‘She wasn’t alone,’ Oliver admitted after a moment.
Gabriel glanced up, a mix of emotions rushing through him—disappointment and annoyance at being shut out, but gratitude to Oliver for being such a good friend. ‘You went with her?’
‘Yes. I thought it was the lesser evil. Lauren refused to tell you or Chloe and I knew none of us would want her to go on her own.’
‘Thank you for being there for her. Now, it’s time I found her and discussed a few things,’ he finished, rising to his feet.
‘Good luck.’ Oliver’s smile was wry. ‘She can be stubborn when she sets her mind to something.’
‘So can I. And now I know what she’s up to, I’m not going to let her sideline me again.’
He left the surgery for home, needing to change clothes and then track down Lauren. A shiver went through him as he imagined all she had been through this last week or more. He realised now that the worry of facing up to her sight problems had led to her withdrawal, to her being distracted and to her urgency for physical closeness—especially if she’d feared things would be over when she had a diagnosis. While it pained him that she hadn’t spoken to him about it, he understood how fear and anxiety could affect someone’s decision-making. Thinking of her frightened and confused and alone brought a lump to his throat. He wished more than anything that he had been there to help her through what must have been a shocking and scary experience. His heart ached for her.
Lauren touched something deep inside him, filling an empty space he hadn’t realised he’d had until he’d met her. She grounded him, made him laugh. The last months with her had been the happiest of his life—breaking up more painful than anything he had ever experienced. But now he knew what lay behind her actions and her misguided thoughts he wasn’t letting her go—not while he had breath in his body.
‘I can do all kinds of tricks with my kite now, Uncle Nick.’
‘I’m sure you can,’ Nick responded, voice gruff. ‘Show me some of them.’
Kate smiled as Jem rushed ahead of them on to the surfing beach below the cliffs and beyond the promontory on which the lighthouse and the church stood. She glanced back at the latter building, wondering what the new permanent vicar would be like, an appointment finally having been made. Whoever took up the role next month would have a difficult act to follow. Reverend Kenner was still much missed.
It was a perfect spring morning, sunny and with a hint of freshness in the air. Nick’s suggestion of a walk on the beach had been a pleasant surprise and she had been happy to put off her visit to the Saturday farmers’ market so that the three of them could spend time together. Since Christmas, and the successful New Year’s Eve party at his house, Nick had made a real effort to play a part in Jem’s life. For that Kate was grateful. That he’d made no mention of claiming his son still pained her, but she tried not to be impatient.
They stood side by side, watching in silence as Jem skilfully had his kite soaring into the sky and began performing some stunts.
‘He’s good,’ Nick commented after a while, an enigmatic expression on his face, his hands buried in his trouser pockets.
‘Yes.’ Kate pulled her gaze away from his profile and looked back at her son with pride. ‘He took to it straight away. I’m thinking of getting him a more advanced kite for his birthday.’
‘Good idea.’
Nick’s tone was cool and she worried that mentioning Jem’s birthday had touched on forbidden ground and brought back memories of his conception. She sighed, weary of having to be careful what she said in case Nick took exception to it. Before she could decide whether to call him on it or change the subject, they were approached by an older couple.
‘Are you folks local?’ the woman asked with a broad smile, her American accent thick with Deep South tones.
‘We are.’ Aware of Nick’s reserve, Kate smiled back. ‘Can we help you?’
‘Would you be kind enough to take a photograph of us with the lighthouse in the background?’
‘Of course.’
Kate was surprised when Nick stepped forward and took the digital camera. While he snapped a few photographs, the man chattered about the legend of the wreck of the seventeenth-century Spanish treasure ship, the Corazon del Oro, which lay off the rocks to the north of the lighthouse. Keen not to be left out, Jem ran up to join them just as Nick handed back the camera.
‘Thank y’all so much! What a cute family you make,’ the woman gushed, beaming at them as she linked arms with her husband. ‘Why, the little man is just the image of his daddy!’
The American tourists left and Kate smothered a groan as she glanced at Nick and saw him stony-faced and rigid with tension. Jem, however, laughed.
‘She thought you were my dad, Uncle Nick,’ he joked, oblivious of the atmosphere as he picked up his kite and prepared to run off again. ‘Cool, or what?’
Anxiety gripped her at Nick’s expression. She sucked in a breath. ‘Look, Nick—’
‘No.’ He held up a hand and backed away. ‘I’m sorry, Kate. I tried. But I can’t do this. It’s too much.’
Tears stung her eyes, pain lancing through her as he turned and strode off in the direction of his house, leaving her and Jem alone. Again. All the progress of these last months, the new closeness, the joy for Jem, had been stolen in an instant by a stranger’s unwitting comments. Clearly Nick wasn’t ready. Maybe he never would be.
The knowledge tore at her heart and made her unutterably sad for herself and deeply hurt and angry for Jem, who had asked for none of this. How could Nick reject the boy? She wanted to chase after Nick and make him see reason, but she knew him of old and he wouldn’t change his view unless he wanted to. Pushing him further would get nowhere. He had to come to terms and make the decision for himself. And if he didn’t? If he could never accept Jem and have any kind of role in his life?
If that were the case, maybe the time had come for her to make a complete break, to think about leaving Penhally Bay and the man she had secretly and hopelessly loved for so long. For Jem’s sake she couldn’t risk Nick flitting in and out of his life as the mood took him. It would be too confusing for her son. And unfair. Maybe she should admit defeat and make a new life for herself and Jem elsewhere. A life without Nick. As he disappeared from view, her heart ached, and she feared this might well be the end to all her hopes and dreams.
A familiar car drew her attention as it approached the church and parked. Gabriel climbed out and she watched as he walked towards the solitary figure sitting hunched and alone on the rocks by the lighthouse at the end of the promontory. Lauren. With all her heart Kate prayed that the young couple, so right for each other, could find a solution to whatever had caused them to part last week. Their hurt had been palpable. She sent up a wish that Lauren and Gabriel could enjoy the kind of happy ending and life-long love that she herself had been denied.
Her mind full of the tough decisions that lay ahead, Kate turned and went to find her son.
Lauren sat on the rocks by the lighthouse—a favourite place she had often come to paint—and stared sightlessly out to sea. She wore sunglasses, as advised by the professor, to protect her eyes from damaging UV rays…eyes currently blurred and puffy from her tears. She despised self-pity, but she felt so overwhelmed at the moment and liable to cry at the merest provocation. It was very unlike her. But the future seemed so scary, so lonely, so bleak. She was worried about her eyes, about how she would cope when she could no longer work or maintain her independence. And her heart ached for Gabriel and what could never be.
Foxy sat beside her and she hugged him close. When he began whining and struggling against her hold, she pulled back in puzzlement. He strained at his lead, panting as he stared fixedly at something behind her. Lauren glanced round, a gasp of shock escaping, her heart lurching and her body tensing as she saw Gabriel striding towards her. He looked impossibly sexy in well-worn, figure-hugging jeans and his mulberry jumper. The lead slipped through her suddenly nerveless fingers, an
d Foxy’s paws scrabbled for purchase on the rocks as he charged to greet the man whose every step inexorably closed the distance between them.
She watched as Foxy greeted Gabriel with enthusiasm. Clearly the dog had missed him as much as she had. Gabriel hunkered down and she could hear his huskily accented voice, if not his words. She saw him stroke the smooth brindle-and-white coat and her stomach clenched as she vividly recalled what it was like to feel those hands caress her bare skin.
Unable to bear it, she stifled a sob and swung round to face the sea again, trying to tune out Gabriel’s voice by focusing on the sound of the waves against the rocks. But the sea was fairly calm today, providing poor entertainment for the surfers and failing to distract her from the man she could sense approaching. She stiffened as he sat beside her, far too close, far too tempting. What was going on? Why had he sought her out?
‘Hi. Chloe said you might be here.’
His voice betrayed none of his previous anger and hurt. Indeed, he seemed impossibly relaxed. The same could not be said for herself. She was too aware of Gabriel. His earthy, citrusy fragrance tantalised her. Even across the small gap that separated him she felt the warmth of his body—a body every fibre of her being longed to hold again. Gabriel knew just where to touch, to stroke, to lick to send her to madness, as she did with him. Her heart yearned for what she could never have. Shifting restlessly, she kept her gaze averted, watching as Foxy turned a couple of times and lay down on a rock in front of them, dozing in the sunshine. She jumped when Gabriel reached out and captured one of her hands in both of his, panic rising as he refused to allow her to pull free.
‘It’s not going to work, you know, chérie.’
The sound of his voice tightened her insides with longing and his touch made her shiver. Her control deserted her. ‘W-what isn’t?’
‘You…trying to push me away,’ he told her, his tone calm and conversational. ‘Pretending you don’t feel the same as I do about what we have.’
‘You don’t understand. I can’t offer you anything,’ she whispered, failing once more to remove her hand from his, his touch setting of ripples of sensation, weakening her resolve.
‘I understand more than you think. And you can offer me everything, ma belle, if only you believe and trust me.’
‘Gabriel…’
‘It took me a while to work out what you were doing.’ He raised her hand to his mouth, his lips whispering over her skin, stealing her breath. ‘This has been the worst week of my life. I cannot describe how much I have missed looking at you, talking with you, making love to you, holding you in my arms as I sleep.’ His tongue-tip teased circles on her palm and she bit back a whimper, fighting with everything she had to hold on to her resolve. ‘I’m not prepared to be without you for another minute.’ He took off her sunglasses, dark mocha eyes gazing deep into her own. ‘Look at me and say you don’t love me. I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but you’re not. Tell me the truth, Lauren, once and for all. Lay it on the line.’
Every part of her was shaking and a tear breached the barrier of her lashes and trickled down her cheek. His thumb caught it, brushing the salty wetness away. It had been impossible enough to end it and send him away that evening outside the Manor House. There was no way she could force the lies out a second time. She felt trapped, desperately wanting to avoid this confrontation but unable to escape.
‘I’m losing my sight! Is that what you want to hear?’ she cried, all the fear, anger and despair welling up inside her and seeking release in an unstoppable tide. ‘I have retinitis pigmentosa. I’m going blind, Gabe.’
‘Shh. Come here, mon amour.’
Turning to face her, he pulled her close and she collapsed into his arms, sobbing as she buried her face against him. His warm strength enfolded her and she breathed in his scent. One arm held her tight while his free hand stroked her hair, his soothing words calming her. Weak, she allowed herself a few moments to believe everything could be all right, but reality intruded and she pulled back. He allowed her some space but he didn’t let her go.
‘Gabriel, we can’t do this. I—’
‘Yes, we can,’ he interrupted with steely determination, his fingers gentle as they wiped her cheeks. ‘I’ve known from the first that there was something wrong. The way you walked into things or missed what was in shadow right in front of you. How you unconsciously count your steps in the dark. You stopped painting, sought routines that were familiar, had trouble judging distances.’
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ she challenged, shocked and upset.
He frowned, a furrow creasing his brow. ‘Because I didn’t want to lose you by nagging. And you had to come to terms yourself, to recognise and accept, to ask for help.’
‘But—’
‘Lauren, it doesn’t change how I feel about you. It matters to me in the sense of what it means for you and your joy in life, but not for any of the reasons you think.’ He cupped her face, forcing her to look at him, to see and hear his sincerity. ‘I don’t feel pity or duty. Far less trapped. I love you, ma belle, no matter what. As the vows say…in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, for better and worse.’
‘You can’t want me! I can’t let you be burdened with this,’ she cried.
For the first time a thread of anger returned. ‘What gives you the right to make my decisions for me? To take away my choices? I’m an adult, Lauren, and capable of knowing my own mind.’
‘I can’t ask you to be tied to this. To me.’
‘You are not asking. I am choosing. Of my own free will. Because I love you.’ He paused a moment, watching her, considering, thoughtful. ‘If it was the other way round, what would you do?’
Lauren licked lips that felt dry and struggled to find her voice. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘If I were the one who faced some kind of illness or had RP, or if I had an accident and faced the rest of my life in a wheelchair, would you walk away and leave me? Would you stop loving me?’
‘No!’ she exclaimed, fury rising within her. ‘Of course not.’
‘Then do not expect that of me.’
Her heart stopped. With those words, she truly understood. ‘Gabe…’
‘I can no more live without you than I can without oxygen,’ he told her huskily, drawing her back into his arms. ‘You give meaning and joy to my life. You’re my friend, my confidante, my lover. I will always love you, no matter what, and I will not walk away from you.’
‘I don’t know what’s going to happen to me,’ she sobbed, fresh tears threatening.
‘I know you are frightened. And angry. It’s all so new and confusing and scary. That is normal, human,’ he reassured her, hugging her close. ‘But I also know your courage and humour and intelligence. Your spirit will see you through. And you won’t be alone, mon amour. We’ll face this together. And together we can do anything.’
She cried again then, releasing all the tension and the fear and loneliness of the last days and weeks as she clung to him. ‘RP is degenerative and incurable.’
‘No one knows what the future holds. Already there are advances, possible new treatments, encouraging research with stem cells, even prosthetic retinas. However bleak things seem now, a few years down the line it may be different, there may be much that can be done to save, maintain or even improve sight for those with RP. But whether or not that happens, we have our love, our passion, our friendship. Life waits for no one, Lauren. We grasp what we have. We’ve been blessed to have each other.’
Accepting a tissue, she blew her nose and allowed him to cradle her against him. ‘What about a family?’ she asked, broaching a subject that disturbed her greatly. ‘Professor Murchison said I could have genetic screening but what if the results show I can’t risk having children? I don’t want you to give things up for me.’
‘We’ll cross each bridge as we come to it, chérie,’ he encouraged, and she marvelled at his calmness, his acceptance. ‘You are the person who matter
s most to me. If we can’t have children, so be it. If you wanted to, we could consider adoption—and do it properly so any child knows he or she is loved and all about their roots.’
‘I really don’t deserve you,’ she whispered, overwhelmed by his love and understanding and innate goodness.
With a mock growl he gave her a gentle shake. ‘Don’t say silly things like that. You are the best thing to ever happen to me.’
‘But what about your search for your own roots, Gabe? You can’t give up on that, on finding out more about your mother,’ she insisted, knowing how important it was to him. ‘I don’t want to hold you back. And don’t you want to go back to France? What about your work?’
‘Stop inventing obstacles,’ he chided with the kind of rumbly chuckle that warmed her right through.
‘I—’
His fingers stroked her face as he hushed her. ‘I’m still going to research my mother. I’ve not decided what to do when my contract here ends, but we’ll make that choice together. There are all kinds of options. I just heard this week that Lucy is about to give birth again,’ he informed her. ‘She wants to stay at home with the children and may not come back to work at the surgery for some while, and then only part time. Maybe I can stay on in Penhally.’
‘Really?’
‘I love it here.’ He dropped a kiss on her forehead. ‘The solicitor says that the Bartons have decided not to return to England after all. They are going to put the Manor House on the market when my tenancy ends. We could buy it—leaving Oliver and Chloe to buy Gatehouse Cottage, where they are happy. There are a range of possibilities, Lauren. We can do whatever we want.’
Filled with new hope, she pressed closer to him. ‘I don’t care where we go or what we do—as long as I’m with you. I’m sorry, Gabe. I thought I was doing the right thing. I love you so much and I thought it was unfair to trap you, that you would have a better life without me being a burden and dependent on you. You’d already been so manipulated by Yvette, I didn’t want to do the same thing.’
Caroline Anderson, Josie Metcalfe, Maggie Kingsley, Margaret McDonagh Page 65
