Christopher's Medal (29 page)

* * * *

When she got home, Grace left the bedroom door closed and ate her lunch while she watched the racing channel. There was a horse running at Nottingham who would likely be running in the Diamond Jubilee and she wanted to check him out. She leaned against the cushions and sipped her tea. Something inside did a slow spin as she heard movement from the bedroom.

Christ, I don’t think I’m ready for this. I’m not saying a bloody word.

Grace lit a cigarette and stared at the television as Christopher turned on the shower. It all sounded so normal and everyday, and she supposed she should’ve taken comfort in that. She tucked her legs beneath her chin and found herself waiting. She locked her fingers together to stop her hands from shaking.

The bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of soap-scented steam. Grace listened as he returned to the bedroom. The wardrobe door opened with a creak and the hangers clattered together like badly tuned wind chimes. Her stomach rolled and she regretted her lunch. She gazed at the television when Christopher sat down beside her. The scent of shaving gel and cologne made her want to weep. She hated the tantalizing glimpses of happier times that the scent gave her.

“Grace.” His voice was a whisper.

Grace bit her lip and said nothing. Her fingers hurt.

“I’m so sorry.”

She wondered if all of their conversations would be like this—Christopher apologizing for doing something stupid or cruel and her crumbling and forgiving him. Grace closed her eyes. She could feel the warmth of him. “Why did you do it, Chris?”

“I don’t know. Everything hurt. I hurt you. I just wanted to forget.”

“Did it work?” She still wouldn’t look at him.

“No. All I have now is a stinking headache.”

“Good.” Her eyes burnt and she stared at the ceiling.

“Grace, please.” His hand was on her shoulder, warm fingers drifting to her ear.

“Please what? What do you want from me, Chris?”

“I want you to forgive me.” His voice was small and full of hurt. “I want you to understand that I made a stupid mistake. I should’ve turned to you instead of being an arsehole and getting drunk.”

Grace braced herself to confront the pain in his eyes. She turned and looked at him, trembling. “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “Whiskey doesn’t do anyone any favors. I’ve seen too many people in this town fucked up by alcohol. Hell, just look at Harry. He can’t get through the day without half a bottle of the crap. There’s only so much I can take. I miss you. I miss the man I fell in love with.”

“Gracey.” His voice shook. “I’m so sorry.”

She let him hold her, it was the least he could do. He owed her. His arms were tight around her. He cradled her head in his hand.

“I love you so much.” Christopher’s voice was a sigh. “I hate hurting you.”

“I love you, too.”

Christopher leaned against the armrest and eased her down beside him. His eyes were moist. The racing was forgotten when he wrapped himself around her until all she could hear was the slow and steady beat of his heart. It took everything she had not to let her hand drift to his jeans, to let her fingers follow familiar trails across his skin.

It’s enough that he loves you.

She wound her hands into his hair and tasted his tears. He was so broken and she didn’t know how to fix him.

“It won’t happen again. The booze doesn’t help.”

“No, it doesn’t. I don’t think I could take it if you ended up…like Harry.”

“Next time, I promise I’ll turn to you. I’m just so afraid that I put too much on your shoulders, Gracey.”

“Never think like that.” Grace brushed his cheek with her thumb. “I’m not going back to work today. I’m staying in with you.”

Chapter Seventeen

Grace leaned against the wall and held on to Christopher’s calf. “Come on, Chris, push.”

“Fuck off.”

She gritted her teeth and looked at him, lying on his back on the floor. His T-shirt was blotched with perspiration and his eyes full of fury. Physio was a daily nightmare, wrestling with the twin monsters of Christopher’s anger and pain. “It isn’t going to get better if you don’t work at it.”

“I’m not one of your fucking horses, Grace.”

“More’s the pity. Just push, will you?”

“You’re a hard bitch, do you know that?”

“You’re a soft bastard. A soft, self-pitying bastard and you’ll never be able to walk properly if you won’t work at it.”

Some days were better than others when it came to the physio. Sometimes, Christopher worked hard and in silence, his jaw set against the pain, and it hurt Grace to see him fighting it. Other days were just brutal.

“I’ve had enough.” Christopher tried to pull his foot away.

Grace tightened her grip. “No, you haven’t. Come on, Chris. Don’t give up.” She was tired. She wanted her afternoon nap, not this constant bloody battle.

“Will you just let go? Just fuck off.”

She bit her lip and stared past him, to the soft sunlight beyond the window. This wasn’t a day for fighting. “Fine.” She let go. “I’ve had enough. You can fucking deal with it on your own. Let me know when you’ve the bollocks to pull yourself together. I’m your fiancée not your bloody whipping boy.” She swept from the room and slammed the door.

Grace stood in the kitchen for a moment, shaking. The house was suddenly too small, too full of anger and it didn’t feel like her place anymore. Christopher thumped about in the other room swearing and banging his fist against the wall.

“Sod this.” She shoved her feet into her shoes then stepped out into the early afternoon silence. There was only one place to go. She walked across the gravel, to the yard. Allonby dozed in his box. He didn’t stir when Grace opened the door and slipped in. She sat in a corner, straw crackling around her. No one would bother her here. Allonby understood. He’d leave her to brood. She pulled her knees up to her chin and closed her eyes.

“I miss him, Al.” Her eyes stung. She hid her face and sought the comfort of darkness while she cried.

The straw whispered and a warm, flubbering sigh ruffled her hair. Grace remained still while Allonby lipped gently at her shoulders. She reached up and stroked his muzzle. “Thanks. I knew you would understand.”

He snorted and yawned.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you. If it wasn’t for your bloody owner and his family friends, I wouldn’t be in this mess.” She sighed and looked at him. “But then, I wouldn’t have known Chris the way he used to be when things were good. Now it’s all he can do to kiss me goodnight.” Grace swallowed at the lump in her throat. She wrapped her arms around her legs and nursed her ache. Allonby fell asleep, standing over her.

“Thanks.” Grace closed her eyes and wished she could do the same.

Uneven footsteps, the soft thunk of a walking stick on the concrete. “Grace?”

She sat still.

Now you want to drag the agony out into the yard? Leave me the fuck alone.

“Grace?”

Christopher sounded like a lost child.

God, she was worn out. Tired of carrying them both, tired of wondering when he’d come back to her and be the sweet man she fell in love with. Grace hid her face in her hands again when the bolt eased back.

“Grace.” Christopher groaned when he sank down beside her. “I’m sorry.”

It was almost too much effort to deal with his apology.

“Please.” His hand was warm on her shoulder. It reminded her of those better days, a soft echo of all that had been good between them.

Grace lifted her head and looked at him. “What do you want, Chris? More physio? Do you want me to make you lunch and we can just pretend that everything’s all right again? Is that what you want?”

Grace felt a twist of guilt when he flinched.

“No. I just want you.” His lips brushed her forehead. “Please come back. I’m sorry I was such an arsehole.”

“Yes you were.” She wanted to ask when the arsehole would return but thought better of it.

“Will you come back to the house?”

She rose and held out her hand. “Yes.” Grace helped him struggle to his feet, glad that there were still moments when she glimpsed a kinder Christopher.

“Thank you.” He wrapped his arms around her.

She let him hold her in silence. She ached to kiss him, to feel him respond to her kiss, to take her to bed. Grace stroked his hair. “It’s all right.”

And, for a little while, it was.

* * * *

“Chris, you really need to talk to me.” Grace sat down on the edge of the bed and took his hand. “Please, darling, we can’t go on like this. It’s doing neither of us any good. You’ve not said a word all week.” She watched him. He gazed past her, his eyes shadowed and lost. She wondered if he even heard her.

“I want to help you. I know you’re hurting. God, Chris, please let me help you.”

He rolled over and faced the far wall.

Grace bit her lip and stared up at the ceiling. “Forget I said anything.” She stood up and curled her hands into fists. “Just forget I’m here. I’ve had enough of this crap.”

He didn’t move.

“You came back here begging for me to help you and you won’t bloody let me. How the hell am I supposed to help you when you won’t even talk to me?” She grabbed her pillow. “I tell you what. I’ll sleep on the settee and let you decide if you want to keep this up or not. I’ve had a long day. Don’t forget, I work for a living. It’s not as dangerous as being a soldier, but I sure as hell need my wits about me when I’m riding one of those idiot yearlings. Think on that while you’re lying there wallowing. Goodnight, Chris.” She spun on her heel and swept out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t care whether the loud noise upset him.

“Sod you,” she said. “I’m done.”

He couldn’t talk to her, something inside wouldn’t let him reach out to her. He was underwater, surrounded by a thick, green glass. He really tried to talk to her, but the words were lost inside him, all jumbled up and he couldn’t make sense of them anyway. He ached to touch her, wanted to beg her to hold him, to make the darkness go away. He knew that if she held him, he’d be safe, because she loved him. But the water wouldn’t let him, it held him in place, swallowed his words, paralyzed his hands. Part of him knew that he hurt her with his silence, but the other part wouldn’t let him near her. It was easier to dwell in silence, to let the darkness win because fighting it was hard. It brought the rage. It brought the burning desire to drink himself stupid.

Christopher heard the pain in Grace’s voice and wanted to cry, but the water wouldn’t let him do that either. The water wanted the darkness to win. It was easier to give in, because he was too bloody tired to fight anymore. It would be easier to go away, to spare Grace any more pain. Every sorrowful look she gave him was another bloody wound for them both.

* * * *

Grace,

I’m sorry, darling, that I’ve taken the coward’s way out and left you this note. I didn’t want an argument. I didn’t want to see you cry or worse, see you angry. I need time alone. Commonsense tells me it’s not a good idea, but I can’t bear to see the pain in your eyes and hear the hurt in your voice. I know what I’m doing to you, but I just can’t seem to pull out of this state I’m in. You probably think that I haven’t paid you a blind bit of notice these past few days but, believe me, I have. It’s like there’s something huge and dark blocking my way. It won’t let me reach you. It won’t let me touch you. It’s killing me, it’s killing you and it’s killing us.

I love you so much. I only wish I knew how to show you. I’m empty inside. I can’t even remember what it felt like to make love to you. Those days and nights belong to someone else, some lucky bastard who didn’t know what was going to hit him. You deserve so much better, Grace. Perhaps, after time, you’ll be glad that I’m out of the way for a while. I will come back, I promise.

I’m leaving my phone. I’ve written to my parents and to Sally. Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything stupid. Just let me try and sort myself out without getting in your way or causing you any more pain.

Please forgive me. I will never stop loving you.

Chris.

It took Grace a few read-throughs for her to realize that Christopher had left her. She wandered into their bedroom and opened the wardrobe. Some of his clothes had gone, the small, leather carry-all that had sat on the shelf was gone. She took very little comfort in the fact that he had left plenty of clothes behind. She sank down on the bed and stared into the wardrobe for a long time. Her eyes stung and she couldn’t see all that well.

What do I do now? What the fuck do I do now?

“Some bloody way of showing how much you love me, Chris, some bloody way.” Grace wiped her eyes. “You selfish, stupid bastard.” She closed the wardrobe and rose. The letter went into the bin, torn into shreds. Instead of an afternoon nap, she retrieved the empty boxes from the loft and packed Christopher away once more.

* * * *

“Tell me you’re kidding.” Billy stood in the tack room doorway.

“I wish I was.” Grace wiped soap off the bridle. “He’s gone. He left me a note saying that he didn’t want to cause me any more pain and he buggered off.”