Leonie Knight - How To Save A Marriage In A Million

He paused as they arrived at the entrance to the canteen and waited for a group of chattering student nurses to come in then guided her out of the eating hall with a gentle hand on the small of her back. The simple gesture probably meant nothing to him. He’d always been free with those easy, tactile gestures that could set her heart racing.

He dropped his hand when they were through the doorway and set off at a slower pace she could keep up with.

‘What was I talking about?’ he said with a grin, and Joanna wondered if he’d been distracted by the group of giggling, nubile students who had cast blatantly flirty glances in his direction. A jolt of jealousy took her by surprise.

She had no hold on him, no right to be jealous, she reminded herself. They were about to discuss the best way to end a marriage that had floundered and failed dismally long ago, not have a friendly discussion about old times.

‘Exercise,’ she said in a voice barely above a whisper as they approached the clinic block.

‘Exercise…that’s right. I need to start swimming again, maybe join a gym. Do you know any decent ones around here that have a lap pool?’

She blushed, suddenly remembering all the weight she’d put on over the years since their separation. These days she never seemed to have any spare time for a disciplined fitness programme and her attempts at dieting had always been halfhearted; she liked food too much.

‘Sorry, gym workouts aren’t my thing.’

He hesitated. They’d arrived at their destination and it only lasted a few short moments but Joanna was acutely aware of her companion’s head-totoe appraisal. It was as though he’d stripped her completely bare.

‘No, of course not,’ he finally said with a smile. ‘I imagine you get a decent workout with all the running around you do on the wards. Shall we go in?’ He glanced at the entry to the garden.

Joanna’s heart began to pound and her naked scalp prickled as if each hair follicle had a direct connection with the emotions centre in her brain.

Why had she agreed to come?

But it was too late now to change her mind.

Joanna opened the vine-covered gate to the courtyard, which was indeed well hidden.

They sat on one of the bench seats in a corner. Richard handed her a drink and set the food between them, showing no indication he’d guessed how nervous she felt.

‘Help yourself,’ he said as he opened his carton of milk and took a long gulping drink. Joanna glanced at her watch. She definitely had no appetite.

‘No, thanks.’

He raised one eyebrow as he peeled the paper casing off the muffin and popped a generous chunk into his mouth.

‘Not on a diet, are you?’ His eyes again wandered over her generously proportioned body but there was no sign of criticism in his tone. He had an unmistakeable twinkle in his eye, as if the statement was a challenge. Reminding herself she’d long ago stopped worrying about what people thought of how she looked, she refused to be unsettled by his question.

‘Do you think I should be?’ she said, rather more brusquely than she’d intended. She defiantly chose a Cellophane-wrapped portion of cheese and crackers from the selection of food, unwrapped it and began to eat.

‘No, of course not. You’re perfect just the way you are.’

Joanna nearly choked on an errant crumb. As she coughed to clear her throat, her eyes began watering and she felt a strong, warm hand first patting and then rubbing her back. It took all her self-control to stop herself from leaning into the blissful touch of his fingers on the exquisitely sensitive area between her shoulder blades.

She pulled away in alarm at the signals her body was sending. Fortunately Richard didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were full of concern.

I am a good nurse, I love the children I care for and that’s all that matters.

She repeated the affirmation in her head but it did little to divert her attention from the unsettling whole-body warmth she was experiencing in response to Richard’s touch.

‘Are you all right? Have something to drink.’

Clearing her throat, she tried to restore her self-control but Richard’s eyes were firmly fixed on hers as if he had something important to say but was uncertain how to say it.

‘I’m fine now.’ She took a sip of the offered drink.

He put his carton of coffee down, ran long fingers through his mane of unruly hair and cleared his throat. He finally spoke.

‘I guess it’s time to talk…about you and me.’

‘Yes,’ she whispered, and fixed her gaze firmly on the ground.

* * *

‘I saw you have your head shaved yesterday…’ Richard hesitated. He was trying to break the ice by not launching into a discussion of their marriage as soon as they’d sat down. But the distressed look on Joanna’s face left no doubt in his mind that he was being totally insensitive. She’d succumbed to a sacrifice most women wouldn’t even consider, because of Sam. And probably because of every child with cancer that had been in her care.

‘I’m sorry.’

Her eyes, which had been defiantly cast downward, found his and melted into a pool of heart-ache and exposed vulnerability. But it didn’t last long. She slammed the door on her emotions and attempted a smile.

‘What for?’ Her expression was now as hard as steel.

‘For…er…’

Why was it still so difficult to even mention the death of their son? He’d thought he’d regained some of his objectivity, but he should have realised that seeing Jo again would bring it all back.

She grasped his hand as if sensing his insecurity.

‘We didn’t come here to talk about Sam. He’ll always have a special place in my heart and I’ll never stop missing him but I can cope now. I’m no longer an emotional cripple and I’ve somehow managed to move on. It hasn’t been easy but I’ve survived.’

From what he had initially thought of as Joanna’s weakness had emerged a single-minded strength he envied. He was lost for words.

‘We need to talk about our relationship,’ she added.

She looked at him questioningly, expecting a reply.

‘Yes.’ Richard coughed to try and clear the stubborn lump in his throat but it refused to move. ‘What do you want to do?’

He’d thought he’d worked through denial and regret and could finally deal with seeing Joanna again…for closure. But he still had strong feelings for her and was suddenly overwhelmed by the thought that he wanted to save his marriage; he was reluctant to mention what had been his initial intention—that they finally divorce.

It had seemed to be the logical solution to a problem that had been simmering in his mind ever since he’d made the decision to accept the position of head of the oncology department at Lady Lawler. But now he’d seen Joanna again, it wasn’t that simple. He needed to find out if she still had any feelings for him.

‘Do you want—?’

‘A divorce?’

Apparently easy for her to say and there was no avoiding the issue. But the goalposts had moved. He needed time. They were both older and, he hoped, wiser. When they’d married, Joanna had been nineteen and pregnant with a child she expected she’d never have. The doctors had told her the scarring from a ruptured appendix three years previously had blocked her tubes and her only chance of bearing a child would be through microsurgery or IVF.

When she’d found out she was pregnant, they’d both been over the moon. Although they’d only known each other for a little over six months, they’d been insanely in love and the pregnancy had somehow validated that love. Maybe they’d jumped into marriage too quickly and for the wrong reasons. Many times he’d agonised over whether that was why their relationship hadn’t been strong enough to survive the shattering stress of what had happened to their son.