even if we couldn’t have sex, I’d still look at him and get that little leap in my heart, that shock, as if I’ve scuffed my feet on the carpet and touched something metal, you know?”