The Secret in His Heart

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘No—God, no, Connie. Of course not.’

  No. Of course he hadn’t. It simply wasn’t like him to do that.

  ‘He wants me to be happy,’ she said. ‘And I think he’s matchmaking.’

  Beside her, she heard James huff softly. Not a laugh, not a sigh, something in between, a recognition of the character of the man they’d both loved and lost.

  ‘I know he’s matchmaking—or at least facilitating. He gave us his blessing, Connie.’

  She nodded slowly. ‘It makes a difference.’

  ‘It does. It makes a hell of a difference. I’ve been feeling guilty, thinking of you as Joe’s woman, but it’s what he wants, if it’s right for us. He wants us to be together. He’s given us permission, Connie, handed us to each other and bowed out. I don’t think I’d be that bloody noble.’

  She laughed, the same little noise he’d made, something closer to a sob. She heard him sigh softly.

  ‘Or maybe I was. When Cathy died I felt as if my life had ended. There was nothing in it, nothing worth having, and chasing round the world for God knows how long didn’t seem to make it any better, so I came home and still there was nothing.

  ‘And then you came into my life, bright and funny, clever, quick-witted and warm—so warm. In another life, I would have grabbed the chance, but it was then, and I was broken, and so I introduced you to Joe. And I’ve never regretted it, before you ask. I loved seeing you together. You made him happy, and for that I’m truly grateful, because at the end of the day we’re still alive and he isn’t, and he deserved that happiness and so did you.’

  She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t speak. She just sat there beside him, and their hands found each other over the top of Saffy’s shoulders and clung.

  * * *

  It was pitch dark by the time they moved.

  The sky had clouded over, the moon obscured, and he made her wait there while he went back to the house and turned on the lights.

  She heard him stumble, heard the dog yelp and him swear softly, and then the lights were on and he was back there, holding out his hand to help her up.

  She got stiffly to her feet, her body cold with lack of food and movement, and he led her back to the house, his arm slung loosely round her shoulders, holding her by his side.

  ‘You’re freezing. When did you last eat?’ he asked, and she shrugged.

  ‘I made a sandwich about three. I had a bite or two, then I opened the letter. I guess Saffy had the rest. I haven’t fed her.’

  He made a soft sound with his tongue and fed the dog, fed them both some toast slathered with butter and honey, and poured two glasses of wine.

  ‘What’s that for?’ she asked, and he laughed, if you could call it that.

  ‘Dutch courage?’

  She blinked. ‘Am I so scary?’

  ‘You are when I’m going to ask you to come to bed with me.’

  She felt her jaw sag slightly, and then she laughed. Softly at first, and then a little hysterically, and then finally she stopped, pressing her fingers to her mouth, tears welling, unbearably touched by his nervousness.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she asked.

  ‘As sure as I can be. I don’t know if I can love you like Joe wants me to, I have to tell you that, but, my God, I want to try, Connie. I’ve wanted you for so long, and you’ve been out of reach in every conceivable way, but now you’re not, maybe, and I want you so much it hurts.’

  She nodded. ‘Me, too. I’ve always liked you, always felt I could trust you, known that you were decent to your bones, but just recently my body’s woken up again and it’s like I’ve seen you for the first time, only I haven’t. I’ve always known you oozed sex appeal, it just wasn’t aimed at me so it didn’t register. But now...’

  ‘Is that a yes, then?’

  ‘It could be. Just—talking of conceivable...’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to get you pregnant, Connie. Not by accident. If and when we reach that point, it’ll be by choice.’ He smiled wryly. ‘I went shopping yesterday, after I left work. Just in case.’

  He drained his wine glass, stood up and held his hand out to her.

  ‘Coming?’

  She smiled. Not coquettishly, not the smile of a siren, but gently, with warmth. ‘I hope so.’

  Heat flared in his eyes, and he gathered her against his chest with a ragged sigh. ‘Ah, Connie,’ he whispered, and his lips found hers and he kissed her. Tentatively at first, and then more confidently, probing the inner recesses, his tongue duelling with hers, searching, coaxing until her legs buckled and she staggered slightly.

  ‘Bed,’ he said gruffly. ‘Now.’

  ‘Saffy,’ she said, and he stopped, swore, shut the dog away with an extra biscuit and was back to her in seconds.

  ‘The cabin’s unlocked.’

  He ran back and locked it.

  It was closer, but the letters were in there, and this first time together they needed to be alone without the ghost of Joe smiling over them.

  However graciously.

  They ran upstairs hand in hand, right to the top, and then he stopped and turned her towards him and undressed her. He would have done it slowly but she was wearing that blue dress again and he lifted it over her head, leaving her standing there in that lace bra and the tiny, fragile little cobweb shorts that had tantalised him so much. He’d put on the bedside light, and its soft glow gilded her body and nearly brought him to his knees.

  ‘You’re wearing that raspberry red lace again,’ he groaned, and she smiled, a little uncertain this time.

  ‘It’s comfortable.’

  ‘I don’t care. I think you’ve worn it long enough,’ he said, and turning her away from him, he unfastened the catch of her bra and slid the straps off her shoulders, catching her soft, firm breasts in his hands as they spilled free.

  He dropped his head against hers, his mouth raining kisses down the arch of her neck, over her collar bone, under her ear—anywhere he could reach. It didn’t matter. Every brush of his lips, every touch of his tongue made her gasp and shudder. He slid his hands down her sides, but she pushed him away and turned, her mouth finding his as her fingers searched his shirt for buttons.

  He was still in his work clothes, she realised. The shirt was nothing special, just a normal shirt, so she grasped the front of it and tore it open, buttons pinging in all directions. And then she giggled mischievously.

  ‘I’ve always wanted to do that.’

  ‘Have you?’ he said, and took his trousers off himself, just to be on the safe side.

  ‘Spoilsport.’

  ‘Vandal.’

  He kicked off his shoes, stripped off his boxers and socks and trousers in one movement and held out his hand.

  ‘Come to bed with me, Connie,’ he said, his eyes suddenly serious. ‘I need to make love to you and I don’t think I can wait any longer.’

  She went with him, toppling into the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, hungry mouths and searching hands. So hungry. So searching.

  So knowing. Knowing, clever hands that explored her body inch by inch. She’d thought he was in a hurry, but there was nothing hurried about his thorough exploration.

  ‘James—please,’ she begged, and he lifted his head and touched her lips with his fingers. She could taste herself on him, and she moaned softly, rocking against him.

  ‘Please—now, please...’

  He left her briefly, then he was back, his eyes glittering with fire and ice, his body vibrating with need.

  ‘James,’ she begged, and then he was there, filling her, stroking her, pushing her higher, higher, his body more urgent, his touch more demanding, until finally he took her over the brink into glorious, Technicolor freefall.

  His body stiffened, pulsing deep within her, and the
n as the shockwaves ebbed away he dropped his head into the hollow of her shoulder and gathered her gently against his chest, rolling them to the side.

  They lay there in silence for a moment, scarcely moving, and then he turned his head and kissed her.

  ‘You OK, Connie?’ he murmured, and she lifted her head and met his eyes and smiled.

  ‘I’m fine. More than fine. You?’

  He smiled back. ‘Oh, I’m fine, too. I’m so fine I think I must be dreaming.’

  ‘Not unless it’s the same dream.’

  He hugged her, then let her go and vanished to the bathroom and left her lying there staring out of the roof window at the night sky. The clouds had cleared, she thought. There was moonlight on the side of the reveal that had been in shadow.

  He came back to bed and turned off the light, pulling her into his arms, and they lay together staring at the stars and watching the moon track across the sky, and they talked.

  They talked about Joe, and Cathy, but about other things, too. How he’d lost his parents, how she had, what he should do with the garden, and about her career.

  ‘I’m sorry I put you in a difficult position,’ she said quietly. ‘I know you didn’t have a choice, not if you’d offered her the job. I just didn’t want to hear it. I can’t afford to hear it, if the truth be told, because my money’s running out fast and I need to work.’

  ‘Not necessarily. Not yet, at any rate. If this works for us, if we don’t get sick of each other and decide we can’t tolerate the other one’s appalling habits—’

  ‘What, like leaving a little heap of teabags on the side?’ she teased, and he laid a finger over her mouth and smiled.

  ‘If we don’t get sick of each other, then it’s not an issue. If we do, if one of us thinks it isn’t working for them, then I’ll support you until you find a job. Don’t worry about the money, Connie. I promised Joe I’d look after you, and one way or the other, you’re stuck with me.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She smiled tenderly, and leant over and kissed him, her lips gentle. ‘I can think of worse fates.’

  * * *

  They both had irritating habits, it turned out.

  He left the teabags in a heap, she was bordering on OCD with the arrangement of the mugs in the cupboard. Handles on the left, and God help anyone who put them away wrong.

  She squashed the toothpaste in the middle, he didn’t put the lid on.

  But they muddled through, and the nights took away any of the little frustrations encountered along the road to adjustment.

  Work was going well, too. Annie Brooks, the new doctor, had started, and Connie was doing only occasional shifts and researching career options and training Saffy in her free time.

  The career thing was a bit difficult, because she didn’t really know where she should be looking for a job.

  Living with James was great, the sex was amazing, they seemed to get on fine at work—but emotionally he still hadn’t given her a hint of his feelings, of how he thought it was going, of how their relationship might pan out long-term.

  And she wanted to know. Needed to know, because she was falling in love with him, she was sure, and she didn’t want to fall too far if he was going to pull the plug on them. She’d tried to hold back some of herself from Joe, but it hadn’t worked. She thought it had, but then he died and she realised she’d been fooling herself. She wasn’t going to let herself do the same thing with James.

  And then one day towards the end of August they were down at the little jetty, and James was pointing out things on the other side of the river. Saffy was at his side, patiently waiting for him to throw her stick again, and then it happened.

  One minute they were standing on the dock, the next a boat went past and sent up a wave that knocked Saffy off her feet.

  She fell into the churning water and was swept out, right into the middle of the current.

  ‘Saffy!’ she screamed, and then to her horror James kicked off his shoes and dived in after her. ‘Noooo!’ she screamed. ‘James, no, come back! What are you doing?’

  He went under briefly, then re-emerged a little further downstream.

  ‘He’ll be all right, love. Tide’s going out, and Bob’s gone to fetch them.’

  ‘Bob?’

  ‘The harbourmaster. Don’t worry. It’ll be all right.’

  Would it? She didn’t think so. He went under again, and then came up, dragging Saffy by the collar, just as Bob got to him. Terrified, still unable to believe her eyes, she watched as Bob pulled Saffy’s body into the boat.

  ‘That’s a goner,’ someone said, and her breath hitched on a sob.

  ‘Get him out,’ she pleaded silently. ‘Please, get him out.’

  ‘He’ll be all right now. He’s got a rope wrapped round his wrist. Don’t you fret.’

  Fret? She was beside herself as the boat pulled up at the jetty and someone dragged James out of the water.

  ‘Get the dog out of the boat,’ he snapped, and hauling her onto the wet boards of the jetty, he pumped down hard on her chest. Connie fell to her knees beside him, numb with shock.

  ‘What can I do?’ she asked, and he met her eyes, his own despairing.

  ‘Nothing. I’m going to swing her.’

  And grabbing the big dog by the back legs, he lifted her up and swung her over the side of the jetty to drain her lungs.

  Nothing happened for a moment, and then water poured out.

  He dropped her back on the jetty, clamped her mouth shut and breathed hard down her nose. Her chest inflated, and he blew again, and then again, and suddenly she coughed and struggled up, and his face crumpled briefly.

  ‘It’s OK, Saffy,’ he said gently, holding on to her for dear life. ‘It’s OK.’

  But it was too much for Connie.

  ‘No, it’s not OK,’ she yelled, losing it at last now she knew they were both safe. ‘That could have been you lying there with filthy water pouring out of your lungs, scarcely breathing! I’ve lost one man with a death wish, I’m not going to lose another one. You could have told me you were an idiot before I let myself fall in love with you!’

  And spinning on her heel, she ran back towards the cottage, tears of rage and fear and relief pouring down her face, blinding her so that she ran smack into something.

  Someone?

  ‘Connie?’

  David. It was Molly’s David, her blade runner, gripping her shoulders and holding her upright, and she fell sobbing into his arms.

  ‘Connie, whatever’s happened? I heard all the commotion—what is it? Where’s James?’

  ‘He went in the river,’ she said raggedly. ‘Saffy was swept in, and he went in after her.’

  ‘Where is he?’ he asked, starting to run.

  ‘He’s out, David. He’s out of the water. He’s fine. I’m just—so angry.’

  ‘And Saffy?’ he asked, coming back.

  ‘I think she’ll be all right. She didn’t breathe. She had water in her lungs, and he got it out, but his stupid heroics—’

  She broke off and clamped her mouth shut so she didn’t make an even bigger fool of herself, but it was too late, apparently, because James was coming now, Saffy walking unsteadily at his side, and at the sight of him she started to cry again.

  ‘Did you mean it?’ he asked, stopping right in front of her. In front of everyone.

  ‘Mean what? That I’m angry with you? You’d better believe it.’

  ‘That you love me.’

  The crowd went utterly silent.

  ‘Well, of course I love you, you idiot,’ she ranted. ‘Why else would I put up with your teabags?’

  He laughed, his face crumpling after a second. ‘God knows, but I love you, too,’ he said, then reached for her, dragging her up against his sodden chest and kissing
her as if his life depended on it.

  Against her leg she could feel Saffy shivering, and in the cheering crowd someone said, ‘What was that about teabags?’

  ‘Time to go home,’ he said firmly, and tucking her under his arm, he walked slowly back, Saffy on one side, the woman he hoped to spend the rest of his life with on the other.

  ‘We need to rub her dry and keep her warm,’ he said, bringing towels for Saffy into the kitchen.

  ‘Let me do that,’ Connie said, taking a towel. ‘You need a shower and some dry clothes on before you catch your death.’

  ‘I’m fine. Call the vet. She’ll need antibiotics after that.’

  Saffy staggered to her feet again and went out onto the veranda and retched, bringing up more of the murky water, and then she came back, lay down beside them and licked his hand.

  His eyes filled, and he blinked hard and rubbed her with a towel until she stopped shivering.

  Connie was kneeling beside Saffy, keying a number into the phone and muttering about him catching his death of cold, and he sat back on his heels and looked at her. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘What?’ she said, holding the phone to her ear.

  ‘Will you marry me?’

  She stared at him, her jaw sagging slightly, and put the phone down on the floor before she dropped it. ‘Marry you?’

  ‘Yes. You know, big dress, diamond ring, honeymoon, babies—’

  Her heart started beating harder, so loud now it almost deafened her. ‘Babies?’ she asked, just to be sure she’d heard it right.

  ‘Absolutely. Definitely babies. I can’t wait.’

  Her breath left her in a rush. ‘Neither can I.’

  ‘So—is that a yes?’

  She laughed—or was it a sob? He wasn’t sure, but she was in his arms, saying, ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ over and over again until he actually began to believe it.

  ‘Good. We’ll talk in a minute.’ And he picked up the handset from the floor.

  She stared at him, listening to someone saying, ‘Hello? This is the vet surgery. Did you call?’

  Oh, no! Had they heard? She felt hot colour surge into her cheeks, and he smiled at her, his eyes laughing. ‘Yes. Sorry about that, we got a little distracted. Can you come out on a house visit, please? We’ve got a rather large dog who nearly drowned in the river. I think she needs looking at urgently.’