Accidental Reunion. Carol MarinelliЧитать онлайн книгу.
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‘There you are.’
She didn’t move, didn’t turn around. He wasn’t going to see her cry.
‘Lila.’ His hand was on her shoulder, his touch so, so familiar that she felt an overwhelming urge to put her hand over his, to draw him nearer.
She turned to face him then. The music seemed to be speaking to her, reminding her of how good it had been. She knew then that she was lost.
Melting into his arms, she swayed slowly to the music. The warmth of his body, the silent strength in his embrace, the male scent of him all played their part in peeling the years away.
‘I never stopped missing you,’ he murmured. ‘You’ve been on my mind every day.’
‘I’ve missed you too,’ Lila admitted.
And how she had missed him. Missed the way he’d held her, the way he had loved her. The undisguised admiration in his eyes when he had looked at her, the way he had made her laugh, made her feel. Had she misjudged him so badly? Had she said goodbye to the best thing in her life over a stupid misunderstanding?
Carol Marinelli did her nursing training in England and then worked for a number of years in Casualty. A holiday romance while backpacking led to her marriage and emigration to Australia. Eight years and three children later the romance continues…Today she considers both England and Australia her home. The sudden death of her father prompted a reappraisal of her life’s goals and inspired her to tackle romance-writing seriously.
Recent titles by the same author:
DR CARLISLE’S CHILD
THE PREGNANT INTERN
THE ITALIAN’S TOUCH
Accidental Reunion
Carol Marinelli
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CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
‘I KNOW this is terrible news, Lila.’ Dr Mason gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘But at least now you know the reason for your mother’s mood swings and confusion.’
‘But Alzheimer’s!’ Lila closed her eyes, battling with tears. She had been doing a lot of reading on the subject since Alzheimer’s had been gently suggested as a possible diagnosis, and none of the books, none of the statistics, had given her even a shred of comfort. ‘How long—how long until…?’
‘Alzheimer’s is a progressive disorder, but, as the neurologist would have explained to you when he first referred your mother for tests, the progression of the disease varies in each individual. It could be months, it could be years. However…’ The pause as Dr Mason searched for the right words seemed interminable, yet Lila found herself wishing he would stop right there. Stop before he took away her last ray of hope. ‘In your mother’s case the progress has been rather rapid. Elizabeth is already at the stage where she requires some degree of supervision, and I’m sorry to say that isn’t going to improve. Now, I know that what with your job and everything—’
‘I’ll sort something out,’ Lila interrupted quickly.
‘Lila, you’re a flight attendant,’ Dr Mason pointed out. ‘Your mother needs round-the-clock supervision; she really can’t be left alone.’
‘Well, I’ll give up the long-haul flights and switch to domestic. My aunt will help out while I’m working. She said she would, if the news was bad.’
‘Short term, maybe. Look, Lila, I don’t know your aunt, and I’m sure her intentions are good, but we’re talking months—years, even—of care for your mother. At some point you’re going to have to think about a home.’
‘No!’ The single word spilled from her lips forcefully. ‘Look, I know you’re a doctor, and I know you think you know how it will end up, but this is my mother we’re talking about, and she’s not going into a home. I’m going to look after her.’
Dr Mason didn’t push; he was more of a family friend than a GP. He had delivered Lila into the world twenty-three years ago. He had seen her through inoculations and ear infections, and later acne and all the usual teenage angst. He could remember her shyly coming into his office to discuss contraception, her face glowing as she spoke about her beloved Declan. He had watched her grow from a cheeky, chubby baby with a mass of blonde curls into a groomed, jet-setting woman. Seeing her sitting there now, with a pained, dignified look on her face as she struggled to come to terms with the terrible news, he felt her pain too.
Still cheeky, though, he thought affectionately as he fiddled with his fountain pen. Still impulsive, and still with a heart of gold. Dr Mason loved his job most of the time, but on days like this…
‘Look, you don’t have to make any decision today; this is a long haul we’re talking about here. I just feel you’d be better prepared if you at least start to address some of the issues that are likely to present themselves. Looking after your mum at home is going to be a big deal. We’re talking full-time care, lifting, feeding and washing. Unless you can afford a carer, unless you’ve got a lot of support, you’re simply not going to be able to do it.’
‘I’ll