Emma Darcy: The Fatherhood Affair

‘That’s right.’

‘And I’m Natalie Arnott.’

‘Before you were married you were Natalie Arnott.’

Whatever had happened in her marriage was over, Natalie thought. Damien must be more important to her now. She had remembered his name.

‘Thank you for being a nice and very patient lover, Damien,’ she said warmly. ‘Thank you for...for looking after me.’

His smile irradiated sunshine. ‘I’d do anything for you, Natalie.’

She sighed, deeply moved by his devotion to her. The talking had made her very tired. Her eyelids closed of their own weight. She could feel the light tingling of his strong hands. It forged a bond of trust.

‘I like your touch,’ she reaffirmed.

Of one thing she was certain. Whatever she had been like before the accident, her instincts had been very good at choosing a lover.

DAMIEN came to see her every day.

No one else did.

He brought her flowers, chocolates, fruit, magazines, highly expensive and beautifully perfumed toiletries, everything she might desire to make the hours in hospital less burdensome. She was moved out of Intensive Care after the danger of a cerebral haemorrhage subsided. In the more relaxed atmosphere of a ward, Damien’s attention to her excited curiosity and speculative gossip.

That was all very fine, but Natalie wanted her memory back. Once she was out of her drug-haze from the initial trauma of the accident, it weighed very heavily on her mind that she had a twelve-year gap in her life, and she was increasingly frustrated in her efforts to recall it.

Why did there appear to be only Damien in her life? That troubled her more and more. She tackled him about it on her fifth day in hospital.

‘Not one person has come to visit me except you. Do other people know I’m here, Damien? I can’t remember so I don’t know whom to call, but I must have some friends in Sydney.’ She accepted now that she did live in Sydney, New South Wales, and not at Noosa, Queensland.

‘You shut everyone out of your life when Ryan died,’ he explained. ‘This past year...there were friends and acquaintances who did try to draw you back into their social circle. You rejected every invitation. After a while they stopped trying and drifted away.’

She could understand their withdrawal, however regrettable she found it now. ‘You’re saying I isolated myself.’

‘Completely.’

‘Except for you.’

He gave her a dry smile. ‘I persisted.’

She wondered why. She had looked at herself in a mirror. Admittedly the stitched gash on the side of her scalp didn’t help her hairstyle. She did have nice eyes and a good figure, but she was not the type of woman who would automatically create a sensation wherever she went. Damien only had to enter the ward and general conversation faded out as every eye swivelled to follow him.

On the other hand, all she had to do was look into Damien’s eyes to know he wanted her. Very much.

And she wanted him.

Every time she saw him she felt the strong kick of response inside her. It wasn’t so much how handsome he was or how splendid he looked in his tailored suits. There was more to Damien than superficial charisma. It was what happened between them, the tug of feeling, a response that was evidently grounded in a long knowledge of each other.

‘I must have been a trial to you,’ she stated flatly.

He shrugged. ‘You were grieving.’

For her son.

But what about her husband?

Damien wouldn’t talk about him. She supposed that was natural if he wanted her for himself. Why remind her of the man she had married? Nevertheless, it made Natalie feel as though she was trapped in a dark area, unable to move forward with the confidence she should have.

‘You have a faraway look in your eyes,’ Damien observed. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘Speculating about the future.’

‘Am I in it?’

Her eyes danced teasingly. Perhaps it was a female instinct to like him being a little bit uncertain of her, but she quickly chided herself for being unkind in the face of his unswerving devotion. ‘How could you not be,’ she said lightly, ‘in some form or other?’

She expected him to smile. It surprised her that he didn’t. ‘You could cut me out of your life like this,’ he said, using his finger to demonstrate the action of a guillotine. ‘You’ve done it to...others.’

She winced. ‘Was I so bad, Damien?’

He took her hand. His eyes were hooded as he fanned his fingers over her knuckles, arousing the sensitivity she always felt at his touch. ‘We all carry some emotional baggage which turns out to be garbage, Natalie,’ he said. ‘At the moment, you’re free of it. When your memory returns, it will colour your reactions and responses.’

‘To you, as well?’

‘Yes, certainly. To me.’ He lifted his gaze and seared her heart with the agonised conflict that raged inside him. ‘I don’t want it to happen, Natalie. But it will.’

‘Will it be a...bad...reaction? To you, I mean.’

He paused fractionally, then gave a firm answer. ‘Yes. It will be a bad reaction.’

‘So what does that mean?’ she asked, perplexed.

She couldn’t imagine why she should turn on this man. There did not seem to be any reasonable explanation. She waited expectantly for Damien to give her an answer. When his reply came, it was nothing she could possibly have anticipated.

‘It means,’ he said slowly, as if he had an infinity of pain, ‘that I have limited time ... maybe ... between one or two days and a couple of months before your memory is fully restored. In that period of time I have to fulfil my life.’

The blaze of purpose, resolution and desire coming from his deeply recessed eyes lent such impact to his words, Natalie was struck by the need for an instant response, an assurance to him, a defence of the fair-minded person she felt herself to be. Through whatever eyes she had seen him before, the man she saw now was a man she wanted in her life.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Damien, but I promise you this. I won’t forget what you’ve done for me, nor the way you’ve stuck by me through everything.’

She had hoped he would relax, look reassured.

All that stared back at her was total disbelief.

‘What did you do to me,’ she whispered, ‘that I should respond to you...in such a negative fashion?’

‘Nothing,’ he said mockingly. ‘Maybe I should have. I don’t know. What I can declare with absolute conviction and honesty is that I did nothing to you at all.’

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