A Father for Baby Rose. Margaret Barker

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Название A Father for Baby Rose
Автор произведения Margaret Barker
Жанр Современные любовные романы
Серия
Издательство Современные любовные романы
Год выпуска 0
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sea close beside them below the rocky promontory. Cathy found her eyes, protected by her sunglasses, drawn towards the sun that was slipping slowly behind the mountain, casting a shadow over their table. She moved her gaze to her daughter, who was now peacefully sleeping with her small head cradled against Yannis’s shoulder.

      Yannis saw Cathy looking anxiously at her daughter. Gently he eased the child down to a more comfortable position, cradled in the crook of his left arm. He smiled across the table, wondering why he felt so comfortable here with this mother and baby. It was a whole new experience and not something he’d expected to enjoy like this. He could feel it soothing his jangled nerves.

      This was what life would have been like if…if only he… No! He mustn’t torment himself by going down that road again. Just enjoy this simple, pleasurable feeling that was stealing over him—if he would let it.

      He forced himself to relax again. “Rose is sound asleep now, Cathy, so don’t worry about her. Would you prefer a glass of wine?”

      “Well, only if…”

      He tipped his ouzo glass and finished the fiery liquid in one swift gulp. “So would I.”

      Usually he sat, watching the sunset, sipping his ouzo slowly before ordering supper and a glass of wine, always reminding himself that he needed a clear head for his work the following morning. He’d no idea where this reckless feeling had come from but he was suddenly feeling in party mood. It had been a long time since he’d felt like this.

      Michaelis, who was obviously watching from his seat just inside the door, came hurrying across and after a discussion about whether the wine was to be red or white he disappeared again, bringing out a tray with a selection of mezes and a bottle of white wine.

      “We Greeks usually like to eat something if we’re drinking wine,” Yannis explained, pointing out the different small dishes of taramasalata, squid, calamari and olives. “But, then, you’ve obviously spent a lot of time in the Greek community so I don’t need to tell you all this. I vaguely remember meeting you at Tanya and Manolis’s wedding. So you’re Tanya’s cousin?”

      “Yes, our mothers were sisters. My mother was keen to bring me over to Ceres after her sister married Dr Sotiris and came to live out here. Every holiday she would bring me here so that I could learn the language and absorb the Greek culture. I’d always hoped that one day I would have the opportunity to come and work out here.”

      Yannis leaned across the table and poured more wine into Cathy’s glass. She’d hardly touched the ouzo but seemed to be enjoying the wine.

      “I didn’t know you were planning to start a family when I last saw you.”

      Cathy raised an eyebrow. “Neither did I! I’d just ended a relationship and didn’t know I was pregnant. Tanya had just suggested I apply for the temporary four-week post they needed to fill at the hospital while she and Manolis were away on honeymoon. I’d decided I’d go for it, but when I found I was pregnant I withdrew my application.

      “Difficult, I imagine. I’m sorry the relationship ended.”

      “I’m not! It was far too complicated. But I can’t imagine life without my wonderful daughter. She’s the most special thing that’s ever happened to me. Did you…?”

      She stopped herself just in time to avoid the question she’d wanted to ask. Looking across at Yannis now, with her daughter cradled in the crook of his arm, he looked like the perfect father.

      He filled the awkward silence that ensued. “You were going to ask if my wife and I had children, weren’t you?”

      She cringed inwardly. “Well…”

      “The answer is no. It…it wasn’t to be.”

      He’d managed to refer to that most poignant period of his life without faltering and that was a step in the right direction. He hadn’t told the whole truth but that would be a step too far. He couldn’t bring himself to even think about it.

      Taking a sip of his wine, he tried to blot out everything that had happened on that fateful day when his life had changed for ever. He put the glass down on the table. Looking across at the sympathetic expression on Cathy’s face, he suddenly found his tongue loosening as if he was in an involuntary state of relaxation.

      “My wife was killed in a car crash.” He didn’t need to say anything more but the guilt that always rose up inside him when he thought about the circumstances surrounding her death—which was often—was nagging him to confess more to this obviously sympathetic colleague.

      “I often wonder…” He paused. He didn’t need to go on. He didn’t need to torment himself further. “I often wonder if I could have prevented it.”

      There, he’d said it out loud; revealed the horrible nightmare that returned over and over again when he reviewed what had happened.

      The child stirred against him. In some ways he found the small body tucked against the crook of his arm very comforting. His thoughts returned to the present situation. He waited for the agony of his confession to make him feel awful but he felt strangely comforted to have shared this with Cathy— and the sleeping baby, although, thank goodness, the little mite couldn’t hear him.

      Cathy was simply looking across the table with a bewildered expression on her lovely face as she stretched out her hand towards him. With his free hand he took hold of Cathy’s and felt a sympathetic, most welcome squeeze of her fingers. Something like an electric shock—a pleasant one—travelled up his arm.

      For a few seconds they remained like that, simply looking at each other. She thought she could discern the tears that threatened behind his eyes but doubted that he’d ever allowed them to fall since whatever dreadful tragedy had taken place. She could tell this man was made of stern stuff. Strong backbone, wouldn’t give in to self-pity but also found it hard to communicate the grief that was holding him back from getting on with a normal life.

      Yannis took his hand away and leaned back in his chair, taking care not to disturb Rose. “I’m sorry to talk about the car crash like this. I’ve never discussed it with anybody before. I can’t think why…”

      “Maybe you should.”

      “Should what?” He looked alarmed.

      “Discuss it with somebody. Me, for a start. It always helps if you talk a problem over with somebody.”

      He was silent as he thought of all the aspects of the tragedy surrounding Maroula’s death. No, he couldn’t discuss it openly with this woman he hardly knew. He shouldn’t even have got so close to her that he felt he could trust her with his feelings. He couldn’t think what had come over him. In a way it was a betrayal of trust to Maroula’s memory. What had happened was part of his life with his wife and no one else. And yet…

      “You don’t have to discuss it with me,” Cathy said. “It’s entirely up to you. I would, however, be the soul of discretion so if you ever think it would help you to…”

      “Thanks, I’ll remember that.”

      His tone was firm, final, signifying they should move on. He was already regretting the fact that he’d allowed himself to talk about his beloved Maroula with someone he hardly knew. Discussing his feelings of guilt—something he’d never spoken about out loud before—wasn’t going to bring her back.

      Anyway, he was settled in his bachelor ways now. The future was mapped out and he didn’t want to become close enough to any other person to allow them to break through the emotional barrier he’d erected around himself. He needed to retreat behind his safe barrier again. Back to Maroula. He was being unfaithful to her memory, something he’d vowed would never happen.

      Little Rose wriggled in Yannis’s arms, rubbing her chubby fists against her eyes before she opened them and stared up at him. A big smile spread across her face.

      Cathy stood up and moved round the table, holding out her arms towards her daughter.

      Rose