by Becky Wicks
She prickled at his words. Sometimes he was just too blunt. ‘Don’t hold back, Lucas. And, no, I didn’t, thank goodness.’
‘Did they lure you somewhere remote? Somewhere in the north?’
‘How did you know?’
‘It’s the quietest place, less security, not as many police. You can’t be too far from a bus.’
‘The ferry is around here somewhere.’ It was Freya’s turn to groan now. She felt like such an idiot.
‘I’m just finishing up at the hospital, then I’m heading that way on the boat,’ he said. ‘I can come and get you.’
Instantly her defences were back up. She didn’t need help from anyone. She’d got herself into this mess, she would get herself out of it, eventually. ‘There’s no need, thank you, I’m totally fine.’
She almost heard him roll his eyes. ‘I know you are, you always are. I’ll meet you at the ferry.’
CHAPTER NINE
THE GUY FREYA had arranged to meet had since deleted all traces of their conversation from the marketplace app they’d been chatting in. Lucas watched her eyes move over the box of clothes on the floor of Ruben’s boat. They were heading from the river back towards the canal belt.
‘Sorry to tell you this, Freya, but this kind of thing happens all the time. It’s easier to get another bike than stress yourself out filling in forms and filing reports, and all that. I can take you to the police station, but as they already said when you phoned them, I can pretty much guarantee you won’t be getting that bike or your stuff back. It would be a waste of your time.’
Freya grimaced at a passing cruise boat and he admonished himself for delivering the news so matter-of-factly when she’d just had a terrible evening. It was probably a defence mechanism on his part; he wasn’t too proud of himself for sailing to her rescue like Prince Charming when they’d barely spoken, other than to discuss work, in weeks.
Then again, women who didn’t appear to need him were his weakness. And leaving her lost and alone out here had not been an option. She was an attractive and vulnerable woman, and it was getting dark. No way was he leaving Freya alone anywhere.
She let out a sigh, and he realised she was looking him up and down in his shirt and jeans, with something he could’ve sworn was pent-up frustration in her eyes. ‘So you’re still using your friend’s boat, I see?’
He patted the wheel with both hands. ‘Ruben likes to keep it moving, it stops the engine rusting up.’ He paused, feeling the slow acid burn of not knowing and unease start up again. ‘It’s not like him to miss a summer night like this, cruising the canals, but they went to Anne Marie’s parents’ place again. I think she’s pretty nervous about something the obstetrician said to her, and she wanted to be with her mother.’
‘I remember you said she’s pregnant, yes?’
‘That’s right.’ He was trying not to worry before it was necessary, but it was hard. ‘She had a blood test this morning and Ruben told me their obstetrician prescribed a level two ultrasound in order to get a better view of the baby’s heart.’
‘I hope nothing’s wrong,’ Freya said, putting a voice to his innermost fears. It made him feel colder despite the warm breeze. Just that morning they’d said goodbye to little Antonio Regio after his final check-up—yet another success story. As far as this baby was concerned, however, his friends were counting on his involvement, in every way possible—they hadn’t even had a diagnosis yet, but he’d been the first doctor, the only heart doctor, Ruben had thought of right from the start.
‘We’ll know soon enough, they’ll be at the hospital again on Monday.’
‘At least you’ll be close by then.’
Lucas couldn’t entertain getting any bad news about their baby. Ruben meant too much to him; he was like a second brother to him. The look on Freya’s face told him she was thinking about it too. His problems were her problems where their patients were concerned. His heart softened again. He had missed her these past few weeks.
‘If you want, you can come with me to the shelter,’ he said. The words were out before he could even think to change his mind.
‘What shelter?’
‘It’s called Inloophuis, which means Walk-in House. The homeless can stay there for up to three months, usually while they’re waiting to get settled in an apartment or some other permanent place further out of the city. I have to take those clothes.’ He pointed at the boxes on the bottom of the boat. ‘There are some pretty interesting characters over there. Everyone has a story.’
‘Where do you get all the clothes?’ Freya asked curiously. ‘Are they yours?’
‘People leave them for me to collect, and I take them myself.’
Two women above the bridge he was heading for waved down at Freya, but she didn’t see them. She was looking at him thoughtfully. ‘I can probably make some donations too, I have plenty more stuff at Anouk’s house. If only I’d known about your shelter before the last lot just got stolen...’
‘Your house,’ he reminded her. ‘It’s yours now.’
‘Not for long,’ she said, pulling her sunglasses down over her eyes. She sat back in her seat, like she was trying to create more distance between them all of a sudden. He forced himself not to push it as he didn’t want her crawling straight back into her shell now that she’d just opened it a crack again.
Lucas steered the boat under a narrow bridge, watching a flock of birds scatter in their wake. ‘Roshinda took me to the shelter first,’ he said. ‘As soon as she moved here from India she was looking to get involved with something beyond the hospital, something for people in need like her family does at home. Even though Roshinda left, they still need me...so I keep going.’
‘You’re a busy man.’
‘I do what I can.’ He wasn’t entirely certain he was doing the right thing involving her in the shelter, for many reasons, but it was too late now.
‘My sister’s calling,’ Freya announced suddenly.
He almost said, What’s new? but didn’t want to rock the boat even more.
‘I texted her to tell her what happened with that thief, and she’s been calling me a lot more since her break-up so...sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise.’
He listened to her talk as he steered the boat towards the Bilderdijkstraat, where the homeless shelter was. There were a lot of long pauses. It seemed like Liv was doing most of the talking.
‘Well, I still have to check my schedule, you know things are pretty crazy, and now I have to get a new bike... I’m not sure it’s the right time for you to come just yet... No, I’m not saying you should never come, I’m saying I’m still not ready for guests. The house is such a mess and... Yes... Liv... I know you want to help me.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I’m not making excuses.’
She paused, and it seemed like she was embarrassed he was having to hear this personal conversation. He was simply thinking Freya looked hot as hell in her dress. The cut of it showed off her slim waist, with just a hint of cleavage. But he didn’t want a repeat of the last time she had backed off from blurring the lines of their relationship, so he would make sure to keep things professional. His heart would only thank him for it, anyway.
‘No, I haven’t arranged to meet Mum yet,’ she said now. All her usual serenity was gone. He heard her let out another sigh. ‘I know... Liv... I know she wants to see me, I was thinking we could all meet up together when you’re here.’ She closed her eyes, as though Liv was giving her a hard time on the other end of the line.
‘Listen, Lucas is taking us to the homeless shelter now, so I have to go...’
She paused again like she’d been cut off, and glanced at him suddenly, narrowing her eyes. ‘Well, that’s a very good question,’ she said cryptically. He realised she was half smiling mysteriously in his direction. ‘I’m discovering new answers to that question every day, actually.’
* *
*
The Inloophuis building was an old converted car mechanic’s shop. It was big enough for fifty beds across several dorms, a canteen and kitchen, a shower block and a big community area. Encouraging posters adorned the walls around a scattering of colourful cushions on the floor. There must have been twenty or so people of various ages milling around.
‘There are fourteen staff, everyone keeps to a schedule,’ Lucas explained now, stopping by the jobs board in the communal area. She eyed the posters shouting about health and free clinics and career opportunities, some in English, some in Dutch. In another world she would be at the police station now, spending hours waiting around or filing reports.
Freya’s evening had done a three-sixty. Lucas had rescued her, much to her initial embarrassment, but he was impossibly sexy behind the wheel of a boat and she’d been grateful for the unprecedented interruption in the end. She had missed their growing rapport, even though she’d been the one to step back from it. She hadn’t been able to stop looking at him in his white shirt, half open at the neck, and now he’d invited her into another element of his personal life.
A Dutch voice behind her. Freya turned to see a woman in her mid-twenties coming up beside her in black jeans and trainers and a blazer three sizes too large for her slim frame. She had cropped brown hair, and a set of uneven, browning teeth. Freya read ‘Kate’ on her name badge.
‘You know, I had blood poisoning because I self-harmed,’ Kate shared, looking between herself and Lucas with shifting blue eyes. ‘It was serious. This place was my last resort. Wouldn’t be here without it. The people here...the number of people this man has helped by coming here...me included.’ She looked at Lucas like he was a god or something. ‘I’d be in prison if it wasn’t for this guy. How do you know Lucas?’
‘We’re colleagues.’ Freya said, introducing herself as Lucas excused himself to unpack the box he’d brought in with him from the boat.
She watched him hand a navy-blue T-shirt to a man with a name badge reading ‘Martijn’. The guy must have been in his mid-fifties and the stump showed he’d lost his right lower arm in an accident, rather than through illness or a birth defect; he still had half a military tattoo on show, down to his elbow. Was there anything Lucas didn’t do for people? She was in total awe of his participation in this shelter already.
Kate was scanning her up and down with her eyes like a barcode, a semi-smile on her thin lips. ‘You’re a doctor too?’
‘I’m a paediatric cardiologist,’ she said, tearing her eyes from Lucas’s tall frame the second he glanced her way.
‘I work in a shed, potting plants,’ Kate replied unapologetically. ‘I guess we both dig around in things, huh? You in people, me in the earth.’
‘I...suppose that’s true.’ Freya had never thought of it like that before.
‘Lucas was a big part of getting me my new job, and my place. I come back to help cook, and eat the food, it’s the best on Tuesdays—that’s when Lucas works in the kitchen.’
Freya was busy taking all this in. Lucas was a star here, no doubt about it. How had no one at the hospital mentioned this?
‘I’ve been in a lot of homeless shelters, in a lot of places, and most of the money goes to the people at the top, not to the homeless,’ Kate told her, dropping to a couch and flipping open the top of a soft-drink can. When Lucas took over here he made sure that changed.’
Freya felt her jaw drop. ‘He took over here?’
Kate swigged from the can, swallowing loudly. ‘He calls himself the creative director,’ she said, swiping her mouth with the back of one hand and pulling her legs up under her. ‘He got the walls painted, new beds for the dorms, blankets...and put the new team together on top of all he does for those sick kids. Lucas made sure we have the facilities to provide almost twelve thousand beds a year, across all three shelters. He arranged for the Happy Hearts Clinic to offer free check-ups to anyone who wants one.’
She tapped the can on her knee, leaned forward as if to share a secret. ‘In the last eight months more than twenty guests from here have gone into full-time employment. Not a cent comes from the authorities. That’s more than creative direction, that’s life-changing.’
‘I agree.’ Freya was amazed. There was a lot she didn’t know about Lucas, clearly. She looked over at where he was still talking to the one-armed guy, Martijn. A black and tan German Shepherd dog was wagging his tail and sniffing Lucas’s pockets. She watched as he pulled a treat out of his jeans and fed it to him.
‘He says he found us by accident through his ex-girlfriend, but Fayola says the universe sent him our way by whatever means it had, because we needed him so badly. ‘That’s Fayola,’ Kate said, motioning to a large black woman lying belly down on a pink floor cushion, reading a book. ‘She owned a vintage clothing store that got burned down. She used to live in it, but after the fire she lost everything, no insurance, no family. She had nowhere to go, so now she’s here. So, are you Lucas’s new girlfriend, or what?’
‘What? No.’ Freya’s head was spinning. All the people here had such tragic stories, and they clearly all liked Lucas a lot. What was not to like, though? she thought, realising it was near on impossible to stop herself from being so attracted to him, which felt more like a teenage infatuation with every passing day. It had been years since she’d thought about a man so incessantly, and admired his body as much as his brain.
‘Who’s Lucas?’ Liv had asked on the phone earlier. She’d told Liv she was discovering new answers to that question every day, because every time she decided not to let her heart get involved he stepped up with a different side of himself to admire. Lucas Van de Berg was a dedicated doctor and friend, he adored his mother, and now she’d discovered Lucas was funding and reviving this homeless shelter.
He’d flooded it with help and hope and what sounded like a fair amount of his personal money. All this time she’d been talking about her missions, she realised suddenly, and the need to help everyone else out there in the world, when Lucas was doing all this, right here in his home city, where just as many people, if not more, were benefiting in a multitude of ways.
‘You’re mending hearts off the operating table too, you know that,’ she said to him when he wandered back over to her side. Self-conscious suddenly, she felt like he could see her feelings magnified in her eyes, but she didn’t look away. ‘You’re making such a difference. People like you give me hope for a better world.’
Lucas’s smile radiated pride and affection for her at the same time, and she felt an undeniable burst of butterflies explode in her belly. ‘I could say the same about you,’ he said. She was done for.
She had never considered staying in one place, there had always seemed to be too much to do out there in the world, but had she ever really tried? she wondered. No, she had never focused and committed because she’d been too busy running away from everything and everyone she’d been hurt by, instead of finding what was great about the present moment. Lucas made being in one place seem as though it was not only possible but just as rewarding, just as fulfilling. What might she have been missing this whole time? she wondered uneasily.
‘You want a tarot reading, pretty lady?’ Fayola was beckoning her over, sitting upright, bosom heaving in her loud magenta dress. Her hair sprang frizzy and full from her round head in greying dreadlocks, and she wore a chunky necklace made of moonstones and rose quartz.
‘You really should, she’s very good,’ Kate said, though Lucas just shook his head in silent amusement.
Before she could refuse, Freya was being urged onto a floor cushion and made to shuffle a set of yellow cards.
CHAPTER TEN
LUCAS DIDN’T BELIEVE in things like the tarot. How anyone thought a spread of cards could tell the future, or even help you tap into your intuition, like Fayola said they did, was unfathomable to him. Not that Fayola was some end-of-the-pier charlatan, but he was a man of
science after all.
Even so, he’d watched Freya on Friday night at the shelter, and had seen the colour drain from her face as she’d studied the spread, all the swords and hearts and kings. Shadow had demanded his attention, Kate had started talking recipes for Tuesday’s dinner, and the next thing he knew, Freya was standing up, telling him she had to go.
He’d offered to take her home, but she told him he’d been heroic enough for one night. ‘Thank you so much anyway,’ she’d said, and had refused to let him accompany her.
‘What happened the other night?’ he asked her now, closing the door to the conference room. It was just the two of them mid-morning on Monday, and she looked like she’d barely slept all weekend.
She went to the drawer for the candles, before obviously recalling there weren’t any. ‘I got my bike stolen, remember,’ she said ruefully, as if he could forget that.
‘I meant with Fayola. You couldn’t wait to get out of there.’
Freya shut the drawer, kept her back to him and stared at the vase of tulips on the table, reaching out a hand to stroke one absently. ‘She just said some things I wasn’t exactly expecting to hear. Sorry, I didn’t mean to run off like that.’
He frowned. He’d wondered if she’d become worried he had pulled her too far into his world again, and had rushed off to avoid getting in any deeper. ‘What did she say?’
‘Just some things...family stuff. I’d rather not discuss it now.’
‘Family stuff. Did she know about your mother? How you don’t talk about anything that really matters?’
Freya was silent.
He resisted the urge to walk over to where she stood highlighted by the patch of sunlight streaming in through the window. He wanted her to confide in him, to know she could trust him. He had been thinking all weekend about how nice it was to finally share his other life at Inloophuis with Freya. He’d ended up going home and telling his father all about her; her work on the mission projects, the difference she was making to the patients at the hospital; the way he hadn’t felt this burning urge to be with anyone since Roshinda.
