And then he’d lifted her down off the stile and kissed her.
She hadn’t held him at arm’s length then, and they’d spent most of the next two days in bed having the hottest sex he’d ever had in his life.
He parked the car, slammed the door on his thoughts and headed into the pub with Beth.
‘It hasn’t changed at all,’ he murmured.
‘No. I doubt if it’s changed for decades. All part of its charm, I guess. So, what are we having?’
‘Fish and chips.’
She laughed at him. ‘Well, that’s healthy.’
‘I don’t care. You can have whatever you like, but after a day like today I need comfort food and calories.’
She gave a low chuckle, the sound running over his nerves like teasing fingertips, and his body leapt to life.
‘I might have the baked cod with a salad,’ she said, and then she tilted her head and looked at him. ‘How’s Jim? Any news?’
‘Yeah, he’s OK. They took out his left kidney, and he’s got an ex-fix on his leg, but he’s doing all right. He’s alive, anyway.’
‘Good. How about the RTC that held you up this evening?’
‘Well, they all made it, which is a relief. It’s never good to lose a patient on your first day.’
She chuckled again, and he gave her an answering smile, but hers faded and she studied him thoughtfully.
‘It was good working together again,’ she said, and he nodded slowly.
‘Yes. Yes, it was. I’d almost forgotten how intuitive we are together. It was like you knew what I’d want without me asking, but then you always could read my mind.’
‘Or maybe I’m just a good nurse and know my stuff.’
He arched a brow, and she pretended to scowl at him, her mouth puckering and making him want to kiss it.
He put his hands in the air, giving up the fight to hold back his smile. ‘Sorry, sorry. You are a good nurse. Best I’ve ever worked with. Is that better?’
‘Yes. Thank you.’ Her smile was back, playing around her mouth and softening her eyes, and for a moment he had an overwhelming urge to lean over and kiss her—
‘Fish and chips?’
He sat back, took a long, slow breath and looked up at their server.
‘Yeah, that’s mine.’ And in the nick of time…
‘Coffee? Unless you want to get back to your lovely new bed?’
He hesitated, then gave in, knowing it was foolish, knowing he was on a knife edge but unable to walk away.
‘It’ll keep another half hour. Coffee would be lovely.’ He cut the engine and followed her into her house. ‘Anything I can do?’
‘No, you’re fine, go and sit down, I’ll bring it through.’
So while she put the kettle on he wandered into the sitting room and closed the curtains, then sat down to wait for her, his eyes seeking out the little silver box as they always did, his heart heavy.
If they’d known before that weekend what was to follow, none of this would have happened, but of course they hadn’t. They’d spent the next two months together in blissful ignorance, and then in late January MFA had sent him on his first posting.
No strings, he’d said, so he’d had no contact with her, which had been fine because he’d been too busy to think about anything else, but then he’d come back on leave in early May, and he’d discovered she was pregnant.
It was his worst nightmare, the last thing he’d ever wanted to hear, and his first instinct was anger because he thought she’d done it on purpose, but then she told him their baby girl had such hugely complex congenital heart defects that she was unlikely to make it to term, and his world fell apart.
He was still reeling with shock when they lost her at twenty-seven weeks, the child he hadn’t even known about until the week before. The child he hadn’t wanted—or hadn’t known he wanted until it was too late. The child he would never have the chance to get to know because her little heart had given up the unequal struggle and stopped beating before he could meet her and tell her how much he loved her.
He’d spent two years trying to forget, but he knew now he never would.
He walked over to the little silver box and picked it up with infinite tenderness, nestling it in his palm, his other hand stroking it, needing to touch it, to touch her, to hold her again.
His poor, perfect, broken baby girl.
Why?
‘Ry?’
He put the heart down gently, as if not to wake her, and walked into Beth’s open arms.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he murmured gruffly, his voice a little ragged. ‘Why did it happen, Beth? Did they ever find out?’
‘No. They have no idea. They didn’t find anything in the tests—no chromosomal abnormalities, no genetic links, nothing to indicate it was anything other than a fault in her embryonic development. Just a glitch. One of those things.’
She eased out of his arms and sat down, patting the sofa beside her.
‘Come on, sit down and drink your coffee.’
He sat, but his eyes kept going back to the little heart and the pretty box beside it. Pandora’s box…
She put her mug down and looked at him, her eyes searching.
‘Do you want to look at it now?’
Could she read his mind? Maybe.
‘I don’t know.’
She got up again and went over to the box, bringing it back and putting it down on the coffee table, just out of reach. He could feel his heart beating, feel every thud against his ribs, taste the fear.
But fear of what? The contents of the box, or his own feelings? Maybe it was time to face them both.
He put his mug down and reached out, picking up the box and resting it gently on his knees. Like Pandora’s box, once opened, things could never go back to how they’d been. Could he risk that?
He swallowed, sucked in a long, slow breath and lifted the lid.
IT WAS THE letter that finished him.
He was expecting the rest. The beautiful little box contained all the poignant things he’d tried to blank out, like the tiny, precious footprints the midwife had made for them, the photographs she’d taken of them together holding Grace, the blanket they’d wrapped her in as they’d held her for hours in their arms before they said goodbye.
But at the bottom of the box was a single folded sheet of paper, and he lifted it out and unfolded it, totally unprepared for what it was.
A letter, from Beth to her baby daughter.
My darling Grace
I can’t tell you how much I love you, how much I miss you every