Chapter 54 She Shone

• She shone. Her hair was a halo of glory in the afternoon sunshine. He loved the sky blue clarity of her eyes, and the freckles she hated were endearingly girlish, stirring some protective streak in him. There was more appeal in her face than any supposedly classical beauty could strike.
She was wearing a blue petticoat dress that fired his memory of the soft, supple femininity of her body and the fierce tensile strength in her arms and legs, winding around him, binding him to the mutual possession that had felt so right, so perfect. The desire to feel it again seized him, but he knew he had to control it. He hadn’t come for the body of Samantha Connelly. He knew she wouldn’t give it unless she could give her heart, as well. That was what had to be won…won and kept.
Her approach to the plane had buoyed his hope she was ready to be receptive, might even welcome him. Her abrupt halt at the sight of him put paid to that idea. Her rigid stance encouraged nothing. Pride set in stone, he thought, and felt his own pride start to bristle.
If she couldn’t believe in him now…
If she wouldn’t trust him…
He’d come this far. The risk had to be taken. He scooped in a deep, calming breath and walked towards her, purpose steeled in every stride.
There was no meeting him halfway but at least she didn’t turn her back on him. She stood her ground. Her hands clenched as he came closer. Her eyes flared a warning, her chin tilted aggressively, and he knew she’d fight him if he crossed whatever line she’d drawn in her mind.
He only had one weapon that could cut through that line. Talking wasn’t going to do it and touching was clearly a transgression she wouldn’t tolerate. He had to gamble everything on the one possibility that might restore her faith in his word.
It went against his grain, having to accept that his word wasn’t enough. He hadn’t lied to her, not once. Yet there was no denying that circumstances had let loose the ghosts they had almost dispersed that night. No doubt they had been preying on her mind ever since.
He stopped short of her, ensuring she didn’t feel threatened. Without saying a word he withdrew the envelope from his pocket and held it out to her, keeping a respectful distance. Her fiercely held gaze wavered and slowly dropped to the slightly crumpled piece of stationery.
“What’s this?” she demanded hoarsely.
“Just do me the courtesy of taking it and reading what’s inside, Samantha. It’s self-explanatory.”
She unclenched her right hand, lifted it and took the envelope. The tightness in Tommy’s chest did not ease at this act of co-operation. It was up to her now…whether they’d share a future or not. All he could do was wait.
Was this the end? Sam stared down at the envelope in her hand. Did it hold a severance cheque, notice of termination of her employment as a pilot with him?
There was no name and address typed on it. Surely if it was something official, that would have been done. And why deliver it to her on Christmas day? Personally?
Her mind was a mess of painful confusion. The answer was inside the envelope, she told herself, so open it. Her fingers tremulously carried out the mental order and slowly extracted the contents—thin pages from a stationery pad, handwritten in blue biro. She unfolded them, and was startled to see it was a personal letter, dated weeks ago, with Kununurra Hospital written under the date. Bewildered, and not knowing what to expect, she started to read…
Dear Samantha,
Firstly, let me say how sorry I am to have caused so much trouble and pain. My parents told me it was you who flew them to the hospital on the night of the accident, and I appreciate that very much, especially since I’d been such a bitch to you earlier.
Janice… This was from Janice Findlay! Dazedly, Sam read on.…
I’m writing this because I need to get it off my chest, and I owe it to you, too. You never did anything to hurt me and how can I make a fresh start if I don’t clear my conscience? So here goes, and I hope you’re still reading.
The truth is I lied about Tommy being the father of my baby. I guess getting pregnant made me face up to what a shambles my life was in. No, that’s wrong. I didn’t really face up to it. I kind of clutched at Tommy as the one really decent man I’d ever been with and hoped he would see me through.
He tried to steer me towards help when he broke off with me, but I just resented his advice and went off on a partying binge to forget him. One night I picked up a tourist and fell into bed with him. I couldn’t even remember his name afterwards. That’s how bad I’d got. Then when I found out I’d fallen pregnant, I panicked. I didn’t want to tell my Mum and Dad I didn’t even know the father’s name.
I knew it wasn’t right to try to pin it on Tommy, but by the time Nathan’s wedding came around, I was seeing that as the only solution, and I kept telling myself it could have been his child, so it was fair. Although he had always used protection, I argued that nothing was a hundred percent safe so I could get past that. I just didn’t bargain on you, and Tommy wanting you.
It completely threw me. I rocketed straight off to drink myself silly again and latch onto a guy who fancied me. I didn’t deliberately pick your brother. Didn’t even know he was your brother until we’d been chatting each other up for a while. Actually I did like Greg but life on the land is not for me.
Anyhow I really burned during the reception, seeing Tommy giving you all the attention I wanted from him. I tried to corner him when you slipped out of the marquee, but he fobbed me off on his brother, Jared, and went after you, which made me even madder.
Then I saw you both coming back, so very together, and your hair was down. I knew you’d been having sex, which meant my house of cards was tumbling all around me and I just went crazy. I guess, because I’d thought about it so much, I convinced myself Tommy was the father of my baby, doing the dirty on me, and I let you both have it because it felt like you’d taken him away from me.
I realise now how terribly wrong that was. Tommy wasn’t mine. I had no claim on him at all. And you were a completely innocent party. I’m deeply ashamed of all my actions that night, hurting everyone, even killing the baby because I was so drunk and reckless and off my brain.
Well, it’s pulled me up with a jolt, I can tell you. Not that it mends what I’ve done. I hope this letter goes some way towards fixing things between you and Tommy. Incidentally, Tommy didn’t ask me to do this but I did tell him I was doing it because I wanted him to know I’m really trying to put things straight now.
He’s been so kind since the accident, helping to explain things to Mum and Dad, making them see me as I am—if not an alcoholic, going that way fast—and very much in need of counselling and a lot of support to see me through it. I didn’t deserve this from him. He says I’m worth saving for myself. I don’t know how he can see any good in me after what I did, but I’m very grateful he’s been here, holding my hand when I needed it.
I’m flying home with Mum and Dad tomorrow. Out of Tommy’s life. Out of your life, too, Samantha. At least, I hope so. I hope I’m not going to leave a legacy of lies, spoiling things I had no right to spoil. I would like to think of you being happy with Tommy again, as happy as you looked that night before I stepped in and wrecked what I saw happening between you.
I’m so sorry.
Please smile at Tommy. He deserves it.
Janice Findlay.
• Sam couldn’t smile. Her face was impossibly stiff, aching with the build up of tears that were beginning to swim into her eyes. She couldn’t speak, either. The lump in her throat was so huge she could barely swallow.
Tommy had asked her to trust him. And she hadn’t. She hadn’t. She had believed the accusation against him, and multiplied it to even worse proportions, doing him a terrible injustice, turning him into much less than the decent man he was. How could she have got it so wrong, she who had known him all these years, most of her life, and knowing he always treated people well, knowing he was essentially fair-minded and generous of heart?
Except with her.
But hadn’t that been her fault? And this was her fault, too. She’d made a habit of judging him meanly. The leaden weight on her heart grew heavier. Was it any use, asking him to forgive her? Would he give her another chance?
Her father’s words slid through the dark anguish in her mind…Christmas Day…peace and goodwill…and a bare sliver of hope whispered—why would Tommy come today if he wanted to lay blame on her?
Slowly, almost blindly, she folded the pages of Janice’s letter into its original creases. Please, she prayed. Please let Tommy be here because he still wants me, despite everything. She wasn’t aware that the tears had overflowed and were rolling down her cheeks. She was only conscious of desperate need.
“Don’t!”
The harsh command jerked her head up, fear jabbing through her that she’d done more wrong. Her vision was too blurred to see him clearly.
“Don’t cry.”
Not a command. A plea. Yet the difference barely had time to register before Tommy stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms, hugging her to him so tightly, there was no room left for fear. And her own arms wound around his waist, hanging on, hanging on for dear life.
Then his voice, throbbing into her ear, “Say you still want me.” And the words lifting the weight off her heart, bringing such sweet relief, instantly drawing the reply, “I do. I do want you.”
His kiss, his body, the pent-up passion pouring from him, left no doubt about what he felt. And Sam gave herself up to it, shedding all her fears and uncertainties, caring only that she have this…this blissful togetherness with Tommy.
Neither of them thought about ghosts.
There were none to come between them anymore.