From Heartache To Forever. Caroline Anderson
years running away from it and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready for what he knew must be in that memory box.
Time to stop running? Maybe, but not now. Not tonight.
Not yet…
‘ARE YOU OK?’
Ryan propped himself against the doorframe of his newly acquired home and gave her a slightly crooked smile.
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’
‘Are you sure? Because you didn’t look it last night.’
He hadn’t felt it, and between the memories that the little heart had dragged up out of their hiding place and the knowledge that Beth was just on the other side of the wall, he’d hardly slept at all. And then seeing this place in daylight, realising the enormity of the task, had made him wonder what on earth he was doing.
So, yeah, one way and another, he was very far from fine.
He scrubbed a hand through his hair and shrugged away from the doorframe, stepping back into the hall to let her in. ‘I was tired. And, yes, OK, I was—uh—I was a bit emotional. It was just holding it, you know? Knowing Grace was in there.’
She nodded. ‘I know.’ Her smile faltered, and she sucked in a breath and looked around, then blinked. ‘Oh—wow! What happened to the pink?’
He laughed. ‘Three coats of white paint happened to it.’
‘Three? Already? What are you, Superman?’
‘It’s been a nice breezy day and I’ve had all the windows open so the paint’s dried quickly and it really doesn’t take that long. I’ve done the sitting room, as well. Have a look.’
He pushed the door open and followed her in, and she gasped.
‘Oh! It looks so much bigger. And brighter.’
He chuckled. ‘That wouldn’t be hard. Cup of tea?’
‘That would be lovely. I haven’t had a lot to drink today. I’ve brought scruffy clothes.’
He frowned at her. ‘You’ve been working all day.’
‘So? It was the sensible Friday shift. The late shift won’t have it so easy.’
He headed for the kitchen. ‘Tea or coffee? I bought a kettle and some mugs and stuff.’
‘Tea, please.’
He felt her watching him dunking tea bags, pouring milk, his hands covered in paint. There was some in his hair, too, he’d noticed. He was going to have to do some serious scrubbing to get it off by Monday.
‘So how was work?’ he asked, handing her the mug. ‘Anything interesting?’
‘Not really, a few sporting and gardening injuries, the odd fall, but nothing nasty, just busy.’
He thought of his average day with MFA and laughed. ‘I’ll take that.’
‘I guessed you would. Bit of a change from what you’ve been doing.’
‘Yeah.’ He put away the memories and conjured up a smile. ‘Here—let’s go in the garden. I found a bench. It’s a bit wobbly, but it should be OK if we sit down carefully.’
He scooped up a packet of biscuits and she followed him through the dining room and the tired conservatory into the garden.
She eyed the bench dubiously as it creaked under his weight. ‘I think I’ll sit here,’ she said, taking a biscuit and perching on the edge of the steps that led up to the garden from the patio. Well, patio was a bit of a stretch. Some uneven crazy paving, but it was somewhere to put a table and chairs.
‘It’s a pretty garden.’
He snorted, but she stuck to her guns. ‘It is! Look at the perennials in the border.’
‘I see them. I also see the weeds, and the foot-high grass, and the fence that’s making a bid for freedom. I don’t think this place has had any maintenance in living memory but hey, it’ll give me something to do in my time off. That’ll be a bit of a luxury.’
‘Time off?’
He nodded. ‘Yeah, you don’t get a lot of that in the field. You only do three months at a time, but it’s pretty full on.’ He fell silent, his thoughts obviously miles away, and she wondered what he was seeing. Probably just as well not to know.
‘Here, have another biscuit before I eat them all.’
He got up to hand her the packet, and as he pushed himself up the bench creaked again and slid over sideways into a heap.
She laughed. She tried not to, but his face was a picture and she dissolved into giggles.
‘How is that funny?’ he asked, but his lips were twitching and seconds later he was sitting beside her on the steps, clutching his stomach and laughing just as helplessly as her.
‘Maybe you need to invest in some new garden furniture,’ she suggested when she could speak again, and he nodded.
‘Maybe. Or I can sit here and study the windows. They really need replacing.’
‘Buy a new bench. It’s cheaper than the windows and you don’t own the house.’
‘No, I don’t. Not yet.’
Yet? She turned and met his eyes.
‘Yet?’
‘It’s possibly for sale.’
‘But—you’re a locum! Why would you buy it?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t, unless I was going to be living here long term.’ He paused, looked away, then looked back, his eyes searching hers. ‘I think I want to apply for the permanent job.’
She wasn’t expecting that, not so soon, not before he’d even started work there, but realistically what was there to know? He’d met James and a few of the others, he knew her, he knew he loved the town—what more was there?
Nothing—except her, and her feelings, and if he’d asked her what they were she’d be hard pushed to tell him, because after seeing him with Grace’s heart last night they were even more confused. She looked away.
‘I’d give it a few days before you decide. You might hate it.’
‘Unlikely, and I can always withdraw my application if I want to.’
‘Withdraw it?’ She laughed. ‘You seriously think James wouldn’t talk you out of doing that?’
‘I know he wouldn’t. Not if I don’t want to be talked out of it. If you don’t want me here, Beth, I’ll go, no matter how much James wants me to stay.’
She searched his eyes, read the sincerity in them, the concern for her welfare. And then she thought of the little silver heart that had fitted so perfectly in the palm of his hand…
She wanted him to stay.
It was the last thing she’d expected to feel and she had no idea where it had come from, but it hit like a lightning bolt, and she sucked in a breath and got to her feet.
‘Let’s just see,’ she said, tipping out the dregs of her tea onto the weedy grass behind her. ‘So—what’s next?’
‘My bedroom. I’m picking up my clothes and other stuff from my mother’s on Sunday, and I can borrow her airbed.’
‘Airbed?’ She turned and stared at him. ‘Ry, there’s no hurry. You can stay with me