forward.”
“Except when taking a piece, then they move diagonally.”
“Perhaps we should do away with the lesson and start a game.”
She laughed and the sound tinkled through him. “Oh, Bishop, everyone knows that.”
“What else do you know?”
“I know the castle—”
“Rook.”
“—gets to move across and up and down. That the horse is the prettiest piece and the queen is the most powerful.”
He relaxed back in his seat. That was more like it. “That doesn’t sound very technical.”
“Tell me … is it as difficult to play as everyone says?”
“Only if you can’t guess the other person’s move before they make it.”
He knew what came next in their game … every step, every misfire, after she’d let him know she’d changed her mind and wanted to conceive their own child, irrespective of any health concerns.
No matter the challenge he’d met it head-on, strategized, worked out the kinks and had always stayed one step ahead. Except where their marriage had been concerned. And that black mark had always stung. Always would.
Unless …
Puzzled, Laura was looking over the board. “Know the person’s move before they make it? How are you supposed to do that?”
He shaped two fingers down the sides of the black queen. “By skill,” he said, “and luck. And sometimes even by accident.”
When Bishop had to take a phone call midway through their first chess lesson, Laura decided to stretch her legs. She headed off to the kitchen, poured a drink and told herself that getting a handle on the basics of the game shouldn’t be too difficult. And once she was up to speed, no doubt Bishop would enjoy the competition.
She’d spent time playing cards whenever she’d been in the hospital in the cardio ward—sometimes with the nurses if she couldn’t sleep, more often with the other kids. But, before yesterday’s incident, she hadn’t spent time in a hospital bed in years. She’d had a defibrillator fitted and was on a low dosage medication, which kept her well.
The condition had been passed on through her mother’s side. An aunt had died unexpectedly in her teens and that’s when the family had been tested and the condition diagnosed. But Laura suspected that Bishop’s own family history had as much, if not more, to do with his pro-adoption stand.
He’d been the twin who’d survived and she didn’t need to ask if he felt guilty about it. Bishop had told her briefly about the story surrounding his birth and the subsequent death of his baby brother. When she’d tried to delve deeper, he’d withdrawn, other than to say he’d heard enough about it from his parents growing up. Laura had envisaged a boy fighting not to be overshadowed by his mother’s and father’s ongoing grief. But Arlene and George Bishop had seemed pleasant enough, even welcoming, at their wedding. They’d said how proud they were of their only son and that they wished they lived closer; they’d moved clear across the country to Perth five years ago. But they intended to keep in touch and had asked that the newlyweds do the same. Laura got the impression there wasn’t so much of a rift between parents and son as a gradual drifting apart that had, over time, come to be accepted.
Conversely, she and Grace had been so very close, to each other and to their parents. The sisters were devastated when first their father had died in a vehicle accident then cancer had taken their mum—a melanoma discovered too late. But as much as the sisters still figured in each other’s lives, it was no secret that Bishop thought Grace wielded too big of an influence over Laura.
But what was too much? They were close, always had been. Grace had her own family—a four-year-old boy and a three-year-old girl—but she’d always let Laura know she was welcome in her home at any time for any reason. If Grace had been a little outspoken about her concerns before the wedding, it was because she believed no one loved and cared for her sister more than she did.
If Bishop’s twin had lived, perhaps Bishop would better understand the sisters’ situation. They said twins shared a special connection. Maybe Bishop was somehow aware of that connection and missed it more than he knew.
When she’d finished her ice water and Bishop was still on the phone, talking about the sale of something or other, Laura decided to take in some fresh air. She’d had enough of chess for one day.
Outside, the sun spread a warm golden hue over the spires of the eucalypts and pines. She peeled off her cardigan and, marveling at their balance, studied a koala and her baby dozing high up in the fork of a tree. Beyond that clump of gray-green trees lay the rock bricks and planks that made up the northern footbridge.
Her stomach gave a mighty kick. She winced and slid her foot back.
The fall—before and after—she couldn’t recall, but it’d be a long while before she crossed that bridge again. Had she been trying to see something over the edge? Had a lizard scuttled up and scared her from behind? Had she slipped on the dew—
A flash—a fuzzy freeze frame—flicked on in her mind. The image … She couldn’t hold on to it long enough, but the residue of the pain hit her first in the lungs and then lower. Holding her belly, she flinched. When she opened her eyes, her brow was damp with perspiration. She eyed the bridge, shuddered to her toes, and promptly set off in the other direction.
She was headed toward the gazebo when Bishop caught up. The planes of his face were hard in their naturally attractive way, but his blue eyes shone with relief. His hands caught her bare shoulders and urged her near. The heat of his touch, the sincerity in his eyes, left her feeling warm and loved all over.
“I couldn’t find you,” he said in a low, graveled voice. “I was worried.”
“It looked so beautiful out here and I didn’t know how long you’d be on that call. It sounded important.”
His hands slid down her arms then dropped away altogether. A muscle ticked in his jaw before he answered. “I’m thinking of selling the company.”
Laura’s breath caught. She couldn’t believe what she’d heard. He was so proud of what he’d built from scratch. He had plans to expand even more.
“When did this happen?”
“I’ve been mulling over it for a while.”
But selling his company was unthinkable. He was so ca pable and responsible … still she had to ask the obvious question. “Are you in financial trouble?”
He began walking down a slate path lined with gold and lavender wild flowers. “Just thinking I might want to try something new.”
“Do you think you’d be away from home more often? Not that it would matter,” she added quickly. “I’d be okay. It’s just if you were … well, I’ve been thinking about getting a dog. Someone to keep me company through the day.”
He nodded slowly, considering. “I think a dog is a good idea.”
“Really?”
