could they release her so quickly after such pain?’ Rick put the question that was filling her thoughts into words. ‘What was the diagnosis? Is this a decent hospital we’re talking about? If not, we’ll get her admitted somewhere else.’
‘Apparently a cyst ruptured on one of Mum’s ovaries. She is still in some discomfort but it’s not severe now. They say she just needs to rest with the appropriate medication. Once they were certain of the diagnosis they let her go.’
Marissa drew a quick breath. ‘It is a good hospital, the staff are reliable and Aunty Jean wouldn’t let them release her unless she was confident Mum was up to that. Even so, I need to see her. If I look at her, I’ll know—’
‘How do we get to your parents’ home?’ He gestured ahead of them. ‘Let’s get you there so you can see for yourself.’
‘If you follow this road it will take you straight through the main street of the town.’ He understood what she needed and that … warmed her. ‘After the Region’s Own Bank building you turn left and Mum and Dad’s unit is in the second street on the right.’
His gaze glanced left and right as he followed the directions she’d given him.
Many of the homes were red brick or weatherboard with corrugated iron roofs. Just about every front garden had rose bushes or camellias, a front fence with a wrought iron gate with an old-fashioned curlicue scroll design on top, and a mailbox on the right-hand gatepost.
There were vintage cars interspersed with sedans and utility trucks in the main street.
A rally weekend, Marissa realised vaguely, and sat forward in her seat again as they neared the turn to her parents’ home.
‘That’s their place.’ She pointed. ‘The small pale brick one with the red sedan and green station wagon parked out front.’
Rick followed Marissa’s directions and parked on the street behind the other two cars. He studied the workmanship of the square building design, with its regulation small porch, front window awnings and slightly curved pathway from the front fence to that porch, but his thoughts were focused on the woman at his side.
He’d expected Marissa to leap from the vehicle before he’d even parked it properly. Instead, at the last minute, she turned to face him.
Her eyes were wide, her expression a combination of concern and chagrin. ‘I haven’t thanked you for dropping everything to get me here the way you did and for your kindness during the trip. It … well … I hope Mum truly is a lot better, though I’m still concerned for her, and I appreciate—’
‘I know you do, and there’s no need to say anything.’ Maybe she was hesitating at the last moment out of fear of what she would find. If so, the sooner she saw her Mum the better. He opened his door and came to her side to help her out.
With her hand clasped in his as he helped her down, he admitted, ‘I wanted to bring you.’ He’d needed to, in the same way he’d needed to fix things for Darla over the years, for Faith.
No. Not the same. This was different.
Yes. It’s more than those urges have ever been.
He didn’t want to think that. Their gazes met and held for a brief moment and something flared between them. She did fly up the path then, and rapped on the door even as it opened from inside.
Rick followed more slowly and watched as a man with thinning grey-streaked dark hair pulled Marissa into his arms and held her tight. The comfort given and exchanged in their hug caught at something inside Rick and his chest hurt as he acknowledged the deep closeness playing out in front of him.
‘Dad, this is the boss of Morgan’s, Rick Morgan. I told you and Mum I’m working for him while his secretary is on sick leave and Gordon is on holiday.’ Marissa rushed the words out and then her voice softened. ‘Rick, please meet my father, Abraham Warren, but he prefers Abe.’
Did Marissa’s face soften on his name? It had seemed to and while something inside Rick took the thought in a stranglehold and refused to let it go, heat rode the back of his neck as he shook the older man’s hand and murmured a greeting.
He was concerned. He needed Marissa to see her mother and feel assured that the woman would be okay. It wasn’t anything else. Certainly not some misguided and misplaced hope that Marissa’s father would approve—like—him.
‘Thank you for bringing Marissa to us.’ Abe stepped back. If he noticed anything odd in Rick’s demeanour, he didn’t show it.
Rick wished he had some of the same self-control.
Abe went on, ‘Come inside, both of you. Marissa, Mum’s fretting that you rushed to get here, but she’s also bursting to see you. Maybe she’ll settle down and rest once she has.’
The combination of protectiveness and residual worry in the man’s tone said it all.
The small unit had a living area filled with a two-seater couch and several chairs. A kitchen backed onto the area and there were rooms packed tightly together off a hallway to the right.
Bedroom, bedroom, bathroom, Rick guessed. The laundry room would be at the back behind the kitchen. A woman emerged through an open door and smiled at Marissa. Hugged her briskly and stepped aside. ‘Go on and see your mum. A rupture is nasty and it can be very dangerous but your mum’s going to be just fine and I’m staying two nights to watch her in any case. It only took me two hours to get here from Tuckwell. I left quickly when your dad phoned.’
Marissa stepped through the door and disappeared. A moment later Rick heard a soft sob quickly stifled, followed by a rush of low words. Marissa’s voice and another one—older, soothing and being soothed. He wanted to burst into the room, do something. Hold Marissa and never let anything upset her again.
Instead, he stood in the middle of the living room, fists clenched as he forgot all about the two people waiting there, watching him. Then he turned to Marissa’s father. ‘Your wife truly is well enough to leave the hospital? Marissa was worried.’
‘Yes, and Jean will help me keep an eye on her.’ Abe examined Rick with shrewd eyes that seemed to have realised something about his guest. Maybe that Rick had eyes only for his daughter.
Rick ran a hand through his hair. ‘It’s been an uneasy few hours. Far more so for you, I’m sure.’
Abe stared hard at him for a long moment before he spoke again. ‘Very true. Now, how long have you and my daughter—’
‘Well, it must be time for a cup of tea.’ The nurse cleared her throat rather noisily. ‘How about I put the kettle on, Abe? I’m sure Tilda would enjoy a cup about now. We probably all could do with one.’
On her way past Rick, she gestured towards one of the squashy cloth-covered lounge chairs. ‘Why don’t you have a seat? And I’m Jean, Tilda’s sister, though I’m sure you’ve worked that out.
‘We can make our way through the introductions properly in a minute and you can tell us how the vintage car festival seems to be shaping up, how many of the cars you saw as you drove in.’ She glanced at Abe and her gaze seemed to warn him off launching a more personal inquisition. ‘It’s one of Milberry’s special weekends, you know.’
Rick
