‘I’ve had family. Parents. Three brothers.’
‘And?’
‘Chris died when he was eight. Toby died when he was ten. My father disappeared. After Chris’s death, when it seemed Toby would soon follow, he simply walked out and never came back. Then after Toby’s death my mother drank herself into oblivion.’
His face didn’t change. ‘Leaving you.’
‘To what was left of my family,’ she whispered. ‘But that’s finished and now you’ll make me take on Madison.’
‘No one’s making you take on anyone.’
‘Are you kidding?’ She whirled on him, furious. ‘You’ve seen her. She’s Richard’s daughter. She even looks like us. When I saw her… She looks familiar and it’s how they all looked. My little brothers. Chris and then Toby. Do you know what sort of a childhood I had? I was six when it all started to fall apart and I’ve nursed them all since. And now… You’ll tell Richard he has a daughter and he’ll accept her-of course he’ll accept her-and of course he won’t ask me to take her on. He knows how much it’ll hurt. But he doesn’t have to ask. He’ll just look at her and it’ll be done.’
‘Maybe it’s already done,’ he said gently. ‘Maybe it was done from the time she was conceived. You just didn’t know about it until now.’
‘Have you any idea how much it hurts?’ Her voice cracked on a sob. She swallowed it and made herself continue. ‘You sit there and you have no idea…no idea at all. What you’re asking me to do.’
‘Ginny, she’s not your daughter.’ He hadn’t moved. It was like he was locked into position. ‘You can arrange foster-care or adoption for her after Richard dies, or there might be other family on Judith’s side who you can give her to.’
‘Oh, sure.’
‘You can, Ginny,’ he said softly. ‘It’s possible to walk away.’
‘How the hell would you know?’
‘I’ve watched it done. It’s possible to stay detached.’
‘Yeah, and go crazy.’
‘You need to keep things in perspective.’
‘There’s no perspective,’ she flung at him. ‘I don’t want this.’
‘So walk away now.’ He was watching her dispassionately, his voice curiously calm. ‘This is Richard’s daughter. Not yours. He may be dying but he has the right to sort things out. He has no right to include you in those plans.’
‘As if he couldn’t. As soon as he knows of her existence, then she’s part of my family. Part of my responsibility. He mustn’t… He mustn’t.’
‘You’re suggesting we don’t tell him?’ He rose, circling the desk to join her at the window.
‘I don’t know what to suggest,’ she said, and her voice was dull, bleak and accepting already that what she wanted had little to do with the way things would pan out. ‘I can’t do this. I’ve had enough.’
‘You’re tired of caring?’
‘I want out. I don’t want to love anything, anyone, ever again.’ Her voice trailed off and she lifted her hands to her face, hiding…hiding from what?
There was no place to hide. She knew it and so did Fergus.
He took her hands in his, drawing them down, gripping them with a warmth and strength that said he knew what she was going through. That he understood.
Which was an illusion. No one knew what she was going through. She didn’t understand it herself.
‘You just do what comes next,’ he said softly, drawing her in and hugging her. She felt herself be drawn. She had no strength to fight him.
She’d been fighting to be solitary for so long-to stay aloof. Richard’s death was to be the final step in her path to independence.
She didn’t need this man to hug her. She didn’t need anyone.
But she didn’t fight him. For this moment she needed him too much. Human contact. That was all it was, she thought fiercely. Warmth and strength and reassurance. It was an illusion, she knew, but for now…
For now she let herself be held. She let her body melt against his, letting him take a weight that had suddenly seemed unbearable. He was strong and firm and warm. His lips were touching her hair.
She should pull away, but she couldn’t. For now she needed this too much.
No one had held her like this. Not ever, she thought. Or maybe…maybe when she had been tiny, when she’d still been a child, when she hadn’t had the weight of the family firmly on her shoulders.
Had her parents ever held her like this? They must have, but that had been so long ago that she’d forgotten.
‘I don’t do…relationships,’ she muttered, and his hands shifted so he was holding her by the waist.
‘Good. Neither do I.’
‘You’re holding me.’
‘It’s a medical massage,’ he said, and she heard a lazy smile in his voice. ‘When all else fails-hug.’
She liked it, she decided. In times of crisis-hug?
Who was she kidding? You needed someone to be permanent to hug, and people weren’t permanent. You needed to let yourself close to find that degree of security but with that closeness came…peril.
If she lost anyone else…
‘Don’t do it,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not getting close to you, Fergus Reynard.’
‘I think you already are,’ he said, chuckling and holding her closer. ‘But I know what you mean. You needn’t worry. This is for now, because I suspect it’s what we both need. But it’s only for now. I’m here for twelve weeks and then I’m out of here.’
‘Why did you come?’
‘Maybe I knew how much I was needed,’ he told her, but she could tell by the tone in his voice that it was much more than that.
‘You’re running,’ she said, and he shook his head and put her away from him. She looked into his face and what she saw there…
This was no young medic taking a locum job to save for the next overseas jaunt, she thought. There was a recognition here…
Theirs was a shared journey, she realised bleakly. She didn’t know the details but she knew she was right, and she also knew… What he said was the truth. He could hold her as much as she needed but there was no fear of further commitment. She’d built her fences and so had he.
Two levels of razor wire around their hearts. Maybe his was impervious. She’d thought hers was, too, but out there…
Out there in the ward was a little girl called Madison, and the only way for her to survive was for Ginny’s barriers to come down.
No. There must be some other way.
‘Madison will sleep for hours,’ Fergus said softly into her hair. ‘Miriam and Tony will care for her. Oscar’s stable and there are no other patients in this place except nursing-home residents. Can I take you home to meet Richard?’
‘I need to tell him…’
‘We need to tell him nothing,’ Fergus said. ‘Judith has written to him. We give him the letter and we help him sort out what he wants done.’
‘Dear God…’
‘There’s no way through this but through this,’ Fergus told her. ‘Let’s do it.’
CHAPTER FOUR
RICHARD had been sleeping when Ginny had left him.
