Marion Lennox - Bushfire Bride

Man and woman becoming one.

It had been so long.

Had it ever been this good? Rachel didn’t know. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t compare. What had been between Rachel and Craig was another time. Another life. It had been precious-was still precious-but it was a thing apart.

This was now. This man, her beloved Hugo, holding her as if he loved her.

He did love her. She knew it and she gloried in it.

Craig would not gainsay her this love. Because she loved Craig she knew, with a surety that was a part of her own heart, that she had his blessing. She could feel it.

Her body was doubly blessed.

Dear heaven, the feel of Hugo. The wonder. His big hands were holding her as if she was the most precious thing in the world. His warmth, the smell of him, the taste…

The way her body moulded around him. Opened. Welcomed. He came into her, and their mutual need was overwhelming. The wonder…

The joy.

They slept. How could they not sleep after this day? Their exhaustion was absolute. Sated with loving, they slept entwined, and Rachel fell into a sleep as deep as she’d ever been in.

Ever since the accident-ever since that dreadful day-her sleep had been troubled, disturbed, as if she’d had to stay awake for the next disaster. There would be another disaster. Her world had been pulled from under her feet and she couldn’t trust.

She couldn’t sleep.

But now…in this man’s arms, she slept. Let tomorrow bring what it may. For now there was only this man and his arms and his body and his love.

And Hugo?

It had never been like this with Beth. He’d drifted into marriage with Beth as he’d nearly drifted into marriage with her sister. Stupid. Stupid, stupid.

Yet how could he have known it had been stupid? He’d never known it could be like this. He woke about dawn and his fingers twined gently through Rachel’s tumbled curls. How could he have suspected there was loving like this in the world?

This wonderful woman. This…blessing.

She stirred in sleep, her eyes half opened and she smiled at him. His heart twisted inside him and he gathered her to him with such tenderness. The most precious thing…

Rachel.

Her eyes closed and she snuggled into him. Her breasts moulded to him. He felt desire stir, but exhaustion was still there. Desire could wait, he thought with a growing joy. It could wait an hour or two. There was all the time in the world. This was his Rachel. Rachel…

Murmuring her name into her hair, he drifted back to sleep.

The phone woke them.

It was late. At least eight. The sun was streaming across the brocade quilt. He’d get rid of it, Hugo thought, and then joyously, yes! He’d get rid of every piece of brocade in the house.

This day was the first day of the rest of his life. His life with Rachel.

She was waking beside him, her eyes fluttering open, smiling, reaching up to touch his unshaven chin.

The phone was ringing.

Rachel.

Medical imperative. Answer the phone. He smiled back at her and then answered the phone.

A woman’s voice, urgent with need.

‘Is Rachel there? Dr Harper? She’s not answering her cellphone. I need to speak to her.’

‘Sure.’ He heard the fear and reacted. His eyes sent Rachel an urgent message and handed her the phone.

Rachel took the receiver and listened.

‘Dottie.’

She was suddenly wide awake, pushing herself up in bed, oblivious of the fact that she was naked. A sunbeam was streaming across her creamy breasts.

Dear God, she was beautiful!

But her voice sounded concerned.

‘No, Dottie, we’re fine. I’m sorry. I should have rung you last night. I might have known you’d see it on the news reports. No. The town’s been left basically intact. We’re safe.’

‘No.’

‘No.’

Then her voice softened with dread. ‘But he can’t… Dottie, he was stable…’

She listened some more and then put her lips tightly together. Her eyes closed as if in pain.

‘Of course I’ll come,’ she whispered. ‘Of course. Just as soon as I can get there.’

The line went dead. Hugo lifted the receiver from Rachel’s suddenly limp grasp and laid it back on the cradle. Then he turned and took her hands in his.

‘What is it, Rachel?’

She opened her eyes and stared at him but she wasn’t seeing him. She was seeing something a long way away. In the far, far distance.

‘It’s Craig,’ she whispered.

‘Craig?’

‘My husband. He’s dying.’

SOMEHOW, while Hugo helped Rachel put her belongings together and practically force-fed her toast and arranged for someone to drive her…somehow he got it out of her.

‘Craig and I were in a car smash eight years ago,’ she said, her voice laced with pain. ‘We were med students together. We’d gone out together since school. Dottie, Craig’s mum, is practically my mum. We were so close. We got married and everything was perfect and then some drunk driver smashed into us on a blind bend when we were coming home from one of Craig’s football matches. The drunk was on the wrong side of the road and there was nothing Craig could do to avoid him. I was hurt. Craig… Craig was hardly touched. Except for a blow to his head. One blow. One blow and he was unconscious. And he never woke up.’ Her voice broke on a sob and Hugo held her mug of tea to lips that were tight with the shock of past hurt and hurt still to come.

‘So Michael… The guy at the dog show?’

‘He’s a schmuck,’ she said. ‘Dottie said I should get away. Have some fun. And I met you.’

He took a deep breath. Did some fast thinking. Last night he’d made love to a woman he’d thought was in an unhappy marriage. Now…

Things had changed. She’d changed.

And his head… He was having trouble getting it around this.

But the pain on her face was real and dreadful and it needed to be addressed now.

‘Rachel, I’m really sorry.’

She pulled herself together then. Sort of. ‘Sorry? I’m not.’ She gave him a fleeting, hurting smile. ‘How could I be sorry for last night? It was the most wonderful…’ Her voice broke, but she managed to go on. ‘Hugo, it was fantastic. The best. I could never, ever regret it. But you do see that I need to go.’

‘Of course you do.’ It tore him apart that he couldn’t put her in his car and drive her to Sydney himself but, of course, he couldn’t. The town still had medical imperatives.

At least the road was open. Rain in the night had cleared the route out of town. He’d put out a call and someone would drive her all the way to Melbourne. He could arrange that at least.

But he couldn’t leave.

‘Rachel…’

‘I know.’ She swallowed the last of her tea and stood, looking down into the dregs at the bottom of the mug. ‘I know. I’m sorry, Hugo. I’m sorry, love…’

Hugo worked for that day-long hours of minor crises. He worked the next. The day after that…

The day after that he could bear it no longer. He talked to Myra and to Toby, contacted a locum service and found some help and went to town.

The thin blue line rose and fell. Rose and fell. Rose and fell.

How long does love last?

The young woman sat and watched as she’d sat and watched for years.

‘I love you, Craig,’ she whispered, but there was no answer, as there’d never been an answer.

Dappled sunlight fell over lifeless fingers. Beloved eyes, once so full of life and laughter, stayed closed.

The blue line rose and fell. Rose and fell.

Faltered.

‘I love you, Craig,’ she whispered again, and blessed his face with her fingers. ‘My love…’

How long does love last?

Maybe for no longer than a breath?