How To Mend A Broken Heart. Amy AndrewsЧитать онлайн книгу.
because he’d confronted some ghosts?
A surge of emotions knotted in her belly and she knew she had to leave. Get out. Far away from Fletch and all that reminded her of that dark, dark time.
Denial had been working for her just fine.
She just wanted to go to bed and sleep off the jet-lag and not have to think about any of it.
‘Well,’ she said, downing the contents of her glass in one long swallow. ‘It looks like you have everything worked out.’
‘Tess.’
She ignored the reproach in his voice. ‘I’ve gotta go.’ She placed the wine glass on the table and headed for the door.
‘Tess,’ he said, catching her arm lightly as she brushed past him.
Tess stopped. ‘Let me go,’ she said, staring straight ahead.
‘Tess, please, stay for a while.’
She squeezed her eyes shut. ‘Fletch.’
‘I want to talk to you, Tess.’
‘I think we’re all talked out.’
‘It’s about Mum.’ He felt her arm strain against his hand. ‘Please, Tess, just hear me out. For Jean.’
Tess sighed, and her muscles relaxed, knowing she was defeated.
Damn it.
And damn him.
CHAPTER THREE
TESS sat at the table, staring out over the Brisbane River, while Fletch was in the kitchen fixing them both a top-up of their glasses. A light breeze ruffled her utilitarian locks and she had to shake herself to believe she was actually sitting on her ex-husband’s deck, drinking wine.
The whole scene felt surreal. Jean’s dementia had dragged her reluctantly into her past. A time when things had been simple and she’d truly believed that love could get a person through everything. It was a strange reality that warred with her present-day situation.
What did he want to talk to her about regarding Jean? Surely he had better access to the medical side of Jean’s condition than she did? He probably had half a dozen gerontologists up his sleeve he could talk to. Or maybe he was after practical advice? How to care for his mother on a day-to-day basis? Or a recommendation for a good home-care agency, maybe?
Whatever it was, she hoped he made it snappy because when she got to the bottom of her second glass she was walking away.
Fletch paused by the sliding door, watching Tess’s profile for a moment, and wished he was sure of her. He needed her help. Once upon a time he could have counted on it. But a lot of water had flowed under the bridge since then and she was so very, very skittish.
Plus he wasn’t so sure of himself now. His plan had sounded fine in theory but being with her again was confrontational on many levels. He’d thought he could handle it but standing two metres from her he realised it would be physically and emotionally harder than he’d ever imagined.
Still … he was desperate and Tess was perfect.
He took a deep breath and stepped out onto the deck. ‘Here you go,’ he said, placing her refilled wine glass in front of her.
Tess glanced down at the offering and murmured, ‘Thanks.’
She picked it up and took a decent mouthful, the smooth, fruity crispness against her palate not really registering. She placed the wine back down as Fletch sat opposite her, hearing the clink as it met the smoky glass of the tabletop. ‘You wanted to talk about Jean?’ she prompted.
Fletch sighed. Obviously there wasn’t going to be any small talk. Which he’d have preferred. He had no idea how she was going to react to his proposition, although instinct told him it wouldn’t be very well …
‘I need to get someone in for Mum. Someone who can be here while I’m out. When I accepted the contract I thought I’d be able to juggle it and her. It’s only part time and Mum doesn’t need constant care and attention. But the truth is I don’t feel comfortable leaving her at all. I just don’t think she’s safe enough and I’d feel a hell of a lot better if she wasn’t here by herself.’
‘Like a home-care nurse?’
Fletch shook his head. ‘No. I’m not after someone to help with her physical needs because she’s still capable, so far, of taking care of that. Although having someone who understands Alzheimer’s is a definite plus … I’m thinking more like a companion.’
‘You mean someone closer to her own age?’
‘I mean someone who knows her. She’s not great with strangers—they distress her.’
Tess’s brow wrinkled. ‘That would be ideal, of course. Are you thinking of one of her old friends?’
Fletch didn’t take his eyes off her. ‘I’m thinking of someone closer than that. Someone she knows really well who has experience with the elderly and with dementia sufferers. The best of both worlds.’
Fletch watched and waited—waited for his meaning to sink in. It didn’t take long.
Tess narrowed her eyes. Was Fletch thinking what she thought he was thinking? She shook her head at him. ‘No. No way.’
‘You’re perfect, Tess.’
She shook her head again, mentally recoiling from the plea in his wattle-leaf gaze. ‘No.’
‘I know this is kind of out of the blue—’
‘Kind of?’ Tess spluttered.
‘I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t stuck.’
Tess stared at him, wondering when he was going to grow a second head. ‘Putting everything else aside, I’m leaving for the UK tomorrow.’
‘It’s just until after Trish is back on her feet. A couple of months.’
Tess blinked. ‘I have a job, Fletch.’
Fletch snorted. He’d always thought Tess squandering her critical care skills in a geriatric facility was such a monumental waste of a highly skilled nurse, even if it was to his advantage now.
She glared at him. ‘That I love. Where I get an enormous amount of respect and job satisfaction.’
It might just be a little nursing-home in the middle of the Devonshire countryside but people depended on her. The staff and the residents. When she’d needed a place to hide and lick her wounds they’d taken her in and given her a direction for her life. They’d helped her function again.
‘I’m sure they’d understand if you explained the circumstances. I can recompense you if it’s money you’re worried about.’
Tess shook her head at his utter gall. Had he thought she’d just agree? They’d been virtual strangers for the past nine years and he expected her to just … comply? And that splashing some money around would sweeten the pot? Sure, she loved Jean, he knew that. He knew how close they’d been. But it was still a big gamble for him to take—betting the bank on her.
The woman who had already turned her back on his family.
‘So this is it?’ she demanded. ‘This is your brilliant plan? Ask your ex-wife? Who just happens to be here at the same time you need someone to look after your mother? That’s crazy! What would you have done if I hadn’t been in town?’
‘It’s not crazy. It makes absolute sense. You’re the perfect person to ask. And, yes, the timing has been perfect too but, frankly, Tess, I would have gone to England to get you.’
‘To get me?’ Fletch held up his hands in a placatory manner.
‘To ask you,’ he amended.
Tess