her mind.
Joanna opened the vine-covered gate to the courtyard, which was indeed well hidden.
They sat on one of the bench seats in a corner. Richard handed her a drink and set the food between them, showing no indication he’d guessed how nervous she felt.
‘Help yourself,’ he said as he opened his carton of milk and took a long gulping drink. Joanna glanced at her watch. She definitely had no appetite.
‘No, thanks.’
He raised one eyebrow as he peeled the paper casing off the muffin and popped a generous chunk into his mouth.
‘Not on a diet, are you?’ His eyes again wandered over her generously proportioned body but there was no sign of criticism in his tone. He had an unmistakeable twinkle in his eye, as if the statement was a challenge. Reminding herself she’d long ago stopped worrying about what people thought of how she looked, she refused to be unsettled by his question.
‘Do you think I should be?’ she said, rather more brusquely than she’d intended. She defiantly chose a Cellophane-wrapped portion of cheese and crackers from the selection of food, unwrapped it and began to eat.
‘No, of course not. You’re perfect just the way you are.’
Joanna nearly choked on an errant crumb. As she coughed to clear her throat, her eyes began watering and she felt a strong, warm hand first patting and then rubbing her back. It took all her self-control to stop herself from leaning into the blissful touch of his fingers on the exquisitely sensitive area between her shoulder blades.
She pulled away in alarm at the signals her body was sending. Fortunately Richard didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were full of concern.
I am a good nurse, I love the children I care for and that’s all that matters.
She repeated the affirmation in her head but it did little to divert her attention from the unsettling whole-body warmth she was experiencing in response to Richard’s touch.
‘Are you all right? Have something to drink.’
Clearing her throat, she tried to restore her self-control but Richard’s eyes were firmly fixed on hers as if he had something important to say but was uncertain how to say it.
‘I’m fine now.’ She took a sip of the offered drink.
He put his carton of coffee down, ran long fingers through his mane of unruly hair and cleared his throat. He finally spoke.
‘I guess it’s time to talk…about you and me.’
‘Yes,’ she whispered, and fixed her gaze firmly on the ground.
* * *
‘I saw you have your head shaved yesterday…’ Richard hesitated. He was trying to break the ice by not launching into a discussion of their marriage as soon as they’d sat down. But the distressed look on Joanna’s face left no doubt in his mind that he was being totally insensitive. She’d succumbed to a sacrifice most women wouldn’t even consider, because of Sam. And probably because of every child with cancer that had been in her care.
‘I’m sorry.’
Her eyes, which had been defiantly cast downward, found his and melted into a pool of heart-ache and exposed vulnerability. But it didn’t last long. She slammed the door on her emotions and attempted a smile.
‘What for?’ Her expression was now as hard as steel.
‘For…er…’
Why was it still so difficult to even mention the death of their son? He’d thought he’d regained some of his objectivity, but he should have realised that seeing Jo again would bring it all back.
She grasped his hand as if sensing his insecurity.
‘We didn’t come here to talk about Sam. He’ll always have a special place in my heart and I’ll never stop missing him but I can cope now. I’m no longer an emotional cripple and I’ve somehow managed to move on. It hasn’t been easy but I’ve survived.’
From what he had initially thought of as Joanna’s weakness had emerged a single-minded strength he envied. He was lost for words.
‘We need to talk about our relationship,’ she added.
She looked at him questioningly, expecting a reply.
‘Yes.’ Richard coughed to try and clear the stubborn lump in his throat but it refused to move. ‘What do you want to do?’
He’d thought he’d worked through denial and regret and could finally deal with seeing Joanna again…for closure. But he still had strong feelings for her and was suddenly overwhelmed by the thought that he wanted to save his marriage; he was reluctant to mention what had been his initial intention—that they finally divorce.
It had seemed to be the logical solution to a problem that had been simmering in his mind ever since he’d made the decision to accept the position of head of the oncology department at Lady Lawler. But now he’d seen Joanna again, it wasn’t that simple. He needed to find out if she still had any feelings for him.
‘Do you want—?’
‘A divorce?’
Apparently easy for her to say and there was no avoiding the issue. But the goalposts had moved. He needed time. They were both older and, he hoped, wiser. When they’d married, Joanna had been nineteen and pregnant with a child she expected she’d never have. The doctors had told her the scarring from a ruptured appendix three years previously had blocked her tubes and her only chance of bearing a child would be through microsurgery or IVF.
When she’d found out she was pregnant, they’d both been over the moon. Although they’d only known each other for a little over six months, they’d been insanely in love and the pregnancy had somehow validated that love. Maybe they’d jumped into marriage too quickly and for the wrong reasons. Many times he’d agonised over whether that was why their relationship hadn’t been strong enough to survive the shattering stress of what had happened to their son.
Was it a bad thing to want to start over?
It had to be Jo’s decision. She was the one who had suffered most and he didn’t want to cause her any more heartache.
‘Yes, I guess it comes down to that. We probably should have finalised things before I left for England, but—’
‘I was an emotional vegetable and you couldn’t bring yourself to add to my stress by going through a divorce.’ She was actually smiling. ‘I hated you for leaving me, you know. But I realise now that living with me at that time in our lives must have been a nightmare. Looking back, you certainly pulled out all the stops to try and bring me out of my depression. I don’t blame you.’ She sighed and then hesitated. ‘I’ve moved on, Richard. I have a fulfilling life that doesn’t involve a husband or children. Our marriage ended years ago and now it’s time to formalise our separation.’
He cleared his throat but couldn’t bring himself to say what he was thinking—he didn’t deserve to be forgiven and it had been fanciful to even contemplate that she would give him
