The Fiancé He Can't Forget (13 page)

‘Amy, do you
really
want to go back to work so soon? Or is this a purely economic decision? Because if it is, you don't have to work if you don't want to. I can afford to support you, but I want to be part of his life, and part of yours. And if you moved back to London, we could do all of that. It would be amazing. You've said you like my house, and we could live there and you could be at home with him and enjoy his babyhood, and I'd get to see him growing up.'

It was the obvious answer, of course. If she lived with him, it would cost him hardly anything to support her, and he'd be with his son. But how much of it was to do with her and how much he loved her?

Because he'd never said those words, in all these weeks of talking and getting to know each other again. Never once had he said he loved her, or tried in any way to touch her, kiss her, hold her in anything other than a supportive way.

And she realised she had no idea at all where she stood.

‘What happens when something goes wrong, Matt? If I leave behind my job, my home, my friends—I'd have to start again. I've done that once. Believe me, I don't want to do it again.'

‘What makes you think anything would go wrong?'

‘Experience,' she said quietly, and to her relief Josh woke at that moment and she had a legitimate excuse to leave the room.

 

He didn't say any more about it that day, and the following day he left her in Suffolk and went back to London on his own. Maybe, he thought, it was time to let her cope alone for a while, ease himself out of her life and let her see what it was like.

He was helping her with all nappy changing and bathing, he did all the shopping, all the housework, he watered the garden and weeded the flowerbeds and washed her car and cleaned the windows—mostly to fill the time between feeds because he didn't trust himself not to rush her if he was alone with her. She'd been so ill, was still getting over major surgery, whatever she might say to the contrary, and the last thing she needed was him coming on to her.

So he took himself off out of her life, and rattled round his house alone and missed her every single minute he wasn't at work.

And then he got to work one morning and checked the calendar.

It was the date they'd lost Samuel, he realised with shock. He'd never forgotten it before, never overlooked it. He was always in Harrogate on that day, always took flowers to the cemetery, but this time he had Amy to think about, and maybe it was time they confronted this issue together, today of all days.

He cleared his workload, delegated his clinics and left London, arriving back at Amy's house in Yoxburgh without warning and finding her sitting in the conservatory in tears. He'd let himself in with his keys, and he wondered if he should have done or if she minded.

‘Hey,' he said softly, crouching down and touching her face with a gentle hand. ‘It's OK, I'm here now.'

‘I'm all right,' she lied, and he knew she wasn't, be
cause her face was blotched and tearstained and her eyes were swollen and she was in a sea of soggy tissues.

He knew just how she felt. He'd done the same thing every year, but this year he'd been more worried about her, and he scooped her up and carried her into the sitting room and cradled her on his lap as she cried.

Then finally she sniffed to halt and tried to sit up, but he wouldn't let her, just held her against his chest and she gave in and rested her head on his shoulder and laid her hand over his heart.

Could she feel that it was broken?

She looked up at him, and with a soft sigh she wiped away his tears. ‘When is it going to end?'

He kissed her gently, his lips tasting the salt of her tears, and he sighed quietly.

‘I don't know. I don't know if it'll ever truly go.'

She closed her eyes, and the welling tears slid down her cheeks, breaking his heart still further. ‘I just wish I had somewhere to go—a focus for my grief. Somewhere I could go and remember him, once in a while. All I've got is the scan photo and my armband from the hospital. Nothing else.'

‘There is something else,' he said softly, kicking himself for never thinking of it, never telling her, never sharing their grief. If only he'd known how she felt, if only he'd thought about it. ‘I asked the hospital to arrange his cremation, and I went to the…' He couldn't say funeral. ‘To the service,' he went on, after a moment. ‘The hospital chaplain said a few words, and they scattered his ashes in the garden there. I go every year and put flowers in the garden, but they wrote his name in the Book of Remembrance, and I'm sure you can view it. I'm so
sorry, I should have told you, but I'd just put it out of my mind.'

She stared at him blankly. ‘There's a book with his name in it? Can we see it?'

He nodded. ‘I think so. I'm pretty sure you can. I'll have to phone, but I think so.'

‘Phone them now. Please, Matt, phone them now! It's only eleven o'clock. Maybe we could go today.'

He used his phone to find the number, and rang. Half an hour later they were heading north on their way to Yorkshire, the baby fed, Amy's clothes packed haphazardly, but that wasn't what mattered. What mattered was that they were together, today, and anything else was irrelevant.

 

The book was open at the date, and she ran her finger down the page and found the entry.

Samuel Radcliffe Walker, beloved son of Amy and Matthew. Always in our hearts.

The words swam in front of her eyes, and she sagged against Matt, his arm firmly around her, supporting her. Joshua was on his chest in a baby sling, fast asleep against his father's heart, next to the cherished memory of their other son, and she laid her hand against the baby's back, making the connection.

‘I thought he'd been forgotten,' she whispered.

His arm tightened slightly, and she felt his lips brush her hair. ‘No. No, Amy, he'll never be forgotten. He'll always be our first son.'

She nodded, her finger tracing the words once more, and then she nodded again and turned away.

‘Thank you—thank you so much,' she said to the kindly man who'd shown them the book. He was hov
ering quietly behind them, giving them space, and Matt shook his hand and thanked him, and led her back outside into the sunshine.

‘Where are his ashes?' she asked unsteadily, and Matt showed her the place. He'd never seen the book, but every year he'd brought beautiful cottage garden flowers from a lady who sold them from a little barrow outside her cottage just down the road—real flowers, not a stiff arrangement of scentless hothouse blooms.

They'd bought some on the way here today, and Amy kissed them, then laid them on the grass, taking a moment to remember him and say goodbye, then she straightened up and snuggled against Matt's side, his arm automatically going around her holding her close. He pressed his lips to her hair, and she rested her head against his shoulder as they stood for a moment staring at them, and then she sighed and turned away and they strolled quietly along the paths in the sunshine, arms around each other, hanging on.

They found a bench and sat down, by tacit agreement, not quite ready to leave just yet.

‘Are you all right?' he asked softly.

‘Mmm. You?'

He smiled wryly. ‘I'll do.'

‘Thank you—for bringing me here, for coming to see me. I'm not normally that bad. It seemed worse this year, somehow.'

‘Mmm. Maybe it's having Josh. It sort of underlines what we've lost,' he said, his voice unsteady, and she nodded.

‘I'm so glad we came. I feel so much better now—as if I've done something I've been waiting all these years to do. And I'm glad you were there for his funeral. How
did you do that?' she asked, bewildered. ‘I wouldn't have been strong enough. How did you cope?'

He gave a hollow little laugh. ‘I didn't really. Mum offered to come, but I wanted to do it alone. I didn't want anyone seeing me like that. I was in denial, and if nobody saw me, I could pretend it wasn't happening.'

‘That was why I ran away to India,' she admitted. ‘So nobody I knew would see me as I fell apart.'

‘You were in India?'

‘Yes. I went backpacking on my own. Probably not the most sensible thing, but while I was there I spent a couple of weeks living on the fringe of a village where the child mortality rate was dreadful, so it put it in perspective.'

‘I'll bet. Amy, I had no idea. I thought you were somewhere in London, one of the other hospitals. I didn't try to find out, either. I thought, if you didn't want me, there was no point in pursuing it.'

She turned and looked at him, seeing the pain in his eyes, and she shook her head slowly. ‘It wasn't that I didn't want you, it was that I felt you didn't want me.'

He gave a soft grunt of laughter. ‘Oh, I wanted you, Amy. I've never stopped wanting you. I just didn't know how to talk to you, how to deal with it. Mum suggested bereavement counselling, but I turned it down flat because I didn't want to be made to think about it.' He touched her face, his fingers gentle, and his eyes were filled with sorrow.

‘I let you down. I'm sorry.'

‘I let you down, too. I should have stayed in England, talked to you instead of letting you shut yourself away. I never wanted to end our relationship, Matt, I just couldn't cope with the idea of a party. That great big
wedding, with all our family and friends all gathered there just weeks after we'd lost him—it seemed wrong, somehow. It would have been wrong.'

He nodded. ‘It would, but I wasn't sure then if it would ever be right, or if we'd lost each other as well along the way. And then you disappeared off the face of the earth, and I bought the house, in case you changed your mind and decided you wanted me after all, but you never did. You'd handed in your notice, and you were gone.'

‘You could have found me. I'm a registered midwife, you could have tracked me down.'

He smiled. ‘Probably not legally, but I wasn't sure I wanted to. You knew where I was. I thought, when you were ready, you'd come back to me, but you never did, and I gave up hope.'

‘And then Ben met Daisy, and there you were again in my life,' she said softly. ‘And now we have another son.'

‘We do, and I have a feeling he has rising damp,' he said with a smile.

She laughed quietly and felt the edge of his little shorts. ‘Oops. I think you might be right.'

‘Can you cope with my parents?' he asked, his eyes concerned, and she smiled and nodded.

‘Yes. Yes, I can cope with them. I'd love to see them. Can they cope with us, though?'

‘I'm sure they can.'

 

They were overjoyed to see them.

There were more tears, and tea, and lots of hugs, and then they offered to babysit so Matt could take Amy out for dinner.

‘Go and have a quiet meal somewhere by yourselves. We can cope. You can express some milk and we can feed him if he wakes.'

‘We haven't got any bottles,' Amy said, but Liz had an answer.

‘Ben and Daisy have been up here and they brought a steriliser and some bottles with them so we could look after Thomas. Now what else are you going to come up with as an excuse?' she teased, and Amy laughed.

‘Nothing. Thank you. Dinner out with Matt would be lovely.'

‘In which case, if you'll excuse me, I have a phone call to make,' Matt said, and he dropped a kiss in Amy's palm, closed her fingers over it to keep it safe and with a little wink he walked out with a spring in his stride she hadn't seen for years.

‘Right. Let's get these bottles sterilised,' Liz said. ‘I don't want you two having any excuses for coming home early.'

‘W
HICH
rooms do you want us to have?'

His mother searched his eyes, and he lifted his shoulders in an almost invisible shrug, but she understood, it seemed, because she just smiled.

‘Yours and Ben's are already made up, and the crib's in Ben's already.'

He nodded. They had a communicating door, which would mean he could help Amy with Josh in the night—and if things went the way he hoped, they'd only need his room.

He took the luggage up, opened the windows and stood staring out over the familiar countryside and breathing in the glorious fresh air. He loved London, loved his job, but it was good to come home.

‘Matt?'

He turned and smiled at Amy. ‘Hi. I've put your things in Ben's room with Josh's. There's a changing mat in there, and the crib, which might make life easier.'

She looked at the crib, rocking it gently with one finger, memories washing over her. It was one of two that Matt's father had made for their boys, and Liz had shown them to her when she'd been pregnant with Samuel. ‘The baby will be able to sleep in one when
you come and stay,' she'd said, only Samuel had never needed a crib, and now his brother and his cousin would be sleeping in them.

She waited for the wave of pain, but there was only a gentle sorrow, a quiet acceptance that this was the way things were, and now she could move on, with Josh—and Matt?

She felt a tingle of anticipation, and turned to find him standing in the doorway, watching her.

‘OK?'

She nodded. ‘Yes. So—where are we going for dinner?'

He smiled. ‘A place Ben recommended. It's—um—it's quite smart,' he said, ‘but you're about the same size as Mum. I wonder if she's got anything you could borrow?'

She looked down at her baggy jersey dress and leggings, soft and comfortable and easy to wear, but not exactly smart dining. ‘Let's hope so or you might be cancelling the reservation!' she said lightly, and went to find Liz.

‘Oh, gosh—right. Um—come and see. I'm sure I've got something.'

She had. A lovely black lace dress, soft and stretchy and elegant, and although her tummy was still a little bigger than she would have liked, the dress fitted beautifully and she wasn't ashamed in any way of her post-pregnancy figure.

‘It's lovely, Liz. Are you sure?'

‘Of course I'm sure. How about a little pashmina? I've got one that I wear with it to keep the chill off, and it might get cold later.'

She borrowed them both, but stuck to her little flat
black pumps. They had sparkly gems on the toe and they fitted, more to the point.

She showered and then tipped out her bag, hunting through the things she'd thrown into it in haste on the way up, and then wailed.

‘What's up?'

Matt appeared in the doorway, and she pulled the borrowed dressing gown tighter round her. ‘No knickers.'

‘Ah.' He disappeared, and came back a moment later dangling a scrap of cream lace from one finger.

She frowned and snatched them from his fingertip. ‘They're mine!'

‘Yup. I must have scooped them up with the suit and things the morning after the wedding. I didn't exactly pack carefully.'

‘No.' He hadn't. He scooped everything up and shoved it in the bag, and she hadn't been able to find the tiny lace shorts. ‘So what are they doing here?'

‘They were in my case—in the pocket. I found them and washed them—I meant to give them back to you ages ago, but I shoved them in the case and just forgot. You talking about it reminded me.'

‘Thanks. They'll go a treat with the nursing bra.'

He started to laugh, and then he pulled her into his arms and hugged her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. ‘You're gorgeous, Amy. You don't need sexy underwear to turn me on.'

And just like that, with those few words, her body came alive in his arms. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart speeded up, and she took a shaky step back and met his eyes. ‘Shoo,' she said, more firmly than she felt. ‘I need to feed Josh and express some more milk
before we go, and I don't need an audience. If you want to do something useful, you can make me a cup of tea.'

He went, humming softly as he walked away, and she shut the door and put on the little shorts. They looked all right, she thought, even though she'd gained a little weight. She'd been too thin at the wedding—worrying about seeing him again.

Now, she couldn't wait to be alone with him, and she put on the borrowed makeup—a touch of concealer over the bags under her eyes from the disturbed nights, a streak of eyeshadow over her lids, a flick of mascara. Nothing more. She'd eat the lipstick off in moments, and anyway Matt didn't like kissing lipstick, and she really, really hoped he'd end up kissing her goodnight.

At the very least…

 

‘Mr Walker! Welcome back, sir.'

Matt smiled. ‘Sorry—wrong Mr Walker. You're thinking of my twin brother,' he explained with a grin. ‘I'm not two-timing Daisy.'

‘My apologies, sir—I must say I'm relieved to hear it.' The maitre d' beamed and showed them to their table, set in a quiet alcove. ‘I've put you at their favourite table. He caused quite a stir in here the night he proposed to Mrs Walker. How are they?'

‘Very well. They had a boy.'

‘Ah. I wondered. Well, please give them our congratulations. May I get you a drink?'

‘Yes—thank you. Could we have sparkling water?'

‘Of course.'

He faded away, and Amy smiled. ‘Don't you ever get sick of that happening?'

He grinned. ‘No, not really. I'm used to it. It's a bit
more complicated when we're working together. We used to wear colour-coded scrubs and shirts to give the staff a clue, but the patients found it confusing.'

‘I've never found it confusing.'

‘That's because you love me,' he said, and then let his breath out on a sigh and smiled wryly. ‘Sorry. Ignore me.'

It was on the tip of her tongue to say yes, he was right, but she didn't, and a waiter appeared with their sparkling water and menus, and they ordered their food. Eventually.

‘I can't decide,' she'd said, and he grinned.

‘Neither can I. Let's share, then we can have two dishes from each course.'

So they did, swapping plates halfway through, or a little more than half in Matt's case because he was bigger than her and it was only fair, but the food was gorgeous and she was reluctant to let it go.

‘I want everything,' she said, and he just laughed and swapped the plates.

‘We'll come again,' he said, and she felt a little flutter in her chest.

‘Yes, let's.' She looked away to break the tension, and scanned the room with her eyes. ‘It's lovely in here, a real find. I can see why Ben and Daisy like it so much.'

‘Yes, so can I.'

She sighed softly, her face thoughtful. ‘It's so nice being alone with you like this. It seems forever since we did it.'

‘It is. The last time we had dinner together was before Samuel.'

She smiled sadly, twisting his heart. ‘And all I wanted was peanut butter.'

He nodded. ‘I've thought about that. I should have realised at Christmas when you were eating that sandwich.'

‘I should have told you. I wanted to, but I was blocking it out, too afraid of what might come out if I let go, and I wanted to protect you, just in case.'

His hand found hers lying on the table, his thumb tracing circles on the soft skin. ‘I didn't need protecting, Amy,' he said softly. ‘I just needed to share it with you, whatever it was. Promise me you'll never do that again, whatever happens, whatever you're worried about, whatever you're afraid of. Tell me the truth. And I'll do the same. We need to learn to open up to each other, to talk about the things that really matter. And it won't always be easy. It never is, but we have to.'

She nodded. ‘I agree.' She hesitated for a moment, then took the first step on that road. ‘Can I ask you something about the house?'

He gave a slightly puzzled frown. ‘Sure. What about it?'

‘Why did you do it like that?'

‘Like what?'

‘All of it—the kitchen I'd said I liked, the colours, the granite—you even kept the wisteria, and a lawn. We'd talked about needing a lawn for children to play on, although you'd talked about having a modern low-maintenance garden.'

‘It is low maintenance. It's mostly paved, and I found I wanted a piece of lawn—just a little bit of home, I suppose,' he said, but then remembered what he'd said about telling the truth, and he smiled wryly. ‘And I suppose I hoped that you'd come back to me, that one day we might have another child to play on the lawn. And
yeah, I did the kitchen for you, and painted it all for you in your favourite colours. I told you that.'

‘But you didn't really say why.'

‘For you. I did all of it for you. I wanted you back, Amy, and I still do. I've told you that.'

‘You said you wanted me to come and live with you with Josh. I thought—'

She broke off, and he prompted her. ‘You thought…?'

‘I thought you wanted Josh with you, and it was the easiest way. And the cheapest, if you were talking about paying my rent so I didn't have to worry about money. It would be cheaper and easier and more convenient to have me with you.'

‘And you really thought that was why I wanted you to come back to me?' he asked, genuinely shocked. His hand tightened on hers. ‘Oh, Amy. I didn't even give the money a thought. I just—it seemed a way to convince you to come back to me. It was nothing to do with Josh, nothing at all. Of course I want to be near him, but I would have moved, would have found a way like Ben did to be near Florence. But I want
you
, Amy. I love you, I always have, I always will, and I don't want to be without you. Josh is amazing, and having him in my life is wonderful, but the thought of my life without you in it is untenable.'

‘Really?' She stared at him for ages, and then her eyes filled. ‘Oh, Matt. I love you, too. I thought you didn't love me, I thought losing Samuel gave you a way out of a relationship that you hadn't asked for and came to realise you didn't want.'

‘Of course I wanted it! Why would I want a way out, Amy? I love you. I'll always love you. I thought four years would be enough to get over you, but I realised at
the wedding that I wasn't over you at all, I'd just been marking time.'

‘Me, too.' Her smile was gentle, her eyes filled with tears, and suddenly he wanted to be alone with her—completely alone, so he could hold her, touch her, love her.

And lovely though the restaurant was, he'd had enough of it. He glanced up and caught the waiter's eye, and asked for the bill.

‘Is everything all right, sir?' he asked worriedly, and Matt smiled.

‘Everything's fine. Thank you.'

‘Matt?'

He stroked her wrist with his thumb again, tracing the pulse point, feeling it leap. ‘I just want to be alone with you,' he said a little gruffly, and her eyes widened slightly. And then she smiled, and ran the tip of her tongue lightly over her lips. He groaned softly and closed his eyes.

‘Stop it,' he murmured, as the waiter came back with the bill and the card machine. He didn't even glance at the bill, just keyed in his PIN and left a couple of notes on the table as he ushered Amy out.

They walked to the car in silence, hand in hand, and he drove home as fast as was sensible.

The house was quiet when they got in, a note on the kitchen table. ‘All well. Josh is in with us. Sleep well.'

He met her eyes, slid his fingers through hers and led her upstairs to his room. There wasn't a sound in the house except the ticking of the clock, and he closed the door of his room and turned to Amy in the moonlight.

‘Come here,' he said gruffly, and wrapped her in his arms, his mouth coming down on hers tentatively,
searchingly. He hadn't kissed her since the wedding, not like this, and he wasn't entirely sure of how she'd react. It was still only weeks since Josh's birth, and although she seemed well…

He needn't have worried. She slid her arms around his neck, leant into him and kissed him back with the pent-up longing of all those years without him, and with a groan of satisfaction he let instinct guide him and plundered her mouth with his.

She stopped him after a moment, easing away and looking up at him regretfully. ‘Matt, we can't. What if I get pregnant?'

He smiled. ‘Don't worry. My brother's a good boy scout. I checked his bedside locker. They've just been to stay.'

‘And?'

‘And I may have raided it.'

She smiled back, her lips parting on a soft laugh and her eyes creasing. ‘Well done,' she said, and went back into his arms.

 

‘So how do you feel about coming back to London to live with me?'

She was propped up against the headboard feeding Joshua, Matt beside her with his arm around her shoulders, and she turned her head and met his eyes.

‘It sounds lovely. I'll miss being near Ben and Daisy, but it's not far from them, we can see them often.'

‘We can. They're talking of selling both houses and buying something bigger, so we'll be able to go and stay, and I'm sure we can squeeze them in here. And if you really want to work, I'm sure we can find room in
the department for another midwife for a few shifts a week—especially if her name's Mrs Walker.'

She went still and searched his eyes. He was smiling, but his eyes were serious and thoughtful. ‘I might want to keep my maiden name,' she said, fishing hard because she wasn't quite sure, and the smile spread to his eyes.

‘They'll all gossip about us.'

‘How will they know?'

‘Because I can't keep my hands off you?' he murmured, and she laughed softly.