Their Mistletoe Baby. Karin Baine
he’d known she’d be here.
‘Your seat belt, sir.’ He was admonished by another member of the cabin crew as they completed their safety checks and waited with increasing agitation for him to buckle up.
‘Sorry. So sorry.’ He wanted to stamp the word in bold black ink on his forehead so Freya could see it too because he was seemingly incapable of vocalising his regret for the way he’d left things between them now they were face-to-face.
It had been nearly a year since they’d last seen each other, yet her obvious pain, and his shameful guilt, felt as fresh as if they’d only just broken up.
When he’d realised her name was on the staff list he’d had second thoughts about volunteering for this position, knowing a confrontation was inevitable. After all, she’d loved him every bit as much as he’d loved her before he’d abruptly ended their marriage. In the end, he’d realised he had to man up and face her so they could both have closure on that very difficult time in their lives. It wasn’t going to be easy to initiate a conversation about the possibility of divorce but a legal end to their relationship was the next logical step if she was ever going to be truly free of him and have the fresh start she deserved. He’d intended to broach the subject with her at some point on this trip when they could talk more freely and once she’d got used to the idea of seeing him again.
Except when he’d been planning his return to the world, he hadn’t filtered any residual emotions into the equation.
The sight of her again had unexpectedly choked him up, reminding him in that instant of everything he’d lost to his illness. It was his friend Peter who’d salvaged his career and liaised with the hospital during his sick leave but, ashamed of his weakness, he’d begged Peter not to reveal anything to Freya.
He’d had to jump through hoops with the hospital board to prove he’d recovered and get his job back, with numerous meetings and assessments with occupational health and the GMC before he’d been deemed fit enough to work. His colleagues and the senior consultants had supported his return, and now he was building up his hours at the hospital again, he’d managed to resurrect his career, but he’d known he’d never be able to win his wife back.
Seeing her again only increased that ache in his chest and suggested he wasn’t ready to let her go just yet even when setting her free for good was the best thing he could do for her. So much time had passed he’d imagined they would both be glad to escape any ties to one another and he hadn’t been prepared for the reaction of either of them upon seeing each other again.
His kind and gentle wife looked as though she wanted to physically hurt him. He’d always been able to read her because she never made any attempt to hide her feelings. Unlike him, who’d kept his secrets and emotions bottled up until he’d imploded from the stress of holding it all back and destroyed everything he’d ever loved.
Those almond-shaped eyes had flashed with wild fire when they’d lit upon him, full of anger and hurt. Arms folded as she’d confronted him, there’d been a hardness to her he’d never encountered before. Lucas wasn’t naive or egotistical enough to have expected she’d welcome him with open arms but part of Freya’s charm had always been her warm personality. It was a shock to the system to see her changed so much and it made him realise how much time had passed between them. It also made him question how much of that change was down to him.
In his mixed-up head he’d believed that by leaving her he was doing what was best, so he didn’t drag her into that dark pit of despair with him. When his conscience did prick at the thought of her tear-stained face staring after him, he’d convinced himself she would’ve found someone else to replace him by now. That somehow leaving had been a selfless act on his part and she’d be cosied up with another man, planning the family she’d always wanted and he hadn’t been convinced he could give her.
The reality was very different, of course, and made him see his actions through her eyes for the first time since he’d turned his back and left her to deal with the fallout alone. They’d been so in love but he’d shut her out to the point of ignoring her pain in favour of his own.
Even without her clipped tone and abrupt manner with him, Lucas could see the distress he’d caused in her defensive body language and it broke his heart. With the clarity of his recovery it was obvious now that walking away hadn’t been the answer; he’d only caused them both further agony. At the time what had been left of his pride had decreed that he protect his new wife from the responsibility of knowing about his childhood and subsequent illness. It hadn’t been her job to fix him. He’d had to fix himself. Now he was realising the extent of what that decision had cost him and Freya.
The plane rumbled down the runway and he instinctively reached back to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. He knew how much she hated this part of the flight.
‘Are you okay?’ He peered around the back of his seat to see her sitting bolt upright, her eyes wide with fear.
‘I’m fine,’ she snapped, and snatched away from his grip as though she’d been burned.
On their honeymoon she’d dug her nails so deeply into the armrest he’d thought she’d never let go as he’d tried to prise her off again, but she was letting him know now without doubt he’d given up that right to touch or comfort her any more. She was his wife in name only now and that was entirely his fault.
The tension in her body and her instant recoil was a stark contrast to the effect he used to have on her. That slightest touch brought back the torturous sights and sounds of their honeymoon and beyond, when she’d once melted beneath his touch. They’d been happy for a time, in love and in lust, and he wished it had never come to this when she’d rather suffer a panic attack alone than accept his help.
There was a long way to go to get her to hear him out and he had the distinct impression that if it wasn’t for the people surrounding them she would tell him exactly what she thought of him without stopping for breath. There was a long list of his failings but he’d never been as aware of them as he was now when his sweet wife could barely control the rage she felt towards him. If he thought it would give either of them any satisfaction, or in any way make up for how he’d treated her, he’d offer himself up as a punch bag right now.
He mightn’t have thought this through properly but he remained hopeful this weekend would provide an opportunity for him to explain himself and smooth the way for a talk about the next step. That was all he could ask and yet it was more than he probably deserved from her.
He listened to the oohs and aahs of the children as the plane soared upward and the city lights blazing through the dark morning gradually disappeared beneath the clouds. The minute they reached cruising height and the seat-belt light went out, the plane became a hive of activity again as people left their seats.
‘So, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, who’s looking forward to meeting Santa Claus?’ The intercom crackled with the enthusiastic tone of a non-crew member and a quick glance confirmed it was the other elf he’d seen on board. Freya was on her feet too but she was handing out sheets of paper to the whooping passengers.
‘We thought we’d get everybody warmed up with a few Christmas carols, so elf Freya is handing out some song sheets to everyone. If anyone wants to come up and sing a song or tell a joke while we wait, you’re very welcome.’
Lucas managed to block out the tones of tuneless childish warbling and recycled jokes because his attention was totally focused on Freya as she made her way through the cabin. That bright smile shone for everyone she spoke to and he held his breath, waiting for his turn; to feel her warmth upon him once again. Of course, it didn’t happen. When she reached him the light dimmed in her eyes and the smile faltered.
‘You’re looking well, Freya.’ It was the best he could come up with to fill the awkwardness of the moment but he meant every word of it. The passing of time hadn’t diminished her beauty, or the effect it had on him. He still felt like the luckiest man in the world that she’d ever agreed to be his wife, and the stupidest for letting her go.
She turned to move on without saying a word but it