The Honourable Army Doc (10 page)

‘Let them stay with me, please,’ Julieanne asked. ‘I want you all to stay.’

Helen kissed her daughter and gently brushed her cheek. She sat beside Julieanne but kept her face averted from the twins and Quinn knew she was crying.

Julieanne hugged Eliza and Beth into her, cradling them against her body. She kissed them both and whispered, ‘Goodnight, my darlings. I love you.’

She closed her eyes but didn’t let go of her daughters. She moved her hands to their heads and stroked their hair, her movements slow and rhythmical. Quinn knew the repetition would be calming for Julieanne as well as for the twins.

Quinn sat opposite Helen, with Julieanne and the girls between them. He wanted to call the specialist but he was afraid to leave the room. He knew there wasn’t much time.

He chose to stay.

He pushed the call button for a nurse and sat watching Julieanne breathe.

Sat watching the slight rise and fall of her chest.

Until it stopped.

Until she was gone.

Quinn

Q
UINN WALKED THE
streets. The girls were in bed and asleep. He had brought them home, driven them up the hill in a state of numb exhaustion and put them to bed. He probably shouldn’t have driven, he probably should have made other arrangements, but he’d just wanted to get the girls out of the hospital. He couldn’t face any questions. He didn’t have any answers. He didn’t have the words to tell them their mother had died.

He’d have some explaining to do tomorrow but he couldn’t face it tonight. He was exhausted. They all were. But while the girls slept he knew sleep would elude him for a while yet. He was too tired to think but he couldn’t settle so he walked the streets.

The roads were dark and virtually deserted. It had rained earlier in the evening and people had stayed indoors. The footpaths were damp and slippery and the air was cold but Quinn was oblivious to his surroundings. If anyone had asked him where he was going he
wouldn’t have been able to tell them. He wandered aimlessly, his mind blank.

The air was fresh and clean and newly washed but he was unaware of it. His intention had been to get some fresh air, thinking it would revive him, but once he was outside all other conscious thoughts evaporated as he strode the footpaths. He thought he was roaming with no specific destination. He assumed he’d walk for a while and then return to Julieanne’s house, but as the temperature dropped and the chill began to permeate his clothing and seep into his skin, it concentrated his focus. He stopped to get his bearings and was surprised to find himself only a few streets from home, right outside Ali’s front door.

He had no idea how long he’d been walking. He had no idea what the time was. Was it was too late to call? He was about to pull his phone from his pocket to check the time when he realised the porch lights were on. He decided to take that as a signal that it wasn’t too late for visitors. It hadn’t been a conscious decision when he’d left Julieanne’s to walk to Ali’s house but he recognised that it might have been an unconscious one. Ali would help him to make sense of the events of the day.

He knocked, quietly, as he wondered how he was going to explain what he was doing on her doorstep. He didn’t think he could talk.

But he didn’t need to.

Ali opened the door, took one look at his face and opened her arms. He stepped into her embrace. Her arms wrapped around him as he ducked his head and buried his face in her hair. A sense of peace draped over him. He could feel the haze that had settled over him dissipate
with her touch as his head began to clear and the events of the past few hours reassembled themselves into something that he could make sense of.

‘Julieanne?’ she asked.

He nodded. Ali’s arms tightened around him and he knew she’d felt his answer. He should have known he wouldn’t need to explain. He should have known Ali would understand what had happened.

He lifted his head and saw Malika standing in the passage, watching silently. He’d forgotten Ali’s parents had returned home. He had been focussing on other things and he wondered if turning up unannounced wasn’t appropriate after all. Was he assuming things about his relationship with Ali? She was generous with her time and comfort but what had he given her in return?

Ali took her arms from around him and he was aware of the cold air seeping back in. He was chilled to the bone. Were his new-found fears about to be realised? Was he welcome or not?

‘Are the girls with Helen?’ she asked.

When he nodded Ali stepped back into the house and said, ‘You’d better come in.’

He breathed a sigh of relief and followed her inside. He was unable to do anything else. He felt like a man floundering in heavy seas, caught in a rip, and Ali was the only thing that could save him. He needed to keep her close.

He stepped inside and Ali closed the door. She took his hand and he followed her into the lounge room.

Malika watched them go. She still hadn’t spoken and
he wondered why, but then again what was there to say? It seemed no one had many words to speak tonight.

A log fire burned in the grate. Several table lamps were lit, their soft light banishing any darkness from the corners of the room. Two large couches with plump, generous cushions squared off on opposite sides of the fire but Ali led him to an armchair that sat by the hearth. He folded himself into the chair, his knees almost buckling beneath him, collapsing with exhaustion and shaky with adrenalin. His bones felt cold, his body numb. He watched Ali and tried to concentrate on breathing as he let the heat of the fire warm him.

A highly polished antique sideboard was tucked beside the fireplace with several crystal decanters lined up on its gleaming surface. Ali crossed to the sideboard, her movements graceful, giving the appearance again that she was floating. She took a glass from the cupboard and poured a drink from one of the decanters. She passed him the glass.

He could smell the golden liquid. A Scotch, aged and expensive.

‘Drink this,’ she said. ‘I’ll be right back.’

Ali was gone long enough for Quinn to drink the contents of the glass. The whisky warmed him, defrosting him from the inside. When Ali returned she was carrying a tray. She pushed the door closed with her foot and set the tray down on a small table beside him. A bowl of soup, a plate of cheese and some fat slices of bread were arranged on the tray. The soup was thick with meatballs and dumplings. His stomach grumbled as the flavours of thyme and onion wafted through the air.

The warmth of the whisky had taken the chill from his bones and enabled him to speak. ‘You don’t need to feed me.’

‘It sounds as if I do,’ she answered as his stomach continued to rumble. ‘Besides, it’s what my family does whenever something major happens. We eat when we celebrate and we eat when we commiserate.’ She handed him the bowl of soup and smiled, her cherry-red lips parting. ‘My father is Danish. This is one of his mother’s recipes. It makes a change from Indian food and I guarantee you won’t be able to resist it.’

‘I—’

Ali put one of her hands over his and interrupted him. Her hand was warm, matching the heat of the bowl. ‘Eat first and then we’ll talk.’ She passed him the soupspoon and took his glass. She refilled it before dragging a smaller armchair to his side. She sat and waited patiently as he tasted the soup. Her presence was calming and Quinn relaxed and did as he was told. He didn’t want to argue, it would waste the little energy he had, and, besides, he was starving.

She was right. The soup was delicious and he didn’t stop until it was finished. The soup and the whisky and the fire combined to begin to chase away the chill that had enveloped him but he knew it was Ali’s presence that was really warming him and making him feel as though he would manage.

‘Does that feel better?’ she asked as she stood to take the empty bowl and return it to the tray.

‘Much,’ he replied, as he relaxed back into the chair. It wasn’t his intention to let her wait on him but he wasn’t
sure his legs would support his weight yet. He needed a little longer to absorb Ali’s energy, a little longer to let her calmness work its magic and restore him.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

He frowned. He knew people would expect him to be upset but that wasn’t his overriding emotion. He took a moment to work out exactly how he was feeling.

‘She just gave up,’ he said, as he realised that was what was bothering him. He’d known Julieanne was dying but he hadn’t expected her to go so soon or so quickly.

He didn’t feel devastated. He wasn’t upset. He was upset for their daughters but he wasn’t mourning. He was shocked.

It wasn’t the fact that Julieanne was gone that surprised him but rather the timing. ‘I expected her to fight harder but tonight she just gave up.’

Ali had stacked the tray and was now standing in front of him. He took her hand and pulled her onto his lap. He needed her close. He wrapped one arm around her waist and let her curl against his chest. Her bottom was round and firm in his lap, the thin fabric of her pants barely separating her from him. He could feel himself coming alive as desire began to obliterate shock. She was warm and soft and smelt of gardenias. She was just what he needed after the clinical harshness and chemical smell of the hospital.

‘What did you want her to fight for?’ she asked. ‘For you?’

Quinn let his hand slide under Ali’s shirt, seeking her warmth. Her skin was silky smooth under his fingers. ‘No. Not for me. But I thought she’d fight for the girls.’

‘She wasn’t going to get better.’ Ali voice was soft and gentle, her words realistic and reassuring. ‘She was tired. Does it matter when she chose to go? Does it matter that she gave up now? This day was inevitable.’

‘I know but I wasn’t ready.’

‘Not ready for what?’

‘To deal with telling the girls.’

‘The girls don’t know?’

Ali tilted her head up and Quinn could see the surprise in her grey eyes.

He shook his head. ‘No. We were all there. Helen, me and the twins. Julieanne had a chance to say goodbye to all of us but Beth and Eliza just think she went to sleep. I’ll tell them tomorrow but I couldn’t do it tonight. I didn’t know what to say.’

‘The girls knew it was coming.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘but not when. None of us knew when and I know I’m not ready to deal with it. I don’t know how to tell them.’

‘Just tell them she died in her sleep. Don’t tell them they were there. Take them outside when it’s dark and let them look at the stars, do it again the next night and ask them to find a new star, one that wasn’t there the night before. Tell them that star is their mother going to heaven.’

‘They’ll probably argue over which star,’ Quinn smiled.

‘Trust me, it will help, but most of all it will remind them of how much Julieanne loves them. That’s what they need to hear.’

Quinn sighed and rubbed his head. ‘God, how am I going to manage all of this? How am I going to manage
being both father and mother? At times I feel I can barely manage the fathering part.’

Ali’s head was resting on his chest. She could hear his heartbeat under her ear and the steady, rhythmical pulse was relaxing, but she could also feel Quinn’s anxiety. He was wound tight and even though he had wrapped his arms around her again, his body was hard and tense under hers.

She lifted her head and met his eyes. ‘You can manage and you will,’ she said. ‘And not only because you have to.’

She reached up one hand and rested it lightly against his cheek. The day’s growth of his beard was rough under her palm but he let her hold him and she felt the muscles in his jaw relax just slightly under her touch.

She watched transfixed as the colour of his eyes changed. When he’d arrived tonight there had been dark shadows behind his azure eyes but they were back to their bright best now and she knew that, despite his stress, he would hear her. ‘I think Julieanne waited as long as she could,’ she told him. ‘She knows you can manage. She trusts that you can and will take care of the girls. She would never have doubted that. You’ll work it out. And we’ll all help you.’

Ali didn’t hesitate to offer help yet again. She fully intended to be there for Quinn for as long as he needed her. If he needed what she
could
give him, maybe he wouldn’t worry about the things she couldn’t give him.

She put her head back on his chest. She was pleased he was there, pleased he had come to her for comfort, even while a small part of her wished things were less
complicated. How different things could be if he didn’t have his other responsibilities, his other obligations. How simple it would be if it was just the two of them.

But it wasn’t and she knew the girls had to be his first responsibility, and that started with sending him home. Quinn’s daughters weren’t Helen’s responsibility. Especially not tonight.

Ali wondered how Helen was coping with the reality of Julieanne’s death. Knowing it was coming was quite different from living through it. As much as she hated to see Quinn go, Ali knew he couldn’t stay. Not tonight.

‘I don’t want to kick you out but you should go. The girls might need you and Helen might like some company.’

‘I don’t want to leave you.’

‘And I don’t want you to go,’ she told him. ‘I wish I could come with you. But I can’t. Not yet.’ She reached up and put her hand behind his head, pulling him down to her. She kissed him, hard and firm, hoping to give him enough strength to face what was coming. ‘I am here for you but your girls need to know you are there for them. They need you.’

She wished he could stay the night with her, take comfort with her. But they didn’t have the luxury of that privacy in either house. He had to go back to his daughters.

Ali felt Quinn’s absence as though a part of her was missing, as though he took a piece of her with him each time he left. She knew the secret to not noticing he was gone was to keep busy. She tidied the lounge room and carried the tray into the kitchen, where Malika was finishing
the dinner dishes. Ali thought her mother would have been in bed long ago and she knew the only reason she wasn’t was because she was waiting for Ali.

‘I didn’t realise the two of you had grown so close,’ Malika said.

‘What do you mean?’ Ali asked as she began to stack Quinn’s empty plates into the dishwasher.

‘I didn’t realise you had the sort of relationship that meant he would come to you first when his wife died.’

‘She was his ex-wife,’ Ali corrected. She didn’t want Malika affording Julieanne status she had no longer held, and Ali felt it was an important distinction.

‘I’m not accusing you of anything improper, although you must admit the lines seemed blurred at times.’ Ali knew her mother was right but she wasn’t about to admit as much. ‘I’m just surprised,’ Malika continued. ‘Is it serious between you?’

‘I think it could be. It feels as though it’s meant to be. It feels easy.’ Ali continued stacking the dishwasher in order to avoid eye contact with her mother. She was fairly certain she knew what she was thinking.

‘I would think it will be far from easy, especially at the moment.’