‘Clara, you’re beautiful.’
And on any other day, at any other moment, she would have brushed aside his compliment, flicked it away with a scornful response, but seeing the adoration that blazed in his eyes, feeling the reverent way he held her, she accepted it with the grace and confidence of a woman in love, believing, almost, that maybe she was all the wonderful things he whispered.
Leaning forward, she heard his moan of approval as he buried his face in her splendid bosom holding her soft bottom, moving her, guiding her as she rocked above him, bringing them both to the sweet release they so badly needed. Sex for sex’s sake perhaps, a primal need that had to be fulfilled, an escape from the reality of the harsh day they had shared, but it was so loaded with love and caring it could never have been called gratuitous.
‘Clara?’ She heard the question in his voice as they lay spent and entwined, gazing into the darkness, the hazy hormonal rush of their orgasm working its balmy magic. ‘What I said today—about Kell, I mean…’
‘Don’t.’ Squeezing her eyes closed, she rushed to stop him. She simply couldn’t go there now, couldn’t spoil this post-coital peace by revealing the depth of her need for the man that lay beside her, sure it wasn’t what he needed to hear tonight of all nights.
‘It still hurts, then?’ Timothy said softly, kissing her shoulder and pulling her back close as a salty tear slid down her cheek.
Oh, it hurt all right, Clara thought as Timothy’s breathing evened out, as the arm that held her tightly gently loosened its grip.
Only her pain had nothing to do with Kell.
CHAPTER NINE
‘THESE will be great.’ Smiling, Shelly peered over Clara’s shoulder at the pile of photographs that lay scattered over the table. ‘Abby’s going to be thrilled.’
‘It’s a good idea,’ Clara commented, trying to choose between a picture of Kell on a bike and one of Kell on a horse and finally choosing both. ‘I mean, I know it’s only going to be a tiny wedding, but Kell and his family will be thrilled when they see all of these. If they can’t have the wedding in Tennengarrah then why not bring a bit of Tennengarrah to the city?’
‘You haven’t said anything?’ Shelly checked. ‘To his dad, I mean. This picture board is supposed to be a surprise.’
‘I haven’t said a word,’ Clara assured her.
‘Kell!’ Matthew’s excited squeak as he grabbed a photo had them both smiling as Clara retrieved it from his jammy fingers.
‘It certainly is.’ Ruffling his hair, she held it up for all to see. ‘Look at this one—we have to include it.’
Both women laughed as they stared at the photo—Kell Bevan at twenty-one years of age, not quite fresh-faced but awkward in his new nursing uniform, standing proudly outside the clinic. But even though she laughed, even though it was fun wading through old photos in such a good cause, Clara’s lack of emotion surprised even herself.
Oh, she missed Kell, missed their chats, missed having another nurse to share the load, missed him as a friend—but that was it.
She didn’t love him.
‘What are you doing tonight?’ Shelly broke into her thoughts and Clara gave a small shrug, trying to keep her voice light.
‘Meeting Timothy at the pub.’
‘Any special reason?’
Clara looked up, a wry smile on the edge of her lips. ‘You tell me, Shelly. Surely Ross must have said something.’
But Shelly shook her head. ‘He honestly hasn’t, Clara. I know as much as you—he’s going to speak to him about it this afternoon when Timothy’s finished the clinic.’
‘That’s honestly all you know?’
Shelly nodded. ‘It’s my fault. I can’t blame Ross. I’ve told him too many times over the last couple of weeks that I don’t want to hear about all the dramas over the staff at the clinic, and now that I actually want to hear the gossip he’s torturing me by keeping quiet.’
Clara believed her. Over the last couple of weeks they’d grown closer. Clara had known that even though Matthew was safe now, there would still be some emotional baggage for Shelly to deal with and she had taken it upon herself to be there for her—to ring Shelly and tell her to come over for a coffee and a chat with the kids—and the effort had been worth it tenfold. Finally Clara understood just what Shelly was up against, and in turn Shelly seemed to understand just how much Clara had done for the clinic, how hard it must have been to have relative strangers burst into town and seemingly take things over, and finally a true friendship had been forged…
‘So there are two new doctors starting?’ Clara checked. ‘And possibly a couple more nurses?’
‘All I know…’ Shelly blew her red curls skyward, searching her mind for a snippet she mightn’t have shared ‘…is that the two doctors are a married couple. He’s an anaesthetist, she’s a GP, and they’re semi-retiring.’
‘Has Ross told them there’s no such thing as semi-retirement here?’ Clara grinned.
‘Don’t be stupid.’ Shelly laughed. ‘And scare them off altogether? As for the nurses, they’re coming from the agency. I hope they’re a bit keener than the one they’ve already sent. Ross is tearing his hair out!’
‘I don’t care.’ Clara gave a cheeky grin. ‘This is my first afternoon off in months and I refuse to feel guilty. Still, it’s good that we’re finally getting some staff.’
Shelly nodded. ‘Ross read the Riot Act and said that until there’s more nursing staff we’re only going run a skeleton clinic, and finally they seem to have taken notice. But, honestly, Clara, he hasn’t said a word about whether he’ll be asking Timothy to stay on. Haven’t you two spoken about it?’
‘There didn’t seem much point,’ Clara admitted. ‘Until we know if there’s actually a job for him, it seemed silly to discuss it.’
‘Even with two more doctors, there will still be heaps of work,’ Shelly said assuredly, but Clara just shook her head.
‘I don’t doubt that, but what about the budget? Still…’ Smiling brightly, Clara stood up, grabbing her bag from the sofa and swinging it over her shoulder. ‘With these extra nurses I could take some annual leave. I must have about two years owing by now. Come on, let’s head over to the pub.’
‘You could join Timothy on his blessed diving course.’ Shelly laughed, scooping Kate into her stroller and following her out.
Clara smiled quietly to herself as she walked along, holding Matthew’s hand and her breath at the same time.
She’d been thinking exactly the same thing.
One look at Timothy’s face and Clara knew it was over.
Knew that the dreams she’d tentatively built in the sand were crashing back into the sea. But she managed a smile, a brave face as Shelly made herself scarce and Timothy came back from the bar, two orange juices in hand and a look she couldn’t read on his face.
‘I thought you were never coming.’ Taking a sip of her drink, she concentrated on keeping her voice light, ignoring her impulse to pick up her bag and run back to her house, to somehow avoid this horrible grown-up conversation that she knew was heading her way.
‘You know what Ross can be like when he gets talking.’ Timothy shrugged, forcing his own smile but utterly unable to meet her eyes.
‘Did he offer to extend your contract?’ Her question was brave, the antithesis of how she felt, but the suspense was killing her.
‘He did.’ For a while he didn’t elaborate, just picked up his beer mat between his index finger and thumb and tapped it on the table a few times before setting it down and carefully placing his drink on it. Clara watched—not because it was interesting but, hell, any distraction was welcome, anything was better than having her heart ripped out of her chest without an anaesthetic. ‘I’m leaving, Clara.’
Still he didn’t look at her—not that Clara was complaining. The chair seemed to be sliding away from beneath her, the world shifting out of focus for a second or two as she struggled to take the finality of his words in. She waited with a growing sens
e of futility for Timothy to elaborate, to shyly smile and ask her to come on his travels with him, but he didn’t. Instead, he picked up his drink and the blessed beer mat as the pub carried on around them, as the world kept right on turning even though for Clara it might just as well stop now.
‘I’m not what Tennengarrah needs,’ he said in low, subdued tones. ‘They’ve got two new doctors starting—one’s an anaesthetist, for heaven’s sake. If Ross is serious about upgrading the clinic then surely the most sensible thing would be to employ a surgeon, not blow a shaky budget on a very junior doctor.’
‘Where’s he going to find a surgeon?’ Clara pointed out. ‘It’s taken months to get this far. Surely you can stay until he finds someone.’
‘Ross said the same.’
‘Then why don’t you?’
Finally he looked at her, those beautiful green eyes unusually guarded, that beautiful open face so lined with tension it was as if she were looking at a stranger, the harshness in his voice alien to her ears.
‘I don’t want to be a fill in, Clara. I don’t want to be second best. Call me conceited, call me what you will, but I happen to think I deserve better than that. If I’m staying here it has to because I’m needed, because it’s me and me alone that’s wanted, and a junior doctor just isn’t on the top of the wish list here. I’ve worked hard to get my medical degree. I know I’m not the best doctor in the world but I am a good doctor and I need to do more training, need to get back out there and be all I know I can be…’ His wrist caught her hand, forcing her attention, forcing her to look back at him. ‘Can you understand that?’
She could.
Oh, she didn’t have to like it, but put like that she could understand it, and there and then she berated herself for her optimism, for her stupid wasted dreams of a future beside Timothy. Why would someone with his knowledge, with his passion end his career before it had even begun? Why would someone as beautiful and as wondrous as Timothy throw it all in for someone like her?
‘When will you go?’
‘I’ve already packed up the ute.’ Aghast, she whipped her face up to him, but he just shook his head. ‘I can’t settle for being second best, Clara.’
‘Then don’t.’ She registered his frown, knew that she had confused him, and she used the brief pause to clear her throat, to somehow fashion a response. And because she loved him, because this was how they’d both agreed it would end, because she’d do anything to make things easier for him, she did the hardest, bravest thing she’d ever done in her life. ‘You’re right to move on. Of course I’d love you to stay longer, we both know that. But as good as it’s been, we both knew it was never going to be for ever.’
‘What about you?’ Timothy said gently. ‘Will you be all right?’
‘I’ll be just fine.’ Clara swallowed hard, even managed a semblance of a smile. ‘I promise not to get drunk and try to declare undying love to you outside the barn. But I will miss you, Timothy.’
She watched as he stood up, drained his drink and offered her his arm. ‘I know. Come on, let’s get out of here.’
‘You go.’ Her voice was curiously high. ‘We both know I’m lousy at goodbyes.’
‘So that’s it?’ Timothy rasped, but Clara refused to be drawn. ‘That’s all we’re worth. What? Am I supposed to shake your hand or something? Do you want me to say I’ll send a postcard?’
‘You’re the one leaving, Timothy,’ Clara pointed out, sarcasm uncharacteristically dripping off her tongue as she continued. ‘If you’d given me a bit more notice, I could maybe have rustled up something a bit grander, a cake perhaps or a—’
‘Don’t.’ He closed his eyes but not quickly enough to hide the pain there. Clara finally relented, holding onto his hand as he quietly said goodbye to Ross and a teary Shelly, holding it together as they walked hand in hand towards his dusty and not particularly trusty ute with a heart that didn’t feel as if it was beating any more. She closed her eyes for a final goodbye kiss, staring for an age as his ute pulled off into the darkness and stared at the rear lights disappearing along with her soul mate.
Wandering back into the house, she didn’t even cry, didn’t throw herself on the bed or break down in hysterics—just stared at her house, empty now without Timothy’s clutter, his boots gone from the hall, the ton of mess he so effortlessly generated.
Sitting down at the table, she buried her face in her hands. Kell’s images stared back at her and she gazed unseeingly at the photographs, scarcely able to believe that she’d thought she’d loved him.
Hardly able to believe the pain she had thought she had felt when Kell had left, because nothing compared to the loss she felt now, nothing at all.
It was as if she had lost her soul.
CHAPTER TEN
LIFE for Clara continued on autopilot.
A numb state of shock as the days dragged on endlessly and the nights seemed to last for ever.
Even her once busy schedule dwindled with the arrival of fresh faces, so she didn’t even have the saving grace of burying herself in her work.
Time was on her hands when she needed it least.
Dressing listlessly one morning, she stared at her empty bed, missing that smiling face on the pillow, sighing wearily as a button flew off her blouse. Since Timothy had left, routine had gone to pot. The mess he generated had been replaced by Clara’s now. Normally meticulous, her ironing basket groaned under its own weight, every last work blouse a crumpled mess that would take for ever to iron. She located a needle but finding the thread took a bit longer, hell, even stitching on a button these days required a massive effort of concentration. But finally the job was done and Clara slipped on her blouse, grimacing when she saw the clock and realised that for the first time in her nursing career she was going to be late.
Only when the second button rolled onto the floor did the penny start to drop.
OK, being a seamstress wasn’t up there on her list of talents but even she knew how to sew on a button. Looking down at her blouse, Clara knew there and then that nothing short of metal wiring was going to hold her blouse together. Her breasts, always large, seemed to have taken on a life of their own.
Fingering her waistband, Clara knew she wasn’t imagining things. She’d been the same size for ever, now all of a sudden those smart navy culottes were definitely tight on her.
Definitely.
Under any other circumstances the knowledge would have sent her into a spin, but nothing seemed to matter any more. Since Timothy had gone she’d felt as if she were on beta-blockers, as if she were taking a cardiac drug that permanently steadied her heart rate, kept her blood pressure even.
Nothing seemed to matter.
Slipping off her skirt, she lay back on the bed, moving her hands down her soft white stomach, fingers gently probing until…
Clara had felt more stomachs than she could count, knew what a fundus felt like, the soft regular shape of the tip of the uterus as it bobbed out of the pelvic brim, a tiny life pushing the womb upwards as it grew inside. Suddenly the metaphorical beta-blockers must have worn off, because her heart rate was picking up, her blood pressure crashing through the roof as her body spoke for itself.
Rolling onto her side, she clung onto the pillow for comfort, closing her eyes in an attempt to block out the obvious truth.
‘Oh, no,’ she whispered, her hands moving down to her stomach again. ‘What have I done?’
‘Sixteen weeks.’ Ross didn’t look over, just stared at the screen as he clicked away taking measurements, his voice matter-of-fact, ever the professional, but Clara could hear the kindness behind it.
‘I can’t be, Ross.’ Clara shook her head against the white-papered pillow. ‘I’ve had periods.’
‘When?’
Her eyebrows furrowed as she forced her mind to think. ‘I’ve never been particularly regular but I know I’ve had them…’ Her eyes opened wide. ‘I had one last month, just after Timothy left. I can remember thinking, Great, that’s all
I need now. So you see…’
‘It wasn’t a period,’ Ross said gently. ‘Some women get bleeding in the first trimester when their periods would have been due…’
‘But I’m on the Pill.’ She knew her argument was futile, that the image staring back at her from the screen was irrefutable evidence if ever she’d needed it, but still she begged, stabbed at the chance to change the inevitable. ‘I take it every morning. I’ve never missed, Ross, not even once.’
‘You had gastro a while back,’ Ross reminded her gently, ‘when Timothy first started. I remember because Shelly had to fill in for you.’
‘But we were careful.’
‘Sometimes the damage is already done,’ Ross said gently. ‘Maybe the Pill you took before you got sick wasn’t properly absorbed and if the timing was right, if you’d just ovulated and…’ His voice trailed off. ‘I’m sure you don’t need a biology lesson, Clara. These things just happen sometimes.’
‘But sixteen weeks,’ Clara begged. ‘How could I not have known?’
‘It’s too small for you to feel it move yet, and I guess with Timothy gone you’ve had your mind on other things.’
Ross was right on that count, but at just the mention of his name Clara felt her eyes fill up, the true horror of her situation starting to dawn.
‘He’s a nice guy,’ Ross said softly. ‘I’m sure he’ll stand by you.’
‘I don’t want him to stand by me,’ Clara sniffed, accepting the tissue Ross offered.
‘It’s going to be long, lonely pregnancy without him,’ Ross pushed. ‘Even taking into account the sixteen weeks you’ve managed to get through unwittingly. He’d want to be there.’
But Clara shook her head. ‘To hold my hands during antenatal classes?’ She gave a low laugh. ‘I’m the one who gives the classes, Ross. I know what pregnancy involves, I know what I’m up against…’
‘For the next few months perhaps,’ Ross’s voice remained even. ‘But once that baby comes along, everything changes, Clara. It doesn’t matter what your qualifications are, how well you think you’re prepared. At the end of the day a baby will turn your world around.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘If Timothy were here, he’d tell me off now for assuming that just because I’ve got children I think I know it all.’
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