by Anne Fraser
A short while after they’d had lunch Nick went out for his walk. Unable to settle down to her computer, Tiggy tackled some more housework, tightened the loose wire on the washing machine and cleaned the windows till they shone. When he wasn’t back by early evening she began to worry. Perhaps something had happened to him. He might have had a seizure—it was perfectly possible for someone with his kind of injury. Or maybe he’d fallen?
The roast in the oven was in danger of drying out and her anxiety was increasing with every minute that ticked slowly by. To hell with this! She’d rather risk his wrath by going out to look for him than sit here and do nothing. She’d just turned off the cooker and was picking up her jacket when she heard a knock on the door.
Her heart pinged around her chest. Was this someone calling to tell her he’d collapsed and she needed to come to the hospital straight away?
But when she opened the door it was to find Nick, holding a bunch of flowers, with a sheepish grin on his face.
‘No key,’ he said. ‘Bought some flowers to say sorry. I remembered tulips were your favourite. Took me a while to track them down.’
His smile melted her insides. That had always been the problem; she could never stay mad at him for long. But what was she thinking? He was a no-good, cold, self-centred man who had broken her heart and not even cared.
She grabbed the flowers from him and stepped aside to let him in. As he brushed past her she smelled alcohol on his breath.
‘You’ve been drinking!’ She was shocked. Nick never drank.
‘So I have.’ He grinned at her. ‘Feels pretty good.’
‘Are you out of your mind?’
He looked at her from the corners of his eyes. ‘Perhaps.’
He took a few steps, his limp more evident than ever, before sinking into one of the armchairs.
Tiggy shoved the flowers into a vase and turned to face him. ‘Do you really think that, given your current medical condition, it’s wise to be drinking?’
‘I’m pretty sure it’s not wise. But when did I ever follow the path of reason?’
When indeed? ‘I think you should go and lie down,’ she said frostily.
He grinned again. This time it was nothing short of a leer. ‘Great idea.’ He struggled to his feet and swayed. Tiggy reached him before he fell. He threw his arm across her shoulder as she struggled to hold him up. Nick was over six feet tall and well built.
‘You coming?’ he asked. Then without warning he sank back onto the chair, pulling her with him. Somehow, she wasn’t quite sure how, she landed on his lap.
She practically inhaled him as his arms tightened around her.
‘God, you’re still so beautiful,’ he said roughly. ‘Do you know how long it’s been?’
For a split second she was tempted to stay where she was. It felt so good, so right to be back in his arms.
Thankfully she came to her senses. She pushed away from him and leaped to her feet. ‘If it’s sex you’re wanting, Nick, I’m sure there’s plenty out there who’ll be happy to oblige. Any more of this and I’m taking you back to the hospital.’
‘You wouldn’t deny a dying man his last wish?’ He reached out for her again but she avoided his grip.
Hands on hips, she raged at him. ‘Of all the idiotic things to say. You think I feel sorry for you? Let me tell you, I’ve never felt less sorry for anyone in my life.’
Still blazing, she picked up a blanket from the back of the couch and flung it at him.
‘Go to sleep, Nick. I’ll see you in the morning.’ And without giving him a chance to reply she flicked the sitting-room lights out and marched off to bed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WAS A very sorry-looking Nick that she found in the kitchen the next morning, slumped over the table with his head in his hands, an empty pot of coffee in front of him.
‘God, I know now why I never drink.’
Barely glancing in his direction, Tiggy opened the blinds. Sunshine streamed in.
Nick opened one eye then quickly closed it again. ‘Do you have to shine a torch in my eyes? Do you have no pity?’
‘Not much, no.’ She put on a fresh pot of coffee and sat down at the other side of the table.
‘How much did you have?’
‘No idea. I stopped counting after the third—or was it the fourth?—pint.’
She went to the fridge, poured a glass of orange juice and shook some painkillers into her hand. She plonked them down on the table.
Nick winced. ‘Could you do that a little more gently?’
He swallowed the tablets down with the orange juice then opened both eyes. ‘I didn’t behave very well, huh?’
‘You behaved like an idiot, but I guess a dying man is allowed some leeway.’
He winced again. ‘I did say that, didn’t I?’ He groaned. ‘Can we forget about last night? I’m guessing, since I woke up on the chair, that my words didn’t win a place in your bed.’
Tiggy had to laugh. ‘It wasn’t one of your best chat-up lines, Nick, no.’
‘What was my best, Tiggy? Do you remember?’
‘Unfortunately I remember too much—the good the bad and the plain hurtful.’
Nick studied her for a long moment through dark, sombre eyes then raked a hand through his hair. ‘This was a bad idea. I’ll check into a hotel,’ he said quietly.
Regardless of how difficult it was having him there, she couldn’t turn him out. Surely they could manage a couple of days together? She swallowed. ‘There’s no need for you to do that. We—our marriage—are all in the past. You can stay here...as long as you promise me, no more drinking.’
His mouth tipped up at the corners and the darkness left his eyes. ‘I promise. Now, how about I attempt to make us some scrambled eggs?’
* * *
The rest of the day passed as if they were an old married couple. Nick read the papers while Tiggy caught up on a report she had to do for work. Often she’d catch him looking at her with a puzzled expression.
Later that night, unwilling to break the harmony but knowing she had to, she waited until after dinner to raise the subject of his operation.
‘Have you decided what to do?’ she asked.
He glanced up from his laptop. ‘About what?’
‘The operation, of course.’
‘Oh, that. Yes.’
‘And I don’t suppose you’re going to share with me what that decision is?’
‘I’m going to have it, of course. It’s the only logical decision. If I do nothing, the shrapnel will keep moving. At least with the operation I won’t have the sword of Damocles hanging over my head forever.’
How could he sound so calm, as if it was a stranger they were talking about? But then, that was Nick—the Nick of their last year of marriage. Closed off, unwilling to discuss anything, not even when it was clear to both of them that their marriage had been crumbling. Although she’d tried desperately to find him again, to keep their love alive, she hadn’t been able to reach him.
* * *
After their anniversary dinner, everything had seemed to get worse. Whenever he’d been home on leave he’d prowl around the house like a caged tiger or go for runs without her that had lasted for hours. Then he’d started going away on his own for days at a time. Mountain climbing—or so he’d said.
She’d tried everything. Invited friends around for dinner, stopped inviting friends around for dinner, booked them romantic weekends away in the country, arranged walks, parties—everything she could think of to make life exciting for him, hoping that he’d forget about Afghanistan.
None of it worked. If anything, whatever she did seemed to push him further away. In the end she stopped trying to reach him, hoping that when he left the army the old Nick would return and everything would be as it had been in the beginning.
Then, as he became increasingly tense and withdrawn, she began to wonder if Nick was having an affair. It would explain his silence, his lack of engagement with her when he was at home. It would a
lso go some way to explain why he kept putting off the decision to have a child.
But she couldn’t believe that Nick would do that to her. He was impatient, difficult, but deceitful? No. She would have staked her life on his loyalty. Did he still love her? Sometimes she was certain of it. Other times, when he was in Afghanistan and she so alone in their bed that seemed far too big without him, she wondered if he was only staying with her because he believed it was the right thing to do.
They still made love. Their incessant need for each other had never disappeared, but she knew that somewhere in the darkest part of his mind he was lost to her.
She would never hold on to him if he didn’t love her anymore. She would rather lose him than have him stay for all the wrong reasons—even if the thought of losing him felt like having her heart ripped from her body. She couldn’t go on living with him not knowing if he still cared. She couldn’t go on living with him and not knowing.
She met him at the airport and he lifted her and hugged her so tightly he almost squeezed the breath from her body.
‘God, it’s so good to see you,’ he whispered into her hair. ‘Sometimes the thought of being without you...’
He didn’t finish the sentence and on the drive back home he was preoccupied, only half listening to her chatter on.
But she’d become accustomed to that and she still hoped she was wrong about everything. Perhaps when he was out of the army for good, the Nick she’d known would come back to her. Perhaps the best thing to do was wait?
One thing that hadn’t changed was their need for each other. With the dark winter nights closing in, Nick lit a fire after they’d made love and they lay together, still naked, wrapped in each other’s arms, watching the flames cast shadows on the ceiling.
‘How was this tour?’ she asked eventually.
‘Same as always.’
She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. ‘Come on, Nick, you can do better than that.’
He placed his hands behind his head. ‘It was grim. Is that what you want to hear? We lost two boys and sent another half-dozen home without limbs.’
Tiggy sucked in a breath. ‘I heard some of it on the news. I’m so sorry. But what about the ones you saved?’
‘It’s not enough just to save them.’
‘You’re not God, Nick. You can’t let every case tear you apart. Thank goodness you’ll be out of it soon.’
He looked away. ‘There’s something I need to tell you. I’ve signed on for another tour.’
Tiggy stared at him in disbelief. ‘You what?’
‘I know I said I wasn’t going to, Tigs, and I promise after the time’s up I’ll leave. I’ll do anything, go anywhere. We can even have the family you want.’
‘The family I want? You talk as if having a family is a favour to me—some sort of compensation. That you agreeing to have a child is going to make it all right that you signed up again when we agreed you wouldn’t.’
‘Tiggy...’ He reached for her but she jumped up and out of his reach. In the past she’d always let their lovemaking heal the wounds between them. But no more. Couldn’t he see what was happening to their marriage?
‘The men need me,’ he said softly.
‘Please don’t try and make me feel guilty for wanting my husband back. Because you’ve been gone for a long time, Nick. And not just when you’ve been in Afghanistan. I need you, Nick. What about me? I’m your wife. I don’t even know why you married me.’
‘I married you because I love you. I never thought it would be this hard.’
‘Life with me is hard? Oh, Nick.’ Her chest was tight. Feeling dead inside, she walked upstairs, quickly got dressed and threw some clothes into an overnight case. When she came back downstairs Nick was staring into the fire. He didn’t even seem to notice that she was holding a bag.
‘I’m going to my mother’s,’ she said. ‘While I’m gone I want you to think about what you want. Me or the army. It’s your choice.’ She couldn’t even cry. If he’d taken her in his arms then, if he’d done anything to convince her otherwise, she would have stayed. But when he made no move, he gave her no choice.
‘Goodbye, Nick,’ she said. Then she stepped out into the cold night air.
And until the day at the hospital she hadn’t seen him again.
* * *
Nick was looking at her. She realised she hadn’t replied. ‘I think you’re making the right decision,’ she said.
‘Good.’ He turned back to his computer screen.
Are you frightened? she wanted to ask. She almost laughed out loud. Nick frightened? Not in this lifetime. No, the only thing that scared him was commitment and the thought of being tied down.
He glanced over at her. ‘If I don’t make it, as you’re still my wife, you’ll get everything.’
Good God—as if she cared a jot about that! What did he take her for? ‘I don’t need anything from you. I can manage fine. I’ve managed perfectly well on my own for the last six years.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘When you wouldn’t take maintenance, I put it all in a deposit account. It’s there when you need it.’
Tiggy gritted her teeth.
‘I have no intention of taking your money, Nick. And you are going to be fine. I won’t, I repeat won’t, have this conversation again. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed.’
* * *
The next morning, Nick made himself coffee, feeling worse than he’d done the previous day. What the hell was he doing here? He’d barely slept at all. He kept seeing the pain in Tiggy’s eyes when they’d talked last night. Was it possible she still cared? In that case, to come here, to the home they’d once shared, had been madness.
Even after all these years she still did something to his insides no woman before or since had.
Why hadn’t she signed the divorce papers? She deserved to find happiness with someone else instead of an emotionally bankrupt, potentially soon to be ex-army doctor, who couldn’t give her what she wanted.
Permanence. A family. A future.
He should never have married her, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d fallen for her before he’d known what was happening and had allowed himself to believe that she could save his soul and fill the emptiness inside him.
It was only later that he’d realised he didn’t have a soul to save.
Where was she anyway? In their too-short married life, she’d always been up early, accompanying him on his runs. He smiled at the memory. Over the years she’d taken up running with a vengeance until she’d almost been able to keep up with him. Her determination was one of things he’d loved most about her—that and her soft heart.
One of the cats jumped into his lap and lay there purring, stretching its paws in ecstasy. Nick had never expected to find Tiggy still living in their home, surrounded by cats instead of babies.
The door swung open and he heard her deep breathing before he saw her. When she came into the kitchen his heart kicked. God, she looked good in a cropped top that exposed her flat stomach and tiny shorts that emphasised her long, slender legs.
She glanced at him coolly. ‘Coffee on the go?’
‘Can I pour you some?’
She shook her head, opening the fridge and taking out some orange juice. She held it towards him with a raise of one eyebrow and when he shook his head she poured some into a tall glass.
‘You still run, then?’ he asked. ‘Hell, that was a stupid question.’
A small smile tugged at her lips before quickly disappearing. ‘I’d hardly mow the lawn dressed like this.’ She turned her cool blue eyes on the cat. ‘He bothering you?’
‘No. He’s fine. I never thought of you as a cat lover.’
‘Seems there was quite a bit we didn’t know about one another,’ she said shortly. Then she sighed and sat down at the table. ‘Sorry. I promised myself I wasn’t going to bitch about the past.’
‘I wouldn’t blame you if you did.’ Silence hung between them. Nic
k shifted in his chair. ‘You never met anyone else?’ He had to know.
Something flashed in her eyes before she regarded him steadily. ‘Now, why would you think that?’ Her smile was tight. ‘What did you think, Nick? That I sit at home night after night with only my cats for company, content to let life pass me by?’
It didn’t matter that he’d told himself over the years that she would meet someone else and it would be for the best. The thought of her in someone else’s arms turned his stomach.
She studied him over the rim of her glass. ‘As a matter of fact, I am going out tonight. I’m sure you’ll cope on your own for a few hours.’
Jealousy wound like a snake in his guts. ‘Of course.’ What else could he say? Even if he wanted to bar the door.
She finished her juice and got up from the table. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do. She waved vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. ‘You know where to find everything.’
As she stalked out without a backward glance, Nick knew for certain that even if she’d stopped loving him, his feelings for her were far from dead. He groaned. He should never have come here, but he’d been unable to stop himself from stealing this bit of time with her. He was a selfish bastard. If he had been no good for her back then, he was less so now.
* * *
Now, why had she lied about going out? Just because Nick had implied that she didn’t have a life was no reason to make up a date that didn’t exist. Over the last few years friends had always been trying to set her up with someone. But no matter how much she told herself that the banker or teacher or whoever it was she faced across a dining-room table was perfectly nice, good looking and decent company, they never matched up to Nick. Not for a single second.
In the end she’d put her foot down with her friends. No more dates, she’d told them. She would rather, in fact, chew off her arm than waste another moment of her life listening to someone in whom, when all was said and done, she wasn’t remotely interested.
None of that helped with tonight’s predicament. Sally was out of town, Lucy just had another baby and it was too short notice to call any of her other friends. Besides, what would they say when they learned that Nick was staying with her?
