How To Save a Marriage in a Million (16 page)

‘This is it,’ Richard said as he opened the gate for her.

‘It doesn’t suit you.’ Her comment, though bold, was the truth.

‘I know. You’re absolutely right.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘It’s only temporary until I find something better.’ He stepped into the tiny portico and unlocked the door. To Joanna’s surprise he looked embarrassed. ‘And I take no credit for the decorating.’ In a roundabout way he was apologising for his humble, short-term lodgings, which surprised her. He’d never paid much attention to keeping up appearances.

‘Come in and sit down,’ he added, indicating a doorway, one of several opening off a central passage that led to what looked like a kitchen-dining area. She presumed the bedrooms were upstairs. ‘Can I get you something to drink?’

‘Just water for me, thanks.’

Joanna wasn’t thirsty but wanted a minute or
two to compose herself. Richard left the room and headed towards the back of the house. She took a couple of deep breaths and glanced around the room and her gaze froze when she saw the photos on the mantle above the fireplace—for all the world to see.

Oh, my God!

Her heart began to race.

She recognised both snapshots. They were displayed in a decorative, hinged silver frame and were the only homely touch in what Joanna viewed as a comfortable though boring room.

She picked up the frame and examined the photos more closely. The first was a head-and-shoulders portrait of her and Richard on their wedding day. It wasn’t a professional shot but the photographer had captured the essence of their mood, which was a heady mix of joy, laughter, and unquestionable love for each other. Richard was gazing at her with a big goofy grin on his face and stars in his eyes. She, at twenty, looked so young and innocent but she was beaming with happiness and waving at the camera.

The second photo was at the beach. Joanna must have taken the picture but, although she remembered
the day vividly, she didn’t remember recording it on film. It showed Richard and Sam and it was also brimming with the joy of living. Richard was chest deep in the water and held his precious son in his arms. You could easily see that Sam was smiling as he reached out to touch the graceful dolphin gliding by. It was the last time they had taken their son to the beach—the last time before the cruel disease had taken his life. And it was as if the beautiful, intuitive creature knew Sam didn’t have much time left and had come to say goodbye.

Joanna wiped a tear from her cheek and put the photos back at the same moment Richard walked into the room. She stood in front of the fireplace, not knowing what to do or say. Her visit that afternoon was supposed to be about trying to free Richard’s cloistered emotions, but she was the one who couldn’t hold back the tears. She sniffed and moved over to the couch where Richard had placed a tray.

‘What’s the matter?’ His look was razor sharp and soft as duck down all at once. It cut through her defences and stripped her of the calm control
she’d learned, from her husband, to wear like a suit of armour. ‘Have you been crying?’

She shrugged. The question was unnecessary. He could easily see the tears smeared on her face.

‘The…the photos…’ she faltered.

‘They are the only family shots I have.’ He stood with his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looked past Joanna. His eyes lost focus and he swallowed.

‘When I left, I thought I’d be coming back…to you. I needed a break and I thought time would heal at least some of the hurt.’

He sat down next to her, fixing his searching eyes on her face. He reached for her hand and she didn’t resist his firm and consoling grasp.
He
had taken the role of comforter away from her and claimed it for himself. Jo knew that role usually came with unspoken permission to store his feelings in an inaccessible box; to do the job he’d been trained to do, regardless of whether it was at the expense of dealing with his own anguish. He could then concentrate on the task of healing and reassuring others…
covering old wounds with a veil of optimism.

No, not this time.

Joanna was unable to contemplate a life with Richard if he couldn’t be open with her. Trust and communication were two essential characteristics in any relationship. One of the reasons why she and Richard had parted had been that they had stopped communicating. Joanna realised, too late, that she’d been as much to blame as him.

But she hoped she’d learned from her mistakes. The opportunity to start over opened up the way to getting it right this time.

Or getting it very wrong.

Joanna couldn’t afford to take that risk.

Sometimes love wasn’t enough and she would rather spend the rest of her life alone than with a man who felt he had to be strong for her all the time.

She finally broke the silence.

‘Those photos represent two of the most important turning points in our relationship.’ Richard waited for her reply cloaked with an unreadable expression. ‘The beginning of our marriage, our long-term commitment to each other and…’ Jo knew what she wanted to say but the words stuck in her throat.

‘And?’

‘And the end of our marriage.’ There, she’d said it. Their life together had fallen apart when they had lost their child. Sam had turned out to be the sustenance of their love and it was only when he’d gone that the full impact had struck. Neither of them had had the strength to do battle with their own demons, let alone share their grief. Joanna had cocooned herself in despair and Richard…She knew he’d tried his best but it hadn’t been enough. In being the strong one, he’d buried part of himself. He’d buried his own guilt and pain and devastation. Joanna could see that now and was grateful for how hard he’d tried to help, but it hadn’t made sense to her at the time.

She’d wanted him to cry therapeutic tears with her, to share the load so they could carry it forward, together. Not ignore their problems and maintain an outwardly happy face in the name of toughing it out.

Richard’s thumb traced a pattern on the palm of her hand with warm, gentle pressure.

‘I tried so hard—’

‘I know. But maybe you tried too hard. You never broke down. You were always the tower of strength. But what I needed was to see that you
were as vulnerable as me. In the end you seemed to almost stop being human.’

‘It was the only way I knew to cope.’ The dark pupils of his deep blue eyes dilated and Joanna thought she detected a slight tremor in his hand. It was the reassurance she needed. He was on the brink of sharing his feelings.

‘But you still do it, Richard. I don’t think you’ve…’ But she couldn’t say it. She didn’t know how to tell her husband she thought he hadn’t yet worked through the grieving process necessary to move on. She suspected it was the reason he’d stayed away so long; it had probably been an escape for him, to a life full of strangers and distractions and a full-on workload.

Richard opened his mouth to speak but closed it again.

‘Do you want me to forget we had a son?’ he finally said, his voice a husky whisper.

‘No, of course I don’t. There’s not a day goes past that I don’t think about Sam. He was an important part of our lives. Still is. But I realise it serves no purpose to let the memories overwhelm me. It’s taken me a long time to realise that.’ She took a deep breath in an effort to give herself the
courage to continue. ‘And my work in Oncology has helped.’

Richard reached across for the bottle of spring water he’d brought in on the tray. He opened it and half filled both glasses. He took one for himself and offered the other to Joanna but she refused. The dryness she felt in her throat wouldn’t be relieved by water.

‘Yes, I know.’ Richard swallowed a mouthful of his drink. ‘Anyone can see how much you care for the kids on Matilda.’

‘It makes it easier when I know how difficult it would be to fall pregnant.’

Richard’s gaze lowered and he rubbed the back of his neck as if to massage away a ball of tension. Then he looked up.

‘So what do you want me to do, Joanna? I can’t change who I am. I can’t change the past.’

She looked at him for a long moment and realised the only answer she could give was the truth.

‘I still love you, Richard. I want us to try again. But it won’t work if we can’t share the bad times as well as the good. I know the memory of Sam will always be there and I want…’ She took a sip
of water while Richard waited for her to continue. ‘I want you to let yourself cry for Sam.’

He stood up and walked over to the window that faced the street. He leaned on the sill with his arms spread wide. At least he was thinking about what she’d said. He hadn’t dismissed her words as being sentimental nonsense. The barrier hadn’t gone up yet.

Finally he turned.

‘I can’t turn on tears for you, Jo.’

‘I don’t expect you to. I just want to know you are able to…How can I say it…? You’re able to give yourself permission.’

He walked back to where she was sitting, leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead.

‘I’m not sure I can do what you want, but I’m prepared to try.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

N
IGHT
shifts weren’t usually a problem for Joanna but now she was nearing the end of her month-long stint the days were dragging. She was counting the shifts until she finished, looking forward to starting work in daylight hours and going to bed after sunset. She knew nursing involved around-the-clock care but the busy, hands-on day shifts suited her better than the usually quiet and uneventful nights.

And, of course, she would see more of Richard when her roster changed.

His attitude seemed more relaxed as they took the first tentative steps to get to know each other again. He’d said little about their heart-to-heart talk but she was perceptive enough to notice his attitude towards her had changed. The spark was still there but they’d both agreed to take things slowly.

The tongues of the hospital grapevine had already
started to wag, though, which wasn’t surprising because it was difficult to disguise the fact that their relationship went further than a straightforward professional association between nurse and consultant. She hadn’t yet decided whether the gossip was a good or bad thing, but at least no one knew about their past. Joanna had enough to deal with without having to cope with the possibility of endless questions, probably associated with well-meant but unwelcome sympathy.

The combination of Joanna working night shifts and Richard’s busy schedule meant they’d had little opportunity for one-to-one contact. He’d walked her home from choir rehearsals a couple of times but she’d been shy of asking him in. The closest they’d come to a date had been his invitation for her to come swimming with him after work. They’d also shared a meal with the ‘film crew’ the previous Saturday after helping Lorraine and Steve with the final shoot of the Matilda Ward segment for the concert. But that didn’t count because they’d been part of a large, noisy and excited group and had barely spoken to each other.

The concert.

It was only two weeks away and preparations were going well. The performance was scheduled for Easter Saturday and Richard had promised to take Joanna out on a
proper date
on the following evening.

To celebrate, he’d said mysteriously.

To celebrate what?

Of course, the predicted success of the concert was cause for celebration but the look in his eye when he’d invited her suggested he had more than the hospital fundraiser on his mind.

He’d told her he’d already booked a table for two at a fancy, waterside restaurant but he wouldn’t tell her where. She was looking forward to it and had bought a new dress in honour of the occasion.

She smiled as she walked back to the nurses’ station after doing her 6:00 a.m. rounds. It was her last night shift for at least another three months and she was dog tired. The previous day she’d found it difficult to sleep and as a result had felt overtired and cranky before she’d even started her shift. This stint had taken its toll more than usual and in the last hour she’d resorted to watching the clock. She yawned and followed it up with a deep, sighing breath.

‘What’s up, Jo?’ Barbara asked. The ward was quiet and they had time to share a cup of tea. She must have noticed the number of times Joanna had yawned that night. ‘You look like the subject of a sleep deprivation experiment.’

Joanna managed a smile.

‘Funny you should say it. That’s just how I feel.’

‘So what’s going on with Matilda Ward’s very own Miss Cheerfulness? What’s caused you to lose some of your shine?’

Joanna tried to suppress another yawn but without success. She sipped her tea, hoping it would revive her. Although she appreciated the older woman’s concern, she liked to keep her private life to herself.

‘I’m fine. Just a bit tired. I’ve been lucky up until now, being able to sleep during the day. Quiet street, neighbours who work—’

Barbara was looking at her with a quizzical, motherly expression, but seemed happy with the answer. The supervisor went back to her work, checking that the medication doses and times had been filled in correctly. She checked and double-checked. The hospital was currently cracking down on record-keeping, particularly regarding
medications, after a near fatal mistake in the emergency department.

‘Anything else I can do?’ Joanna said, suppressing another yawn.

The concerned look Barbara gave her said more than words.

‘If you weren’t at the end of your stint on nights, I’d recommend you take a couple of days’ leave. Are you sure you’re not coming down with something?’

‘Really, Barbara…’ She attempted to laugh off the fact that she felt dead on her feet. ‘Maybe I’m just starting to feel my age.’

‘All right, but how about you go home early? It’s only an hour and I can sign you off as being unwell. You’re not much use to us in your state and the ward’s really quiet. Tracey and I can hold the fort.’

‘No, I’ll be fine.’ She could count the number of sick days she’d had over her entire nursing career on the fingers of one hand. She wasn’t about to take time off because she’d had trouble sleeping. And it wasn’t as if she didn’t know the reason. ‘And I assure you I won’t let a couple of extra yawns interfere with my work,’ she added.