The Secret in His Heart

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘So—Chinese, Indian, Thai, Tex-Mex, English gastro pub or fish and chips out of the paper? You choose.’

  She laughed, feeling another layer of tension peel away. ‘Gastro pub?’ she suggested. ‘It’s a lovely evening. It would be nice to eat outside, if we can. And if you want to drink, I don’t mind driving, or we could go to the Harbour Inn and sit outside so we can walk.’

  ‘We’ve done that, and I don’t need more than one glass. I’ll drive. There’s a lovely pub just a few miles up the river. We’ll go there. Have you fed Saffy?’

  ‘Yes. She’s ready to go in her run.’

  He rubbed the dog’s head. ‘How is she? Has she settled down?’

  ‘I think so. She was a bit clingy until I’d unpacked everything and put it all away in the cabin but then she was fine. Oh, by the way, I put the rest of the stuff from storage in the cabin, too, so your spare bedroom’s yours again. There wasn’t much, and it’ll make it easier to sort out. I can pick at it, then.’

  ‘Good idea,’ he said, stifling the regret. ‘Right, shall we?’

  * * *

  It was a lovely pub, as he’d said.

  The setting was wonderful, down on the edge of the river bank and miles from anywhere, or so it seemed. The river was wide at that point, and there were lots of boats moored on the water.

  ‘It’s buzzing, isn’t it?’ she said, slightly surprised, and he smiled.

  ‘Wait till you taste the food. It’ll all make sense then,’ he said.

  ‘It makes sense now,’ she pointed out. ‘Look at it. It’s gorgeous here.’

  They sat outside at a picnic table, side by side, and watched the boats come and go, sipping their drinks and reading the menu and just chilling out. It had been a gruelling day for both of them, and the quiet moment by the river was just what they needed, she thought.

  She scanned the menu again, her mind slightly numb with all that had happened, her concentration shot. ‘I can’t decide.’

  ‘We can come again. It’s not life or death, it’s just food and it’s all good.’

  ‘But I’ll just get food envy,’ she said, and he thought instantly of the time he’d watched her eat that hog roast roll, the apple sauce squeezing out and dribbling down her chin.

  ‘We could always share.’

  ‘Dangerous.’ Hell, had he really said that? He hoped she hadn’t heard—or caught the tiny eye roll he’d done at his impulsive comment.

  Both.

  She scrunched her lips up and gave him a wry grin. ‘You’re right. You might come off worst.’

  ‘Never. I fight for my food.’

  She smiled and put her menu down. ‘Me, too. I’ll go for the sea bream fillet on samphire.’

  He put his menu down. ‘I’ll have the same. That way you won’t be tempted.’

  She pouted, and he chuckled softly, hailed the waitress and placed their order.

  ‘Wine?’

  ‘Oh—I’ll have a small glass of whatever.’

  ‘Two of the sauvignon blanc, then,’ he said, handing back the menus, and he cradled his mineral water, propped his elbows on the table and leant against her.

  She leant back, resting her head against his, and sighed.

  ‘You OK?’ he asked quietly. He felt her nod.

  ‘Yup. You?’

  ‘I’m OK.’

  ‘Good.’

  They sat there until their food arrived, in contact from shoulder to knee, feeling the way forward. From where he was sitting, it felt pretty good.

  More than good.

  And it smelt amazing—or, rather, she did. She’d put that perfume on again, and it had been teasing his senses ever since he’d got in the car.

  He would have joined in, for once, but the only cologne he had was some Joe had given him for Christmas the year before he’d died. He hadn’t opened it until now and it didn’t seem like the time to break it out, when he was contemplating seducing his widow. She’d have to make do with clean skin.

  * * *

  ‘That was amazing.’

  He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Funny how she’d never really registered just how gorgeous his eyes were. Not just the colour, that striking ice-blue with the navy rim, but the shape of them, the heavy, dark lashes, the creases at the corners, the eloquent brows.

  They said so much, those eyebrows. She could often tell exactly what he thought of something just from the tiny twitch that gave him away. She’d seen it in the ED, when someone had been trying to lie about how they’d injured themselves. She could always tell if he thought it was a pile of steaming manure.

  And if he was troubled, or concentrating, they crunched together, but in a different way.

  So complex, the facial muscles. So revealing.

  He glanced across at her as he fastened his seat belt. ‘Will that still go round you?’

  ‘Cheeky,’ she said without rancour. ‘It would have been rude not to have a pudding. Anyway, I was starving. I hadn’t eaten all day.’

  ‘Really?’ He shot her a quick glance, surprised, but then realised he hadn’t had much, either. And nothing since he’d spoken to her in his office that morning.

  He drove her home, parked the car and looked at her.

  ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Is that coffee coffee, or go upstairs with you?’ she asked, hoping he’d say no.

  Something happened to his brows, but she couldn’t quite work out what. ‘That’s coffee coffee,’ he said, firmly, and she felt her shoulders drop because all the way home she’d been beginning to get tense.

  She smiled, the tension sliding out of her like a receding tide. ‘Yes, please. Can we have it on the sea wall?’

  ‘Sure.’

  They took Saffy, and as usual she sat in between them, her head on her front paws, hanging slightly over the edge of the wall. He lifted one of her ears and laid it across his thigh and stroked it rhythmically, and Connie chuckled.

  ‘I swear, if a dog could purr,’ she murmured, and he laughed softly.

  ‘She’s just a hussy. No wonder you couldn’t leave her.’

  ‘No. I wanted to burn my boats with you, but I just couldn’t. Even if I’d left her, I couldn’t have walked away. Not completely.’

  ‘No. I’m glad you didn’t.’ He stopped stroking Saffy’s ear and held out his hand, and she placed hers in it. His hard, warm fingers closed around it gently and he lifted it to his lips and kissed the back of it, drifting his lips over her knuckles.

  It sent a shiver through her, a tingle of something electric and rather beautiful. Something she’d almost forgotten.

  He turned his head slowly and she met his eyes, holding his gaze for an age. Their hands fell softly to his lap, and he straightened her fingers out over Saffy’s ear, so she wasn’t really touching him, but she was.

  It was utterly harmless, totally innocent, and yet not, and the air seemed trapped in her chest so she could only breathe with the very top of it, just very lightly, a little fast.

  His eyes fell to her cleavage, watching the rapid rise and fall, and then they dragged back up to meet her eyes again.

  Even in the darkness, with only the soft light from the front of the cottage to illuminate them, she could see that his pupils had gone black. His mouth was slightly open, his chest moving in time with hers, and the tension was coming off him in waves.

  She eased her hand out from under his and turned away, breaking the spell, and they sat there in silence, the heat simmering between them, and gradually their breathing returned to normal.

  ‘So am I coming to work tomorrow?’

  ‘You’re down on the rota.’

  ‘What time?’

  He cursed himself inwardly for changing the rota so they never saw each other, but maybe, with
the sizzle he’d just felt between them, that was just as well.

  ‘Eight o’clock. I’m on from one till nine.’

  ‘OK. Will you take Saffy for a run for me?’

  ‘Of course I will.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She picked up her cup and turned her head to face him. ‘I’m going to turn in now. Don’t bother to get up. You take your time. I’ll see you tomorrow. And thank you for a lovely evening.’

  ‘My pleasure. Sleep well, Connie.’

  And then, to his surprise, she leant over and kissed him. Just the lightest brush of her lips, not like the last kiss they’d shared but the first, and then she was gone, walking away, leaving his mouth tingling and tasting of regret.

  * * *

  She did sleep, to her surprise. She slept like a log, and woke in the morning feeling refreshed and ready for the day.

  He greeted her on the veranda with a cup of tea and a slice of hot, buttered toast, and she ate it, said goodbye to Saffy and at the last minute leant over and kissed his cheek.

  He hadn’t shaved, and the stubble grazed her skin deliciously. ‘See you later,’ she murmured, and he nodded.

  ‘Call me if you need to, if it gets too chaotic.’

  ‘Are you implying I can’t cope?’ she asked cheekily as she went through the gate.

  ‘I wouldn’t dare,’ he said, laughing, and watched her go.

  Gorgeous, he thought, as she flicked her hair back over her shoulder and stuck her sunglasses on her head to anchor it. Utterly, unaffectedly gorgeous.

  And if he’d thought that this was in any way going to be easier than ignoring his feelings, he was finding out just how wrong he was.

  He sighed heavily. If only she hadn’t been Joe’s woman, he would have kissed her last night. She’d been all but hyperventilating when he’d brushed her knuckles with his lips, and if it hadn’t been for Joe he would have slid his hand around the back of her neck and eased her closer and kissed her till she whimpered. And that would have been it, because this time they were stone cold sober and knew exactly where it was leading.

  He sighed again.

  So near, and yet so far.

  * * *

  They passed in Reception at lunchtime, him on the way in, her on the way out.

  ‘Good shift?’

  ‘Yes, fine. No problems.’

  ‘Good. I’ll see you later. Don’t wait for me to eat, I won’t be back till after nine.’

  ‘OK. I’ll have something ready for you.’

  ‘Star.’

  He winked. No kisses here, not in front of the others, she realised, and she was glad, really. This was all too new, too precious, too fragile. It could so easily go wrong.

  She drove home, changed into her running gear and took Saffy out. Not for long, because James had taken her once already, but just for a gentle lope along the sea wall as a reward for being good shut up in her run.

  Then she showered and made herself a sandwich and a cup of tea and went back into the cabin. Those last two boxes of stuff were all that was left, and she had time now to deal with them.

  She put the tea down on the bedside table, took a bite of the sandwich and opened the first box.

  Correspondence. All sorts of stuff, out of the top drawer of Joe’s desk. She’d just emptied it out, stacked it all together and packed it, and she had no idea what it was.

  A will, for one thing, she realised.

  There had been a copy with the solicitors who’d done the conveyancing on their house, so in many ways it was redundant. She checked it, and it was the same, leaving everything to her.

  Letters. Letters from his sisters, from his mother, from her, grouped together in elastic bands, kept out of sentiment. There had been more of those that had been sent home to her when he’d died, but she’d never looked at them. And then, leafing through them, she found two others she’d never seen before.

  One to her, one to James.

  To be opened in the event of his death.

  Trembling, her fingers not quite brave enough to do this, she slit the envelope open, pulled out the single handwritten sheet and spread it out on her lap.

  My darling Connie,

  If you’re reading this, then I guess it’s caught up with me at last. I’m so sorry. I’ve been waiting for it for a long time now, dreading it, expecting it, hoping I was wrong, and I know you have, too.

  I hope you’re OK, that my family are taking care of you and making sure you’re all right. I’m sure you’re not, not really, but you will be. It takes time, but you’ll get there, and when you do, I want you to go out and grab life with both hands.

  You’ve been an amazing wife, a wonderful partner and a really good friend, loyal and supportive and understanding, even when you didn’t agree with my choices. I’m just so sad that we’ve never had a family, that the baby I know you’ve longed for has never come, that I’ve let you down, but you’ll have a chance now to find that happiness with someone else, and I want you to take it. Don’t hold back because of me. I want you to be happy, to be a mother, if that’s what you’d like, but I can’t bear to think of you all alone without me, so don’t be. Don’t be sad, don’t be lonely. If the chance for happiness arises, take it.

  I’ve left a letter for James. Make sure he gets it. He promised me, the last time I saw him, that he’d take care of you when I died, and I know that whatever happens, he’ll do that because he’s that kind of person. I’ve always wondered, though, what would have happened to you two if he’d never introduced us. I know Cathy’s death tore him apart. I don’t know the details, but he’s shut himself down and I know he’s lonely, but I’m sure he could love again if the right person came along, and maybe you’re the right person for him, have been all along.

  There’s always been something between you, some spark. I’ve noticed it sometimes and been jealous, but why should I be, because I’ve been the one privileged to share my life with you, and I always trusted you both implicitly.

  I know I shouldn’t meddle, shouldn’t matchmake, but I can’t think of a single person more worthy of you, no one I’d entrust your happiness to the way I would to James, and maybe this would give you both a chance at happiness, a chance to be parents, to have the family I know you’ve both longed for.

  I love you, my darling. Completely, unreservedly, to the depths of my soul, and I always will. But life moves on, and time heals, and I want you to be happy.

  Goodbye, sweetheart.

  All my love,

  Joe x

  She closed her eyes, the tears spilling down her cheeks, and she let them fall. She didn’t sob. She just sat there while the tears flowed, his voice echoing in her head as he said goodbye.

  She was still sitting there motionless when James got home, the sandwich long gone, stolen by Saffy when supper didn’t seem to be forthcoming.

  CHAPTER TEN

  SHE WAS IN the cabin. He walked in and saw her, and something about her stillness alarmed him. He went over to her and sat down on the bed beside her, taking her lifeless hand in his.

  ‘Connie?’

  ‘I found a letter,’ she said, her voice hollow. ‘From Joe. There’s one for you.’

  She handed him the envelope.

  ‘If it’s anything like mine, you might want to read it on your own,’ she said, and she folded the closely written sheet that was lying on her lap. It was smudged with tears, creased from the pressure of her hands, and she laid it gently down on the bedside table and got up and walked away.

  Not sure at all that he wanted to read it, James slit the envelope.

  Dear James,

  I know you won’t want to hear a load of sentimental crap, but there are times when it’s necessary and this is one of them.

  I asked you to take care of Connie for me when I
died. If you’re reading this, it’s happened, and I hope she’s giving you a chance to do that. Whether she is or not, I know you’ll be keeping an eye on her if only from a distance.

  You’ve been the best friend a man could ask for. Too good to me, I’ve thought from time to time. You gave me Connie, for a start, and she’s filled my life with joy, but I sometimes wonder if you cheated yourself when you did that. There’s always been something there between you. I’ve seen you watching her, but I know I’ve always been able to trust you to do the decent thing, and I trust you now. I trust you not to use her, but I also trust you to love her if that’s the way it goes.

  I know you won’t hurt her deliberately. I never have, but my choice of career and my inability to give her the family she’s longed for have both hurt her deeply and it grieves me.

  I know Cathy’s death hurt you, too, very deeply, but maybe together you can find happiness. If not together, then I hope you both find it another way, because of all the people in the world, I love you two the most and I want you to be happy.

  If it’s right for you, then please feel free to love her as she deserves, as you deserve. You have my blessing.

  Your friend

  Joe

  Hell.

  He put the letter down, folding it carefully and putting it with Connie’s, and then he got to his feet and went to find her.

  She was on the sea wall, and she was waiting for him. He sat beside her, on the other side of Saffy, and she looked up at him searchingly.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  He closed his eyes because it hurt simply to look at her. ‘I’ll live,’ he said, hoping it was true, because for the first time since Cathy had died, he really wanted to. ‘How about you?’

  She smiled a little wanly. ‘Me too. What did he say?’

  ‘I’ve left it on your bedside table.’

  She turned to look at him again, her eyes searching in the dim light. ‘Did you read mine?’