by Helen Brooks
‘There’s nothing to say,’ she protested helplessly.
‘There’s plenty. Let me put it this way, Dee. Until you can convince me it’s over, it’s not over.’
Melody stiffened in defence of his arrogance, her hands pushing against the wall of his chest. ‘Let me go.’
‘Sure.’ She was free immediately. ‘But you still have to convince me. You’re part of me, Dee. One half of the whole. I have certain rights. You married me, remember?’
‘You talk as if you own me.’ She was shaking inside, his closeness a sweet torment, but she knew if she didn’t attack she would be lost. ‘Do you know that? Is that what you believe?’
‘Only in as much as you own me,’ he said softly. ‘It works both ways. You gave me your love and so that’s mine—as my love is yours. The difference between us is that I trust you. I trust you with everything I am and everything I have. But you’re not there yet, are you? There’s still a question mark hanging over my head like the sword of Damocles. True trust involves commitment, becoming vulnerable, Dee. It can make you feel exposed and frightened. Oh, yes, it can. Don’t look at me like that. Do you think you’re the only one who’s scared rigid at the enormity of what true love and trust involves? But it’s worth it. In the long run, it’s worth it.’
She shook her head, unaware of the tears coursing down her face until he stepped forward and stroked the moisture away with his fingers. ‘It’s going to be okay,’ he reassured her very quietly, his eyes dark and steady. ‘You’re a good person and so am I. In fact I’m a great person. We’re destined to be together.’
It was so silly that she had to smile, as he’d meant her to. ‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ she whispered, in such a low voice he could barely hear her, ‘but better that now than later. This—us—it’s impossible, Zeke.’
He drew her over to the sofa, pushing her down and handing her a coffee made from the complementary tray left in the room. ‘This is your night.’ He put a biscuit in the saucer of her cup. ‘A night that laughs at the impossible. Only believe.’
That was just it. She couldn’t. Melody put the cup to her lips, not even noticing the milk was the long-life sort that she hated. She couldn’t believe any more.
CHAPTER NINE
THEY sipped their coffee in silence, eating the biscuits automatically. Melody didn’t want to talk and start the process of discussion again. There was nothing more to be said. She was so tired—not the physical, bone-weary kind she’d experienced earlier, but tired in her spirit. Arguments and counter-arguments—she had been going over them in her head for weeks alone in her hospital bed. There was nothing new Zeke could say that she hadn’t already considered. She was all reasoned out.
‘Let’s go and build a snowman.’
If Zeke had said Let’s take a trip to the moon tonight, Melody couldn’t have stared at him with more amazement. ‘What?’
‘A snowman.’ He pointed to the window. ‘The hotel has a tiny courtyard that the restaurant looks out on, with a tree and some bushes in it. We could build a snowman.’ He grinned at her. ‘Let’s live dangerously. What do you say?’
‘We couldn’t.’ She shook her head. ‘Everyone’s asleep. It’s probably locked. They wouldn’t allow us to do that.’
‘There’ll be someone on Reception.’ He pulled her to her feet. ‘I fancy being out in the fresh air for a while.’
So did she. Months of being shut in the antiseptic confines of the hospital had been stifling. ‘They’ll think we’re mad.’
‘They’re entitled to their opinion.’ He bent his head and kissed her once, hard. ‘Get dressed in warm clothes. Unless…’ he paused as something occurred to him ‘…you’re too tired?’
He meant unless her legs were paining her, Melody thought. And they were, a little, but not half so much as they had in the hospital, when she’d had nothing to think about but how she felt. A feeling of recklessness took hold. ‘No, I’m not tired.’
‘Come on then. We’ll build our very own Frosty for posterity.’
‘I hate to remind you, but it’ll melt within days.’
‘Ah, but the memory won’t,’ he said, as they left the sitting room for their respective bedrooms. ‘And I for one happen to believe that all snowmen come alive the moment they’re alone. He’ll make the most of his short sojourn here.’
‘You’re crazy,’ she said, laughing. This was all very un-Zeke-like. ‘Absolutely crazy. Do you know that?’
‘No, just grateful.’ His voice was suddenly serious. ‘A few months back they were telling me to prepare myself for the worst on that first night they got you into hospital. That kind of experience has a way of making you sort out what’s important in life and what’s not. You think everything is under control, that you have the future mapped out in nice neat compartments, and then you realise it can change in a moment of time. We’re so fragile, us human beings. We break easily.’
‘Especially in an altercation with a lorry,’ Melody put in dryly, not wanting to continue along that route. ‘There is something to be said for the olden days, when it was just horses and carts and Shanks’s pony. A wheel over your foot wouldn’t have been so bad.’
‘I guess.’ He smiled, the glint of laugher back in his eyes. ‘Although I got kicked by a horse as a child and it’s less than pleasant. I was black and blue for weeks.’
There were so many things she didn’t know about him. Why it was suddenly so important that she hadn’t known about the boyhood incident Melody didn’t know, but it was. She turned, opening her bedroom door, and once inside the room dressed quickly in several layers.
The hotel staff would think they’d taken leave of their senses, she thought, as she finally pulled on her thick coat and a woolly hat and scarf. But this beat the many nights in hospital when she’d watched each long hour creep by while the rest of the world slept. Everything was so black in the early hours when you were wide awake and hurting, so hopeless and daunting.
Perhaps she had thought too much? She nodded mentally to the notion. But how could you turn your mind off when sleep wouldn’t come? She had refused sleeping pills; she had been on enough medication in the initial days following the accident to last her a lifetime. So drugged up she remembered nothing.
So stop thinking now. Again she nodded mentally. What had that little Irish nurse with the bubbly personality used to say to her? Oh, yes. ‘Go with the flow.’ And if the flow tonight was behaving like a pair of kids, so be it.
Zeke was waiting for her when she left her room, and once in the lift he dropped a feather-light kiss on her nose. ‘You look about ten years old in that hat.’ He flicked the bobbles with one finger. ‘All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.’
She smiled. Zeke just looked drop-dead gorgeous. ‘And is that good or bad?’ she asked lightly, openly fishing for compliments.
‘Oh, good—definitely good. I was half expecting you to change your mind about the snowman, to be honest.’ He smiled. ‘You’re always such a stickler for not rocking the boat and playing safe. I didn’t think you’d dare face the hotel staff.’
Was she? She stared at him. Probably. Another ghost from her childhood she’d brought with her into adulthood. Her grandmother had definitely been of the old brigade who believed children should be seen and not heard. Part of what had attracted her to Zeke in the beginning was his absolute refusal to accept boundaries, both from outside and within. ‘Life isn’t a bowl of cherries in spite of what the old song said,’ he had told her once. ‘It’s what you make it, and to win you have to take life by the throat sometimes and force it into submission. Rolling over and playing dead gets you nowhere.’
She hadn’t known if she agreed with him at the time, but tonight she knew she did. Keeping her voice light, she said, ‘It’s not exactly on a par with climbing Mount Everest or journeying down the Amazon, is it? Building a snowman!’
‘It’s all relative,’ he declared firmly. ‘One man—or woman’s—snowman is another person’s Mount Everest.’
The lift doors opened into Reception and he took her hand as they walked across to the desk where the night staff, a porter and a receptionist, were sitting. They looked up in surprise. ‘Can I help you, sir?’ the receptionist asked politely, professional to the core.
Zeke smiled sweetly. ‘We want to build a snowman,’ he said blandly. ‘In your courtyard. I trust that’s okay?’
The receptionist blinked, but recovered almost immediately. She knew who Zeke James was, and it had caused quite a buzz that he was staying at their hotel with his poor wife who had nearly died in that awful accident three months ago. The manager had made it quite clear that whatever Mr and Mrs James wanted, they got. ‘Certainly, sir,’ she purred smoothly. ‘Michael will unlock the door to the courtyard for you. Is there anything you need to—’ her pause was infinitesimal ‘—build your snowman?’
Zeke considered for a moment. ‘A hat and scarf would be great. And perhaps a carrot and something for his eyes? You know the sort of thing. Oh, and something that’d do for buttons.’
The receptionist nodded efficiently, and Melody had to bite her lip to stop herself laughing. This was going to be such a good story for the girl among the other staff. The eccentric millionaire to the hilt. She could bring this one out at dinner parties for years to come.
When the said Michael escorted them into the courtyard, which was three or four inches deep in snow, it had stopped snowing. The night was bitterly cold, but crisp and exhilarating, and although the odd window or two which overlooked the courtyard in the hotel glowed dimly, most of them were in darkness. ‘I’ll go and sort out those items you wanted, sir,’ the porter said, obviously tickled pink by the proceedings. ‘Lost property should provide the hat and scarf. In these days of political correctness I’d better ask—is the intended snowman male or female? I wouldn’t like to presume the gender.’
Zeke smiled. ‘I think we’ll build one of each. How’s that?’
‘Right you are, sir. Very wise, if I may say so.’
As the man bustled away, Melody caught Zeke’s eye. ‘They think we’re oddballs. You know that, don’t you?’
His smile widened, his voice serene. ‘I prefer idiosyncratic myself—and why shouldn’t we make the most of it? We’ve had plenty of winters where it’s been damp and wet and miserable in this country. This is—’ he paused, staring up into the dark sky above them and then at the white crystallized tree the courtyard contained, made beautiful by its blanket of glistening snow ‘—special. A night in a million, don’t you think?’
He was right. It was. The whole night was special. Special and poignant and unbearably precious. Melody pulled her gloves farther over her wrists. ‘Let’s get building,’ she suggested matter-of-factly, praying he hadn’t noticed the tears pricking at the back of her eyes. ‘Our offspring are waiting to be born.’
She wished she hadn’t said that as soon as the words were out of her mouth. It suggested a permanence which could never be now. But he didn’t appear to notice, and soon they were busy with the job in hand. It was hard work, but fun, and she didn’t think she had laughed so much for years. The porter returned with the things they’d asked for and then stayed to help for a while. They learnt he had a wife and eight children and twenty-four grandchildren, which was a little staggering, and that every Christmas they all descended for Christmas Day lunch and tea.
‘It’s mayhem,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Absolute mayhem. But the missus is only truly happy when the brood’s around. Some women are like that, aren’t they? Natural mothers.’
Melody smiled and nodded, but his words had struck a chord in her which had been bothering her for a while. Before the accident she had always assumed that eventually she and Zeke would have children, but she had been content to put it to the back of her mind. The act of bringing a child into the world was a huge responsibility, she’d told herself in the rare moments when she’d dwelt on the possibility, and both parents had to be ready for it otherwise it could cause havoc between a couple.
Like it had between her mother and father. Her father had left without even seeing his child, abandoning her mother because he couldn’t or wouldn’t grow up enough to be a father and husband. And she knew her grandfather had blamed her grandmother for being too tied up with their daughter and neglecting him. Her grandmother had told her that herself. And so, deep in the hidden part of her, she had reconciled herself to not having children. That was the truth of it.
She stopped what she was doing and stared at Zeke. And now the very thing she’d decided against was a torment of what she had lost. She wanted his babies. She wanted to have a part of him. Why hadn’t she realised it before it was too late? Why hadn’t she faced some of those issues and brought them to light? And how could she have been so mixed up for so long without knowing it? Surely other people weren’t like her?
‘What?’ Zeke had been busy rolling a head for the first snowman but now he straightened, his breath a white mist in the freezing air. ‘What is it? What’s the matter?’
Melody came out of the maelstrom of her thoughts, forcing a smile. ‘Nothing,’ she said lightly. ‘I was just wondering what those little girls we met earlier will say when they see our snow couple in the morning. Perhaps we should build two little ones too. They’d like that. A snow family, like them.’
His eyes narrowed in the way they did when he knew she was prevaricating, but with someone else present he didn’t press the issue, and soon they were engrossed in building again. The porter left to find them hot drinks after half an hour, and the two of them worked on in the crystal-clean air.
It took two hours, and several cups of hot chocolate provided by the amenable Michael, but eventually the snow family were finished.
The receptionist came to take a look, smiling at the four figures. ‘They’re kind of cute,’ she said, stifling a yawn. ‘Especially the children. Shame they won’t last for ever.’
Zeke grinned. ‘Thanks for providing the necessary extras.’ He turned to Michael, who had joined her. ‘I hope we haven’t kept you from more important things.’
The porter smiled back. ‘What could be more important than a family at Christmas? Even if it is a snow one!’ he said quietly. ‘Happy Christmas to you, sir. Madam.’
The two hotel staff went back into the warmth, leaving them to survey their handiwork for a moment or two. ‘That was quite profound,’ Zeke said lazily. ‘I think Michael has hidden depths.’ He took her arm. ‘Come on, let’s get you back inside.’
Although her face was rosy with the cold, Melody didn’t feel chilled in herself, and she found she didn’t want the magical interlude to end. It was Christmas Day, and later in the morning she would walk out of Zeke’s life for ever. The break would have to be final, clean and sharp. There could be no meeting up for civilised lunches or dinners, none of the ‘we’re still good friends’ scenarios people they knew indulged in. The past hours had shown her that.
Zeke was irresistible. To her, anyway. To be with him was to want him in every way possible, and so the only option was to remove temptation once and for all. It was quite simple, really.
As they stepped into the heated confines of the hotel from the bitterly cold air outside she shivered convulsively, but the sudden chill was in the essence of her rather than the change in temperature. The night would soon be over.
‘You’ve got cold.’ Zeke’s voice was concerned. ‘We stayed out too long. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll run you a bath when we get back to the suite. You need to get warm.’
‘No, it’s fine.’ How did you tell the man you loved with all your heart you were leaving? Perhaps you didn’t. Maybe the best thing to do was to disappear when the opportunity presented itself? It would avoid the trauma of a final goodbye.
Coward. The accusation was loud in her head and she couldn’t argue with it. She was a coward. If she wasn’t, she would take the gamble of staying around and seeing what happened.
They reached the lift, and as the doors were closing Z
eke curved his arms round her waist. ‘We’re both cold,’ he murmured huskily. ‘How about a shower for two, like the old days?’
Her heart stopped and then raced, but through the panic something was clear. She couldn’t hide any more. This had always had to happen for him to accept what she had been trying to tell him. He had to see her as she was now—scars and all. She’d had a romantic, idealised idea of leaving him with the image of how she had been—but, Zeke being Zeke, he was never going to let her go if she didn’t bare all. Literally. This was necessary, essential. But, oh, please, don’t let me see his face when he looks at me, she added silently. She wouldn’t be able to stand it.
She bent her head, her forehead resting on his wet jacket. ‘Your room or mine?’ she whispered, keeping her voice steady.
‘You choose,’ he said softly, hugging her tight.
‘Yours.’ That way she could leave and find sanctuary in her own room when she needed to. An escape route.
He lifted her chin, kissing her long and hard on the mouth. They were still kissing when the lift doors opened, and he kept his arm round her as they walked into the sitting room of their suite. ‘Let’s get these wet clothes off you,’ he said softly, helping her shrug off her thick jacket and taking her hat, scarf and soaking gloves before pulling off his own. Then he took her cold hand, leading her out of the sitting room and into the corridor towards his bedroom without speaking.
Once inside he went into the bathroom and turned on the water in the shower cubicle. When he returned to the bedroom Melody was standing exactly where he had left her, limbs frozen in fear and embarrassment at the thought of undressing.
‘Now to get you all warm and snug again.’ He pulled off his jeans, T-shirt and jumper as he spoke, discarding his socks and pants and standing stark naked before her with a supreme disregard of his nudity. He had always been very comfortable with his own body, which didn’t make this any easier.
Whether he sensed how she was feeling, Melody wasn’t sure, but he didn’t attempt to undress her as she had been expecting. Instead he turned and went back into the bathroom, calling over his shoulder, ‘Come and join me when you’re ready. I’ll make sure the water’s not too hot.’
