Emma, page 6
It was impossible for him to stop the irresistible pull of his thoughts to Emma Rose and the magic they’d shared. What would she say when she saw him? Would this be an agreeable surprise or an awkward occasion? No matter, he would prevail.
If he was honest – the very thing he had used to pride himself on – she was one of the reasons he’d returned. To see the woman who had tilted his grey world into colour again, though she’d only intended it to be for one night. He knew he’d promised just that night but perhaps for a month they might change the rules.
Chapter Eleven
Gianni
Emma knew Gianni started today.
How could she not? Ten people had told her, as if she were the most fortunate person in Lyrebird Lake. That wasn’t what she was calling herself.
He was supposed to be gone forever. Though, to be honest, had this possibility been at the back of her mind when she’d begun the first of the pre-screening counselling sessions for her mother’s genetic heritage?
In case Gianni might come back someday? As protection from risking her heart? That wasn’t the reason she’d told the counsellor.
Gianni was supposed to disappear into the sunset and never remind her of the incredible world out there for her if she threw the bleakness of her future to the winds.
To top it off, this morning she’d been seconded to Emergency. As a midwife, most of her workload took place in the birthing centre but today none of her own women were due to give birth and she was directed to the little emergency ward where a cluster of mini-catastrophes meant the cubicles were full to overflowing.
The worst day in the world to be in Emergency for Emma—Gianni’s first day.
She’d barely slept last night, tossed in her bed with a million memories she’d tried to hide from and cross beyond words that he had returned to ruin her good intentions. Finally, around daybreak, she’d shed her anger at Gianni for his return, anger at herself for being glad, and decided regrets were useless because she could never regret what they had shared. She had stopped tossing and sat up. Squared her shoulders to face the day.
Hopefully their first meeting would be over swiftly amidst chaos and she wouldn’t have the time then to dwell on the embarrassment and disaster of his return.
When Emma arrived on the ward, Christine, the much-loved mainstay of Emergency, greeted her like the long-lost second cousin she was. ‘Help. Thank goodness. Lovely to see you.’ She hugged her. ‘Now, your mission today is to get us off on time because this afternoon I have a hair appointment. My man’s been home from Africa three weeks and we still haven’t celebrated our anniversary.’
‘Yes, ma’am. Off in time for hair appointment. And you always look beautiful.’ She surreptitiously peeked around for Gianni. Her heart thudded uncomfortably in her throat but she had to believe Christine couldn’t notice any difference in the way she was acting.
She forced the words out. ‘So where’s our new doc?’
‘Behind that curtain.’ Christine glanced around and all seemed momentarily under control. ‘Even as a happily married woman I can see that man is a bit of a hunk,’ she whispered. ‘You could help him finish off his suturing and then I’ll have him for my new patient.’
The first Emma saw of Gianni was his bent head, the thick dark hair she’d run her fingers through falling across his forehead, and his dark, bedroom eyes hidden as he bent to suture the torn earlobe of an older lady.
Doris’s tranquil face turned sideways towards Emma from under the green sheet and her eyes twinkled. ‘Hello, Emma dear. I’m being a nuisance as always.’
She felt his swift look but Emma avoided Gianni’s eyes. ‘Always a delight, you mean.’ She smiled and looked at Doris’s husband, who sat arms folded with steadfast concentration as he ensured Gianni did a good job on his wife.
Emma winked at the older gentleman. ‘Not the dangerous garden again, Clive?’
‘’Ear, ’ear,’ Clive muttered facetiously. ‘She slipped in the mulch and caught her earring on a branch. I think we need to live in a little unit with pot plants. Be nice and safe.’
Emma decided she’d greet Gianni without blushing if it killed her. ‘Morning, Dr Bonmarito.’
Gianni glanced up properly and flashed a knee-wobbling grin at her. ‘Ah.’ As if he’d been waiting for her to look at him. ‘Good morning, Emma. Please call me Gianni. I have given you permission to use it.’
His voice. That accent. The memories. She fought the warmth that threatened to douse her and at least the blush stopped at her neck.
Thankfully he looked away to his handiwork, cut the last suture and sat back. ‘There you go, Doris. As good as new. But you have the bruise behind your ear that will throb when the local anaesthetic wears off.’
Emma winced at the thought, glad to be diverted. ‘I’ll pop a couple of ice cubes in a disposable glove. Hold it on the swelling on the way home, Doris.’ Emma flicked a glanced at Gianni. ‘Tetanus shot?’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I think not. The last tango—’ He paused as if remembering something pleasant ‘—with the garden was only three months ago. Her booster is up to date.’
Then he sat back and looked at Emma, with a slow, leisurely scan from head to toe, and she quickly turned away to concentrate on the pile of discarded swabs. The last tango they’d danced in his chalet made a vivid picture that had nothing to do with ears. Except hers were burning. Not fair.
‘I’ll clean up here, then.’ She glanced towards the other end of the ward and Christine waved and pointed at Gianni. ‘I think Christine wants you for her little asthmatic.’
Gianni stripped off his gloves. ‘I will move on, then.’ He pumped some antiseptic on his hands as he smiled at Doris and Clive. ‘Do not battle with branches, Doris.’ He rubbed the evaporating gel away before he shook Clive’s hand. ‘My pleasure meeting you both.’
‘Thanks, Doc.’
Doris glanced from the departing Gianni to Emma, and her mischievous eyes gave her away. Emma braced herself. ‘Now, there’s a handsome young man, Emma. You should entice him to stay and help at the lake.’
Could she entice Gianni? Again? ‘He lives in Italy. And lost his wife in a tragic accident, Doris.’
‘Perfect.’
Emma had to laugh at Doris’s simplicity. ‘He doesn’t need more heartache.’
She handed the ice fingers to Clive. ‘To hold against her ear, Clive.’ She helped the older lady up. ‘Give me a break, Doris. I travel once a month for the cause and once a week to see Mum. Grace barely sees me. I work the rest of the time.’
Doris opened her mouth for the clincher but Clive forestalled her gently with his hand. ‘Here. Put this against the dressing, there, Doris. We should be leaving poor Emma to her work.’
Emma caught Clive’s eye and thanked him without words.
Doris hadn’t needed to say it anyway. It was what she said every time she saw Emma. Young Grace needs a father.
Perhaps Gianni would make a good one, if a little strict on propriety. Except where she herself was concerned. How had she been so shameless?
She sighed. What she needed was a relationship with a man that dissolved before she was forty. Then again, she’d tried a twenty-four-hour one and been broken-hearted from that.
Just the thought of Gianni or any man in the same position as her own dear dad made her want to cry. This was why she didn’t want love. She’d given up wallowing in self-pity years ago.
She needed to concentrate on her daughter. Grace was her most important concern. To create a world of wonderful memories for her daughter. She needed to stay focussed and plan for the day she might not be capable of being there. Like her own mother couldn’t be for her.
Emma glanced at the mess in front of her and cleared her mind of fruitless yearnings.
He’d removed his own sharps—good—and hadn’t spread himself around as much as most people did when they were suturing. She swept the neat pile of paper litter into the bag hanging off the trolley and sprayed the area with detergent before she wiped it over and put a clean sheet on the bed ready for the next patient.
She glanced back towards the overflowing waiting room. Calling the next person in sounded like a good idea. For her own peace of mind as well as the patients’.
Before she could call a name, the automatic doors opened to admit Emma’s brothers, both local ambulance officers, and a stretchered patient.
‘This way, boys.’ Emma beckoned them through to her. Her brothers would ground her, too. Both of them were positive for the Huntington’s gene. Now, that was reality right in the face.
As the busy afternoon wore on Emma remembered why she preferred midwifery to Emergency. The peace and passions of birth were poles away from the adrenalin rush of the emergency department, although a little of the fight-and-flight stuff had come in handy as she’d tried to ward off the onslaught of memories she’d been bombarded with, just by working with Gianni Bonmarito.
With weak fascination she’d watched him connect warmly with patients, children, staff, and even the grumpy one-eyed cat one older lady had tried to smuggle into the ward with her own admission, and each positive encounter had made her more aware of what she was missing.
And more reason not to short-change him when he’d already suffered in love. The lump in her throat grew to such mammoth proportions she didn’t even fancy her lunch.
By the end of the shift Emma couldn’t inflict any more exposure to the gorgeous Gianni on herself and slipped out the garden door as soon as handover was completed. Lucky Christine was away and rushing home to the man she loved complete with new hair. Emma envied her.
This afternoon Emma would be happy to get to the safety of her house so she could immerse herself in all the good things she held in her life. She needed to batten down the impossible dreams that were beginning to haunt her with ten times more persistence since that morning.
‘Our day has been busy.’ Gianni’s voice brushed over her shoulder like the branch she’d just ducked under. Her neck stiffened and she slowed her steps. Reluctantly she abandoned evasion as a non-starter.
‘Very busy.’ So much for grand plans, she grumbled silently, but a tiny shiver of excitement disputed her grumbling. Liar. You’re pleased to see him, the voice inside her head quibbled.
Her lips compressed as she drew in a long breath through her nose. One, two, three, four, and her mouth pursed as she exhaled in a silent whistle and allowed her shoulders to relax.
She saw the branch skim lovingly across his broad shoulders like her own fingers had done a month ago and then he stepped out onto the path beside her. Emma watched the bush spring back. Lucky branch.
She glanced at his tousled hair and her hand tightened on her bag in acknowledgement of that fleeting desire to comb it with her fingers. How could she be irresponsibly infatuated so quickly again? Or was it still?
Gee, maybe the promise of more mind-blowing sex? Internal smart aleck voices were a pain. Her cheeks burnt and she ducked her head.
He tilted his head at her with a question she couldn’t help but see. ‘You don’t look pleased I have followed you. Would it be better for you if I left you alone?’
She sighed again. It was even more embarrassing that her distress showed. ‘Look...’ She paused. ‘Gianni, I’m sorry.’ How to tell him? ‘It’s not you.’ She grimaced. ‘Well, it is you but it’s not your fault.’
He raised his black brows and spread his hands in exasperation. ‘There is no doubt it is my fault.’
They’d stopped when they reached the path outside the hospital that ran along the front of the lake. Gianni would need to cross to the doctor’s residence and she needed to follow the path all the way to her house. Alone.
Now he’d planted himself directly in front of her. His eyes were on her face, as if searching for the woman he’d held a month before. ‘Of course. You have been let down before? Grace’s father?’
Grace’s dad, Tommy, didn’t have a mean bone in his body. They’d been children when they’d been together. No. Gianni couldn’t be more wrong about the reason she didn’t want to tie herself to a man.
‘Can we not be friends, Emma?’
She raised her own brows and tilted her head. ‘Is that what you want to be, Gianni? “Friends” with me?’
His gaze roamed her face and the sultry chocolate of his eyes darkened as they travelled, as if to imprint her features on his mind. The sounds of the birds and the swish of the trees overhead faded into the stillness between them.
The air thickened as they stared at each other and Emma felt suspended like a piece of fruit in a jelly. Stuck, unable to move. Peering through gelatine with far too much awareness.
Finally, he shook his head. ‘No. It is not only your friendship I want.’
She dragged her eyes away to sever a connection that wobbled her knees. ‘I thought not.’
He raised his hand to touch her shoulder and hastily she stepped back. His hand dropped and he frowned down as she tucked her fingers away behind her back. No touching or she would be lost. ‘It meant something to you, didn’t it, Emma? Between us runs a current. You feel it too?’
She could almost laugh at that. Oh, yes. She gave him a sweeping glance of her own. From the top of that thick hair, past his beautiful jawline, across those strong upright shoulders and that chest she’d love to rest her head against.
Stop looking. Yeah, well... She swallowed and wished she hadn’t indulged. Maybe honesty would work. ‘I feel the vibration of you every time you walk past, Gianni, but I can’t be interested. I told you that a month ago.’
He went to speak and she lifted her hand to silence him. ‘I don’t do one-night stands.’ She grimaced. ‘Except once. And I don’t do long term. So where does that leave you?’
He lifted his head and his gaze narrowed. Another silence lay suspended between them and then finally he raised one eyebrow. Wickedly, and her heart kicked out of rhythm.
‘Neither short nor long. A leisurely sojourn for the month I am here? Then we would see?’ His measured voice raised the gooseflesh on her arms and she couldn’t help the mental leap of her imagination to a slow sip of sensation with Gianni.
Wrapped in his arms she’d be safe from the world and the future. At least for a month. Her cheeks burned in case he read the sudden yearning in her eyes.
She rubbed her elbows to banish the bumps. What was wrong with her? She rarely thought about sex. Except for every waking minute of the last four weeks.
She shook her head. Vehemently. Twice. Once for him and once for her. ‘I don’t think so, Gianni, but thanks for the offer. I have commitments. A daughter and no time.’
She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation.
He closed the small distance between them again until his chest almost touched hers. Then his eyes drifted down to her mouth. His hand lifted but didn’t touch. She could sense the brush of an imaginary finger and she had no control over the return of gooseflesh that gave her away again.
His voice dropped. ‘So, don’t think commitments. Think no commitments. Mutual nourishment in a world separate to our daily lives. I have no time either.’
Then why were they teasing themselves? Suddenly she felt like crying. She threw her head up and gave him a level stare. ‘Leave it, Gianni.’
He said, almost to himself but she heard the words, ‘Si. I will do that. For today.’ He leaned forward and kissed her cheek just like she’d kissed his that first afternoon in the garden. ‘Goodnight, Emma. Sleep well.’
‘As if,’ she muttered to herself as she walked briskly along the path towards home. Alone.
Chapter Twelve
Gianni
Gianni stood beside the kitchen table and helped Louisa crumb pieces of veal for their dinner. ‘So, tell me about Emma Rose, Louisa.’
‘What do you mean?’ Louisa glanced up, and her merry eyes even twinkled a little at him. He thought about what he had already learned about this wonderful older woman.
Louisa liked to spoil a man. It made her smile. But she also enjoyed learning the Italian way to treat the veal. This was good. Together they did well. But she was still a woman and tricky to negotiate with.
Gianni returned to his dilemma of Emma and shrugged ruefully. ‘She won’t talk to me.’
‘That doesn’t sound like Emma.’ Louisa’s hand stilled as she considered his statement. ‘Or do you mean she won’t flirt with you?’
Gianni shot a glance at the older lady and then looked down at the crumbs on his fingertips. ‘Perhaps.’
‘Ah.’ Louisa nodded. ‘Emma has issues and if she hasn’t told you—’ she sent him a long sideways look ‘—then really it’s not my place to discuss it.’
Some nuance in Louisa’s voice warned him. Something that made Louisa sad again. Maybe there was more to Emma’s distance than met the eye.
He couldn’t prevent the sliver of ice that crept in under his ribs, and suddenly he needed divine reassurance. Please, God, nothing terrible. ‘Medical issues?’
Louisa looked out the window to the lake. Shoulders dropping, she sighed. ‘I suppose it’s common knowledge. Emma’s never hidden it.’ She met his eyes and at the sympathy in hers the ice around his ribs thickened. ‘Emma doesn’t believe she can guarantee her future beyond her fortieth birthday. That’s when her mother was diagnosed. Emma’s even published her own story to help others.’
Gianni bit his lip to stop himself from asking the obvious question. Surely Louisa would get to the point.
She did. Went on after a long pause. ‘But it all boils down to her belief of her own end.’
He couldn’t stand it. ‘But what cause? What illness?’
‘Huntington’s disease.’
Gianni felt the shudder internally if not externally, and suddenly he was staring at the wall opposite.
Huntington’s? His mind flew back to a patient he’d known very early in his medical career. A young man, early forties, his convulsive arms and legs uncontrolled as he tried to walk. The mental deterioration that wasn’t kind enough to completely remove the realisation that you were helpless and reliant on others until your disease progressed so much life drew to an inevitable end.
