‘For what?’
‘For jolting me.’
‘I thought…what we had…it was more a joining than a jolting,’ he said, cautious again.
She thought about that, considering it from all sides. ‘You mean, joining in more than a sexual way?’
‘I haven’t always been celibate in the six years since my wife left,’ he told her. ‘But last night was different.’
‘Mind-blowing.’ The smugness was back.
He smiled, but persevered. ‘Ginny, you and I could have something special. We do have something special. I feel it.’
‘As in?’ she whispered.
He hesitated but it may as well be said. It was how he was feeling. ‘There’s no need for us to be alone,’ he said. ‘Just because we’ve been wounded in the past.’
‘No,’ she whispered. She stared out at the dogs, but the dogs were doing nothing, going nowhere. ‘I figured that last night. I’d always thought…well, you know I’m a carrier for cystic fibrosis.’
‘That doesn’t mean you’ll have children with cystic fibrosis.’
‘No,’ she agreed. Her tone was blank, almost businesslike. ‘That would only happen if my partner is also a carrier. But even if my partner was free, I still have a fifty per cent chance of passing on carrier status to a child.’
‘So?’
‘So this damnable disease would live on through me. I’ve always sworn that will never happen.’
That was fine as far as it went, he thought. He nodded. ‘There’s life without children.’
‘There is,’ she said, and her voice softened. ‘You’d know that all too well.’
‘We could make it happen.’ He couldn’t stop the urgency entering his voice. He’d seen a glimpse of an escape-a sliver of something that might be a way of life he could embrace. A beautiful woman, smart and funny, a professional colleague with a life of her own. Someone who’d make him smile, who’d lie in his arms at night and take the emptiness away.
‘I’m keeping the dogs,’ she said, and his vision took a back step.
‘That’s crazy.’
‘What’s crazy about giving dogs a home?’
‘We’d never be able to keep them.’
‘We?’
‘If you and I…’
‘Fergus…’
‘I’m just thinking, Ginny,’ he said. ‘I… Last night… You and I… For the first time since my wife left I thought that I might have met someone I could make a future with.’ He lifted her hand, linking her fingers through his. ‘Ginny, it was, as you said, mind-blowing. It made me think that maybe we could make something for ourselves. Be selfish. Just…put away the pain and create a partnership that would edge out the darkness.’
‘Forget the darkness?’ she whispered. ‘How can we forget?’
‘Block it out.’
‘You can’t do that,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve been running for years and it doesn’t work. That’s what I figured last night. I lay there after you left and I stared at the darkness and I thought the way I’ve been trying to block out the pain is by pretending to be someone I’m not. And I can’t do that. I’ve been trying but it doesn’t work. I’m just me. Ginny. And I need people. You made me see that last night.’
‘You need me?’ he asked, not understanding, and she shook her head.
‘Not just you. Though you’re definitely in there if you want to be in.’
‘Gee, thanks.’
She smiled but her smile was troubled. ‘Don’t thank me, Fergus, because I don’t think you want what I’m offering.’
‘What are you offering?’
‘I’m keeping the dogs,’ she whispered.
He stared out at the canine pack. ‘Why?’
‘They’ll be great when I’ve trained them.’
‘You can’t keep them in your Sydney apartment.’
‘No.’ Flat. Definite. Resolute.
‘You’re not seriously thinking about staying here.’
‘No.’ Her chin jutted a little and he thought he could see a trace of fear. She might be determined but this determination was very new and very…scary. ‘I’m not thinking about staying here. I’ve decided to stay here.’
‘After Richard…’ He hesitated and glanced toward the bed.
‘After Richard dies,’ she said, and her voice steadied. ‘I talked it through with Richard this morning and I have his blessing.’
‘To do what?
‘To make this house a home again,’ she said. ‘If I can. To give Madison a place to live.’
‘You’ll stay at Cradle Lake with Madison?’ He forgot to whisper. If he sounded astounded, he couldn’t help it. This was a woman whom he’d thought was running from commitment as fiercely as he was.
‘I thought I hated it,’ she whispered. ‘Cradle Lake was claustrophobic. I knew everyone and everyone knew me. You know how many times I’ve had to cook since people found out Richard was back?’
‘I don’t-’
‘I haven’t had to,’ she continued, ignoring his interruption. ‘I’ve been away for almost fifteen years yet I’m still one of them. I have a community.’
He flinched.
A community.
‘I have that where I work,’ he said. ‘It’s not so rare. People care. It’s why I’m here. To get away from it.’
‘Yeah, but you’ve only been running for months. I’ve been running for fifteen years,’ she whispered. ‘I thought last night…I can stop.’
‘Do you have any idea what you’re saying?’
‘I have,’ she said, and again her chin jutted forward. He could see fear behind her eyes, he thought, and he knew she wasn’t as determined as she made out. ‘I’m jumping into the human race again. I thought…after I lost Richard that that’d be the end. It’s not. It can’t be and for some reason last night made me see that I don’t want it to be. I don’t want to hand Madison over to adoptive parents. Madison’s my last link with my family and I want to teach her to use a canoe on the lake.’
‘I could be your family,’ he said, suddenly urgent, and she gazed down at their linked hands and her smile became almost wistful.
‘You felt it, too, then. Last night.’
‘I surely did.’
‘More than mind-blowing sex.’
‘Ginny, we fit together.’
‘You and your wife,’ she said cautiously. ‘Did you fit?’
‘It’s different. We were professional, and our sole mutual interest was our work.’
‘So you and me…what would our sole mutual interest be?’
‘Ourselves,’ he said, but it sounded lame even to him.
‘I bet that’s what you and your wife thought at the start. Fergus, I want something more from a relationship than a mutual involvement in medicine.’
He paused. Out in the pen one of the dogs, the collie, rolled over on her belly and started to scratch in an entirely undignified manner.
‘This isn’t what you were saying last night,’ he said cautiously and she nodded.
‘No. It’s not. But I made you no promises last night, Fergus. I went into last night thinking it was a one-night stand and I can’t help that it changed things.’
‘What changed things?’
‘You see, I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘I’m still trying to figure it out. I only know that I woke up different. I
