Melting the Argentine Doctor's Heart / Small Town Marriage Miracle (19 page)

‘I lied about not loving you,’ he said quietly, and she stood up and paced again.

‘Lied to hurt me?’ she demanded, anger radiating from her.

‘Lied to keep you away. Lied because …’

He couldn’t say it.

He had to say it.

‘It was more than burns I had, though they were the obvious injuries. For months I wondered if I’d walk again, work again, be anything but a burden on anyone I loved.’

She turned on him, her anger like an aura around her in the dim light.

‘And you thought if I came to you, stood by you, helped you through, it would be out of pity?’ she stormed. ‘Admit it—that’s what you thought. That’s why you turned me away. As if I’d pity you. You were the strongest man I’d ever met—the strongest and the gentlest. You were still you inside that injured body. The bomb blast hadn’t changed the man you were. Pity was the last thing I’d have felt for you, but your stupid pride wouldn’t allow you to think that. Your stupid pride blew us apart, depriving all three of us of years of happiness.’

‘There was nothing happy in my rehab,’ he muttered at her, unable to answer her other accusations because he had feared pity more than anything.

‘There would have been if I’d been there, and don’t tell me you wouldn’t have worked harder at it, knowing Ella was on the way.’

Was she right?

Of course she was, although at the time he’d pushed
himself to the limit every day—but knowing Caroline was there beside him
would
have made things easier.

He tried to think, tried to sort out the myriad thoughts racing through his head—dozens of rats in the maze now.

‘I cannot help my pride,’ he finally declared, because he sensed this was the last hurdle in the way to an understanding between them.

More than an understanding?

There had to be for even as they’d argued and she’d yelled at him he’d been so aware of wanting her he’d felt ashamed.

‘Even if it’s false pride?’ Caroline asked quietly, sensing they were at some kind of crossroads and not knowing which way things would go. ‘Pride should be about who we are, not about our physical weaknesses or how we look. I know that’s easy to say and much harder to live by, but do you think Ella notices your scars when she rushes into your arms for a hug? You’re her father, her
papá
—that’s all she sees.’

She took a deep breath, knowing this was a commitment she couldn’t retract.

‘It’s no different for me, Jorge. No matter what your body looks like, no matter what injuries it carries, it’s you the person that I love. That I have always loved.’

She stood in front of him for a moment, but when he didn’t respond she wandered deeper into the garden, seeking a place where she could hide her aching heart.

Surely that had been his opportunity to admit his love for her, and his silence told her more than words could
ever tell. Having married her, he could hardly come right out and say he felt nothing for her. She’d put him in an impossible position and, to make matters worse, she’d ripped out her own heart to lay before him, and for nothing.

Except embarrassment.

Embarrassment! She’d shifted all her clothes into his bedroom.

She turned back towards the house, hurrying now. Okay, so he’d seen the clothes, but no one else would have. The cleaning lady who came in had been and gone before Caroline had shifted things.

He caught her hand as she was hurtling through the door.

‘Where are you going?’

She spun to face him, angry to be halted in her resolve.

‘I’m going to move my clothes back into my bedroom,’ she snapped. ‘I’ll stay married to you, Jorge, but I’m not going to live a lie. In bed together, in the past, we made love. Now it would be sex and while, because of that magnet-like attraction you spoke of, it would be good, it’s not enough for me.’

She tried to jerk her hand out of his but he held it firmly, using it to draw her closer, walking backwards so she had to follow, reaching a shadowy arbour where the perfume of the garden was headily strong.

‘And if I said I loved you?’ he asked softly, still holding only her hand but standing so close she could feel the heat radiating off his body, weakening her bones so staying upright was difficult.

‘Words are easy to say,’ she managed to get out. ‘Do you mean it?’

‘With every fibre of my being,’ he replied, his voice husky again. ‘With every cell of my body—always and for ever, Caroline.’

He drew her closer now, enclosing her in his arms.

‘Sending that email was the hardest thing I ever did in my life. Writing those hateful words—even thinking them—hurt me more than all my injuries, but at the time …’

He paused and she knew she had to wait, knew she had to know just what had led the man she loved to hurt her as he had.

‘You are right—it was pride. At the time I told myself it was the only thing to do—that I was doing it out of love, that I couldn’t allow you to throw your life away on a broken shell of a man, that I couldn’t tie you to someone who might be an invalid for life.’

He tilted her head up and looked into her face.

‘And you’d have done it, don’t deny it. You’d have stuck with me even if your love for me had died, and died it surely would have had you seen me back then.’

‘Never,’ she whispered, shaking her head, while Jorge smiled his disbelief.

‘We’ve both seen it happen—watched love die between a couple where one is so badly injured the treatment goes on for ever, operation after operation, struggling through physio and occupational therapy. Love needs a response and the injured person is too self-focussed, has to be to get where he or she wants to get, so there’s nothing to give back.’

‘And we’ve seen it survive and flourish,’ Caroline argued, stepping back from him, not willing to let him get away with this. ‘You couldn’t know how it would be for us.’

He put his hands up to cup her face.

‘I couldn’t bear to take the risk,’ he said. ‘Couldn’t bear to see the love die out of your eyes, to see pity sneaking in to replace it.’

He kissed her, gently, as if to emphasise his words, then added, ‘I was wrong. I wronged you and in wronging you I wronged myself, but at the time …’

Could
she understand?

Wouldn’t she have reacted the same way?

Probably, but she wasn’t going to admit it.

‘And now?’ she whispered against his lips,
she
kissing
him
this time.

She felt his response.

‘Perhaps we should get naked together,’ he whispered back.

T
HE
baby gurgled in the little hammock Carlos had slung between two trees for him, waving chubby fists at the shadows of the leaves in the shady part of the garden. Somewhere in the bushes Ella was calling to her grandfather, ‘Find me, Ablito, find me!’

Caroline settled into a chair beside Antoinette, who was knitting as she watched baby Charlie explore the wonders of his hands—opening and closing them, gurgling his delight.

‘It’s not making you too tired, working part time at the hospital?’ Antoinette asked, pouring fresh-made lemonade from a crystal jug and handing a glass to Caroline.

‘I love it,’ Caroline admitted, ‘and though I miss being with the children, it does keep my mind off missing Jorge when he’s up in Salta, working at the new clinic.’

‘He’ll be home soon,’ Antoinette reminded her, although just mentioning his name had sent a shiver of anticipation through Caroline’s body.
It
knew he’d be home soon.

‘Is it working, the Salta clinic?’ Antoinette asked, and Caroline couldn’t help but smile, for they’d set up the
Salta clinic together, their little family of three moving up to the far north of the country to improve the medical facilities for the indigenous people in the area.

‘So well, Jorge’s job is nearly done. We’d started to work with the local government before I came back here to have Charlie, that was, when—five months ago? What we’ve got to think about is where we go next. It’s been great living here while I had the baby with you and Carlos to mind Ella and help out with Charlie, but now you two are married, you don’t want other people in the house.’

‘It’s a big house,’ Antoinette reminded her, then she leaned over and kissed Caroline on the cheek. ‘As if we’d turn you out when you’ve brought Carlos and me such happiness,’ she added. ‘And as if he’d want you to take the children out from under his wing. You are happy here, please tell me?’

‘Yes, but—’

Caroline got no further for footsteps were echoing through the tiled entrance, firm footsteps she recognised immediately.

As did Ella apparently, for her cry of ‘Papà’ and her headlong dash into the house beat Caroline to the first hug.

But she could wait.

She could stand and watch the man she loved lift their daughter into the air and kiss her on both cheeks, then hold her close against his body, love and pride radiating from him, although now, over Ella’s shoulder, his eyes sought his wife, found her, and transmitted even more
love, deep and resonant, the kind of love that would last for ever.

‘Mi esposa.’
The words were hoarse with longing as he pulled her into his arms, a three-way cuddle, but her body felt his warmth all along one side and desire vied with love to be expressed.

‘Best you see your
hijo,
too,
and
your
papá
!’ Caroline reminded him, breaking the kiss Jorge had pressed on her lips—the kiss she really didn’t want to break.

Together, the three of them walked into the garden, stopping by the hammock. Charlie looked up at them for a moment, before gurgling delight spread across his face and the little arms lifted towards his father.

Caroline lifted him and settled him in Jorge’s arm, and he carried both children out into the garden to find his father.

She watched them make their way through the beautiful plants and shook her head in wonder that so much happiness could have come her way. A son, a daughter, a man to love and a family complete with two very loving grandparents. What more could any woman want?

‘We’ll get naked soon?’

Jorge was back, whispering against her neck, Carlos following with Charlie in his arms, Ella trotting along behind, telling some story about her kindergarten friends.

Caroline turned and kissed her husband quickly on the lips.

‘Very soon,’ she whispered.

Her voice was so low that it was a moment before Daniel realised what she had said. He frowned, unsure where this was leading. ‘You’re sorry?’

‘Yes. About the way I … I’ve behaved recently.’ She tipped back her head and looked him squarely in the eyes. ‘I agreed to call a truce and I haven’t kept to that. I apologise.’

‘I know how difficult this situation is, Emma,’ he said quietly, more touched than he cared to admit. ‘I find it hard, too.’

‘Do you?’ She looked at him in surprise and he sighed.

‘Yes. I can’t just forget what happened five years ago. You meant a lot to me, Emma.’

‘Did I?’

‘Of course you did.’ He frowned when he saw the uncertainty on her face. He had never tried to hide his feelings—how could he have done? She had meant the whole world to him, and all of a sudden it seemed important that she understood that.

‘I cared a lot about you, Emma,’ he said quickly, wishing that he didn’t have to use such a milk-and-water term to describe how he’d felt. Claiming he’d
cared
barely touched on the way he had really felt about her—but what else could he say? Admitting that he had loved her with every fibre of his being wasn’t what she wanted to hear. His heart ached as he repeated it with as much conviction as he dared. ‘I really and truly cared about you.’

JENNIFER TAYLOR
lives in the north-west of England, in a small village surrounded by some really beautiful countryside. She has written for several different Mills & Boon® series in the past, but it wasn’t until she read her first Medical™ Romance that she truly found her niche. She was so captivated by these heart-warming stories that she set out to write them herself! When she’s not writing, or doing research for her latest book, Jennifer’s hobbies include reading, gardening, travel, and chatting to friends both on and off-line. She is always delighted to hear from readers, so do visit her website at www.jennifer-taylor.com

To Pam and Dudley. Thank you for always being there.

‘I feel terrible about what’s happened, Emma. You came home for a rest, not to be faced with this.’

‘It doesn’t matter. Really it doesn’t.’

Emma Roberts smiled soothingly as she led her aunt, Margaret Haynes, over to a chair. She sat down beside her, seeing the strain that had etched deep lines onto the older woman’s face. Her aunt had aged a lot since the last time Emma had seen her and she couldn’t help feeling guilty. She should have realised that something was wrong and returned home sooner than this.

‘Now tell me what the consultant said,’ she ordered gently.

‘He said that it’s imperative your uncle has a coronary artery bypass done as soon as possible. If Jim waits any longer, there will be no point doing it.’

‘Wait? Do you mean that Uncle Jim has been putting off having it done?’ Emma queried in surprise.

‘Yes. I’m afraid he has.’ Margaret Haynes sighed. ‘His angina has been getting worse for some time now. Even his medication doesn’t always help when he has a really bad attack. I kept nagging him to have the bypass done, but you know how stubborn he can be.’

Emma smiled. ‘I do indeed. Once Uncle Jim gets an idea into his head, it’s impossible to shift it.’ She sobered abruptly. ‘But from what you’ve said, it sounds as though the situation is extremely urgent now.’