CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The house was quiet. Elizabeth stood at the head of the stairs after putting Madeline to bed and singing a record's worth of songs. She’d have to think about a three-song limit at bedtime. A light flicked on the floor below. Someone had gone into Hanna’s room.
She descended the stairs quietly and peeked through the banisters to see James standing in the middle of the room, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Steeling a breath, Elizabeth walked the rest of the stairs and halted at the door.
“You know, I haven’t come into this room for years. Not since Hanna…” He bent his head, words choking him.
Elizabeth slowly came to his side. She really had no idea how to offer comfort, except to touch his arm lightly. Sometimes, though, when life got tough, it was best to talk it out. That’s what the nice foster mum had said to her once.
“Tell me what happened.”
James filled his lungs and let the air slip out of his mouth. “Brain tumour. I told you we found out after Hanna became pregnant with Madeline. Thought it was something to do with the pregnancy.” He looked at her with a tight grimace. “Didn’t know how wrong we were. We had the choice to abort the baby, undergo more intrusive tests to see exactly why she was so sick, or have the baby and treat her after the birth.”
“Not much of a choice,” Elizabeth said.
“Pretty much sucked. I went with Hanna’s decision to have the baby and then have the treatment. She didn’t know if she’d be able to have another baby after treatment and couldn’t stand the thought of abortion. She got sicker and sicker throughout the pregnancy. Madeline was born six weeks premature.
“Hanna was so weak by the time Madeline arrived, but she still had hope she could get better after the birth. She did everything the doctors said to do, to the letter. She had a baby to live for. The tumour shrunk, and she was told she could have an operation to take out the rest.
“She went through hell. Three surgeries, each time not quite recovering. Suffering. Getting weaker. She thought she’d beat it though. Was even declared in remission. That was, until the doctor said the cancer had come back. Her brain was riddled with tumours. The surgery had just exacerbated it. She died only a few weeks later.”
Elizabeth’s heart broke for the mother who wanted a child so badly, she chanced death. It broke harder when she imagined James standing over his dead wife’s grave, holding the bundle of joy she knew Madeline was.
“She was strong. To try to beat the cancer for her child. That takes strength and courage.”
“You should have seen her on those days close to her death. She had lost so much weight, her skin was sunken. Yellow. She couldn’t eat or drink. Too weak to lift her head. I hate to say it, but it was a mercy in the end.”
He turned grief-stricken eyes on her, still caught in the horror of those horrible days. Elizabeth understood about the pain of losing people you loved. Even though they hadn’t died, when she’d been turned out of foster homes with some people she considered family, she went away and never saw them again. Just like death in a way.
“You have to remember what Hanna did with her life. Not just how she was when she died. That’s just a small part of who she was. Tell me about this room. Who did she have here? What did she do?” Elizabeth said.
James walked to the piano and ran his fingertips over the smooth surface. The paint was so glossy, she could see their reflection. The chandelier hanging above threw glittering strands of twinkling light over the instrument, hitting the sleek surface all over.
“She could make this instrument come alive. Just how she touched the keys…it made the strings inside resonate. No one could make it sound the way she did.”
“That sounds beautiful,” Elizabeth said.
James sat at the seat and lifted the keyboard cover. To Elizabeth, it was like unwrapping a present. He pressed down a key, and the single note reverberated throughout the room. “She loved to play Rachmaninoff. Prelude in C sharp minor. That piece was like magic. I remember, she played one day to my team of builders. Fresh off the building site. Mud everywhere up their legs. She didn’t mind as long as they took off their boots before they came inside. They just stood and listened while she played. They probably hadn’t even heard of Rachmaninoff in their lives. She made one of them cry. Imagine that, a diehard tradie dissolving into tears. I had to give him a beer to cheer him up.” James’ smile was the brightest thing she’d ever seen.
Elizabeth chuckled. “So, how did you manage to catch a musical genius?”
James’ smile widened. “I took my mother to one of her concerts.”
“So, you were interested in music as well?”
“Let’s just say I had yet to learn the finer points of music before I met her. My mum knew her musicians. She’d heard of Hanna, this young, brilliant, up and coming pianist, and wanted to see her. Hanna was gaining national recognition by then. Mum bought two tickets, and Dad wasn’t there that night to go, so she took the next best thing. Me. It was the best thing she ever made me do,” James said.
“It’s nice that you went with your mum. I’d always imagined doing things like that if I’d known my mum,” Elizabeth said.
“I wasn’t that altruistic, trust me. I only went when she told me she wouldn’t do my washing for a year if I didn’t,” James said.
“I like the sound of your mother.” Elizabeth chuckled.
Moments stretched. “She misses Hanna too. I guess it’s why I’ve kept this room unchanged like this. It’s my link to her,” James said.
“But you have Madeline. She’s the biggest reminder. I think she looks like her. From the photo in Madeline’s room,” Elizabeth said.
“Do you think so?” James asked.
“To me, this room is beautiful, but Madeline is half-Hanna. You still have Hanna with you. In Madeline,” Elizabeth said.
James sighed softly. “I never thought about it that way.”
“Never?”
He shrugged. “I guess it’s been such a struggle, I never had a chance to think about it that way. I’ve just been surviving in a way, but…you’re right. She is still here.”
“In a big way.” Elizabeth smiled, remembering Madeline’s fascination with the piano, and singing. She didn’t seem happier than when they sang together. Maybe James was right; she was good for Madeline.
“I catch glimpses of Hanna in Madeline. A look, or a movement, but then I counterthink myself, thinking I’m imagining it. I guess I’ve been more concerned with giving her everything she needs,” James said.
“You are. You’re here every day, aren’t you? I know it’s hard doing it on your own, but that’s more than I can say about some parents. Believe me, I’ve experienced all types. Losing one parent is bad enough; she’d be permanently scarred losing two,” Elizabeth said, more than a trace of bitterness in her voice.
“Life’s been tough for you, too,” James said.
Elizabeth exhaled. “You have no idea.”
“Did you ever know your parents?”
Elizabeth frowned. “Vaguely. I remember a mother. I wasn’t a baby when she gave me up. Two years old, I think.”
James tucked a strand of her hair over her shoulder and then placed his warm palm on her neck. He soothed the skin at the junction of her neck and shoulder. She worked hard to still the delicate shiver that stole up her spine.
“What was she like?”
“All I really remember is being hungry all the time. My foster parents would sometimes tell me about her, and by the stories, she probably did me a favour. At least she gave me to people who fed me. Sent me to school. Made sure I was clothed.” It hadn’t been fancy, but she did receive the basics.
“Is she still alive?” James asked. His fingers threaded into her scalp, where he gently massaged. Her shoulders relaxed into his pleasant ministrations.
Elizabeth shrugged. “I don’t know. Some kids got to see their biological parents, but she never came back. She’s probably forgotten all about me.”
James’ fingers stilled. “Oh, Elizabeth. No one could forget you. You’re completely unforgettable.”
His voice was a low growl. His eyes glinted in the chandelier lighting, heavy lidded and determined. He moved towards her, securing her with his hand on her neck. Not that she wanted to move. She was pinned to the spot.
He pressed his lips against hers. His kiss was demanding this time. He captured her mouth, suckling her lips, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth to dance against hers. He traced her lips with the tip of his tongue before capturing her lips with a groan. His movements were urgent, commanding, and she was helpless but to respond.
A hand clung to his shoulder, the other to his waist. The heat from his skin seared through the material of his shirt. He wound his other arm around her waist. His fingers splayed around her hip, and he slid her along the seat so their thighs touched, hip to knee.
He pulled back, panting a little, touching his forehead to hers. His hand slid from her nape to caress her cheek. His thumb traced her bottom lip, plump and wet from his kiss.
“You believe me, don’t you? You are an extraordinary woman who has brought so much light into my life where I could see only darkness. You’re special, Elizabeth. So special.”
She didn’t want to believe him, but he sounded so raw and honest, she might just admit he found her so. Coming from James, those words were a flickering light. That one true internal light that had resolutely refused to be lit. Now it shone so bright, it took her breath away. She couldn’t deny him. Deny herself. Any longer.
She melted against him, fingers clenching his shirt. He massaged his lips against her before plunging firmly against her. He nibbled her lower lip, pushed inside her mouth with his tongue, delved long and slow and sweet before pulling back and sucking both her lower and upper lip.
She was quickly spiraling into a sensual haze, her consciousness narrowing in anticipation of what he would do next. She matched him, move for move, gasping against his onslaught, anchoring herself against him. He was her one true compass in a swirling mass of growing desire.
She kissed him back, slowly losing herself in his touch, his mouth, his taste because this might be the last time someone would care for her with such reverence. Didn’t she deserve a little of that at least once in her life?
“You’re so soft, Elizabeth. So beautiful,” James said.
She gasped in response, tilting her head back so he could trail heated lips along her jaw line to nip along her neck to the collar of her shirt. His fingers edged the hem of her shirt from the waistband of her jeans. Her flesh jolted as he splayed his palm over her waist, fingers massaging their way along her rib cage to finally press against her breast.
He cupped her plump flesh, thumbing her hardened nipple, sending spirals of sensation zipping to her core. Her fingers trailed over his biceps, delighting in the way his muscles undulated with every exquisite move of his hands. She could do nothing to stop him, nor did she want to. She wanted that mouth on her, those hands on bare skin, that body hard up against her.
“Yes. Please. More,” she groaned.
James’ heated breath drifted over the skin of her neck. “I’ve never known anyone like you, Elizabeth.”
“You either,” was all she could manage.
She was absorbed in those lips, those fingers. She clasped his taunt thigh as he slipped open the buttons of her shirt. The air was cool, but she didn’t have a chance to become cold before his mouth latched onto her breast, his fingers massaging the other.
He sucked a nipple into his mouth, flicking the tip with his tongue before laving the peak with firm swirls of his tongue. He worked fingers and tongue, driving her into a frenzy of a building torrent of craving.
Her head fell back, her mouth opened, gasping in bursts of air. Heat pooled in her sensitised abdomen. She wanted this, delighted in this, but there was so, so much more that pulled her desire.
Her shirt slid from her shoulders. His hands skated over her stomach, breasts, back, shoulders, followed with his hot mouth. He kissed her again, fingers splayed in her hair, pinning her mouth to his.
He gently slipped his hand between her legs. Even though she wore too-thick jeans, she jerked against his hand, gasping as pure sensation shot through her core. Her legs fell apart as his finger slid along the seam of her jeans from her pubic bone, right beneath her to her entrance.
She throbbed in time with her pulse, her clothing too thick, too tight. “God, James. That feels so good.” Her voice was nothing more than a breathy whisper.
“Liz’beth!” a small voice drifted through the house.
Elizabeth blinked, not quite comprehending the sound.
“Liz’beth!” Madeline’s voice held a panicky edge.
James rested his head against her shoulder and groaned. “Why can’t children just sleep once in a while?”
Elizabeth huffed a garbled sort of laugh. “It’s probably another nightmare.”
James scooped her shirt from the ground and helped her into back into it, doing the buttons up. His mouth twisted in an endearing half-twist. “If she didn’t call out, I don’t know if I would have stopped.”
A part – a large part - of her wished he hadn’t. She rose on shaking legs. She tucked her shirt into her jeans, finger combing her hair. Her lips throbbed where he’d kissed her, and her skin was overly sensitised.
“I…I’ll go to Madeline.”
James caught her before she could move away, her chin caught between his thumb and forefinger. “No I’ll go to her. Elizabeth, I don’t want to rush you into anything. Give you some space. I’m not a man who does this type of thing on a whim. I wanted to kiss you. Hell, I want to kiss you more. I want to touch you. I want to get to know you better, and that's what I intend to do. Not because you’re a nanny or the fact that you’re simply here and available. Because I want to. Because you’re the only woman I’ve met since Hanna who I’ve wanted to get to know better. Do I make myself clear?”
All she could do was nod, her mind reeling. She didn’t quite know what to say. She hadn’t had a man treat her quite like James did. He threaded his fingers through hers, leading her to the door and up the stairs.
He turned and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “I want do to nothing more than follow you into your room, but I have a daughter who is intent on wrecking my evening. Goodnight, Elizabeth. Sweet dreams.”
He stepped close, catching her lips in another kiss. He rested his forehead against hers, breathing deeply.
“Daddy! Liz’beth!”
“That is not a voice to ignore.” He reluctantly let her go and disappeared into Madeline’s room. It took her a while to gather her wits, then she simply stood, pressing trembling fingers to her mouth.
Maybe, just maybe she was wrong about James. Maybe, just maybe her life was about to change. Maybe, just maybe she’d have the future she only dared to dream about.
Maybe.
Just. Maybe.